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