CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jake clenched his fists all the way to the car. He pressed unlock on the key signal and pushed a random tree branch out of the way. Then he parked himself in the driver seat and started the engine. Waited for Amanda to get in the car herself. He wasn’t in any mood to open the door for her. Not right now. And yet, his Southern upbringing rang in his ears even as he sat there, angry. He should’ve opened the door for her, no matter what.
With a slow but steady hand, Amanda unhooked the passenger door and got in. “Are you okay?”
He turned and glared at her. “What the hell was that about? The woman lost her husband, and you go around making accusations, when you don’t know anything about what happened that day?” This was a completely different side of Amanda.
“Neither do you,” Amanda whispered. “I think there’s foul play involved. Seeing her natural reaction, getting her side of things, is how we figure this out.”
“This isn’t a cop show. We aren’t Starsky and Hutch!”
Once the words escaped his tongue, the guilt seeped in. He hadn’t meant to yell, but she behaved like this was a game. It wasn’t. Didn’t she understand he needed to keep her safe? Why didn’t she understand how much she meant to him and he couldn’t afford to lose her?
She looked away from him, staring out the window. “I didn’t say we were. But you have to admit, if there wasn’t any reason for the coaster to fail during safety inspections, the foul play must have happened postconstruction.”
“Maybe, but we stick to the facts. There’s no evidence of foul play. And I, for one, don’t believe the father of modern roller coaster design would suddenly go insane and decide to kill dozens of people. That’s crazy talk.” Most of the time, Amanda kept him on his toes. This was different. How could she not see that? Then again, she’d always been on point before…
She turned to meet his gaze. “You’re the one who was so shocked at your hero becoming a recluse. We don’t know this man’s life or motivations. Under the right circumstances, anyone can hurt anyone—”
“Would you ever do something like that?”
Redness crept from her neck upward and across her cheeks. “I’m only saying, people have reasons for what they do.”
“Maybe, but I would never do anything like that. People should be honest with each other, not accuse others of wrongdoing without facts.”
“Why don’t we try talking to Randall again?”
Jake cleared his throat. “Good idea, but let me do the talking. Please don’t insult the man.”
“Fine.”
He continued to drive. Anytime a woman said the word fine, things were anything but. He wondered how to make things up to Amanda later, apologize for his outburst. Meanwhile, he’d take his chances with Randall. Maybe the man could shed some light on the whole situation. Give some insight into what happened that fateful day at Zephyr Land.
* * *
A minute later, Jake stepped out of the car and walked around to get Amanda’s door. Even though she’d ticked him off with her approach at Mary’s house, he still had guilt weighing on him for not being a gentleman. His mother had bred Southern manners into him, often with no mercy.
“C’mon,” he said, taking her hand. “Looks like he’s home now. That 1978 Dodge pickup truck wasn’t here earlier.”
“Sure.”
He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her across the minefield yard of junk. At the door, he released her and knocked.
Loud dog barks from inside echoed through the door.
“Guess he had his dog with him earlier,” Amanda said. “There wasn’t any barking before.”
Jake nodded. “Remember, let me interview him.”
“Okay.”
The sound of multiple deadbolts was followed by the door opening. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Kern?” Jake asked. “Are you Randall Kern?”
“Who wants to know?”
Jake glanced down, noticed the dog’s panting mouth—with lots of white sharp teeth—trying to escape.
“Catfish, back!” the guy yelled.
“Great name for a dog,” Jake said, smiling.
“Who are you?”
“Jake Mercer. I teach engineering at University of Georgia. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, sir.”
“You’re a fan trying to find me?”
“Yes,” Jake answered. He gave Amanda a knowing glance. They needed to pretend like this was a hero-worship visit, then bring up Zephyr Land. Otherwise, any talk might scare him off.
The door unlatched and opened wide. “I’m Randall Kern, yes.”
Jake extended a hand to shake. “A thrill to meet you, sir. This is my girlfriend, Amanda Moss.”
“Hi,” she said as she shook his freckled hand. Sign of a redhead, and Randall’s red wiry hair fell unkempt to his shoulders. The kind of haircut that looked better under a baseball cap.
“Forgive me. Folks round this way don’t often come by. Why don’t you kids come on in?” Randall said. He motioned to the rear door. “Catfish, go on. Outside, boy.”
The black-and-tan German shepherd made a snuffling sound before turning and trotting away.
“Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Jake chose the couch, and Amanda sat on the opposite cushion. Across from them, Randall leaned back in a rocker.
“You two on your way to New Orleans? Lots of fun in that city.”
“No, Abandon is as far west as we’re going this trip.” Jake cleared his throat. “Your roller coaster designs are amazing, sir. You were so ahead of your time—”
“A lot of good it did me,” Randall quipped. “I got arthritis so bad, I can’t even draw a straight line to plot or design anything anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that. We studied your methods in college. I use them as examples of perfection in my lectures.”
Randall gave a half smile, which matched his lopsided reddish mustache. “Nice to hear my work helped someone.”
Jake leaned forward. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m trying to do a position paper on the derailment at Zephyr Land.”
Randall frowned. “A shame, all those people.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake noticed Amanda studying Randall’s every move. She’d already assumed he was guilty. Now she sought evidence to make her case. Let her assume all she wanted. As long as she kept quiet and let him do the interview—
“Mr. Kern,” Amanda began.
Crap. Why couldn’t she have listened? Jake cleared his throat, took the lead.
“What do you think happened ten years ago?” Jake said, shooting Amanda a scowl.
Randall scratched his head and reached for a nearby baseball cap to cover his wiry hair. “Bello and Toale was notorious for going cheap on the essentials. That’s why they ended my contract.”
“What do you mean, going cheap?” Jake asked.
“Telling the public they use Grade Eight premium bolts when they’re using cheap metal scrap from foreigners.”
“You’re saying they cut corners in safety to make a buck?”
Randall gawked at Jake like he had three heads. “Wake up, sonny. Bello and Toale is in the profit business, not the artistic passion business. If Chester Adding the Third could save ten cents on a screw, he did. And the cost of his egotistical greedy crap? Those people’s lives.”
Jake ran his fingers through his hair. “Bello and Toale had a great reputation. Why would they ruin it with faulty equipment? Wouldn’t the insurance adjusters have determined the cause and held them responsible?”
“Of course.”
Jake pieced together all the data. “I don’t understand. How is it they didn’t get caught?”
Randall shook his head. Then he reached into his wallet, pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill, and snapped it between his fingers.
“Because this is always the most powerful form of government. It outranks safety officials. Customs clerks. Everyone.”
“You’re saying the firm bribed the safety inspector?”
“You bet,” Randall said. “It ain’t the first time either.”
Amanda patted Jake’s hand. “But doesn’t any kind of accident hurt the company?”
He glanced at her and smiled. At least her question didn’t sound accusatory.
“Bello and Toale was notorious for taking risks. Financial gain versus possible risk of failure. Guess which one always won out?”
Jake nodded, digesting the information. “I assume the cheap equipment was painted or done up to look like the Grade Eight or Nine bolts?”
Randall’s eyes gleamed. “Very good. You know your stuff, for a man of academia.”
Jake’s jaw muscles clenched, but he said nothing. Many people assumed that his academia career meant that he was one of those who couldn’t do, so he taught. But it was more than that. There were reasons he’d chosen academia over a nine-to-five job. Important reasons besides some cliché expression.
“Guess I need to study those bolts more. Not only on the cars, but on the track,” Jake said.
“Look into the accounting practices of the company too. You’ll be amazed.”
Jake nodded. “Well, thanks for your time, sir. You’ve helped with my research.”
“Glad to help a fellow engineer.”
Amanda smiled and said good-bye, and then they sidestepped across the yard back to the vehicle.
Once inside the car, Jake let out a deep breath. “What he said makes sense, but I still want to find out more about this lawsuit. Let’s go back to the inn, and I’ll type out my notes.”
“I think he’s guilty,” Amanda said.