To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,5

woman trying to weave her wheelchair against the crowd. I turned to check again for Danny. No sign of him. Must be the store restroom had a line. The race had drawn one heck of a crowd.

Rising on my toes, I waved my arms like a crazy person, trying to catch Brennan’s eye as he jockeyed around the woman. I was about to give up when he spotted me and waved back.

I motioned for him to come over. Cory hadn’t passed by a second time yet, so maybe I could get Brennan positioned next to me in time to catch Cory’s eye.

Brennan nodded and gave me the “there in one second” finger.

A brake squealed nearby. I turned to catch sight of a Triumph Spitfire rounding the corner in front of me.

Again, I checked on Brennan, who had started to move in my direction against the pedestrian traffic flow. The masses on the sidewalk surged, shifting him closer to the street.

I took my eyes off him and craned my neck in the opposite direction to look for Danny again.

A TR2 flew around the corner and hit the gas. The crowd cheered.

My gaze moved back to the store entrance. What was taking Danny so long? And where in the world was Ray? I started to sidle back up the curb toward the store, trusting Brennan to find me.

The next car took the corner even faster, brakes squealing in protest, before accelerating on the straight. Applause broke out.

A BMW 2002 rounded the corner, almost on two wheels, squealing. The spectators let out an appreciative gasp.

The Cobra behind it took the curve still faster. Too fast.

Brakes squealed. I heard a sickening thump.

A woman started screaming.

I swung around. I couldn’t see the screamer or determine the reason for her screams. I couldn’t spot Brennan anymore either. The mass of people was too thick.

I turned back to check for Danny again and watched in horror as the oncoming line of race cars slammed on their brakes, the ones coming around Milliken’s Corner struggling for control. For a second, it looked like one of the Porsches was headed into the crowd. But no, all the cars came to a safe, if off kilter and herring-bone shaped, stop.

People poured into the street. Sheriff’s deputies appeared. Ray was with them.

Then I heard, “Oh my God, is he all right?”

“Call 911. Somebody call 911.”

“Is he dead?”

“Did he fall?”

“Did anyone call 911?”

A woman shrieked, “That guy pushed him. He pushed him!”

The other deputies cleared the crowd from the street. I held my ground on the curb. Danny would never find me if I moved now.

I was left with an almost unobstructed view of the road. The redheaded man lay in the street a few yards away, his legs bent at an impossible angle and a pool of blood beneath his head, soaking the shoulders of his royal blue jacket. The spectators were now silent, eyes wide, as the sheriff’s deputies moved fast to secure the area.

I choked back my cheeseburger and fries as they rose in my throat. I scanned the other side of the street, fearing Danny would see the man.

A sheriff’s deputy approached the group nearest the victim. “Are there any witnesses?”

A dark-haired woman tumbled off the sidewalk and grabbed the sheriff’s deputy’s arm. Tears streamed down her face. “That guy pushed him. He deliberately pushed him.”

My gaze followed her finger.

She was pointing at Brennan Rowe.

TWO

SHOCK AND DISBELIEF CROSSED Brennan’s face. He blanched and grimaced, giving the crowd a glimpse of his square white teeth. “The lady is mistaken. I tried to save him.”

A couple men in the crowd started to mutter, one stepped toward Brennan with his arm raised. The sheriff’s deputies were on him in an instant, herding him away. Ray stepped closer to Brennan, his gaze scanning the crowd until it came to rest on me. He looked all around me then mouthed, “Where’s Danny?”

I gasped and spun around. The crowd in the street blocked my view of the store entrance. I started to push through, stepping on toes and bumping people out of my way. A hand grasped onto my forearm.

“Jolene?”

“Danny! What took you so long?”

“I was looking at the race car miniatures. They have 1:43 scales in there of tons of cars. Can I get one?”

I hugged his shoulders. “Sure, but later. We have a problem.”

“What?”

I tugged him in the direction of the store and stopped next to the bake sale table, which was now surrounded by crying girls in red varsity sweatshirts. “A