Nancy Warren - Aftershocks

“But not without more resources.” Patrick heard the edge of fury in his own voice.

“Hey, we know you’re doing everything you can,” Dan said. “I’ve sat in those damn council meetings. Nobody’s blaming you.”

But Patrick was. It was still his responsibility as mayor of this town to see that the city ran smoothly. What a laugh. When he thought back to his early days of campaigning, he’d imagined there’d be nothing more required of him than that he perform his job with integrity and fiscal responsibility.

Who could have foreseen that within months of him taking office, his town would face a host of natural and human foes. Would he go back and change his place in all of this if he could?

No, by God, he wouldn’t. He’d been voted in by the people of this town, not the council, and if the council wouldn’t see reason, maybe he was going to have to go straight to the citizens of Courage Bay.

An idea was beginning to form.

“Sam,” he said, “how long until the media gets hold of this?”

“You mean that the fire last night was arson?”

“Yeah.”

Sam gave a tight smile. “Well, I’m not going to tell them-at least not until the tests are completed. Right now, we haven’t got so much as a lead on the guy. All you have is my hunch.”

It was more than a hunch and they all knew it. But Sam was also right that they couldn’t go public until the test results were in.

“I’ve called an emergency council meeting planned for tonight to try and get five heads out of five asses,” Patrick said. “If I don’t succeed, I’m upping the pressure on council. You guys need the resources to get to the bottom of this.”

Sam took the evidence box and carefully replaced it in his leather case. “I’ll get right on it.” He glanced at Patrick. “Anything you can do to help us catch this guy means…” He cracked a grin. “You get my vote for mayor next time around.”

Happy to help lighten the grim mood, Patrick said, “I thought I got your vote last time.”

“You did,” Sam conceded. “Okay, you help us get the resources to catch The Trigger and you’ll get both my vote in the next election and a beer.”

Patrick chuckled. “Don’t you know better than to attempt to bribe a city official? I’ll buy my own beer. But thanks.”

The two men shook hands and Sam left the office.

“Leave the door open,” Dan said. Turning to Patrick, he explained, “I like to be available for any of the guys.”

“Speaking of which, here’s one of the ‘guys’ now,” Patrick said, raising an eyebrow at his chauvinist friend. Shannon was on her way to the office with the fire mechanic, Bud Patchett, in tow.

“No, really, Shannon. No need to bother the chief. I was just letting off some steam,” they heard Patchett say as Shannon pretty much manhandled him into the chief’s office.

If Shannon wasn’t with the mechanic, Patrick might plead an urgent appointment and hustle out of there. Bud Patchett could talk.

“Hey, bro,” she said, seeing Patrick. “You okay after last night?”

Whether she was referring to the elevator ordeal or to his intimacy with Briana, which Shannon had obviously guessed at, he didn’t know. But he decided to assume she meant the elevator. “I’m fine. You guys did a great job, thanks.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” she said. She smiled at him, but there were lines of fatigue around her eyes, and knowing Shannon, she’d have taken the death of Patty Reese hard.

He might be the mayor and she might be a firefighter, but he was still her big brother. “I’m sorry Ms. Reese didn’t make it, kid.”

Shannon nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”

For a moment no one spoke, then she seemed to pull herself together. “Bud here has something to say to you, Dan, and maybe since you’re here, you ought to hear it too, Patrick.”

“I didn’t know the mayor was here. Hello, Patrick.”

“Hi, Bud. Don’t mind me. If you’ve got something to say, go ahead and say it.”

The mechanic glanced back and forth between the fire chief and the mayor, finally addressing his remarks to the chief. “Dan, I’m sorry to add to your troubles today, but I’ve got to get some more maintenance help. Our trucks have been used to full capacity in the past weeks. They need more frequent maintenance, and one of the guys said there was a small leak in the spare fire hose. I need another part-timer at least.”

Dan nodded, his gaze fixed on the mechanic. One of the reasons Patrick respected his replacement as fire chief was the way Egan listened to his people. Bud knew his way around a fire engine better than anyone, and if he said he needed more help, then he did.

The familiar burn of anger intensified in Patrick’s belly. Damn it, it was his job to make sure the fire crews had the resources they needed, right down to enough guys to check the brakes regularly.

“Let me see what I can do, Bud,” Dan said. “In the meantime, I appreciate knowing you’re doing your best.”

“Yes, sir. I do my very best. I love those engines. And I like to see them running smooth and polished to a shine.”

Patrick knew they had more to worry about than shiny fire trucks. They had a murderous arsonist to catch, and it was his job as mayor to find the funding to ensure they stopped the killer.

PATRICK ARRIVED at the ribbon-cutting ceremony with a few minutes to spare. He pulled out his cell phone and returned one of the messages he hadn’t had time for this morning.

“Archie Weld,” the deep voice answered. Archie had spent twenty years in radio before taking the job as media liaison for city hall.

“Archie, Patrick O’Shea.”

“Patrick, as I’m sure you know, everybody wants a statement, they want an interview, they want pictures, footage, a reenactment of the mayor’s incarceration in his own elevator.”

Patrick chuckled. “I hear you. Look, Archie, can you tell them all I’ll cooperate fully, but not today. I’m sure even our media friends can appreciate I’ve got a lot to do today. If you want to put together some kind of release giving the details of what happened and that no one in city hall was hurt, go ahead and put some quotes in from me. If you e-mail it to Briana, she’ll make sure I read it and get it back to you this afternoon.”

“I think the TV and papers want-”

“Pictures. They’ll get them, but not until tomorrow. Look, I’ve got something going on and I want to do a live appearance on the six o’clock news tomorrow night. Can you set it up?”

“Sure.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Uh, Patrick, it’s going to be easier to get the station to agree with this if they know what it’s about.”

“I’ve got an important message for the people of this city, but I don’t want to say more until tomorrow. I’ll fill you in later, but sell the TV guys on the concept, will you? You’ll think of something.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Once I finish the on-air broadcast, I’ll take a full media conference. Everyone can have pictures, sound bites, full interviews, whatever they need. I think I can promise the show will be…interesting. Probably dramatic.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks. So do I.”

“If you want me to prepare you some speaking notes-”

“Nope. I’m going to wing it.”

“Okay, it’s your funeral.”

Actually, he was hoping to prevent a few funerals. There had been too many in Courage Bay.

BRIANA WAS THE FIRST to arrive at the council chambers located on the main floor of city hall. Since this was an in-camera meeting, there were no spectators in the visitors’ seating area.

It was quiet yet, the only sound a soft plunk as Briana dropped an agenda package in front of each person’s place. The package included the agenda, which was pretty short, since Patrick only had one order of business, and the attached budgets and expense records of the city’s emergency crews. She’d been shocked at how much money had been spent on extra staffing to cover injured emergency personnel, on maintenance and upkeep for all the equipment, and on overtime.