Harper Lawson — The Midnight Betrayal
At seven, Elaine called from her car.
“Your husband has sent the directors a note that you’re dealing with a personal emergency and cannot attend the meeting.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he say which emergency?”
“No.
But Lorraine’s public relations team drafted a statement about your mental health at five-thirty.
One of our independent directors forwarded it.”
The plan had not stopped at airport security.