Asher nodded again, this time displeased—not with Travis, necessarily, but with the situation in general. The governor, obviously, could have no direct involvement in this. He was too close to the situation.
“How long is that going to take?”
Travis shrugged his head as if to say ‘I have no idea,’ and walked back and leaned on the fender of the SUV again.
“Well, we need to have something in place and ready for right after the election. I don’t want those two to feel like they have options,” Asher said, pulling his car keys from his pocket.
Travis nodded solemnly and then started back towards his own car. The realization that he was now Blue Creek’s kingmaker suddenly hit him. Both parties, who were in a very vicious power struggle, had come to him personally and asked for his help to remove the other. And as he watched David Asher drive away, he honestly couldn’t say what he was going to do. He knew which way he was leaning, but he decided that it all depended on what he was going to get out of his decision.
The next day was Election Day. Anna and Asher had just done their best to put it all out of their minds. Lying together in bed now, with Asher asleep beside her, the dread of the coming day returned to Anna’s mind. Charlie hadn’t told her his plans for Asher, but Travis had.
Her biggest conflict was that she wasn’t sure that Charlie wasn’t doing the right thing. The man lying beside her had been the key to their current level of power. Charlie, however, was right—David Asher was becoming a liability. Not that that was Asher’s fault—he’d only implemented the policies they had given him—but his brand was badly damaged. If the Tyler Redding gambit didn’t work, and Patton Larsen became the next governor, their plans would be ruined. Then there was the bigger picture to consider. This wasn’t just about Blue Creek. They were going to broadcast their success in Blue Creek to other progressives to prove their philosophy of governance was correct.
What Anna needed most was a backup plan—one for David Asher’s eventual exiting of the political scene and another for Charlie Henry’s demise, whether natural or otherwise. She made a mental note to bring this up with Travis and the guy who had rid Blue Creek of Mike Wilson—Brian White. She had much more to offer them both than either Asher or Charlie, she thought, looking down at her tanned, naked body. More than her physical attributes, Charlie had taught her enough to run things on her own.
Patton had never struggled to sleep before. He now understood what it was like for athletes the night before a big game. He tried a double Scotch, then another. When that didn’t work he switched to beer. By the time he discovered alcohol wasn’t working he had a massive headache.
To Patton, it wasn’t as much wanting to win as it was the stress of the ramifications if he lost. He knew that Asher and Charlie Henry were going to crank up the pain if they retained power. It was the weight of this that had been pressing down on him, especially since Mike was killed. It was these fears that prevented him from sleep. Patton decided to take a hot bath and watch a movie. He began to feel tired and made his way to his bed, where he finally had some fitful sleep. At 4 AM, Patton finally gave up. He went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. Almost as a reflex, he opened up his campaign schedule in his iPad. He was shocked to see empty slots.
The sparsity of his calendar further drove into him the dread and pressure of losing. There was one spark of hope, however. He’d been working on a side project—one that was possibly more desperate than running for political office. This project was mostly out of his hands, however. His friend Wildcat, the man who’d given Patton background on Charlie Henry, was trying to track down Travis. He was the only person who could connect David Asher and Charlie Henry. Patton also suspected that the young brunette was involved, but wasn’t sure how. Travis was the key and Patton was sure that Wildcat would eventually find him.
That was Patton’s “Alamo” however. He needed to win this election and stem the progressive tide. Otherwise, he was going to have to resort to more drastic measures.
Election Day saw overcast skies and threatening rain. So-called experts on TV and radio argued both ways of how the weather might affect voter turnout and how voter turnout would affect the three campaigns. What it was going to ultimately come down to, though, was how much of the vote Tyler Redding was going to skim from Patton Larsen.
As in previous elections, the polls opened at two in the afternoon and closed at seven. All indications were that turnout was going to be low, much lower than the first recall election. Early exit polls showed a very tight three-way race and neither TV station was willing to call the election either way until a much larger number of the polling stations reported their vote count.
When the polls closed at seven, all three campaign headquarters were buzzing. By nine, Asher and Larsen were still in a tight race with Redding slowly falling behind. His numbers were strong enough, however, that Patton’s people began to be nervous that Redding was going to push the election towards the incumbent.
At eleven, one of Blue Creek’s TV stations called the election for David Asher, projecting that he was going to win with forty-four percent of the vote, followed by Patton at forty-one, and Travis Redding with fifteen percent. Thirty minutes later the second of Blue Creek’s TV stations did the same.
By midnight, the vote count was complete. David Asher was going to retain his office as governor of Blue Creek. His plan, at least for the moment, was to do everything he could to maintain his power.
A dejected Patton took a swig of beer and looked across the dinner table at his wife. She had tears in her eyes, but was trying to be strong for him.
“What’s next?” she asked with a smile, trying to cheer him. Little did she know that what was next was already in motion.
“I don’t know,” he said sullenly. “I guess we’ll just get back to work with the business.”
Jennifer knew that Patton’s heart had been set on winning and avenging his friend’s death, but that was over now. The next election wasn’t for another year and he would not run for City Council or any other political office. It was going to be this office or nothing.
“Come on, Honey, I know you’re thinking something here. What is it?”
He took a bite of chicken, took another swig of beer, and then looked at her. He shook his head as if to say ‘no, I don’t,’ but she knew him, possibly better than he knew himself.
“Well, we have the money. We can buy our way out of this whole thing and go home.” He looked down at his plate again, knowing that she would be ashamed of him—of him becoming a quitter.
She stood and walked around the table to kneel in front of him. She grabbed his hands and he finally looked at her. “I know you wanted to win, Honey. And I know why you wanted to win. You feel like it’s up to you to save these people from what’s going on.”
With tears forming in the corner of his eyes, he nodded. She was right. He was trying to play the hero and he failed. Being called out for his delusions of grandeur embarrassed him.
“But Honey,” she continued, “if anyone could save these people and this place it’s you, Patton. You’ve seen what’s been going on and you’ve fought against it. You lost but that doesn’t mean you can’t still fight.”
He nodded and was tempted to tell her that he was already working on that. Instead, he stood and took her in his arms and kissed her. He was tired of talking about it. He took his wife’s hand and led her to their bedroom.