The Lives Between Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

women would have to wait. Down the hall, just beyond the Detroit Metro airport security checkpoint, Edward glimpsed pro-life supporters clustered together whispering, peering intently up the hall for him.
    Large signs featuring photos of in utero fetuses were propped against their thighs or held loosely in hands. At a time when most people were preparing for bed, the press and cameramen meandered close by, congesting the wide lobby in hopes of procuring some witty comment or juicy gossip to headline their eleven o’clock news.
    Edward and staff passed security, their leather shoes slapping the stark linoleum floor as they adjusted ties, buttoned jackets, and put on their game faces. At their approach, the reporters slid cell phones into their pant pockets, stuffed notes in deep attaché cases, and grabbed their microphones. Turning on blinding floodlights, cameramen hefted cameras to their shoulders and jockeyed for prime positions among the throng of bobbing pro-lifers now waving their signs and shouting his name. The two groups faced off, familiar, respected, wary competitors.
    Edward leaned into Ben, whispering, “Noelle’s computer crapped out, and she’s got a miserable cold. She deserves a little chocolate.”
    Ben frowned. “That’s it?”
    Edward grinned and shook his head. With that attitude, Ben wasn’t likely to find a woman to marry him anytime soon.
    Edward advanced and moved to the side so he wouldn’t block the path of the few other late-night travelers. The crowd predictably moved with him like a huge amoeba—a fluid, shifting people-mass circling him.
    One eager reporter pushed forward and thrust his black microphone at Edward’s face, coming inches from whacking his nose. Edward put out a hand to lower the instrument to an acceptable distance. From his side, Ben stepped in front of him, a slight but helpful barrier, giving Edward a few seconds to compose himself while he prepped the crowd.
    Ben raised a hand to quiet everybody, but several seconds later resorted to a loud, sharp whistle. Edward raised his eyebrows and bit back a grin at the less-than-dignified, but effective, maneuver, making a mental note to ask Ben if he’d learned that subtle trick at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government.
    “The Senator’s thrilled with your heartwarming reception. He regrets that he doesn’t have more than a few minutes, but he’s agreed to take several questions.” Ben stepped aside, baring Edward to the reporters, demonstrators, and millions of viewers that might be awake to watch the late-night news.
    He smiled cordially. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. I’m touched by such a warm homecoming.” He greeted them in a raspy voice roughened by months of overuse. He nodded at the familiar face directly in front of him. “Roger?”
    “Senator, how does it feel to have won again?”
    “I haven’t won yet.” Yet with the withdrawal of his opponent, Edward now ran unopposed.
    “Even if Mr. Levinson hadn’t withdrawn, recent polls give you a twenty-three percent edge.”
    No need to kick a man while he’s down, especially when he just had a life-threatening heart attack and faced a long recovery. “I’m very pleased at the opportunity to serve the great people of Michigan again, however, not at the expense of a man’s health. Carl Levinson was a worthy adversary and a good man, and I wish him a speedy recovery.” He scanned the sea of reporters. “Joe?”
    “Despite having a reputation for being conservative, you supported Proposal 1, which would raise state sales tax from 6 percent to 7 percent. What would you say to those who claim that nearly 40 percent of the predicted revenue generated would go to special interest groups?”
    “In general I am against raising taxes, yet upgrading our infrastructure is critical for both safety and economic reasons. Proposal 1 is an imperfect solution, but it’s one that’ll make our roads and bridges safer. May 5th, the voters will decide if