“That’s not what he meant.” He wanted to throttle his father for saying something so clumsy, but Tara was far too eager to criticize the man.
“I would have asked him to leave, but I was afraid he’d hit me.”
“Come on. He would never do that. I don’t blame you for being angry. Dad blew it. I get that. Why make it worse?”
“I don’t see how it could be any worse. So is this your job? Follow after him and clean up his messes? How can you stand it?”
“Tara, stop.” She was furious. He could see that. She thought his father was still exploiting him, using him, that Dylan was blindly loyal to the man. He was not about to defend himself or his father to her. And he didn’t want to hear more hateful words from her.
They stared at each other for long seconds. Tara seemed to collect herself, set aside her personal feelings and shift into professional mode. “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. That’s water under the bridge. What can we do to salvage this?”
Whew. They were a team again, working together to save the contract between their two companies and, as it turned out, Dylan’s long-held dream. That was the most important thing here.
But things had shifted between them. That brief exchange was a loud and clear reminder of all that stood between them. He’d been right. This morning at dawn, they really had been saying goodbye for good.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LEAVING DYLAN AFTER they’d worked out their plan, Tara paused in the Ryland lobby to calm down. The entire time they’d talked, she’d battled her outrage at Sean Ryland’s stunt, her disappointment that Dylan was still making excuses for the man and the terrible sadness that washed over her when she realized she and Dylan were done.
They both knew it would end. They’d set limits. They’d agreed they had no future. Still, she’d wanted more. She’d had a secret hope.
She was a fool.
She took a final calming breath and was about to leave when she remembered her phone had buzzed with a message. She dialed voice mail, her gaze snagging on the whimsical sculpture in front of her—a fountain of floating circuit boards, each with a splash of orange—the Ryland Engineering logo. The peach-colored walls were a good match.
When the first message started, she jolted. It was the accident expert from L.A. She listened as he rattled off his conclusions.
There was a lot of jargon about vectors and drag and torque, but the key point was “there was a collision of some kind, possibly tangential, but the surge in acceleration in evidence would require another factor...possibly a malfunction in the electrical system.”
Okay, she thought, sorting through what she’d heard. The car had been hit and a part had malfunctioned. Something electrical. There’d been a surge.
Her gaze kept snagging on the sculpture. All those logos. She’d seen them before. On the Ryland tour maybe?
Wait. She remembered. The Tesla. Tony had banged on a box he said he’d need to check. She’d seen the edge of the logo. Thinking harder, she realized the car had had a Wharton Electronics battery, too. The Tesla factory-installed battery had been changed out.
The Wharton test crew claimed the faulty Ryland units caused power surges. The Ryland people maintained that a major jolt or blow would be needed to cause the surge.
Like a collision?
A crash and a malfunction added up to the cause of the crash. It explained all the evidence. Her heart racing, she worked it out in her mind. Had Tony changed out the battery? He hadn’t mentioned it when they’d looked at the crushed engine. Why not?
Calling information for the number for Auto Angels, she had him on the phone in seconds. “I haven’t gotten the okay to tow the Tesla to your place yet,” she said, “but I was wondering if you’d installed the Wharton battery.”
“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