Sweet Carolina(34)

It was a short drive home, by NASCAR standards, but long enough to give Caro time to calm down and reassess her situation. Maybe selling scrap metal to pay the bills was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. Hawkins Racing couldn’t take many more hits like the one today. Not only had they lost another car and been fined, but Dell's fistfight would bring unwanted talk. Speculation was running rampant already, fueled by the reporters who delighted in scandal. Caro sighed. She still needed to talk to Dell's sponsor, convince them to continue their support, or the scrap metal idea might come to fruition after all. How could she justify Dell's behavior? She'd seen the footage of the altercation. Dell was the one who started it, confronting Warner so the man had no choice but to defend himself. Though it did appear Warner threw a few punches that weren't strictly in self-defense.

Whatever.

There wasn't any excuse for two grown men punching on each other.

* * * *

The last person Dell expected to see on his doorstep was Richard Warner.

“Can I come in?” Richard asked.

Curiosity got the best of him, and Dell stood back, indicating Richard should enter. Since their brawl on the track the night before, Warner's words continued to echo through Dell's mind, taunting him with the certainty that there was something behind them – something he should know.

“It's Mother's Day, don't you have some place to be?” he asked as he closed the door. He walked past Warner, expecting the man had enough sense to follow him, though he wasn't at all sure it was the case.

“No. I haven't seen my mother in three years.”

“Funny, I took you for a momma's boy,” Dell said, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. He held up the bottle. “Want one?”

“No. I'm driving.”

“Well, aren't you the Boy Scout.” Dell pulled a diet soda out of the refrigerator and tossed it at his guest. Warner caught it with one hand and murmured his thanks. Dell leaned against the counter and took a long pull from the bottle. As far as he was concerned, he'd offered enough hospitality.

“Look, Dell… I think we need to talk.”

What was it with everyone these days wanting to talk. First Caro, now Dickhead Warner.

“You think?” Dell pushed away from the counter and headed to the family room where he dropped into his favorite recliner. “You killed Caudell, and now you're trying to kill me. What's to talk about?”

Warner perched on the edge of the sofa, rolling the unopened soda can between his palms. “It was an accident, Dell. I didn't mean to kill him. I only wanted to get past him. I needed the track position points.”

“Well, that makes me feel better. My old man is dead because you needed four points.” Dell stood. “I appreciate you coming by to explain that to me, Warner.” Dell pointed toward the front door. “I trust even an idiot like you can find your own way out.”

“Sit down, Dell. I'm not through,” Warner said.

Dell stared at him for a tense second before deciding throwing Warner out would be too much trouble. He sat. “Say what you came to say, then get out of my house.”

“I'm here to apologize. You can't seriously believe I wanted to kill my own father.”

“Whoa!” Dell sat up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Warner went still, then he set the soda on the coffee table with exaggerated care. Finally, he looked at Dell. “Caudell was my father, too.”

Dell shot out of his seat as if Warner lit a firecracker under him. “What the fuck? Are you out of your mind?” A red haze clouded his vision.

Warner stood. “I thought you knew, Dell. Honestly, I did or I wouldn't have come here.” He shifted on his feet. “Look, can we sit down and talk about this?”

Dell paced to the doorway and back again before he sat. Warner followed his lead and perched on the edge of the sofa.

“I don't know what you think you're doing, Warner, but it isn't going to work. I think I'd know if I had a brother.” It had to be some kind of sick joke, though a little voice deep inside warned him it might be true. He refused to acknowledge the sinister thought.

“Well, welcome to my world, Dell. I didn't know I had a brother either, or a father for that matter, until the day Caudell died. I felt bad enough about the way it happened, then Butch came up and clapped me on the back. He said something about how Caudell would have seen the irony of the situation. I stood there, staring at him. I think he realized I didn't know what he was talking about. He told me Caudell was my father. I don't know what I did afterwards. It's mostly a blur.”

“He lied,” Dell said, positive now this had to be a hoax. He just couldn't figure out who had anything to gain by it. Renfro? Warner? Maybe.