Inconsolable (Love Triumphs 2)

“It’s just that there are two sides to every story.”

“There are a million sides and you know it, but what are you getting at?”

“We might’ve started another petition.”

“Who’s we?”

It wasn’t till right this minute Foley remembered she was supposed to be sussing Nat out about any links to council from the resident action group. With Drum gone, there was no need for Hugh to meet the group, for the group to even exist. She needed to call Hugh and give him an update. That should’ve made her feel triumphant. Drum safe, the council’s reputation unsullied, Hugh sleeping tonight.

She felt like crap, like drowning herself in the bath was a good option. She kept seeing Drum’s distress at having to leave the cave and she was suddenly furious the one person with absolutely nothing to lose had lost the one thing that mattered to him, and she’d done nothing to stop it.

“The Courier. We’ve got our own petition in support of the homeless, Drum’s case, council’s homeless charter.”

“When did this happen?”

“Happens tomorrow. Lead editorial, unless you’re telling me I should pull it. Do I pull it? We’ve got about fifteen minutes before that possibility expires. The issue is at the printers.”

Foley sat. She needed a minute to think. “Why?”

Nat sat too. “Because I saw him, Fole. Something went wrong in that man’s life. Something awful and he’s not hurting anyone. For more than twelve months he’s been a secret. These flipping do-gooders are more trouble than he is. You know their leader, a bloke called Walter Lam, complained today about the way the story was written. He thought I should’ve quoted him more. Guy’s a troublemaker. He wants the paper to cover the group’s annual meeting.”

“I’d never heard about this group until today?” God, that felt like a lie even though it was true—an astro-truth.

“Exactly. They’ve only been in existence a few days, but that’s not stopping them and Drum isn’t their only issue, no, it’s all the homeless, and Walter has one of those shitpoodolally crossbreed dogs, and a bee in his bonnet about all kinds of other stuff. Says he’s got a direct line to the mayor to get support for his initiatives.”

“Initiatives?” Bloody hell, what had Gabriella given birth too?

“Yes, he used that word, made sure I understood he was retired partner from one of the big accounting firms and had plenty of time and skill to champion community issues and knew what he was doing.”

“Direct line to the mayor?”

“Oh, that was only puff. Walter is on a power kick. I could see that from space. But I bet he does try to get in Roger’s ear.”

Foley rolled her neck, it was so tight, but that was some relief. Nat didn’t know she was being astro-rolled. “Hugh will deal with him.”

Nat laughed. “I’d love to see that. Retired ambition with bees meets once shockingly handsome bulldozer with charm. So tomorrow’s editorial stays put.”

Did it? What was the best thing for Drum? It was more stirring the pot, but what if Walter was a serious threat, got his way, and all of the municipality’s homeless were under the spotlight?

“What if he did something bad?”

“Walter? I think he’s a passive aggressive bully, who probably doesn’t always bag his dog poop, but I—”

“Drum.”

“Oh. I checked.”

Foley blinked at Nat. “How?”

“I talked to Dave at the cop shop. He let me look through mug shots. It’s not like anyone who looks like Drum is on a wanted list. Me looking at mug shots is obviously not conclusive. Drum could be a Columbian drug lord in disguise, but it’s not all that likely. It’s more likely something dreadful happened to him and it’s unbalanced him mentally. He needs qualified help, he doesn’t need Walter and friends.”

“Or me. You’re right about that. I need to work out how best to help him when he comes back.”

“Don’t you mean if? I thought this whole thing was about getting Drum off the cliff permanently.”

Foley nodded. “I think it’s part of his sickness though. The cliff, the cave. It’s something he desperately needs. I’m so worried about him.”

Nat stood up and went into the kitchen. “That’s better than romanticising him. Is it my turn to cook?”