The Betrayal

TERRY LYNN THOMAS is the USA Today bestselling author of six historical mysteries. The Drowned Woman (previously published as Neptune’s Daughter) won an IndieBRAG Medallion, The Silent Woman and House of Lies were released to critical acclaim and became USA Today bestsellers. The Betrayal is Terry’s first foray into the world of domestic suspense.

When she’s not writing, Terry likes to spend time outdoors with her husband and her dogs.

Keep up with Terry on Facebook (www.facebook.com/terrylynnthomasbooks) Twitter (@TLThomasbooks), Instagram (@terrylynnthomasbooks) or via her website at www.terrylynnthomas.com.

Praise for Terry Lynn Thomas

‘I was gripped from page one … An atmospheric read which I really enjoyed’

‘Wow! … You won’t be disappointed’

‘Gripping and enthralling … Wonderful’

‘Fantastic! … Such an amazing read!’

‘An entertaining and engrossing read, highly recommended’

‘A suspenseful, compelling plot that kept me up late reading’

‘Brilliant book … Brilliant author’

‘Fast-paced and gripping’

The Betrayal

TERRY LYNN THOMAS

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020

Copyright © Terry Lynn Thomas

Terry Lynn Thomas asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © October 2020 ISBN: 9780008364793

Version: 2020-09-18

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Praise for Terry Lynn Thomas

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Acknowledgements

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

Prologue

Sunday, October 5

When the alarm blared the Sunday financial recap, the woman woke with a start. She didn’t care about the Dow Jones Industrial Average, nor did she care about market volatility. Fumbling, she unplugged the old-fashioned clock radio and tossed it under the bed. Her thoughts, as they often did, went to her lover. She rolled over and pressed her face into his pillow, taking in the scent of him, that strange concoction of vanilla and citrus that made her senses reel.

Rolling over on her back, she took a deep breath, and cradled her belly, thinking of the baby that grew inside her. The positive pregnancy test lay on the table next to her, its vertical pink line a source of unimaginable joy. She snuggled under the duvet as the automatic coffeemaker kicked into gear, filling her apartment with the aroma of the dark roast coffee her lover preferred.

She saw the card on the doormat just as she poured her first cup of coffee.

I’ve rented a beach house for us tonight. I’ll send a key and the address by messenger. Meet you there around ten?

Leaning back against the counter, the woman closed her eyes, anticipating their rendezvous. Dear God, she craved him.

She did not know she had less than fifteen hours to live.

Chapter 1

Friday, October 10

Olivia Sinclair’s life fell apart on the day of her sixty-second birthday. The morning started with promise. She and Richard lay entangled in the sheets, their limbs intertwined and glistening with sweat. Olivia marveled – as she often did – at the way their passion had withstood decades of marriage. Somehow, she and Richard had managed to keep passion alive.

“Happy birthday, beautiful.” Richard ran his fingers along her side, taking his time at the curve of her hip. “I’ve got something for you.”

Olivia watched her husband, his body still athletic and strong as he moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. When he turned to face her, he held a familiar blue Tiffany box.

“This is for you, for your birthday and your retirement, a celebration of your accomplishments, if you will. I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m proud of you, Liv.” Richard always gave Olivia jewelry from Tiffany’s at birthdays and Christmas. This year’s gift was a platinum necklace, the pendant an antique skeleton key studded with diamonds.

“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said. She held up the platinum key to the morning light, the sunbeams making the diamonds dazzle.

Richard took it from her. “Let me help you put that on.” He hooked the clasp and kissed the back of her neck. “When do you and Claire sign your paperwork?”

“She’s coming in today. I’m going to ask for all the changes you suggested. Assuming she agrees, we’ll wrap things up.

“She’s got the capital?”

“She does. I think she’s probably borrowing the money, but she’ll be fine.”

Richard ran his fingers through Olivia’s thick hair. “I hear she’s a go-getter. Are you okay with walking away from all that success, the notoriety?”

“Notoriety? That’s your department. You’re the television legal guru. I just help beleaguered women get their fair share.”

Richard laughed.

“At least we can travel now, or at least I can come with you when you go away for weeks on end for depositions and trials,” Olivia said.

“That’s great, honey.”

“We need to talk about your plans, Richard. Do you have any idea when you might walk away from Rincon Sinclair?”

Richard turned to Olivia. “I’m not ready, Liv. Not now. Maybe a year or two?”

“That long?”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Olivia recognized this ploy. We’ll talk about it later meant they wouldn’t talk about it again until Richard was good and ready. She was about to push him, wrangle a commitment to retire out of him, when the alarm by his side of the bed started blaring the morning news.

“You shower first. I’ll make the coffee.” Richard tied his bathrobe around his waist and turned off the radio. “Are you sure you don’t mind cooking tonight? It’s your birthday.”

“I’m sure,” Olivia said. “I want to cook dinner for my family.”

“Maybe you can strike a truce with our son-in-law,” Richard said.

Olivia held her hand over her heart. “I swear, I’ll try.”

As she headed into the shower, she thought of the promise of freedom, and the time she would have to garden, travel with Richard, and tackle her toppling To-Be-Read pile of books.

After Richard left, she took her time over the morning paper and was going over her calendar when the front door opened and Denny called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the kitchen,” Olivia said.

Her daughter stepped into the kitchen, a sweet smile on her face, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders, a huge bouquet of flowers in her hand.

“Happy birthday, Mom.” Denny kissed Olivia’s cheek before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, honey.” Olivia watched her daughter over the rim of her cup, trying to ignore the dark circles under Denny’s eyes and the tight lines around her mouth.

“How’s David?”

Denny smiled to take the edge off her words. “Come on, Mom. We both know you don’t care a bit about my husband. But he’s fine, thank you very much.”

She set her coffee cup on the table and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, a gesture that reminded Olivia of Denny when she was an outspoken, opinionated little girl. Richard and Denny would debate at the dinner table, Richard subtly teaching his daughter to argue like a pro. Olivia suspected that those arguments were Richard’s attempt to get Denny interested in the law.

Olivia loved that irreverent spark in her daughter and had been dismayed to see it diminish when David Grayson came into her life. Now Denny watched what she said, and if David was around, she would cast anxious glances his way, worried – to Olivia’s mind – that what she was doing would make David angry. Denny never argued, never expressed an opinion these days. That impulsive, no-filter child had married a man hell-bent on putting out her fire.

“Honestly, Mom, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I wish you two could spend some time together. If you got to know David, you’d come to realize what a good man he is. You’re just not used to his traditional values. You’re a modern woman, Mom. I’m not.”

Olivia longed to ask her daughter about her marriage, to make sure she was okay, but she was afraid that her inquiry would be seen as an intrusion, which would push Denny even further away, so she let it go. For now. “Honey, I’m never going to believe that women need to be told what to do by their husbands or boyfriends. Marriage should—”

“—be a partnership.” Denny laughed as she finished the sentence. “You look nice. Court today?”

“Very tactfully done, Den. I see how you changed the subject. No court today. I’m meeting with Claire Montreaux about selling my practice.”

“Somehow I can’t see you retiring, Mom. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Was she ready? Her small practice was nothing compared to Richard’s illustrious career, but Olivia and Richard had planned it that way. Olivia’s office was close to home, so she had been able to care for Denny, freeing up Richard whose relentless litigation schedule kept him away from home. While Denny was young, Olivia had attended her plays, piano recitals, and pageants. As Denny got older and became more independent, Olivia turned her attention to the vast sloping hillside behind her house, turning the wild grassy area into a terraced garden. She did all the backbreaking work herself and soon had fruit trees, a large plot dedicated to vegetables, and a vast picking garden, which kept Olivia and her friends in fresh flowers all summer long.

Olivia had spent a lot of time alone in her marriage. Even though she kept herself busy, she missed her husband and looked forward to spending more time with him, even if that time was spent traveling for his work.

“So to answer your question, yes, I’m ready. I can travel with your father now.”

“I don’t see Dad retiring anytime soon. He likes the limelight. I honestly don’t think Dad would know what to do with himself if he retired.”

And therein lies the problem.

Richard worked long hours and each week spent a night or two in their condo in the city, with its galley kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. Nestled on the top of California Street, the condo had a beautiful view of San Francisco, and since it was the first place they had purchased – mortgaging their souls after Richard passed the bar – they kept it out of sentimentality. That was thirty-two years ago. Olivia consoled herself with the knowledge that after all these years, despite him sometimes seeming married to his career, she and Richard still loved each other. Thank goodness for that, Olivia thought.

“I’m hoping I can get him to slow down a little bit. As for me, I’m happy in the garden. Maybe I’ll take up painting or something.” Olivia sipped her coffee. “Den, tell me the truth. Did your father plan a surprise party for me?”

“Of course not,” Denny said. “You made it perfectly clear you absolutely didn’t want one.”

Olivia sighed with relief. She was looking forward to an intimate family gathering. Maybe tonight she would come to see her son-in-law in a new light. For Denny’s sake she would try.

“Are you having your birthday lunch with Lauren today?”

“I am,” Olivia said.

“Tell her I said hello. Maybe the three of us could meet for lunch sometime?”

“That would be great,” Olivia said. “I know Lauren would love to see you.” This wasn’t the first time Denny had mentioned lunch with Olivia and Lauren, but despite half a dozen invitations, Denny always had some excuse.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring anything besides the cake? It doesn’t seem like much of a birthday with you slaving away in the kitchen.”

“It’s not slaving when you enjoy the labor. Anyway, I’ve got it all under control. Shopping’s complete, most of the prep is already finished. I’ll come home early and get the lasagna in the oven. Want to come and keep me company while I throw things together?”

“Can’t. We’re going to struggle to get here by 7:30 as it is. David’s busy at work right now.” Denny hoisted her purse onto her shoulder and kissed Olivia’s cheek. “Love you.”

Her conversation with Denny left her troubled. Olivia had meddled in Denny’s life behind the scenes, hiring an investigator to follow Denny’s husband. The investigator had reported back, worried that David had spotted him. Of course, Olivia had terminated the relationship, but it left her unsettled. If Denny knew what she had done, she’d feel so betrayed, and David wouldn’t miss an opportunity to exploit Denny’s anger. After all, Olivia had no concrete evidence that David was having an affair, but her years as a family law attorney had honed her intuition to a sharp edge. She knew a cheater when she saw one. David Grayson was a cheater.

“Love you, honey,” Olivia said. She walked Denny to the door and stood for a moment in the cold October sun, watching the daughter she loved with her heart and soul drive away.

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia pulled into her reserved spot in the downtown Larkspur municipal parking lot and headed on foot down Magnolia towards her office. It wouldn’t do to be late for her meeting with Claire Montreaux, the young lawyer who was going to buy Olivia’s practice. After her meeting, she had a lunch date with her best friend, Lauren Ridley. Although the two women had lunch once a week, birthday lunches were always special and often involved champagne.

Situated in a store front and snuggled next to the historic Lark Theatre, the Law Office of Olivia Sinclair had no sign in the window. Given the incendiary nature of the divorces she litigated, the front door was kept locked at all times, and clients were seen by appointment only. Digging the key out of her coat pocket, Olivia let herself into the office, taking in the thick carpets and the comfortable sofa with fresh eyes. She had done her best to make this part of the office welcoming. A huge bouquet of flowers rested on the waiting room coffee table.

“There you are.” Mary Chadwick, Olivia’s assistant since she started her practice, hurried to her desk, a stack of files in her arms. “Happy birthday, Olivia.”

“Thanks. Who sent the flowers?”

“Blythe Harden dropped those off. She said to tell you they were a small testament to her gratitude. I’m also to tell you that if you ever need any favor from her, not to hesitate.” A small slip of pink paper was tucked into the corner of Mary’s blotter. She set the files on her desk, pulled it out, and waved it in the air, a sly smile on her face.

“There’s a west wind today, a portent of big change.”

After twenty-seven years of working with Mary, Olivia knew that in good time Mary would tell her what the west wind had brought them today. Her assistant – a trusted, intelligent woman who masterfully found needles in haystacks – was driven by age-old superstitions handed down from her equally superstitious grandmother.

“I’ve found Roland Rainwater.”

“What?” Olivia didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Certain that Roland Rainwater had vanished into thin air, Olivia had planned to hand the whole Rainwater file, along with its hefty retainer, over to Claire once she came on board. Claire could hire a private investigator to track down the deadbeat husband and get him served with a summons.

“How did you find him?”

Mary giggled. “On an Internet dating site.”

“Do I want to know about this?”

“It’s legit, don’t worry. I put up a fake profile of a woman who is very similar to Hetty. You know, bohemian, artsy. I made sure to hint at wealth untold. Sure enough, Roland was looking for a new meal ticket.”

“Well, where is he?”

Mary looked at her watch. “Probably on his way to Peet’s. I’m meeting him for coffee in twenty minutes.” The Rainwater file sat on the corner of her desk. She pulled the summons out with a flourish and grabbed her purse. “Back soon.”

Olivia laughed. “Just make sure he doesn’t follow you to your car.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got my pepper spray. Oh, Claire Montreaux will be here in ten minutes or so. Want me to get some sandwiches for your birthday lunch with Lauren while I’m out?”

“Thanks, Mary. Use the company card. Get something for yourself, too.”

“Will do. Back soon.” Mary waved and headed down the street, walking as purposefully as a bloodhound who had picked up a scent.

Olivia surveyed the small office, the home base of her work life for the past twenty-seven years. Her eyes roamed over the various diplomas and certificates that hung on the wall, the bank of filing cabinets, the stacks of files and papers. She had worked hard for all of this, but the time had come to pass the baton. There was a gentle knock on the door.

Claire Montreaux waited while Olivia unlocked the door.

“Good morning,” Claire said.

“I always keep the door locked,” Olivia said. “I had an angry husband come after me with a baseball bat once.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was lucky there happened to be a policeman down the block. But I wound up with a smashed-in window, so lesson learned.”

Claire was young and fresh and very much like Olivia had been when she started practicing law so very long ago. A tiny thing with black hair that hung down to her waist, Claire looked like a fifteen-year-old cheerleader. Although Olivia had never been opposite Claire in court, word on the street was that the young lawyer was whip-smart, had a photographic memory, and could out-argue the best and most seasoned litigator. Today Claire wore a very short skirt along with stiletto heels so high Olivia’s lower back threatened to spasm at the very sight of them. She felt old all of a sudden. Out of touch with this new generation of lawyers.

Claire stood in the reception area, surveying her surroundings. She turned a slow circle. “This office has a really nice feel to it. Uncluttered with lots of light.”

“Thanks. Of course, you can change things as you see fit,” Olivia said.

The women didn’t waste time with small talk. Once they were situated in Olivia’s office, Claire reached into her spanking new Mark Cross briefcase and pulled out the partnership proposal that the two women had hammered out a month ago, when Claire first approached Olivia with the idea of coming on board as a partner. Several pages had been tagged with Post-its. Claire opened to the first one and said, “I need your assurance that Stephen Vine will still be sending referrals from his criminal practice this way.” She leaned back, confident and in charge, and continued. “My position is that Mr. Vine’s influence will be needed, especially since I’m new to the area—”

You’re new to the profession, darling. Olivia didn’t say the words out loud. Everyone had to start somewhere, and she couldn’t find fault with Claire’s attention to detail. Granted, Claire was taking a risk, sinking her time and capital into her own firm so early in her career. Stephen Vine, Olivia’s long-time friend and well-respected criminal defense attorney, didn’t take family law cases and had been referring clients to Olivia for years. Claire would need those referrals, especially in the beginning.

“—so will that be a problem?” Claire said.

“Not at all,” Olivia said. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Vine. He’s agreed to meet with you alone or with me, whichever you prefer.”

Claire exhaled. “That’s great. Is he easy to get along with? I’ve heard rumors that he can be prickly.”

Olivia settled back into her chair. “Stephen doesn’t like liars. Be honest and genuine and you’ll get along fine. Pardon my French, but he can spot bullshit a mile away.” She thumbed through her copy of their agreement. “And I have an issue I would like to change. I’m looking to be out of the practice in six months instead of a year. I’m willing to adjust the financial aspects accordingly …”

And so the meeting went on. For an hour Claire and Olivia negotiated, easily agreeing on changes and amendments. By 11:35 Claire was gone, off to type up the agreed changes. Next week Olivia would sign it. After Claire left, Olivia turned her attention to her computer, methodically sorting through the thirty-plus emails she had received overnight, making note of things that needed her attention and forwarding the rest on to Mary.

“I’m back,” Mary said. Olivia heard her putting food in the fridge. She came into Olivia’s office and sat on the couch. “Dear Roland wasn’t very happy. Silly ass. I got you sandwiches and a bottle of champagne. Will you be back after lunch?”

“Nope. I’m going to check my email and head out.”

“Good. How did it go with Claire?”

“Well. She’s agreed to everything.”

Mary kicked off her shoes. “Today I feel like a tired old woman. I have really enjoyed working with you, Liv, but won’t deny that I’m looking forward to retiring.”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? We’ve had quite a run, haven’t we?”

“That we have,” Mary said. “And I don’t mind admitting that I’m a wee bit exhausted.”

Olivia had just deleted the last email, when a new message from an unknown sender popped into her inbox, with a subject line that read: Check out your husband!

“I’ve got an anonymous email. It mentions Richard and looks like it’s coming from someone’s phone,” Olivia said.

Mary put her glasses on and leaned close to the computer as Olivia opened the email. The body said, “You think you know everything, don’t you? You stupid bitch.”