Back Where She Belongs(46)

“Nope. Not me. I would have, if he’d asked. I get busy. He probably didn’t want to wait. Maybe one of his own techs. Could have been Mr. Ryland, now that I think about it.”

“Sean Ryland?”

“Yeah. He uses my shop. I know he put a Wharton battery in his own car. Maybe Abbott asked him to do it. Why?”

“Just wondering. Thanks,” she said, hanging up. Chills ran down her arms and her mind flew, conclusions clicking one after the other like so many dominoes. Sean Ryland had installed the faulty part.

Of course. He’d put one in Dylan’s car, Candee’s and a few others. Like her father’s Tesla? He’d wanted to prove the parts were fine. Except this one had failed...and killed her father.

Her skin buzzing, her entire body crackling with electricity, she turned back toward the Ryland offices to find out the truth. She passed the startled receptionist, took the hall with long strides, found Sean’s office and entered without knocking.

The man sat at his desk, chair facing the window. When he turned, she saw a handkerchief dotted with blood was wrapped around one palm. He’d broken the glass on a picture frame. The photo lay among glass shards on his desk—the same picture her father kept under his desk glass—the two men excited about their jet engine part.

“You killed my father,” she blurted, her anger exploding.

His head jolted back, clearly shocked.

“That never occurred to you? That the faulty part you put in his car caused the wreck? Are you that pigheaded?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You admitted you put the parts on people’s cars without telling them. We all heard you. You risked their lives out of stubborn pride. And my father died because of it. My sister’s in a coma, thanks to you.” She was shaking with rage. She wanted to attack the man, who sat in his chair shaking his head, a superior look on his face.

“I never touched Abbott’s car,” he said. “You just calm down about that. I offered to, sure, but he couldn’t risk being proved wrong.”

“So you installed it anyway. Don’t you have any remorse? Don’t you care? Or did you hate him so much you’re glad he’s dead? He got what he deserved, right?”

Sean lunged to his feet. “If you were a man I’d knock you flat.”

“Go for it!” she yelled. “What’s a punch in the jaw compared with murder?” She was out of control, saying too much, being vicious, but a storm raged inside her at this man, who’d harmed her family, harmed his own son.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a low, malevolent tone. “You think being here makes up for betraying your family. Get out. Go back to your important life. Leave us alone. Leave my son alone. Haven’t you done enough damage to him?”

“Me? If anyone’s done any damage to Dylan, it’s you—keeping him here to clean up your mess. You were so bitter. So hateful. Blaming my father for your mistakes. You—”

“What the hell’s going on in here?” Dylan stood in the doorway, clearly upset, looking from one to the other.

“She accused me of killing Abbott,” Sean said, pointing at her.

“What?” Dylan stared at her, eyes wide, disbelieving.

“He put a faulty circuit in the Tesla like he did in your car. The accident expert said there was a collision and that there had to be some other malfunction to cause that kind of acceleration. A Ryland unit was in the Tesla. I saw it myself. Tony didn’t put it in. He said your father might have.”

“Did you do that?” Dylan asked his father.

“My own son,” Sean said in a disgusted tone. “No, I didn’t. Now get out of my office before I do something I’ll regret.”

“This isn’t over,” Tara said to him. “Count on it.”

“We need to talk,” Dylan said to his father, then held the door for Tara. He passed her, walking fast. She had to half run to catch up with him in the lobby. He kept going out to the parking lot before he turned on her. “Murder, Tara? You accused my father of murder? I know you hate him, but that’s too much even for you.”

“He put the part in, Dylan. He had motive and opportunity. The Tesla was in the shop. Tony says your dad works on cars there. He admitted he put the part in a few cars, including yours, without telling the owners. He wanted to prove his point. And that part caused the wreck. The part and a collision.”

“He wouldn’t lie about that”

“Can you be that blind? Of course he would. He had a point to prove. He risked lives to do it—yours, Candee’s, my father’s, my sister’s, who knows how many others? He caused the wreck and he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Someone else put the part in, Tara. Another mechanic. Maybe someone at Wharton. It wasn’t him.”

She looked into his impassive face and realized the truth. “You’ll always take his side. He threw a tantrum that all but destroyed your contract with Wharton, but you excuse it, explain it away, refused to admit he’s wrong.” She stopped to catch her breath, furious, dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“That’s enough, Tara. I know you want someone to blame and I know you’d love it to be my father, the man you blame for our breakup, the man you despise, but it’s not true.”

“You wouldn’t believe it if he signed a confession.”

“My father wouldn’t lie. You want the truth, but only if it’s ugly. You want to justify your hatred of this town and everyone in it. You accused Bill Fallon, Greg Pescatore, Joseph, now my father. Who’s next? Your mother? Me? Why not me? Wharton caused my father trouble. Maybe I put the faulty unit in his car. Maybe I drove him off the highway. Why not?”

She’d never seen him so angry before. “You’re exaggerating to make my position look ridiculous.”

“I don’t need to exaggerate. You have a chip on your shoulder the size of this town. You’re angry at me because I stayed, because I helped my father.”

“Your father bullied you, manipulated you. He robbed you of college, dragged you into his company and kept you here to keep him from self-destructing again. You fell for it, you’re still falling for it, because you think if you don’t do what he wants he won’t love you anymore. Parents are supposed to love you, no matter what. You don’t have to earn their love.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but she could tell that her words had struck a nerve. “How could you?”

“You mean with my parents, who don’t love me? No, you mean because I don’t know how to love. I’m not capable of love.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you think, though.”

“No. It’s what you think, Tara. And you use that as an excuse to keep people at arm’s length, to reject them before they reject you. You had no right to make me choose. I loved my father and I loved you. He needed me more.”

“Don’t you get it? He’ll always need you more.” She felt so lost suddenly, so sad. It seemed hopeless. They were both trapped in their past.

“My father is flawed. I know that. His bitterness tore our family apart, okay? But he’s still my father. I love him and he loves me. I work around his flaws. I focus on the good. That’s what you do for the people you love. You don’t set impossible standards, then write them off when they can’t meet them.”

“That’s what you think I do, isn’t it? I write people off.”

“I could never make you happy, Tara. You know that. You’d always be braced for me to fail you. I can’t live like that, constantly having to prove my love, always about to lose you.”

“And I can’t live with someone who thinks that of me, who has so little respect or trust.”

“Exactly,” he said. He felt the same about her. They were stuck.

They looked at each other in silence for a long time as their words settled around them like dry leaves after a gust. Her fingers and toes felt numb, her chest hollow, her brain fuzzy.

It was over. In a way it was a relief. They’d ended it before they could hurt each other more than either of them could bear.

“What do we do now?” Dylan asked softly, his eyes so sad she wanted to cup his cheek, tell him never mind, she’d be the love he needed her to be and he’d be hers. But that wasn’t possible.

She looked out across the parking lot, then back at the front of the building. “We go back to work,” she said, fighting with everything in her to do the sensible thing, to do what she’d promised herself and her sister she would do. “Can we do that? Or is that over, too?”

“My father did not put that part in your father’s car. We don’t even know if the part caused the accident. That’s all speculation, Tara.”