Page 76 of Shifted

“What the hell is going on?” his brother demanded.

“Jack Roundtree loosened the screws. I’m guessing he owed money to someone or some such.”

“Where is he? Did he get away?”

Dalton rubbed a hand over his face. “Jack’s dead.” He went on to explain everything to his brother and sister since Rory had put him on speakerphone.

“Oh, my God, Dalton. Are you okay?” Jordana asked.

“I’m okay. Just a bit more beaten up. And incredibly tired. How did the session go?”

Jordana started to laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

He chuckled harshly. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Here,” the bartender said and put a hamburger and fries down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to go. I need to eat something. Detective Haas is coming by to take my statement in a bit.”

“Okay, brother, we’ll see you later,” Rory said and ended the call.

Dalton inhaled the food the bartender had delivered, and didn’t taste any of it. His mind was still stuck on the events of the last few days. He was eating his last fry when it hit him that Greer had been all alone here at the hotel, possibly with the murderer running around.

The food became a boulder in his gut. Surely, she’d be fine here. It was broad daylight. He regretted their fight more and more with each passing minute. The real reason he’d been such an asshole was because she’d hurt him. She hadn’t trusted him enough, and that stung. He would’ve helped her with her father.

He leaned back and gestured for the bill. The truth was, though, he’d like to think he would’ve been able to help her, but how well had he done with his own father? His family was a mess. He’d been slowly trying to put them back together, one at a time, but maybe in the end, she’d been right to send him packing. He would’ve put his family above her in a heartbeat back then. Shit.

He signed the bill and got up from the table. He would head back to his room but check on Greer as well. Just to make sure she was safe. The rest…was just too messy to deal with now. Maybe down the road they could go for coffee or something.

He walked out of the first building and started across the courtyard. Lyle was coming toward him, pulling a racing bag behind him.

“Dalton, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the track.”

He didn’t want to get into it. “I just came back to grab a shower and rest up a bit. The last few days have been tough.”

“For all of us,” he said as he touched Dalton’s shoulder. “See you later,” he called over his shoulder as he entered the main building.

Dalton went through the door and took the stairs two at a time. He argued with himself about banging on Greer’s door, but he just couldn’t let it go. He knocked. No answer. He tried again, but still no answer. Giving a mental shrug, he went into his room. Maybe she was down at the spa. Or she’d gone for a walk. Or there could be a million other things. So why was his gut screaming at him to pay attention? Greer was in trouble.

He pulled out his cell and called Rory. “Is Greer at the track?”

“Not that I saw, but we’re not there anymore.”

“Where are you?” Dalton asked as he looked out the sliding glass doors.

“Coming to the hotel. Jordana is with me. We thought you could use some support, big brother.”

He wanted to argue with them, but they were right. He needed some support. He needed his family. “Okay, see you soon.” He looked at the mountains in the distance as he took a deep breath. His back still ached, and after the crash today, a few more things hurt, but he was okay.

Lyle was at his rental BMW in the parking lot. He’d popped the trunk and was struggling to get the racing bag into his rental. The bag was long and heavy, but the rental had a short trunk. Where were the rest of the entourage? And what about Brian and Claire? Now that they were cut out of the will, what would they do?

Dalton watched as Lyle put down the seats and struggled to get the bag into the trunk. What was Lyle doing with a racing bag anyway? Where did he get it? It was a Hughes Racing bag. It must have been Moore’s. What would he want with Moore’s racing gear? His stomach dropped. Racing gear would not be that heavy. But a body would be.

He sprinted out of his room and down the hallway. He flew down the stairs and came out into the courtyard between the buildings. He took off at a dead run toward Lyle’s car, which was backing out of the parking spot. He must have seen Dalton coming in his rearview mirror because he slammed on the gas and squealed the tires as he raced toward the driveway.

Dalton was still running, but there was no way he was going to catch up. There was a car coming up the lane outside the hotel. It was his siblings. He waved his arms frantically at them and then pointed at Lyle’s car.

His sister’s puzzled face was the last thing he saw before Rory jerked the car sideways across the driveway, blocking Lyle’s exit. Lyle slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Then he threw the car in reverse. Dalton was still running toward him but had no clue how to stop the car. His gut yelled that Greer was in the bag. He couldn’t let Lyle get away but couldn’t let Lyle crash the car with her in it, either.

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