The strong response incited an excited roar from the crowd. Strip smiled for a few more pictures, but didn't answer any more questions. He took his trophy and backed down from the pedestal, meeting one of his crewmembers behind the stage.
"That was short," the pittie, Luke, commented. "Y'know, I was really lookin' forward to you chewing that kid out. I've only seen you angry, like, twice. It's excitin'."
Strip gave Luke the trophy to carry for him. "Not worth my time. Either he'll learn on his own or he won't. None of my business."
The forklift cast a suspicious look at his racer. "I know that tone, you can't fool me. You ain't exactly amped about the win, are you?"
"I'm just tired of watchin' everyone crash," Strip muttered. "Doesn't feel like a win when there's no real competition."
"Ha!" Luke laughed. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now if you'd go say that to his face."
"I think he got the message."
It was true. As Strip left Victory Lane, he overheard a couple questions thrown at Chick, questioning his previous statement on the racers of yesterday. Though he hadn't stayed to listen to the answers, he glanced at the Buick and found him looking agitated.
Over at the sponsor's tent, the team was still celebrating. The moment Strip and Luke came into view with the trophy they erupted into cheers. Somewhere in the back, someone set off a confetti canon, and Strip found himself in the middle of a swarm that consisted of his pit crew and the ever-eager Dinoco girls.
"Alright girls, move aside," his favorite voice said from beyond the sea of celebration.
They parted like the Red Sea, making way for Lynda. She was all smiles as she planted a quick kiss on her husband's lips. In her presence, he relaxed a little.
"Vengeance as a motivator, huh?" she asked lightheartedly. "Works well for you."
Strip shrugged as he watched the masses that had just mobbed him parade the trophy into the Dinoco tent. "You could tell?"
"Plain as day." She drove with him as he made his way over to Tex. "Also, you just left the track after you were done. You don't usually do that."
"I had to make sure Tori was alright, that's all."
"Is he?"
"He'll live. I'll tell you about it later."
Lynda's excitement faded a bit as she noticed his tone. Winning races didn't normally leave him so reserved and solemn.
"There's my boy!" Tex exclaimed heartily as they approached him.
"Hey, Tex." Strip forced a smile.
"I ain't seen a finish like that in years," the Cadillac beamed. "You sure showed that kid who the real king of the track is."
"Please, no," Strip moaned. "Not the name thing again."
Tex chuckled. "Oh, come on. I'm jokin'. It does sound good, though, don't it?"
"I think it's cute," Lynda offered, giving Strip a nudge. "You'll warm up to it."
"No, I won't."
In front of the tent, they heard a cork pop from a bottle. They turned to see the pit crew circled around Luke, cheering him on as he chugged an entire bottle of champagne.
"Oh, yeah," Strip commented, his words dripping with sarcasm. "That there's an excellent image for the company."
"That was supposed to be for you," Tex grumbled, shaking himself in disapproval.
"Honestly, at this point, I could use some," Strip mumbled to Lynda.
She smiled and leaned against him. "We'll celebrate when we get home."
"I'm holdin' you to that."
"Please do."
"I'm gonna go break 'em up before they get carried away," Tex said, driving toward his employees as they reached for a second bottle. "If Rotor gets into that, we're all in trouble."
"Y'all're real professionals," Lynda commented as the crew scattered like pigeons on a sidewalk at Tex's presence.
"All in good fun. Tex would never fire a one of 'em, you know," Strip added.
"Oh, I know, I was just – "
"Just what?" He looked at her and found her staring past him into the crowd.
"That can't be good."
He followed her gaze and tensed. Coming through the crowd outside the gated area was a tall black spoiler that otherwise nearly matched his own.
"Is it too late to hide?" he mumbled, driving toward the security guards at the gate. They'd never let her in, and he wasn't about to watch her make a scene.
The two large SUVs had just started to escort her away from the entrance when she saw him coming. She pointed at him and protested.
"She's fine, guys. Let her go," Strip called to them.
The Suburbans turned to look at him. "You know this car?"
"Yeah, she's with me. Come on, Iz," he waved her over.
She cautiously drove between the imposing guards and joined him, noticeably rattled. He escorted her back over to where he'd left Lynda.
"Are those guys always that strict?" Izzy asked. "I didn't come down here to get manhandled."
"They're just doin' their job," Strip answered.
"Gotta keep the crazies out, y'know?" Lynda added.
"If you're talking about all the drunk motorhomes over there, then yeah, I guess I can see it," Izzy muttered, looking off in the direction she'd come.
"So," Lynda talked straight to the point, "I gotta ask – is the sky fallin' again up north?"
"What?" Izzy snapped her attention back to her brother and sister-in-law. "Oh, no. Things are fine for the most part."
"I think you'll forgive me if I find your sudden appearance a bit suspicious," Strip said. "Last time didn't exactly go so well."
"Yeah, no, I understand," Izzy apologized. "Sorry for not letting you know I was coming sooner. Oh, congrats on the win, by the way. That was something. Races are much more exciting in person, drunk motorhomes and all."
A yelp came from the tent to their left. Tex had dumped the bucket of ice that previously chilled the champagne on Luke as joking punishment for handing Rotor the last bottle of booze. The billionaire left his employee shocked and wet, the laughing stock of the rest of the crew, and turned back to rejoin his racer. The helicopter sat smugly on top of the display stage and sipped the drink, watching the scene unfold below him.
"Well, who's this?" Tex asked, seeing their group had gained a member.
"Tex, this is my sister," Strip introduced.
"I'm Izzy," she said. "Nice to meet you."
"Pleasure's mine, ma'am," Tex bowed a little out of courtesy. "Glad you could join us."
"I have a trunk full of parts I believe you ordered," Izzy continued. "Two special order spoiler kits and some fender patches?"
"Ah, yes," Dinoco nodded.
"What?" Strip asked, confused.
"You keep beatin' yourself up, boy," Tex explained. "I'm stock pilin' parts for the next time you end up in the fence. I hate waitin' on orders. Looks like they gave me first class air delivery this time?"
Izzy went silent and looked at Strip, unsettled.
"Oh, he knows everythin'. You're fine," Strip told her.
"Everything?"
"Yeah, but don't worry," Tex chimed in. "Your secret's safe with me. I ain't tellin' a soul. You're welcome 'round here anytime."
"I appreciate that. Thank you," Izzy smiled and nodded in gratefulness, although still slightly anxious. "Yeah, I was coming down anyway, thought I'd give the delivery guy a break."
"Why'd you come all the way to Georgia?" Strip asked, still suspicious. "The next race is in Michigan. That'd be a whole lot more convenient for you."
"Am I not allowed to come hang out with you for the heck of it?" she asked humorously. "You have too many questions."
"Yeah. I do."
Izzy sighed. "Alright. Well first off, I did want to see you race, so there's that. I also have some information for you, but we can't talk here. Too risky to be overheard."
"On a scale of one to death, how distressin' is this 'information'?" Lynda asked, unamused.
"Oh, trust me. This isn't anything like last time. I just have some concerns, that's all," Izzy tried to quell her apprehension.
"Hm," Strip was still unconvinced, and he could tell his wife was on edge as well. "Well, after things die down a bit here, we're going to head back home for a couple days. We can talk there."
"I'll fly ahead and meet you there."
Back in the peaceful mountains of North Carolina, Izzy met Strip and Lynda at their home. It was early in the morning, the sky grey with fog and a slow-to-rise sun. Had the circumstances been different, it would have been perfect for lazily sleeping in.
"It's nice out here. Peaceful," Izzy commented, looking around their property.
"You should come stay for a weekend or somethin' sometime," Lynda offered. "I think you'd like it."
Izzy nodded and took in a deep breath of the clean, crisp air as Strip unlocked the front door. It was all so totally different from what she was used to, she'd never taken the time to think about it before. No wonder her brother liked it so much out here. Things seemed slower, more laid back, and for a moment, she was content. It was a strange feeling.
Strip groggily drove inside and flipped some lights on. Lynda and Izzy followed him silently.
"Alright, let's get this over with. What'd'ya got, Izzy?" Strip asked as he parked at the kitchen table.
Lynda joined him as Izzy pushed a couple photos in front of them.
"Ford's Buick that mysteriously fell off the face of the earth?" Izzy explained tersely. "We found him."
Strip reached out and flipped the photos right side up. They were grainy, but he could make out the car in question. He caught his breath.
"One of our intelligence agents took those while snooping around outside Ford's HQ," she continued. "I didn't believe it when I first saw them, but the evidence is there."
There were three photos, and all of them showed the same four vehicles. There were two black forklifts guiding an older 1950s Ford Business Coupe and a Grand National. The older car was Stephen, Ford's insistent CEO, Strip knew that much. But the Buick? He wasn't jet black anymore. He was green and covered in tasteless racing livery.
"So you're tryin' to tell me," Strip summarized, "that that Hicks guy is the same car that took us all out? That was controllin' those Mustangs?"
"One and the same," Izzy confirmed.
"How can that be a coincidence?" Lynda asked, frowning. "I mean, that he'd end up on the circuit, too?"
Izzy shrugged. "Beats me. My first though was that he figured out that's where Strip went and followed, but now I'm not so sure."
Strip grimaced and shook himself in disbelief. "I don't think that's the case. If he was comin' after me, he'd have done somethin' by now."
"I mean, he is constantly wrecking everyone," Izzy pointed out.
"Yeah, but no one's ever specifically targeted," Strip explained. "He's just tryin' to win."
They were quiet for a moment as Strip looked closer at the pictures. He couldn't deny it. The third picture showed Chick with his fender-mounted weapon exposed. He and Stephen were conversing in a highly restricted area of Ford's own proving grounds, entering into one of the buildings. Neither one of them looked particularly pleased to be in each other's presence.
"How long ago were these taken?" Strip asked.
"A couple weeks ago. The week before the race in Indy, if I remember right," Izzy answered. "He would have had enough time to take a trip to Detroit that week before the race since he was in the vicinity."
Strip pushed the pictures back toward his sister. She gathered them and sat, expectantly awaiting some sort of feedback. When he didn't oblige immediately, she continued.
"You needed to know," Izzy told them, "both of you. I wasn't going to let you be out on a track with this guy without your awareness at the very least."
"No, I appreciate you tellin' me," Strip responded, still deep in thought. "It just doesn't make sense. Why willingly sign up for a war and then leave to race?"
"Seems like an attention seeker if you ask me," Lynda offered.
"Yeah," Izzy agreed. "I've seen the interviews. I wanted to strangle him even before I found all this out. Maybe he just found an opportunity to race and took it. Racing seems a lot easier on the conscious than killing, and offers exponentially more glory."
"Maybe." Strip sighed. "I guess it doesn't really matter why he's doin' what he's doin', we just need to keep an eye on him."
"I think that's all we can do," Izzy nodded. "He doesn't seem like an immediate threat, other than his habit of wrecking everyone, but we know what he's capable of, and we need to be wary of that."
"So long as he doesn't know what I am, I reckon we're safe," Strip said.
"Just be careful, okay? I don't want to make you paranoid, but if you suspect he's up to something, he probably is. Trust your instinct."
"Yeah, don't worry. I think I can handle him. Honestly, I think the public eye is the safest place to be. If he genuinely wants to race, he won't do anythin' to compromise what he's got."
"I hope you're right."
A wave of relief washed over them as they reached as solid of a conclusion as possible, one that wasn't unrealistic. Outside, rays of sunlight were beginning to filter through the trees and evaporate the fog. Through the windows, they could hear the morning birdsong pick up. They sat and listened to it for several long moments.
"Iz, you can stay for a while if you're tired," Strip offered. "I don't want you to fly home exhausted."
"Yeah, we have room. Plenty of it," Lynda added. "You're always welcome to stay."
Izzy smiled and looked down. "Thanks, but I'm actually feeling a lot better now. I think I'll be fine. But I promise I'll come visit this off season when you guys are free. I think I need to vacation down here."
"We'll plan on it."
Strip followed her to the door and out onto the porch with Lynda in tow. Izzy hesitated and looked around once more. Something in the air made her feel free. It was intoxicating.
"Got plans for the holidays?" she asked.
"You tell me," Strip answered.
"I'll be down."
The Weathers' watched her drive away into the tree line. A couple minutes later, there was a roar akin to a jet taking off in the near distance.
"You're awful lucky to have her around, you know that?" Lynda said as they filed back inside.
"Yeah," he sincerely agreed. "She's saved my hide on a couple different occasions."
"I think I owe her for that," she cozied up next to him as he backed into his favorite spot in their living room.
They were silent for a while, enjoying peace and comfort in each other's presence.
"We have three days of this before we gotta leave again," Lynda said after a while. "What do we wanna do?"
He looked at her and smiled. "Ain't we supposed to be celebratin'?"