“Contrary to what you think,” Gil said, “the department hasn’t suffered in any way. In fact, just recently we upgraded all the necessary equipment.”
“Mmm.” Roman nodded. “Yep. All that is in tip-top shape. You’ve also had Bud and Frankie running on fumes for at least two years. They’ve both become so used to being overworked, they don’t even realize that’s actually helped turn a profit for you and the town.”
Gil’s lips twitched, but Roman suspected he was more irritated than amused. “Your point?”
Roman shrugged. “Well, it would ease a lot of pressure if we were able to hire another one, maybe two full-time employees. Not right away, of course. I’m only just beginning to evaluate how things work, but maybe by the next fiscal year?”
“I underestimated you.” Gil seemed to be considering his question, but Roman knew he was only playing games. The mayor was stuck. He’d been caught manipulating the town’s money. And he knew it. “I’ll consider it. But you aren’t earning any bonus points with me by starting off like this, Roman.”
“That’s Chief, Mr. Mayor. And I’m starting off on the foot I always start on. The right one. I’m not some mouthpiece or weapon for you to use against people you don’t like in this town. I also have no history with you that might act as protection for you. Bud Granger’s a good guy, but it’s pretty obvious he goes out of his way to avoid conflict. I am not Bud Granger. Butterfly Harbor might just be a stop for me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take the responsibility of this position seriously. You hired me to keep the people in town safe, and I’ll do that for as long as I’m here. Now you’re just giving me the means to do that.” He heard a siren in the distance, growing closer. His entire body went on alert.
The siren screeched over the hill and up and into the construction site. Roman flicked open the blinds in time to see Frankie climb out, lights still spinning on the top of Dwayne. She stood up on the running board, pulled her glasses off as she looked around. “Good talk, Mr. Mayor,” Roman said. “I’ll be in touch about those amended budget numbers.” He pulled open the door. The relief in her eyes when she saw him let him know she was here for him.
“What is it?” he called out to her.
“Car accident. I can’t handle it on my own. Bud’s—”
“Let’s go.” He jumped down the steps and dived into the car.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“FILL ME IN,” Roman ordered as Frankie U-turned and headed back down the road into town. “What do I need to know?”
“Single-car accident reported to the sheriff’s station just outside town. Rugged area. Lots of woods and unpaved, narrow roads. Twisting paths and ravines.” Frankie pushed her glasses back on and, after turning right on Monarch Lane, took another immediate right and floored it. “Description of the car sounds like it’s Oliver Hideman. Longtime resident. He was old when I was a kid.”
“I know the type.”
“Lost his wife about eight years ago.” She kept the lights spinning. Once they reached the end of Wasp Tail Road, she hit the sirens and took the winding road up toward Gray Marble Way. “He keeps to himself mostly. Daughter and her family moved in last Christmas to help, but he’s never been able to quit drinking. Comes and goes. Got so bad last time, his daughter hid his car keys. Caused enough of a row, Luke—that’s Sheriff Saxon—and one of his deputies were called in. They locked him up for a weekend, wanted to get him dried out. This is the first time we’ve heard anything since. Not surprising, though. Holidays can be tough for some people.”
“Who called it in?” Roman kept his eyes on the road, memorizing signs, looking for obstacles and turnoff roads.
“According to Ozzy—he’s the junior deputy—a couple of tourists saw the car after they took a wrong turn. Once they were back in town, they found the station and stopped to report it. Ozzy called me when he couldn’t get any of his fellow deputies over there fast enough. Hold on.” She took the left onto Checkerspot Drive, which went from pavement to gravel, two lanes to one. She gripped the steering wheel as the tires spun.
Her cell phone rang through the car. She tapped the icon on the steering wheel. “Yeah, Oz. I’m about three minutes ETA. Kendall’s on her way with the engine. What do you have?”
“Laura just called.”
“Hideman’s daughter,” Frankie said. “Sorry, Oz. I’ve got Roman with me.”
“That was fast. Yeah, okay. Laura was taking a nap with the baby, and when she woke up, Oliver was gone. So was Parker, her five-year-old.”