Aftershocks by Nancy Warren Page B

the city budgets. I’m not sure why we’re having this meeting at all.”
    Briana glanced at Patrick and saw his jaw tense. He let a moment pass before answering, and she could only imagine the retorts he had to swallow before he came out with a respectable response. “Since our last meeting, Councilman Prescott, we’ve had a further emergency situation in which two more of our citizens died.
    “I had discussions today with both Fire Chief Dan Egan and Police Chief Max Zirinsky, and while they are not saying both fatalities could have been avoided with larger budgets, there is no question that their resources are stretched beyond what is reasonable. We need to give them the money to do their jobs.”
    A hand went up. It was Uncle Cecil’s other longtime supporter, Councilman Gerald Anderson, an attorney in his late sixties known for his conservative views.
    “While your concern is certainly laudable,” the councilman said, “and I know we all admire the fine job our men and women in the EMS have been doing, I’m wondering, where are you proposing we get the money?”
    Patrick looked up directly at Briana. She knew what he was thinking as clearly as though she could read his mind. If ever a man was about to blow, Patrick was that man. He let his gaze rest on her for a moment and she smiled slightly, letting him know silently that she was with him in this fight.
    He gave an imperceptible nod and turned to answer the councilman. “There is only one place we can get the money, Councilman Anderson. We would have to take it from the city bond, which, I might remind you, was set up to support the people of this city in times of need. I can think of few times when the city has been in greater need.”
    There was a pause.
    Uncle Cecil raised his hand and Patrick acknowledged him.
    “Mayor O’Shea…” Her uncle paused to give the mayor and the rest of council a broad smile. Briana eased back in her chair and relaxed. It was going to be okay. Uncle Cecil was going to side with Patrick, and she knew he had enough clout on council that his vote would sway the others.
    Uncle Cecil was a big man. He’d played football in college and still kept himself in good shape. He was handsome, with silver hair and warm blue eyes. But it was his charm that was his greatest asset, she thought. Charm and an air of command.
    “We certainly appreciate what you are trying to do here, Mayor. We understand you’ve been a firemanyourself and know how hard our men and women are working to keep this city safe.”
    There was general nodding, and Briana found herself nodding along with everyone else. Except Patrick, who was looking at Uncle Cecil with an impassive expression on his face.
    “And our police and SWAT team, the ambulance services and the paramedics have done as fine a job as any group of men and women ever did,” Cecil continued. “However, some of us have been on this council a lot of years.” He glanced modestly around the room, but everyone knew he’d been there longest of them all, and had Patrick not won a surprise election, Cecil Thomson would be leading them today. “We’ve seen trouble come and go, young man.”
    She glanced at Patrick to see how he was taking the “young man” comment, but while his gaze had hardened, and his lips were set tight together, he still showed an implacable countenance.
    “It’s easy to panic in times of crisis, and no one thinks any the less of you for believing more money is going to solve our problems. But, son, money can’t stop earthquakes, or fires, or floods or any other natural disasters. When they happen, the emergency teams are going to be stretched, naturally. But then we’ll experience our usual periods of calm. During those times, we’ll recoup those losses you’re so concerned about.”
    Cecil spread his hands and glanced around the room. “If we spend the money every time we have a few unfortunate tragedies, well, we’ll soon find ourselves broke.”
    “That money