If Winter Comes by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

around others, and deserted store buildings were interspersed with
the homes.
     
    “Tragic,” she replied.
“It reminds me of shacks I’ve seen back home. Poverty has many addresses.”
     
    “Yes,” he replied.
     
    “Is this area where
you’re concentrating?” she asked as she paused to photograph a house with
blackened, paneless windows where a little girl stood, ragged and barefoot,
clinging to a post.
     
    “Yes. I got a
manufacturing chain to bear almost half the cost of construction; their
headquarters office is located near here. When we get this project going, you
won’t recognize the neighborhood.”
     
    “How about the people?”
she asked, gazing up at him. “You can change their environment, but can you
change them? Poverty doesn’t go away because the setting is changed. How about
employment?”
     
    He smiled. “One step at
a time, honey. I’ve got experts working on that aspect of it.”
     
    She glanced ahead,
where Mrs. Thomas had cornered Ed King and his two planners. “Why won’t your
legal department let me look at the airport land purchase records?” she asked
suddenly, catching his eyes.
     
    Both heavy brows went
up, and he paused before he replied, “Honey, that’s between you and Ed King.
I’ve told you before, I’m not going to interfere.”
     
    “But…”
     
    He turned away. “We’d
better catch up.”
     
    She followed along,
puzzled and a little disappointed at the answer he’d given her. And try as she
might, a nagging suspicion began to work on her mind.
     
    “Mr. King tells me that
the slums account for half of all your arrests,” Mrs. Thomas was saying as they
walked.
     
    “That’s right,”
Moreland agreed. “And fifty percent of all disease, as well as thirty-five
percent of all fires. With proper housing, we could save almost a million
dollars a year in fire losses and communicable disease.”
     
    Carla found herself
beside Ed King, and the mayor’s voice faded in her ears as she put the question
to the planning commissioner. “May I ask you a question, Mr. King?” she asked
abruptly.
     
    He glanced at her, eyes
sharp through his heavy glasses. His bald head gleamed in the cold sunlight.
“If it concerns the airport land purchase, I’m sure the city attorney told you
that the information is privileged until the council formally approves the
purchase.”
     
    “Excuse me,” she
countered coolly, “but the council approved the purchase two meetings ago,” she
snapped her notebook closed, “and construction on the terminal is already
underway.”
     
    “You choose to
misunderstand me,” he said with a cold smile. “the council hasn’t approved the
paperwork. A formality, of course, but legally binding. Check the city
charter.”
     
    “I have,” she told him,
her green eyes narrowed. “If everything is up and aboveboard, Mr. Chairman, why
all the secrecy?”
     
    He purpled. “As usual,
you reporters want to make something of nothing! I’ve told you, it’s a
formality, the figures will be released.”
     
    “When?” she shot back.
     
    “Carla!” Moreland
stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence to thunder her name. She jumped,
turning to face him. “That’s enough, by God,” he growled. “This isn’t an
interrogation.”
     
    The clipped, measured
tones made her flinch. “I apologize,” she said tightly. “I didn’t mean…”
     
    “If you’ll excuse me,
Bryan,” King said curtly, “I think I’ll pass on the rest of the tour. You know
my position.”
     
    “Sure,” Moreland said.
“We’ll talk later.”
     
    “A pleasure to meet
you, Mrs. Thomas,” King told the visiting mayor with a smile. He ignored Carla
as he walked away, taking his planners with him.
     
    “Well,” Mrs. Thomas
said with a mirthless laugh, “I suppose that little scene ended my chances of a
discussion with your planners.”
     
    Carla flushed to the
roots of her hair. She pressed her camera close to her side. “I…I have