Claudia, the receptionist who’d outlasted the last four mayors, knocked on his door, an urgent look on her face. “Turner, hurry. Grab your jacket. Brush your hair.”
The normally calm woman was beyond frazzled. Something had happened, and it wasn’t good. Fear shot through him. “Claudia, what is it?”
Not what, who. It was always a who. Being the mayor was like wrangling a tornado, excuse the expression. Always dealing with the wind.
“There’s been a shooting. Near the hospital. Across the road. I’m not sure of the details.”
There were days he wanted to just quit this job and returned to the safe and dull world of corporate law. July 29 topped that list. Never would he forget the day of the storm. “I’ll head over now. See what I can do.”
“The last thing we need is for this to be broadcast all over the world. Our city needs a break.” Claudia was very vocal in what she saw as the people’s heart needs. The woman loved Finley Creek; it was why she’d outlasted four different mayors in her career. And why Turner adored her. “And they need a young, good-looking, steady, dependable leader out there for them to follow. So get your handsome self out there and be the mayor.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Turner nodded.
He had vowed to do whatever Finley Creek and its people needed.
He had a temporary driver, a TSP officer who had taken a hard hit in the storm and could only do light duty work until his arm and ribs healed.
Officer Collin Eugent had volunteered to drive whoever needed driven. Elliot had sent him Turner’s way, mostly to help the officer feel useful, Turner suspected. It was appreciated.
Turner used the few moments of the drive to try to contact Elliot.
He didn’t get through.
His driver parked in the rear parking lot of the hospital, then grabbed a vest from the seat next to him. The gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on Turner. “Mayor Barratt, I suggest you stay back here until we get an update on the situation. If there is an active shooter inside, you will be required to take cover. I’m going to see if I’m needed.”
Turner knew that time wasted arguing was more valuable than could be calculated. He just nodded. “I’ll stay back. You be careful out there.”
He had no desire to be in the midst of an active shooting situation, either. He wasn’t stupid.
Before anything else could be said, a man jogged up. The chief himself. “Turner—”
“What’s going on?” Turner tried to look toward the buildings where the TSP patrol cars encircled.
“It’s contained. There was a shooting at W4HAV.”
He recognized the name of the women’s charity across the street from the hospital. Mel, and several other women he knew, were directly involved in running it. Including Ariella Deane, the governor’s wife.
The idea that someone he knew, and possibly loved, was hurt terrified him.
“How many injured? Who?”
“Three shooting victims, one assault. One is critical.”
Turner felt sick just at the thought of it. “The shooter?”
“Wallace Henedy. A surgeon at FCGH. We’re still gathering details.”
Turner racked his brain at the familiar name. “Isn’t that Councilwoman Henedy’s husband?” Tall, slim, not very personable, but not super-objectionable, either. He’d rather blended in whenever they’d been at council functions.
“I believe so.” Elliot paused. The look he shot Turner had his blood freezing. Elliot looked toward the temporary ER. “The woman in critical condition is Izadora MacNamara. Izzie. She’s a good friend of my wife, and Mel’s.”
Turner froze. No; not Izzie. Not her. Big, brown eyes and a mischievous grin flashed in his mind. Not sweet little Izzie. “Who was with her?”
Sources—namely Mel—had told him Annie was getting out of the hospital soon. And if Izzie was somewhere, Mel had said, Annie wasn’t too far away.
Elliot had said two more were shot. At a women’s charity.
Two pretty female faces flashed in his mind—Annie and her little chattery friend. Two women who would have been close to Izzie.
“Caine Alvaro, Allen Jacobson, and Nikkie Jean Netorre.”
“Nikkie Jean—that’s the little chatterbox with glasses?” Turner started toward the hospital. He wasn’t going anywhere—even on the damned news—until he knew that Izzie was going to be ok. Annie, he’d need to check on her, too.
Izzie and little Nikkie Jean were her best friends. She had to be terrified right now.
“Yes. She…we don’t know the details, but she and the two physicians are in the ER now.”
“So what happened? I’ll need to prepare a statement.” They headed toward the rear entrance of the temporary ER. Turner barely kept himself from running. Izzie’s pretty face kept flashing in front of his eyes. Her wicked grin the last time he’d seen her. The way she had been needling Allen in the hospital room. “How badly is Iz hurt?”
“He shot her multiple times, Turner. From what I understand, it doesn’t look good. Allen Jacobson was also hit, but he was able to carry Izzie to the ER. A few minutes later, Caine Alvaro was struck. Nikkie Jean was physically assaulted by Dr. Henedy, but no bullets struck her, amazingly.”
Nikkie Jean was pregnant. He’d learned that the night of the storm when he’d spent several hours talking with her partner Dr. Alvaro, who’d sat by her bed for those hours. Pregnant, and had already had two hospitalizations.
“Her baby?” She didn’t deserve this. None of them did. He’d check on Annie, check on her little friend, put eyes on Allen himself, and then he’d wait for Izzie.
Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll have to get more details inside.”
They stepped into an ER that was running as smoothly as possible, considering an F4 tornado had ripped through the hospital ten days ago.
Turner stepped up to the central desk. “I need to speak to Dr. Holden-Deane as soon as he is available.”
“Mayor Barratt, he’s in with a patient. If you’ll have a seat…” the nurse, who’s tag read Wanda, and whom he had seen before, said firmly.
“Wanda, my people will need to speak to Dr. Netorre, Dr. Jacobson, and Dr. Alvaro as soon as possible.” The chief spoke, drawing her attention to him. Wanda nodded.
She’s been around long enough to have seen just about everything the world can throw at the ER, Turner thought. There was a world-weary awareness in her eyes.
“They’re upstairs in the surgical waiting room. At least, Dr. Jacobson is.”
Elliot leaned forward. “Where is Dr. Netorre?”
“She’s being treated, then she’ll be heading up to the waiting room for the surgical department. She’ll need some time, Chief Marshall. Give it to her.” She shot him a determined look. “There’s nothing that cannot wait a bit. Not until we know about our Izzie. Don’t make this worse for little Nikkie Jean. Hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. The last thing I want to do is upset Nikkie Jean,” Elliot said. “But the TSP needs to speak to those involved as soon as possible. Before any misinformation gets out. I want to protect Nikkie Jean, just as much as you do. But she’s the one with the answers we need. Now.”
“I’m here,” a feminine voice said, quietly, from behind them. “But we can do this upstairs. And I’m only talking to you, Elliot. Where’s Jake? We need to find Izzie’s uncle. He needs to be here. She’ll…Annie is her next-of-kin. I need to be with Annie right now.”
“We’ll head up now.”
“I’m waiting for Caine.”
“Right here behind you, sweetheart.” Dr. Caine Alvaro had a sling on his arm. The other went around the petite woman who was almost silent.
“Layla’s booking me a room here tonight, complete with room service. Just as a precaution. I’m supposed to be there now, but…I need to be upstairs with Izzie.”
“Of course.”
Turner didn’t know what to say, so he just walked behind them quietly. Dr. Alvaro had his good arm around her. She was crying silently.
He’d never forget her face in that moment. Almost every time he’d ever seen her, she’d been chattering away, a bright little butterfly who made people smile. Now she was just silently crying.
He sent an unspoken prayer to the man upstairs that Izzie pulled through.
Annie was in the waiting room, pacing, when they walked in. She cried out, and then she and her little friend were wrapped in each other’s arms, bawling.
Dr. Alvaro finally pulled them apart several long minutes later.
Turner put his hands on Annie’s shoulders and pulled her until her back rested on his chest. He didn’t think about it, he just did it. Just wanted to be there in case she needed him. Wanted to offer what comfort he could.
She didn’t even look up at him, just turned, burying her face in his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt, but she never said a word. Turner wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he dared. He’d hold her until the storm ended.
He looked at Elliot. “You handle the press conference. I’ll take the next one. I’m going to stay right here. With Annie.”