Chapter Three

He didn't have long to wait. He already knew that the" powers that be" had ordered that any attempt to probe the death and entombment of Rex Miles Racer be "buried and forgotten about." There was to be no interest in the grave and the plan had worked perfectly up to now. No one could have figured on the grave being opened.

With a sigh, the man known as Rayce King got up and walked to the large picture window that was set just slightly off center. He stood quietly watching the grass grow, remembering the past and preparing the lies he knew he was going to have to tell.

Miles away, in the confines of his hotel room, Inspector Detector tossed in a memory haunted sleep.

The Racers weren't gone long. When they returned it was nearly dark and Pops was livid. Mom and Sprite were subdued, and Speed was desperately in need of something physical to battle to exorcise the demons of rage and confusion.

"How dare they tell me that it was too long ago and there is nothing they can do?" Pop's was storming." I'll get somebody to do something if I personally have to go all the way to Washington D.C.!"

Pops and Mom stopped short as Rayce opened the door for them. "I had forgotten you were here." Pops confessed.

"That's all right, sir." Rayce replied. "Under the circumstances, I can understand. I took the liberty of getting supper for all of you."

Pops nodded, pleased that someone seemed to be taking the families plight to heart.

Mom, exhausted mentally and physically, gathered her caring heart together, nodded and offered a smile to the young man. She shepherded her physically tired and emotionally bewildered family into the familiar kitchen and, finding plates, glasses and silverware , sat about caring for her family as best as she could.

Rayce ate with them. Mom supposed that was all right as he had brought the meal.

As they nibbled at the chicken and produced a play called "Ordinary Day" for each other, Mom smoothly took over the conversation and their emotions, relaxing them, gentling them until the meal was almost normal. Mom was the best actress of them all. No one could understand how deeply she hurt.

Mom relaxed a bit as she saw the little signs that signaled Pops and Speed were calming.

Her shoulders would be there for them to cry on. Pops especially would need her. She knew only too well about Pops temper and how much it had cost him in the past.

They had finished the meal where there was a knock at the front door. Chief of Police Warren had come in person to visit with the family and explain, "I am truly sorry that there is not a lot the police can do. Maybe of we were a larger unit and had more resources, but as it is, etc. etc. etc."

Mom and Pops listened in stony silence. When Chief Warren finally stammered to a halt, Pops coldly thanked him for his time and escorted him to the door. What Pops wanted to do was throw the man out of the door, but he did not.

Rayce breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Speed jerked to his feet with the movements of a person who MUST move or jump out of his skin.

Pops and Mom watched for a minute as Speed rummaged through his pockets looking for something. Mom, knowing what her son needed, spoke calmly, "Speed, why don't you take the car and go for a drive. You'll feel better."

"Thanks, Mom!" Speed grabbed the keys and nearly ran from the room. Rayce watched for a moment longer, then made his apologies to Mom and Pops and left saying, "I have something to attend to at work."

Spritle yawned in spite of himself and Mom sent her youngest to bed with a hug and a kiss. A silent signal to Pops ensured that he went to make sure his son and Chim-Chim were tucked safely into a bed.

Only when she was alone, did Mom begin to cry. Silent, wrenching tears that came from the heart. She stifled them as best as she could. Pops would need her.

Thunderhead, an iron and steel fairy tale of an automobile race course, stood alone at the edge of town. The brilliant lights which usually illuminated every inch of the track were shut down for the night as there were no scheduled races.

Overhead, the storm clouds began to collect the starlight and replace it with a deeper darkness lit from within by the occasional flash of lighting. A solitary man in a gold and black car pulled up to the heavy black iron wrought gates, unique in that they featured antique cars and waited, watching the clouds overhead.

"There are times, "thought Rayce, "when it's good to be an agent." He touched the keys to Thunderhead's gate. "I can legally get in places where others can't. If I know Speed the way I think I do, he'll be here soon."

In a few minutes, Speed drove up to the gates. He knew they would be locked, but it was the last place he had seen Rex alive. Speed wanted to be alone to remember and morn again for his brother.

Speed got out of his mother's car and walked up to the darkened gates. He rested his forehead against the gate for a moment, recalling the sound of his brother laughter as he showed his younger brother the secrets of race car driving. Rex had an infectious laugh. When Rex laughed, everyone else did too, even if they didn't know the joke. He had always believed that he would know Rex, even if he could not see him, in a room full of other people, if he could just hear him laugh.

Speed smiled a little as he summoned up his memories of Rex's pride in him, the younger brother who was born knowing how to race. Speed remembered how he had crashed the car one dark night and how Rex had taken the blame. Pops had been ready to skin both of them that night.

The other memories, burned into Speed's soul, came back with swiftness and force enough to hurt. He had stood watching as the argument took place between Rex and Pops. He couldn't stop it. Rex had stormed away, then came the car wreck at Casa Cristo, and the aftermath. Pops had never been the same, Mom didn't laugh very much now.

Speed bowed his head and let the tears come freely. Suddenly a low sound to the side around the corner of the gate startled him. He jerked his head up and found the masked racer known as Racer X standing in front of him. "Racer X, what are you doing here?" Speed hoped his voice was normal and it was too dark for the masked man to see his tear strained face.

Without a word, the masked man opened the gate, and flicked on the main light switch. With a blink the course was alive again. Silently, Racer X handed Speed the keys to the Shooting Star, his own race car, waved him toward the entrance to the main track and stood aside. Speed stared at the masked man for a minute, his silence asking the question.

At the masked man's nod, Speed jumped into the driver's seat and took the Shooting Star onto the track. In a heartbeat, he was racing his brother's ghost and the lighting finding the physical release of emotions he needed so badly.

Somehow it never occurred to Speed to wonder why the mysterious masked racer was there or at his actions.

Racer X stood at parade rest, his eyes on Speed and the Shooting Star, accessing Speed's growing skills with one part of his mind, fighting back his own emotions, wondering why the body had been dug up now, never giving anything away.

At the Racer home, Pops had returned from putting Spritle to bed.

Pops had not changed his mind. He still wanted somebody to explain why the mysterious "they" had dug up his son's grave and WHY? " I am going to talk to every media source I can find.' Pops no longer thundered. His voice was steel cold. "We are going to have answers."

"I know, dear." Mom's soft voice was just barely audible. "But think about Speed and Spritle. Think what this will do to them. Speed was so upset before; can we subject him to that again? "What Mom was really thinking was, "You were nearly destroyed before. Can I let you go through all of that again?"

Understanding what Mom did not say came a bit slowly to Pops, but comprehension came. Gently he took his best friend in his arms and held her and the two of them unstinting gave strength and courage to each other.