The Betrayal. Terry Lynn Thomas

was no getting around Andrew. He would have to face him.

      “What happened? I’ve been worried,” Wendy asked.

      “We lost Countryside,” Richard said.

      “Oh, no,” Wendy said.

      “Beth told me personally. Said she was going to send over a formal letter this afternoon.”

      Wendy lowered her voice. “Are you sure Andrew doesn’t know? He’s been huffing and puffing in his office since he got here.”

      Richard let out a defeated sigh. “He doesn’t know. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

      The beautiful Marin day, sunny with low-hanging clouds over the bay, was lost on Richard as he maneuvered onto the Golden Gate Bridge. His mind started to function just as he turned onto Montgomery Street. As he sat at the stop lights – of course, he hit red lights the whole way – his mind kicked into gear. Anger at Beth Musselwhite threatened to make him lose his reason, but he needed to be logical now. Rincon Sinclair would either need to reinvent itself or close its doors.

      Richard thought of life as a solo practitioner. Pulling his Mercedes into his parking space, Richard checked himself in the mirror before he headed off to face Andrew. With his clout, prestige, and connections, Richard was certain he’d land on his feet. Once Rincon Sinclair announced they were closing, the offers would come rolling in. If they didn’t, Richard would retire. He’d cash in and move to Hawaii or the south of France. Andrew, as far as Richard was concerned, could go screw himself.

      Andrew was waiting for him in the lobby. He sat in one of the waiting room chairs, a surly look on his face.

      “Where in the hell have you been?” Andrew’s eyes blazed; his cheeks were mottled with suppressed rage.

      “Andrew, I’m not in the mood for one of your angry tirades. We need to talk.”

      “Oh, that’s an understatement.”

      “Conference room. Give me a minute.” Richard felt Andrew blustering behind him. He ignored him as he slipped into his office and took off his jacket and tie. Pressing his forehead against the cold window, Richard took a second, mentally searching, without success, for a single thread of control he could latch on to.

      Wendy and Andrew waited for him in the conference room. Wendy was making a list on a legal pad with the Montblanc fountain pen the firm had given her when she graduated from law school. She looked up at Richard as he walked into the room, an apologetic look on her face. Although Andrew sat with his back towards Richard, the rage undulated from him. Richard girded himself for the inevitable confrontation as he walked into the room.

      Andrew turned to face him. “You’ve gone and lost us our biggest client?” The disgust that dripped from Andrew and hung in the air between them only infuriated Richard further. It was his cases that were the big money earners. He litigated circles around Andrew Rincon and his talent and celebrity as a lawyer had only helped Andrew.

      Playing it cool, Richard took one of the bottles of water on the table. He didn’t hurry, as he sat down and took a long drink. When he spoke his voice was measured and calm. “Beth Musselwhite feels that she can no longer trust me. Thus she is not giving us any more business. She wants files handed to new counsel by November 1, at which time she’ll issue our bonuses. Given my past three successes, Andrew—” Richard didn’t try to keep the venom out of his tone as he put the emphasis on my “—both of us will receive a nice chunk of change.”

      “Who is new counsel? Who the hell did she hire?”

      Before Andrew’s rage erupted, Richard said, “I don’t appreciate, nor will I tolerate, this insinuation that our debacle is my fault. I didn’t send that video. I’ve been the victim of a cut-throat hoax. Another firm wanted Countryside—”

      “The hell it’s not your fault. If you could have kept your pants zipped for a change none of this would be happening.” Andrew stood. “Congratulations, Richard. You’ve ruined us. I’m this close to throttling you. Stay the hell out of my sight.”

      He strode out of the room, slamming the door so hard that a framed picture of the Constitution fell off the wall, the glass splintering into shards.

      Once Richard and Wendy were alone, Richard asked, “Did you contact Sandy’s mother?”

      “Left a message. Haven’t heard back from her.” Wendy tiptoed over the broken glass and sat down next to Richard.

      “You realize that she could be behind this video, right? I know you know think she’s a sweet girl, but she could be getting ready to blackmail you. I went to law school with a guy who does skip-tracing. Want me to try to find her?”

      Richard nodded. “I’m taking my files to my studio. I can’t stay under the same roof as Andrew.”

      “Good idea. I’ll report when I know something.”

       Chapter 6

       Monday, October 13

      Sharon Bailey walked into her apartment, threw her jacket on the couch, and poured herself a giant glass of wine. Her day had been a long one, full of meetings about manpower and budgets and the general nonsense spouted by the people who do their policing behind a desk and have no clue what officers deal with in the field. Resisting the urge to slug back the entire drink in one go, Sharon raised the glass to her lips and was just about to take a sip when her partner, Ellie Standish, texted her. “We’re up. Pick you up in five.”

      Sharon changed her clothes and tucked her Glock into the holster that fit under her jacket. This would be Ellie Standish’s first homicide investigation, and Sharon knew she would have to keep a close eye on her young partner, while also giving her room to learn. Every homicide investigator always remembers their first murder. And there was no denying Officer Ellie Standish was ambitious, much as Sharon had been when she was a young cop starting out. Ellie had a college degree from SF State in addition to high marks at the POST academy, but high marks in school did not necessarily translate to the unique skill set an officer would need while working in the field. This case would be a test for Ellie.

      Sharon checked that her door was locked and headed down the stairs, surprised to find Ellie double parked in front of Sharon’s apartment, blocking the street. A brand-new gray Prius slowed to a stop behind her. The driver rolled his window down, stuck his head out, and yelled, “Move your car, you stupid bitch.”

      Ellie got out of the car, leaving her door open, and held her badge out in front of her, holding it like a shield as she stomped up to the car. “You have a problem?”

      Sharon got in the passenger side, shutting the door so she didn’t have to listen to Ellie tell off a citizen. Glancing around to make sure no one passing by had whipped out a cell phone and started to film, Sharon hunched down in the seat.

      A minute later, Ellie was back in the car. “Sorry, boss. People are so impatient these days.”

      “Did you really have to flash your badge, Ellie? A friendly apology might have been a little easier.”

      Ellie rolled her eyes.

      “You do that to the wrong person, and you’ll get written up,” Sharon continued. “For all you know, that could be the chief’s son.”

      “Are you joking?”

      “Not even a little. I can name two officers in my class at the academy who got fired for that exact same reason.” Sharon faced Ellie. “This job puts you in the public eye, puts you in the position of continual scrutiny. It’s important that you maintain a certain level of decorum. I know that you’re an educated woman, and I know you were at the top of your class in the POST training. I respect that. I want you to succeed. My advice to you, pretend you’re being watched. All. The. Time.”

      “I understand,”