The Heart of Lies

The Heart of Lies - By Debra Burroughs

PROLOGUE

Lies are deceptive little things. Whether they are innocent white lies or the evil midnight black ones, they all have a way of coming back to expose us at the most inopportune moments.

~*~

The unsuspecting young woman approached the doorway of the dimly-lit private office. She jerked to a halt, catching sight of the man sprawled on the floor next to his desk, his body motionless, his face bloody and battered. Her hand flew over her mouth. Her other seized hold of the door frame for support, feeling her knees begin to give out.

A plethora of painful emotions roiled in her chest as she stared, eyes wide, fighting to stuff down the overwhelming urge to scream. Perhaps the attacker was still within earshot.

Who did this? Who?

The list of people who might want him dead was long—that much she knew. The only question to be asked was which one actually followed through. She needn’t ask why, though, she already knew that answer.

Hot tears stung her eyes. She fought against the powerful desire to run into the office, to fling herself down and put her arms around him. Under different circumstances, she would have caressed him one last time and kissed him a final good-bye—but not now.

With her heart thudding loudly in her ears, she could hardly think, she remained frozen to the safety of the door jamb. Self-preservation dictated that she could not risk running to him. Someone could discover her there and she would be found out. And if she got his blood on her, she might even be blamed for his murder.

She struggled to hold herself back and cling to the safety of the solid frame, torn between grief, terror, and rage. Nearly choking on the knot in her throat, she whispered a raspy and tearful good-bye. “I’m sorry, James, but I can’t go to prison. Not even for you. Good-bye.”

Her attention was pulled away as she picked up the sound of a car door slamming in the parking lot. Her thoughts flew to the police, who would certainly be coming. Images of them flashed through her mind—finding her there, digging into her background, arresting her. She couldn’t have that.

Her mother always told her that men would come and go, but no matter what, her top priority had to be to look out for number one.

Her instincts to save herself won out.