Walk Through the Fire

by Calle J. Brookes

  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.”

  31

  They wouldn’t let her in the operating room. Not that Annie had expected they would, protocol existed for a reason. They didn’t need distracted by her in there. Not now. Not when it was Izzie.

  She kept pacing in the surgical waiting room. Nikkie Jean was in a wheelchair next to her. Annie was still trying to process what had happened to Izzie and Nikkie Jean. No one knew why it had happened. Or even how it could have.

  Why Izzie?

  Annie bit back a sob. For a moment, she wanted to throw herself back into the mayor’s arms and just let him hold the world at bay again.

  Nikkie Jean was bruised, and they were keeping her, but it was mostly at the insistence of Rafe. Wallace Henedy had just shot Izzie. For no reason at all. Not one anyone understood, anyway.

  Annie wiped at the tears again.

  Nikkie Jean’s hand wrapped around hers. “She’ll be ok. Vir and Cage will take good care of her.”

  32

  “You should be resting,” Annie said. Nikkie Jean had a black eye forming. And she held herself gingerly. She was hurting and wouldn’t take anything for the pain, no doubt. She was terrified of doing something to harm the baby.

  “So should you,” Nikkie Jean pointed out. “But neither one of us are going anywhere.”

  Nikkie Jean was right about that. Annie studied the older woman. Nikkie Jean had her own bruises now. Someone had said Wallace Henedy had slammed her into the wall, too. “How are you feeling?”

  “Bruised and sore. But the baby is fine. Is going to be fine.”

  Wallace Henedy had knocked her around. As small as Nikkie Jean was—at probably not quite five feet—it was a real miracle Wallace Henedy hadn’t hurt her more than he had. Or the baby.

  Some of the details were still emerging. Mel had connections at the TSP and was using them to get information for Caine as a family favor. Caine hovered behind Nikkie Jean, his arm in a sling where Henedy had shot him, as well.

  No one truly understood why Wallace Henedy had gone off the deep end. Nikkie Jean had said he’d told her and Izzie his wife had ended their relationship, and that he’d had an affair with Nikkie Jean’s mother years ago. That was about all the information anyone had to go on.

  He’d been friends with Nikkie Jean’s father, too.

  None of that explained why he’d targeted Izzie. Three times. She’d been shot at least three times. The odds of her surviving that were slim.

  Even with the best surgeons in there with her now. Annie trusted the men and women in there, but things went wrong in surgery—especially emergency surgery—all the time. Annie knew that herself far too well. She’d worked surgical many times before.

  No one understood why he had shot Izzie like he had. Nikkie Jean had said he’d just walked up to Izzie, raised the gun, and fired. Twice.

  It didn’t make any sense why he’d targeted Izzie. Their paths had rarely crossed, even while in the hospital.

  He’d shot Izzie a third time before throwing her into Allen Jacobson’s arms. Thank God Nikkie Jean had been with her. Nikkie Jean had slowed the original bleeding. And then Allen had carried her to help, just across the street.

  Three times. Three bullets. Annie could imagine it way too easily. Her father had tried to shoot her mother one night after he’d come home from a hospital function drunk on his feet. And then he had turned on Annie with his fists when the gun had jammed.

  Or when he’d been too drunk to remember how to take off the safety.

  Annie forced herself to calm down. There were people with Izzie who Annie trusted to take care of her. Cage Ralstone and Virat Patel were some of the very best. And Allen Jacobson, the head of surgery, had scrubbed up to watch. He couldn’t treat Izzie, as he’d also been shot by Henedy, but he could be there next to her. To make certain everything went as it should. He was the head of the surgical department. One of the best they had in the state. Allen would watch every second.

  Annie gave a watery hiccup. “She’s not going to be happy to have Dr. Jacobson in there with her.”

  “Probably not,” the tall man beside her said. Annie could still feel his heat next to her, his scent surrounding her. Promising to make the world better again. Safer.

  Like he had before. It took everything she had to resist clinging to the mayor until this storm was over.

  Izzie was terrified of Allen Jacobson and had been for well over a year now. His best friend Logan Lanning had almost gotten Izzie fired before he’d died.

  Lanning had done it on purpose because he hadn’t liked Izzie, and everyone had known it. Except perhaps Allen Jacobson. It would never be easy with Izzie and Allen Jacobson. But Allen had kept her alive this long. Annie would always love him for that. “Someone will need to feed her cat.”

  “I have the spare key. Cherise and Vince are going to stop by to get the cat and take him home with them.”

  Annie nodded. Izzie loved that cat, even though it was her uncle’s. Jake was still out of town; Annie hadn’t been able to find him to give him the message about his niece.

  Mel Barratt was trying to find him, using every connection she had.

  33

  If he got his people to take a five percent pay cut, and if he did a significant portion of the work himself for no pay, Reggie Henedy could adjust the bid he was about to submit to the city council and the mayor by at least twenty-five percent. In the city’s favor.

  Henedy Construction & Contracting could take the hit. It would be close, but he could do it. He didn’t feel right giving the city too big of a bill. Not after what had happened. The city had enough to worry about right now.

  Reggie had the skills, he had the equipment, and he had the manpower to help Finley Creek recover. It was his ethical duty to do what he could.

  He was adjusting more figures when his cell rang.

  His mother’s ringtone.

  Reggie didn’t like to think of himself as a mama’s boy—far from it. He’d had more struggles getting along with his fiery, passionate mother than he had his calmer, more collected, less reckless father.

  But he valued his mother, especially considering how she had managed to make a successful life for herself, despite how his father had betrayed her time and time again.

  He’d liked to think his moral code was as different from his father’s as it was possible for one to be.

  The husband of his father’s mistress had shown up at one of Reggie’s little league games and told his mother in exact details—with Reggie listening—how his father had betrayed her, and it had made it clear the type of person Reggie wanted to be. Anything but like his father.

  It had soured baseball for Reggie after that.

  His mother had changed right before his eyes. Some of her passion was just gone. It took her a long while to bounce back from what his father had done.

  She had sworn Reggie to secrecy, never to tell his father what had happened.

  He’d worried for six months that his parents were going to divorce—but they never had.

  He half thought his mother had stayed with his father for Reggie and his cousin Raymond’s sakes.

  His relationship with his mother had shifted that day, too. He’d become more of a m
an, he thought. And she’d sheltered him from the harsh realities of the world less than she had before. Depended on him more.

  When the time had come for him to build a life for himself as a man, she’d harshly told him to figure out a way to do it himself. She’d helped his father get to where he was, and he had betrayed her.

  Reggie was going to learn how to stand on his own two feet.

  No matter what.

  That, she said, was going to be her greatest gift to him. He was going to be a man he could be proud of.

  Those were lessons he had never forgotten.

  “Hello, Mom. You doing ok?”

  “Get to the hospital and stop him!”

  “Mom?” She’d said hospital, and his mind had immediately shifted to his father. In spite of his father’s faults, Reggie still loved him. He was his father—and he loved Reggie in return. He had never doubted that. “Is Dad ok?”

  “No, he’s not ok. He’s shot someone! Probably his latest whore. You need to get down there and tell me what they are saying. I can’t handle this. He’s going to ruin everything. Just get down there, Reggie, now!”

  The phone went silent between them.

  Reggie didn’t know what to do. So, for the first time in what seemed like his adult life, he did what his mother told him without questioning.

  34

  There were TSP cars everywhere. Flashing lights almost blinded him. Reggie parked his car and climbed out. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing now.

  He couldn’t just walk up to the TSP and say he was looking for his father. Well, why couldn’t he? His mother had probably been wrong. His father wouldn’t have shot anyone. He didn’t even think his father owned a gun. His father helped people.

  Not hurt them.

  Reggie started across the parking lot.

  A detective held out a hand and stopped him. “Sir, you can’t go in there.”

  “I’m…I was told my father is over there. I need to find him.” Reggie tried to look past the man, but the detective was just as big as Reggie. “Wallace Henedy. He’s a doctor at the hospital right there.”