Turner went looking for information. His first stop was his deputy mayor. Carl Buchanan had been a good friend of Turner’s uncle for years. He’d also been active in city politics with no intention of leaving for state or federal politics at any point. He’d been encouraging Turner in his pursuits since Turner had been a young man of eighteen or nineteen. Carl and the previous mayor Richard had been Turner’s mentors as a teen. Carl still was.
He also had the ability to read a person easily and see exactly what kind of person they were. Not to mention being a damned fine businessman, who’d built his career from the ground up. If anyone could help figure out who on the council was dirty pool, it would be Carl.
Turner stopped at the information desk and found the room number he was looking for. Carl was upstairs with his grandson, who’d been injured in the storm. The boy was scheduled for the first surgery to repair nerves in his broken arm in the morning.
Carl was helping Turner where he could, but his first priority was Jason. Turner wouldn’t have it any other way. Carl was all Jason had.
Turner stuck his head in the door. “Hey, can I come in?”
Jason was watching television, looking listless. And scared. Turner had been looking for his grandfather, but he decided to take a few minutes with the kid he’d known for years.
“Where’s your grandpa?”
“He went to the lobby to make a phone call.”
“How are you feeling? How is Jimmy?” Carl had shared the teenagers’ story and how the smaller boy was facing an uphill battle right now.
Jason shrugged. “I’m ok, I guess. Jimmy hasn’t really woken up yet. The doctors say he’ll be ok. If he doesn’t get an infection.”
“The doctors here are great, you know.”
“I guess.”
Turner spent a few minutes with him, trying to get him to smile. But the boy’s entire world had changed when he’d realized the world could stop in an instant.
Just like Turner, Jason had been hit with his own mortality, thanks to the storm.
Hell, if he was having trouble processing that fact, why wouldn’t a thirteen-year-old boy? Turner wished he had the answers. For Jason and himself.
Carl returned a few minutes after Jason had drifted off to sleep.
He paused when he saw Turner. “I didn’t realize you were here. I see he’s sleeping again.”
“He’s doing ok?”
Carl hesitated, and then shook his head. “His friend lost his leg yesterday morning. Jason’s still trying to process.”
Turner swore. “I’m sorry, Carl. If there is anything I can do to help…”
“The offer’s appreciated. What are you doing here today?”
Turner outlined the issue as quickly as he could.
“There are a few on the council I can see being behind this,” Carl said quietly when Turner finished. “But I can see them being smart enough not to get caught. There have been rumors off and on for years. Richard never put much stock in them. I disagreed. I wanted to let you develop your own opinion.”
“This seems almost coordinated. As if someone knew exactly what to do when all of our systems were down citywide.”
Turner had gone over everything with the chief and he agreed.
It was almost as though they had more than one person involved. That made sense, considering how the supplies were being moved. And from reports of the enforcers that had been out there.
Turner was just trying to make sense of it, while handling everything else that kept coming his direction.
“We’re going to have to keep digging,” he said. “Just let me know if you hear or think of anything that might help us find the answers.”
Turner patted the older man on the shoulder. The hell Carl Buchanan had been through was written all over his face. Carl had been playing the politician game in Finley Creek since before Turner had been born. And he did it well.
Carl was the epitome of the self-made man. He’d never attended college, and he’d told Turner before that he’d quit school just after his eighth-grade year and made his way on his own. His stepfather hadn’t wanted a fourteen-year-old boy around after his own son had been born with Carl’s mother. Resources had been scarce. Carl had been as big as a man then—and his stepfather had expected him to act like one.
His mother hadn’t done much to fix the situation. Carl had gone off on his own and built himself a life to be proud of. He didn’t have much family left, just Jason. Carl had lost his wife, his daughter, and his son over the past twenty years. Jason was all that was left.
It was that boy who meant the world to the deputy mayor. Carl’s phone rang, and a look of irritation passed over Carl’s face.
“Go, Carl. I’ll sit with Jason while you’re on the phone.”
Carl had many small businesses throughout the state.
With the storm damage, it was a wonder he wasn’t busy twenty-four-seven.
He’d agreed to be the part-time deputy mayor when Turner had asked him, stepping down from his position on the city council. It wasn’t a decision Turner had regretted.
He only needed Carl about twenty hours each week—it varied—but in the days since the storm, Carl’s advice had been invaluable.
Even though most of it had come from the hospital.
Carl was spending every minute at the hospital with Jason—and Jason’s friend.
He didn’t need to be worried about the city.
Carl had enough on his plate.
“Thanks, Turner. I—”
“Look like hell. I’ll stay here. You head home for a bit—take a shower, grab some breakfast. Jason and I will watch TV when he wakes—not Storm Bombers, even though that’s everyone’s favorite right now—and talk about the ladies. I hear they have really hot nurses in this wing.” He winked at the nurse who had just stepped into the room in time to hear his comment. Izzie just snickered in return. “I can confirm that personally, as of this very moment. Hey, Super Iz.”
“Hey Mayor-Man,” Izzie said quietly as she checked one of the machines next to Jason’s bed and unplugged it to slip it out of the room.
Carl almost slumped. “I think I’ll do that. Thanks, Turner. It’s appreciated.”
“I know. Which makes it no problem at all. You’d do it for me. I’ll stay around here until you get back. We’ll hit the meeting together. I won’t let him wake alone, ok?”
Turner waited until the man was gone before turning toward the nurse who’d returned. “You doing ok?”
“I’m fine.” She shot him a wicked look out of those ridiculously powerful brown eyes of hers. “But I don’t think it’s me you’re really asking about.”
“Of course, it is. You stole my heart, you little heart-thief.” It was true, in a way. Izzie reminded him of his cousin Powell in attitude. Vulnerable hedgehog. It made him want to protect her, all the while razzing her as much as he possibly could.
Kid sister. If he had one, she probably would have been a lot like Izzie. Or Powell.
“Sure, I did.” She finished pulling a second piece of equipment from behind the sleeping teenager. “She’s upstairs. And not too happy this morning.”
“Why?”
“Her physicians aren’t letting her out of here as fast as she wants. I think she’s bored. And worried. She always overworks herself when she’s worried. Annie doesn’t sit well. She’s always got to be taking care of something. Lifelong habit.”
Turner made his mind up in that instant. “I’ll head up there in just a bit. See if I can take her mind off what happened.”
He wanted nothing more than to do just that.
Turner was still determined to make everything better for her that he could.