Chapter 3: The Secret Buried Under River Road
The words sat between us like something alive.
“Someone made sure he never crossed the finish line.””
I stared at Frank Delaney, waiting for him to laugh.
Waiting for him to tell me it was some kind of misunderstanding.
A bad joke.
Anything.
But he didn't.
He just stood there with the same heavy expression people wore at funerals.
The same expression I had seen on everyone's faces the day my father was buried.
Except now I understood something.
Maybe they weren't mourning an accident.
Maybe they were mourning the truth.
I looked down at the photograph on the workbench.
My father.
The Challenger.
Richard King.
Tyler's father.
Three people who had been connected long before I ever heard Tyler's name.
“Explain,” I said.
My voice sounded calmer than I felt.
Frank looked at me.
“Where do I start?””
“The beginning.””
He sighed and pulled a chair from the corner of the garage.
For a moment, he looked older than I remembered.
Not just older.
Tired.
Like he had carried something heavy for years and finally got too exhausted to keep holding it.
“Your father and Richard King weren't always enemies.””
I leaned against the workbench.
“They knew each other?””
Frank nodded.
“They were friends.””
That was impossible to process.
Everything I knew about the King family came from Tyler.
Money.
Power.
Arrogance.
But my father?
He hated people who used their wealth to hurt others.
“He never mentioned him.””
“He wouldn't.””
“Why?””
Frank looked at the photograph.
“Because your father was loyal.””
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It will.””
He picked up the picture.
“Twenty-five years ago, before Richard King became the man he is now, he was just another mechanic trying to prove himself.””
I listened silently.
“Your father helped him. Taught him how to build engines. Taught him how to race. They built cars together.””
I looked at the Challenger.
“This one?””
Frank nodded.
“This one.””
My fingers brushed against the edge of the photograph.
“So why would they become enemies?””
Frank's jaw tightened.
“Because winning changes people.””
The garage lights hummed above us.
“Your father was the best driver Detroit had ever seen. Not because he was fearless. Because he respected the machine. He respected the road.””
Frank paused.
“Richard didn't care about respect. He cared about being remembered.””
I thought about Tyler.
The way he smiled while destroying my Camaro.
The way he wanted people watching.
Like winning wasn't enough.
He needed everyone to know he won.
“Like father, like son,” I whispered.
Frank looked at me.
“You're starting to understand.””
I unfolded my father's letter again.
“Why did he leave this?””
Frank's eyes moved to the page.
“Because he knew something was coming.””
“What?””
“I don't know.””
I stared at him.
“You don't know?””
Frank looked away.
“I knew your father was investigating something before he died.””
“What kind of thing?””
“A race.””
My chest tightened.
“River Road.””
He nodded.
“The night he crashed.””
I looked toward the garage door.
Outside, the city kept moving.
People driving home.
People living normal lives.
While I stood there learning that my father's death might have been a lie.
“What happened that night?””
Frank didn't answer.
Not immediately.
Instead, he walked toward the Challenger.
He ran his hand across the hood.
“Your father was supposed to race one final time.””
“I thought he retired.””
“He did.””
“Then why race?””
Frank looked at me.
“Because someone challenged him.””
My stomach dropped.
“Who?””
Frank didn't need to say the name.
I already knew.
“Richard King.””
The room felt smaller.
“You're telling me Tyler's father raced my dad?””
“Yes.””
“And he killed him?””
Frank's face hardened.
“I didn't say that.””
“But you implied it.””
“I said someone made sure he never crossed the finish line.””
I stepped closer.
“Then tell me what happened.””
Frank was silent.
That silence told me everything.
There was more.
Something he wasn't saying.
“Frank.””
He closed his eyes.
“When your father died, everyone wanted an answer.””
His voice became quieter.
“The police called it mechanical failure. The newspapers called it a tragic accident. The racing community called it bad luck.””
He looked at me.
“But your father knew his cars better than anyone. That Challenger didn't fail.””
I looked at the car.
“Then what happened?””
Frank walked to the workbench and opened an old metal toolbox.
Inside were dozens of papers.
Receipts.
Blueprints.
Old notes.
He pulled out a small folder.
“I found this after the crash.””
I opened it.
The first page was covered in my father's handwriting.
Engine specifications.
Race notes.
Names.
Then I saw it.
A line circled in red.
KING MOTORWORKS.
My heartbeat changed.
“What is this?””
“Evidence.””
“Evidence of what?””
Frank looked at me.
“That Richard King had access to your father's car before the race.””
I stopped reading.
“He worked on it?””
“He offered to help.””
My hands tightened around the folder.
“And my father let him?””
Frank nodded slowly.
“They were friends.””
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“My dad trusted the man who destroyed his life.””
Frank's eyes sharpened.
“Be careful.””
“Why?””
“Because your father wasn't stupid.””
I looked at him.
“He knew Richard better than anyone. If he trusted him, there was a reason.””
That confused me even more.
“Then what am I missing?””
Frank didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the clock.
11:42 p.m.
My eyes widened.
The race.
Tyler.
River Road.
I had almost forgotten.
Frank noticed.
“You're not going.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
“I challenged him.””
“You don't understand what you're walking into.””
“I understand perfectly.””
“No, you don't.””
His voice was louder now.
“You think this is about revenge. You think beating Tyler King at his own game will fix what happened.””
He pointed toward the Challenger.
“It won't.””
I looked at the car.
Then back at him.
“Maybe not.””
I grabbed my jacket.
“But I'm still going.””
Frank stepped in front of me.
“Your father died because he refused to walk away.””
I stopped.
The words hit hard.
Frank softened.
“Don't make the same mistake.””
For a second, I almost listened.
Almost.
Then I remembered Tyler's face.
The bats.
The Camaro.
The way he looked at my father's memory like it was worthless.
I stepped around Frank.
“My father spent his whole life building something.””
I opened the garage door.
“I spent mine protecting it.””
Frank followed me outside.
“You don't know what Tyler is capable of.””
I turned.
“Neither did he know what my father left behind.””
Frank stared at me.
Then his eyes moved past me.
To the Challenger.
Something changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Wait.””
I froze.
“What?””
He walked toward the car.
Slowly.
Like he had just noticed something.
The hood.
The engine.
The small silver C emblem.
He touched the emblem with his fingertips.
“Your father never finished this car.””
“No.””
Frank looked at me.
“That means someone did.””
A cold feeling moved through my body.
“What are you saying?””
He opened the driver's side door.
Looked inside.
Then reached under the dashboard.
His hand came back holding a small metal device.
It was old.
Hidden.
Connected to the wiring.
Frank stared at it.
“This wasn't here when your father built it.””
I stepped closer.
“What is it?””
He didn't answer.
His face had gone completely pale.
“Frank.””
He looked at me.
“That car has been watched.””
The garage suddenly felt different.
Like the walls had ears.
Like my father's secrets weren't buried after all.
They were waiting.
I took the device from his hand.
A tiny symbol was stamped into the metal.
A symbol I had seen before.
On Tyler's father's construction trucks.
On buildings around Detroit.
The King family logo.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence appeared on the screen.
*You found the car. Now find out why your father really died.*
Below it was a photograph.
My blood turned cold.
It was a picture of my father.
Taken the night he died.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing beside him was Richard King.
May you like
And between them…
was Tyler's father holding the exact same device now sitting in my hand.
