Between the Lies (Book One - The Northern Lights Series) (18 page)

“We were told there was a note. Do you know what it said?” Alan asked.

“No. I haven’t talked to anyone officially. I can only tell you what I’ve overheard. I’m in Lloyd’s office, and most of the voices are muffled.”

“Don’t worry about the details right now,” Michelle instructed. “After they get everything listed into evidence, we’ll all know more. Who is staying with you tonight?”

“One of Harper’s off-duty officers. I’m in good hands. Right now Merle is my guy and he’s doing a great job. Lloyd is in charge of crowd control.”

“Olivia,” Alan interrupted. “I was able to get you a room at The St. Paul for the next five days. I’ll have the cleaners up there as soon as the police give the okay.”

“If you’d like you can call me when you’re settled for the night,” Michelle offered.

“That’s okay. If you don’t hear from me, you can assume all is well,” I said. I wasn’t up to checking in. “Besides, I’m sure Harper or Lloyd will call you with an update.”

We hung up just as Harper walked into the room and said, “You cannot sleep up there, Olivia. I brought you down some clothes and stuff. We need to get you out of here.”

I let her know my destination and she directed Sarah to take me there immediately. She and Lloyd walked us out to the squad car, carrying two suitcases, my drawing supplies, camera, and laptop bag.

“You’re going to need to air out your clothes a little bit,” Lloyd said.

“When you check in, ask the concierge to have your clothing laundered immediately. He or she should be able to return them to you by morning,” Harper instructed.

I must have looked surprised, because she said, “What? You’re not the first person I’ve had escorted to an exclusive hotel for protection.”

The heavy gold and red brocades of my suite were formal, but the sheets were cool and crisp. Sarah told me she’d catch up on some work in the overstuffed recliner while another police officer stood guard outside the door.

My apprehension must have been evident because Sarah said, “You’re safe, Olivia. Go ahead and get some sleep.”

I pulled the sheets and heavy spread up knowing anyone who needs two police guards and has a squad of detectives and techs in her apartment is anything but safe.

Where the drapes didn’t quite meet, I saw the morning break through a sky the color of tarnished silver. My thoughts had been full of dead animals and hidden paintings that told stories some might kill to keep secret. The possibility that I might be the target, sent shivers up and down my spine, and chased sleep away.

I swung my feet onto the plush Persian-like carpet and said to Sarah, “I will be in the shower if anyone calls.”

The hot water felt good, but did little to ease the knot of fear in my stomach. Neither did brushing my teeth and getting dressed.

I re-entered the room with my hair still damp.

“Mrs. Lyons just called. She left a message for you to call her immediately,” Sarah said.

“Thanks. It’s your turn,” I said, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Nah. I’ll get a chance later at home.”

“It’s an ‘I-can’t-let-you-out-of-my-sight-kind of day?’” I asked.

“Something like that,” she said.

I picked up my cell phone and called my attorney. “Michelle. You called.” The brittle tone of my voice surprised me.

“Olivia, I have terribly sad news for you,” she said.

“Someone else died?”

“Not yet. The janitor from the academy was attacked in his home last night and left for dead. He’s hanging on, but doctors are not giving his family much hope. I know you were fond of him, and in spite of your tense circumstances, I wondered if you’d like me to take you to see him. He’s unconscious, and we’ve called the best doctors and because the police department is extremely busy, we hired a private security company to keep him as safe as possible. I’d like to visit with his family to assure them that the board is going to do all we can to support them financially in this difficult time. Do you want to join me?”

“Yes! When?”

“How about in an hour? Lloyd is coming to relieve Sarah and we can come together. It’s not safe for you out here, but Stan’s wife mentioned it would be nice if we notified you. She said you were friends.”

I agreed, but shivered because Stan knew about the paintings and so did some of my students. Were they in danger too? It was bad enough when I thought it was just me, but having them in the sites of violence was worse. Much worse. I raced back to the bathroom, threw up, and brushed my teeth again.

Lloyd held the door to the limo open for me. We nodded. Words seemed like too much work.

“On our way back from the hospital, we will stop by to see Harper. She can update us on what happened last night,” Michelle said.

“Sounds good,” I said.

We rode the rest of the way in silence, each of us looking out our own window.

In the elevator I had a thought. “Michelle, do you think I could go to the academy tomorrow and visit the students? I know some of them are very close to Stan as well. A personal update from a former teacher and someone who has seen him, might go a long ways toward comforting them.”

She called Alan for permission, and he agreed that would be an acceptable gesture, as long as I let them know he’d sent me.

“Is that understood, Olivia?” he asked.

Being treated like a student earned him an immature answer. “Whatever you say, Alan.”

Stan’s family and friends were glad to see us. His wife greeted Michelle politely, and gave me a hug. “Mrs. Lyons, I hope you understand, but the doctor has ordered only one visitor with me in Stan’s room at a time.  Michelle nodded and said, “Of course.” Marge took my arm and escorted me to his bedside.

“He talked about you all the time. He thought you were wonderful with all the kids, but especially Evan. My goodness, how my man loves that boy!”

She walked to his bedside with the confidence born of years of love and belonging. “Honey, Ms. Morgan is here to see you. If you’d like to wake up and talk to her, now would be a good time. I know she’d love to hear your big old voice. I know I sure would.”

She motioned for me to join her. Stepping up to the bed, I realized I was shaking. This big burly guy was a friend of sorts. I’d never known him to take a sick day, but there was nothing healthy about the tubes, blinking monitor lights, and the bandages around his head.

Although in terrible condition, Stan wasn’t on life support. Breathing on his own had to be a good thing under the circumstances.

“Go ahead and talk to him.” Marge said. “I have a feeling he can hear us, and even if he can’t, talking to him helps us. I’ll be right back. I want to thank Mrs. Lyons again before she leaves. He’s a little hard of hearing so you might want to get close to his right ear – it’s his good one. He always said you were looking for the beauty in life. If you see anything in this, will you let me know? I need a little something.” Marge’s eyes were puffy and red from a combination of crying and exhaustion. She kissed his cheek and stepped back wiping her eyes.

“Go ahead now. Hold his hand and tell him what’s on your mind,” she said, nudging me closer.

“Hi Stan, it’s me—Olivia,” I said directly into his good ear.

The door swished quietly as his wife left.

“I talked to some of the students last night. I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I’ve been busy, but that’s not much of a reason. You were such a gentle person. Who would want to hurt you? I don’t understand. I’m not a praying woman, but I know someone who does a lot of it, and I’ll ask him to say a few words for you. His name is Deacon James, and I think you’d like him. You have a lot in common. He maintains the cemetery where Jillian is buried, and you maintain the academy. Both of you take care of the kids I love, and in a way, me. I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you for that. I’m truly grateful.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit over here and sketch for a while. Your wife needs a little break, and it’s likely someone out there will talk her into eating something. She won’t be gone long.”

Marge came back, slipped off her shoes, and curled up on the couch. “I had a pack of those little crackers with peanut butter in them and a cup of coffee. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to close my eyes for a little while, dear,” she promised. “I’m glad they gave us this nice big room. I’m worn out.”

“I’ll stay until your eyes are rested,” I promised.

That seemed to give her the confidence she needed to rest. She didn’t wake up when I placed an extra hospital blanket over her.

A couple of hours later, my cell phone played
The William Tell Overture,
waking Marge and interrupting my pencil.

“Hi Patrick. How are you?”

“Hey, Ms. Morgan. Did you hear about Stan?”

“Yes. I’m in his room right now. I’m going to be stopping by the school tomorrow. Can we talk then?”

“Sure, but there’s something you should know before you get here. The closet where the paintings were is empty. They're all gone.”

A cyclone of anger and fear rose up in me. Not wanting to upset Stan, Marge, or Patrick, I tried to talk normally. “That’s strange. Do you still have the one you borrowed?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. When I come, Michelle Lyons will be with me. We’ll give it to her.”

“We’re all pretty upset about Stan. Tell him that for us okay?” Patrick asked, a tiny catch in his voice.

“I will.”

I turned back to the man in the bed and said, “Stan, the kids are really missing you. Please try to wake up. We all want you back. Hey, you know those paintings the students found? They’re gone. I think that’s a terrible loss for the school. They were likely worth a small fortune. If you saw anyone strange around the school, you need to open your eyes and tell us. You were there for me when Jillian was born and again when she died. I’m here for you now.”

His hand squeezed mine. “Stan! Can you squeeze my hand again?”

He did, and I pushed the nurse’s call button.

Marge held his other hand, squeezing hard, holding her breath.

I told the nurse what he’d done, and she explained patients in a coma sometimes respond involuntarily. “No. I specifically asked him to squeeze my hand and he did.”

“It could be a coincidence. I’ll tell the doctor, but please don’t get your hopes up.” She left to put in the call to the medical team.

I said to Marge, “I think he’s trying to come back to us.”

She nodded her head. “I need to tell the others.” She removed her hand from Stan’s and walked toward the door. “You two wait here and I’ll be right back,” she instructed.

I hurried back to his bed. “Stan you have to do that again when the doctor gets here. You have to be okay. Do you hear me? Now squeeze my hand.”

He did.

“Coincidence, my fanny!” I mumbled to my friend. “I know you’re in there!”

I stepped away as the doctors entered the room. “Take his hand,” I demanded. “You take his other hand,” I said to the second doctor. They obeyed, a little startled by my certainty.

“Stan. Do it for us, buddy—now!”

He squeezed both of their hands.

One doctor started ordering tests while the other started testing Stan’s eyes and reflexes. When Marge returned, she stood there crying and kissing his big hand.

“Do not let that guard go to the bathroom without someone you
know
being in this room with him,” I said to her.

“I’m not leaving him,” she promised.

“You have to take breaks now and then. But when you do, make sure the guard is there. And when he’s gone, you be here. Please?”

“I promise,” she said.

I guess a little of Harper had rubbed off on me.

Leaving the hospital was hard. I wanted to stay and keep my eyes on my friend, but I had school in the morning and needed to sleep. Marge hugged me tight and said, “Honey, I’m praying for you too.” I returned her hug and instead of defending my disbelief, I said, “Thanks.” It wasn’t a compromise of my non-faith, I was just being nice to her.

No visitors invaded my room, but I can’t say the same for my dreams. A stranger chased me through abandoned hospital hallways to the chaotic sounds of sirens and monitor alarms. The walls were rose red.

On the way to the academy I told Michelle and Lloyd about the painting I’d seen and the closet. Lloyd escorted me to the main office, and then with Michelle’s permission he headed for the closet.

The secretary called Patrick’s class and asked him to join me and Michelle in my former office. He handed the painting to me and said he’d be back to talk later.

I unwrapped the treasure. Michelle gasped and said, “It’s one of hers, and that’s Alan.” I’ve seen his baby pictures—she captured him perfectly.”

She asked me to set it on an old easel I’d left behind in the corner.

“Those are her rings,” I said, remembering the way I’d carefully arranged them on her finger in her last moments of life.

“You said there were others?” she asked, gazing on the baby’s face.

“The students said there were several more.”

She nodded and said, “I always wondered if our children would have looked like him only with a hint of strawberry blond hair instead of their father’s chestnut brown. Jillian’s hair was so blond, like yours must have been as a child.” She paused, caught herself and said, “Listen to me. What a sentimental fool. I need to speak to the students who found the paintings. Can you have them brought here?”

I did as requested and they quietly filed in.

They told her about the two women, the boy with the stunning blue eyes and the one with different-colored eyes. Then Patrick said, “The one with the mean-looking old guy wearing the patch was scary. He was watching both boys, and it felt like he had a cruel heart.”

“He reminded me of a pirate,” Patina said.”Not the Jack Sparrow kind you find strangely charming. He was more like you think they’re really like . . . evil to the core. Capable of plundering and murder for the fun of it.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?” Michelle asked.

“A navy suit with brass buttons.”

I’d been watching Michelle closely and when Patrick mentioned the suit, my attorney shivered.

“Thank you all very much. You can come and talk to Ms. Morgan any time today. I believe she’ll be here until the last bell. We’ll make an announcement about when you can start signing up for short appointments with her.” Michelle told them, her voice gentle, but firm. Although emotions would be high, things would happen in an orderly and dignified manner.

They filed out in silence, and she called Harper. “Can you join us at the school immediately? Oh good. Your timing is perfect as always.”

Harper walked in the door as Michelle put her phone down on my desk.

“We have to talk before Alan gets here,” Michelle said. “There are some things I haven’t told you. Things you need to know, but I’m terrified to say it out loud. Harper, this has to be off the record because I will not implicate my husband in a crime, and I will not testify against him if you do. Is that clear?”

Caroline, my former assistant chose that moment to offer us a tray of coffee and tea. She set it down and quietly closed the door behind her.

“Are we clear, Harper?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. Go ahead,” Harper said, pouring herself and Michelle cups of coffee while I fixed myself a cup of tea.

Harper and I sat down while Michelle paced and talked. We sipped while she spoke of family legends and shipping secrets.