The Bitter Bite of Betrayal
Christine Zane Thomas
Contents
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
Quiche Lorraine
Mediterranean Quiche
Also by Christine Zane Thomas
1
A sheet of tepid air washed over me as I left the cool air conditioning of my house. It was dark outside. The yard was only illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlamp between Miss Jeanie’s house and mine. It was eerie, quiet this time of morning. The birds weren’t even awake.
I prefer to wake up to the sound of birds chirping, I thought, scrubbing crust from my eyes with a knuckle—those bulbous Prim family knuckles.
The floodlight on the corner of my carport flickered on as I crept over the dewy grass. And I jumped, half-startled by a cat scampering away from the light.
Speaking of birds, these early morning wake-ups are for them.
I hadn’t set an alarm since high school. It was ninety-nine percent of the reason I liked to work as a freelancer. I set my own hours, waking up naturally, going to bed when the job was done—after procrastinating most of the day. Why is life so full of distraction?
When my car sputtered to life, I found yet another cat—this one caught in the high beams. It just stared back at me.
Seriously? What is up with this? Is Miss Jeanie feeding them again? I was going to have to have a talk with her. I didn’t want to become a cat lady by proxy.
Five minutes later, the light graying with the sun on the horizon, I pulled into the Dorothy Maclay Heritage Trail Park parking lot alongside a midsize black pickup truck. Javier Portillo, the friendly neighborhood police detective, laced his shoes up on the tailgate. That dimple of his locked into place when he caught my eyes. And everything I’d thought about early morning wake-ups washed away.
We’d been meeting for these early morning runs for a couple of months now. It was almost better than coffee—almost. Good thing we usually took this party to The Java Hutt after. By far the best aspect of the park was its proximity to my much needed coffee fix.
I’d been a runner for years, starting in my senior year of college with my first 5K and continuing through the years ever since. I was probably coming up on my ten year anniversary with running—maybe an aluminum ID tag was in order to celebrate the occasion.
Despite running for so long, and despite running with Javi on the regular, these morning jogs still felt fresh and new. I went to sleep with anticipation like the next day was Christmas, and woke up to my alarm afraid I was going miss it.
With the sun came the heat. Today was going to be a scorcher. For now, it was comfortable enough but muggy with humidity.
“You giving Brutus the morning off?” I asked, beginning my stretch with the car door open.
“Mornin’ to you too.” Javi’s smile never left his lips. “I knew you were here more for him than for me. I thought today we might go a bit longer. I mean if that’s all right with you?”
Brutus was Javier's beloved American bulldog. Big dogs usually scared me, but Brutus wasn’t the bruiser his name claimed him to be. He was a sweet and playful puppy at heart. But his kisses came with a gallon of slobber.
Before Javi’s offer to meet at the park for runs, I’d only attempted this run a handful of times. The trails were tricky, knotted with roots and slippery with pine straw most of the year. The giant pond in the middle of the park was the perfect centerpiece for laps. The moss-filled giant oaks offered much needed shade for those who ran after midday. How those people did it flabbergasted me. I didn’t like to run on a full stomach, or with the sun on my neck, or with sweat stinging my vision. Much unlike my foodie habits, I was a picky runner.
“That’s fine with me,” I agreed.
I was feeling eager for a longer run on this Saturday morning. There were plenty of spots where the trail opened up to a road beside the park, and we could wind our way through the downtown district not very far from here. More running meant more time beside Javi. And unlike the King of Rock and Roll, I was down for a little more conversation.
The benefits of running with Javi were numerous. Not only was I on some natural high, having found a good friend and possibly a budding crush, but my pace had improved drastically. Javi was building up his endurance. With me, he ran slower than his one mile pace—which was fast. He was gearing up for a half marathon in the not-so-distant future.
“Eight miles sound about right?” I could tell by his tone he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it that far, not at the pace we usually set.
“You’ve got it,” I said encouragingly.
“And I’ve got some fuel for us on the road.” I dug inside my car’s console and found some gummy fitness fuel. “Your choice. Watermelon or pink lemonade?”
“Those both seem like Allie flavors,” he said.
“Have I ever led you astray when it comes to food?” I asked, knowing the answer. One of our main topics of conversation was food. Javi read my food blog, The Foodie Files, and he gabbed away about the places he wanted to try all across Georgia from Athens and Atlanta to Savannah and Statesboro and all cities in-between.
“No,” Javi answered with a shake of his head.
“So which is it going to be?”
“Watermelon, I guess…”
“That’s my favorite.”
“Then pink lemonade. I don’t want to take your favorite.”
“I want you to take my favorite.” I shoved the small pouch into his hand. A nervous tingle shot up my fingertips at his touch.
“You’re the boss,” he said, smiling. He put the pouch into a pocket on his fuel belt beside a small bottle of water.
“Hardly,” I replied.
Javi jumped up and down, loosening up one last time and shaking out his arms and legs. “All right. Let’s do this.”
He took off at a clip through the parking lot, and I had to sprint to keep up.
“Slow it down. That’s a rookie mistake,” I said, huffing behind him.
“What’s a rookie mistake?”
“Starting out too fast,” I said. “Tons of people will start out sprinting at the half marathon. You’ll catch up to them after mile one when they start walking. Slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady,” he repeated.
We took the trail at a slow jog, careful to step over root and sticks jutting out in the path. The flowers were in full bloom as a plethora of April showers had saw us through Spring. And the rain in May hit the town almost every afternoon.
“I’m not going to be keeping you from anything today, am I? How’s the wedding planning going?”
“I’m just helping out. And it’s mostly done. The final dress fitting will be the hardest part.”
“Why’s that?”
“Melanie’s trying that keto thing to get down to her goal weight. But now her dress might be loose. She’s lost like ten pounds. I didn’t think she had ten pounds to lose.”
“This is one of those times where whatever I say would be scrutinized, so I’m going to opt out and ask you another question. How is Mister Netflix doing?”
We circled the pond, then climbed a hill toward the road.
The question alone made me blush. I was never going to live down my alibi for his first case in our small town.
“Alive and well,�
� I answered. “He keeps me up too late most nights. They’re always introducing new shows. Their original content is tops.”
“I admit,” Javi said, “I’ve been sucked down that rabbit hole a time or two. Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, Grey’s Anatomy.” He coughed as I laughed. He knew that show was my go-to.
We hit our stride out on the street. The flat pavement made it easy to keep in step, pacing alongside each other. We wound our way through downtown and then through some residential streets where the houses were as old as the city itself.
The sound of Javi’s breathing was as soothing as music to my ears—it felt odd not to have my earbuds in my ears on a long run. I wondered if that’s what he might sound like when he was sleeping. Or does he snore like Grandmother?
I had to shake the odd thoughts out of my head. My brain was get too far ahead of itself.
A long run like this was better training without Brutus. Even if it did mean less entertainment. Brutus liked to chase the geese beside the pond. And since those birds gave me the creeps, it made my heart happy.
I focused on the sound of his breathing. We didn’t talk for a mile or so. Javi slowed down, wincing, placing a hand to his ribs. He must have a stitch, I thought. I slowed down a pace or two.
“Let’s keep on going,” he said, prodding me not to wait for him. “I’ll catch up to you at the turn.”
We made it through a long thoroughfare. And I turned down the next street, past a cluster of trees.
My heart thudded faster in my chest. At first, I didn’t realize what I was seeing. With my brain fuzzy from the miles we had run, it did a double-take, piecing together what lay before it.
I veered off the road into the grass and knelt down.
“Watch out,” Javi called as he rounding the corner. “There could be snakes in the grass there.”
Javi stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes taking in the scene.
It wasn’t snakes in the grass that had caught our attention. There was a body.
2
“Stay calm,” Javi said.
Just his presence put me at ease. I wanted to be sick, to look away. But I knew that wasn’t acceptable in this situation. Instead, I took a backseat and let Javi do his thing. He was trained for this.
“I’ve got a pulse,” he said. “Breathing is shallow. These wounds have begun to clot. I’m afraid if I touch any, I’ll do more damage. I’m so stupid. I left my phone back at the truck. You have yours?”
I shook my head. I locked up, just like I’d done in my first police questioning.
“Allie, you’re okay. This man is going to be okay. We’ve just got to get him help. I’ll run back to the truck and get my phone. You stay here with him.”
“No.” My voice cracked. “I’m the better runner. I’ll go.”
“Allie, I—”
“I’m not going back to the cars,” I said. “Think smarter, not harder. There was a woman on her porch down that last street. I’ll use her phone.”
“Good thinking,” he said.
But I was already off in a sprint.
“Oh, and Allie,” he called. “Ask them to get Hank out here too.”
Hank Burley was Javier’s partner.
The old woman was still there, rocking lazily in a rocking chair. A Chihuahua was cuddled in her lap, but it leapt down when it saw me approaching. He yapped his little head off as I jogged up the sidewalk toward her porch.
“Ma’am,” I said, panting, “could I use your phone? There’s a man down the street that way—” I pointed “—down on the ground. It looks like he was hit by a car.”
“Oh, no, child,” the old woman said. The wisps of hair she had were as white as cotton. She was boney and frail. I was afraid she was telling me she didn’t have a phone—or that I couldn’t use it. But that wasn’t the case. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Not in my neighborhood. Let me get you that phone.”
Given her age, I expected to be led inside to a rotary. But she dug her fist in her pocket and produced a flip phone.
Progress is progress, I guess.
The dog continued yapping. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he nipped at my heel.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a female operator inquired.
As succinctly as possible, I recounted our experience right up to the current moments.
“Detective Portillo is with him. He wanted me to ask that his partner, Hank Burley get called in as well.”
“Ma’am, can you get back to their location? I’d like to ask Detective Portillo some questions to better assist…”
I grimaced. “Is it okay?” I mouthed to the old woman. “I’ll bring it back.”
“It’s fine, sugar,” she said. “I’ll be right here waiting.”
“I’m headed back there now,” I told the operator.
I ran up beside Javi and the other man, then put the phone on speaker. The operator rattled off questions. Javi answered every one. He was cool and collected—everything I was not.
“You should be hearing sirens any moment,” the operator said.
She was right. The sirens sounded faint in the distance. I breathed a small sigh of relief.
“You’re doing well.” At first, I thought Javier was reassuring me, but he was talking to the man, unconscious but breathing, if barely.
I felt utterly useless now.
An ambulance pulled up, along with a couple Lanai Police Department vehicles. They blocked off the street, giving the ambulance a wide berth.
“Allie, you understand what’s happening right now, right? You know what happened to this man?”
“He was hit by a car?” I offered.
“A hit a run,” Javi said. “That puts this in my jurisdiction. In a minute, I’ll need you to step back. All right?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry our run didn’t go as planned.”
“I’m sorry too.”
The reality washed over me. This was a crime scene. It started out as an accident, but the second that vehicle left this man here to die, it became an out-right crime.
The paramedics arrived, taking mine and Javi’s place.
An unmarked cruiser parked up on the curb across from us. Hank lumbered out. Then he met with the other officers before greeting Javier and throwing me a curt nod.
One officer I recognized. Kieran Clarke had been friendly with me before. I welcomed the familiar face.
“No wallet,” the paramedic said to Hank, who scoured the man’s body. His eyes fixed on the man’s shoe.
“Bingo!” he pointed.
I watched as Hank unfastened Velcro from the shoe and held it in his hand.
“Seth Martin,” he said. “No known allergies. And no health problems listed. He has an emergency contact. I’m going to call her, have her meet us at the hospital.”
“I’m going to ride along with Mr. Martin,” Javier said. “If he wakes up, we’ll need to get some information. Maybe he can remember what the car looked like.”
Javi turned his attention to me. “Like I said before, I’m sorry our morning turned out like this. Talk to Hank. Get his all clear before you leave the scene.”
“Will do. But I need to return that phone first.” I pointed to the phone in his hand.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiled, flipping the phone closed. “It’s been a while since I had one of these. Return it and come back. I’ll call you later. Okay?”
“Do, please.” I nodded.
I watched Javier disappear in the back of the ambulance with Seth Martin and a paramedic. Then I ran down the street and returned the old woman’s phone, getting a few more ankle nips for my trouble.
Detective Burley marched toward me. He looked all business, despite his unkempt appearance—a day’s old stubble, a sloppily tucked in shirt, and the man couldn’t to tie a tie if his life depended on it.
Still, my stomach felt like a giant sinking pit of despair.
Hank Burley didn’t like to talk to me on a good day. And today wasn’t a good one.
&
nbsp; “Miss Treadwell,” he said before fumbling through the little notebook in his hand, “am I surprised to see you here?”
This conversation was already off on the wrong foot. Without Javier here to calm me down, Detective Burley’s attitude could get the best of me. He was like my mom in a way. When he got snippy, I only got snippier.
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“You know I’m not. You have a knack for these things. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I pressed my lips together in a false smile. I knew exactly what he meant.
He rolled his eyes.
“Detective Burley,” I said. “Or can I call you Hank?”
“Detective Burley will do.”
Noted. I nodded.
“Well, Detective, I’m not sure how much help I can be. As you can plainly see, I was out here on a run with Javi—that is, Detective Portillo.”
“I didn’t know they made shirts in that size. What was it? Smedium?” Detective Burley smiled. “Get it? Small and medium.”
“I got it,” I said. Maybe Hank was a tad jealous of the way Javi’s biceps bulged out of the sleeves of his shirt. There was no way Javi’s chest would fit in a medium. The shirt was definitely a large. Javi couldn’t help if his biceps were of the extra-large variety—or maybe he could as that was probably something he worked on at the gym.
“Out of curiosity, how often do you two get together for runs?”
“A few times a week,” I said.
“And how long has this been going on?” Detective Burley asked with a glimmer in his eye.
Good gracious. I realized this line of questioning wasn’t for the case it was personal. Play it cool, play it cool.
“Just a little while,” I said. “I’m trying to help him prepare for a race. Is this really relevant to today?”
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