Between the Lies (Book One - The Northern Lights Series) Read Free

inside. On the back was her cell phone number under the words, Talk to you soon .
    Relief she’d let me go washed over me. My exhale was evidently noticed by the way-too-nosey driver who lowered the window between us and asked, “May I do anything for you, Ms. Morgan?”
    I put on my best haughty face and said, “Yes. Please put the window back up, and shut off the intercom.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    I didn’t like him on a gut-level.
    Refocusing my thoughts was easy, as long as I kept one corner of my mind in my safe place. After all, I was on my way to speak on behalf of sick children to honor Jillian’s memory, and to see Alan. A dead guy in an elevator wasn’t my problem; there were dozens of officials taking care of him. It was my night to shine, and a stranger was not going to tarnish it.
    When the driver opened the door for me, a reporter shouted out, “Ms. Morgan, did you know the dead man at your building?”
    A camera flash blinded me, and I felt myself being escorted into the convention center.
    I heard my driver say, “Move it,” and then someone asking who was going to pay for the broken camera.
    Alan’s driver, Butch, met me just inside the door. My heart raced a little because this meant Alan was already on the premises. Butch, a bull of a man with a bald head, one grumpy-looking eyebrow, and a carefully trimmed beard, growled at the driver, “What are you doing here? Mr. Lyons fired you.”
    “Driving the diva,” he said sounding like a smart-aleck teenager.
    “Get out of here before the boss sees you, and stay away from her. You’ve been warned about this before.”
    “Whatever you say Butchie-boy. I’m just keeping an eye on Mr. Lyons lady,” the driver said.
    Butch took a step forward. “Leave now or this will get very bad for you. Ms. Morgan, step away from him. Now.”
    The driver left, but first tipped his hat in my direction. “Until we meet again.”
    “There will never be an again, idiot. Never,” Butch said through clenched teeth.
    Startled by Butch’s words and tone, I asked him, “What was that all about?”
    “Nothing. He’s just a driver Mr. Lyons has used before and doesn’t like. I’ll be calling for a different one to take you home. You’re early. Why?”
    “I need to make sure everything is ready. Would you mind letting Mr. Lyons know I’m here?”
    “He already knows.”
    “Of course he does.” His constant “knowing” had always bothered me. So had Butch. It felt like I lived under surveillance.
    “Any news on the dead guy in the elevator?” I asked.
    “Who am I – your personal assistant?” Butch growled.
    I shrugged off my annoyance and let myself get lost in my daughter’s face. Life-sized pictures of her and the other children were strategically placed on easels all over the foyer.
    I walked over to the one I cared about most and whispered, “Hi, Baby.”
    In the reflection of a large mirror beside her poster, I thought I saw Butch’s eyes soften, but when I looked again, I realized I was wrong.

Chapter 2
    In the ballroom, the lights over the round tables were dim and there were spotlights on the posters of children hanging onstage. The tables were set with plain but elegant china, and servers were lighting the battery-operated candles on the tables. At last count there would be over one thousand flickering lights representing the little ones gone too soon.
    For a moment, I dreamed of dancing with Alan. He’d look deep into my eyes, and say my name.
    “Olivia.” I turned toward the voice of the man I loved. Before I could say a word, I saw her . Michelle stood beside Alan. They were both beautiful, and together they were breathtaking.
    “We have to talk. Now.” His voice was stern and cold. My Cinderella moment turned Titanic in that second.
    Michelle looked at me with what I thought might be pity. She motioned to her left, and said, “Would you join us in the small reception room over here?” The door was ajar, and a shaft of harsh