The Betrayal

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  Oh, crap. Richard Sinclair had been arranged in a fold-away deck chair, his arms and legs secured with duct tape, a gag in his mouth, his head rolled forward. He was either unconscious or dead. On the small table near the galley, she saw a large duffel bag. So Wendy was going to try to escape on her boat. Sharon wondered what she planned on doing with Richard. She waited five minutes, but Wendy was nowhere to be seen. Reluctant to board the boat without backup, Sharon resisted the urge to go to Richard Sinclair. She could only hope the poor guy wasn’t dead.

  Where is my backup? Sharon turned her back on the boat long enough to look to the parking area. Nothing. She held her breath and listened. Sirens. Getting closer. She stood up on creaking knees, pulled her Glock out of its holster, released the safety, and stepped onto the deck. Certain that help was on its way, she started down the short flight of stairs that led below deck.

  “Mr. Sinclair? Police.”

  Richard Sinclair groaned, but he didn’t lift his head. She hurried over to Richard and had just reached out to remove the gag, when she felt a painful thud on the back of her head. Everything went black.

  When she awoke, Sharon was lying flat out on a berth in the bow of Wendy’s boat. The gentle swaying made her nauseous, but she combatted the sensation with deep breaths and a prayer. From her position she could see Wendy Betters as she sat next to Richard Sinclair, who was semi-conscious. She watched as he struggled to hold his head up but his eyes had an unfocused look to them. His head lolled forward as he slipped once again into unconsciousness. All the while, Wendy hovered over Richard raving like a madwoman.

  “It’s really going to be okay, darling,” Wendy cooed, as she stroked Richard’s cheek. “I did it all for us. Killed Janelle Maycott, Sandy Watson. I’ve got lots of money and we are going to be very happy.”

  Sharon bore witness as Richard looked up at Wendy, startled at her revelation. When Wendy caressed Richard’s face, running her fingers over his cheek, he tried to pull away from her touch.

  “Now, now, that’s no way to respond.” She kissed the top of his forehead. “From now on it’s going to be just the two of us. I’m going to take your gag off, okay? If you scream or shout, I’ll sedate you so deeply you won’t wake up until we are in Mexico. Understood?”

  Richard nodded. Wendy took his gag off.

  “What the hell have you done? Is that Inspector Bailey?” His voice was raspy as he spoke through dry lips.

  “She got in the way,” Wendy said, her tone petulant like a child’s.

  “Is she dead?”

  Sharon closed her eyes, hoping Wendy would think she was still unconscious.

  “Of course not. I hit her over the head. She’ll be fine.”

  “They’ll come looking for her.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Wendy said. She squatted down in front of Richard. From Sharon’s vantage point she had a perfect view of Wendy’s adoring gaze. “We’ll be together. Finally.”

  “I don’t love you,” Richard said.

  “Don’t say that,” Wendy shouted. She stood up, her face mottled with pent-up rage.

  She’s well and truly mad. Careful not to make any movements that would garner Wendy’s attention, Sharon surveyed her surroundings for a way out. Nothing. The bow was tiny, cramped, and the only exit through the door that led into the galley and cabin area. Sharon closed her eyes. Think. No grand plan presented itself. All she could do was hope that backup arrived. Sooner rather than later.

  “Wakey wakey,” a soft voice said.

  Sharon’s eyes popped open and she looked into Wendy Betters’s smiling face. Wendy had taken Sharon’s Glock. She now pointed it directly at Sharon’s heart. “I could shoot you now and be done with it, but that would be a mistake, wouldn’t it? I’d attract too much attention.”

  “Why did you kill them?” Sharon asked, hoping to get Wendy talking so she could stall for time.

  “Trying to stall for time, Inspector Bailey? Come on, let’s get you some fresh air.”

  With the Glock pointed at her, Sharon rose slowly, catching herself as the boat seemed to tilt. On wobbly legs she moved through the cabin and up onto the deck.

  “Lie down,” Wendy ordered.

  Sharon should have tried to wrestle the gun away from Wendy, but she couldn’t seem to move fast enough. I’ve got a concussion. Where the hell is my backup? Unable to lift a finger to defend herself, she sat still and submissive as Wendy Betters bound her wrists with duct tape.

  Through the glinting sunlight, Sharon watched as Wendy held up a syringe.

  “It’s propofol. I’m going to inject you with it before I throw you overboard. You’ll drown, but you won’t feel a thing.”

  “So you’re going to kill me and sail off into the sunset?”

  “Exactly. Richard and I are going somewhere far away and very warm.”

  “Tell me why you killed Janelle Maycott. What did she do to you?”

  “Richard had his eye on her. She was so beautiful. And while Richard slept with every woman he met, I could tell Janelle was going to be different. He was besotted with her. I couldn’t lose him. Janelle Maycott threatened to come between Richard and me, so I had to kill her. It’s very simple, really.”

  “And Sandy Watson?”

  “She discovered my little scheme. You see, I’ve been slowly leaching the money out of the Rincon Sinclair investment account. I’m very talented at playing the stock market. While I left some of the profits in the investment account, I took what I like to think of as a commission. Sandy discovered it quite by accident. That was my money. I earned it. Why should I settle for a measly twenty percent? And the little bitch got pregnant, didn’t she? She would’ve had the child, which would have tied her to Richard for life. I couldn’t let that happen. So here we are.” Wendy smiled when she looked at Richard and stroked his cheek. She turned toward Sharon. “Goodbye, Inspector Bailey.”

  Sharon didn’t stand a chance. Wendy moved close and pushed the needle through Sharon’s trousers into her thigh and pushed the plunger.

  Chapter 32

  Olivia drove like a bat out of hell and made it to Sausalito in record time, despite the weekend traffic. Avoiding the marina parking lot, she found a metered spot on the street, which actually put her closer to Wendy’s berth. Although she hadn’t been out on the boat with Wendy in years, she had the benefit of knowing where she was going. A tall cyclone fence protected the boats that were moored at Schoonmaker Point from the general public. Olivia loitered by the gate until an older man carrying a six-pack of beer and a fishing rod approached.

  “I’m meeting my friend,” Olivia said. “I was supposed to text her when I got here, but my phone is dead.”

  “Which friend?” the man asked, suspicious.

  “Wendy Betters. We work at the same law firm. She’s taking me sightseeing. I just moved here—” The segue into small talk worked. The man punched in a code and held the gate for her. “Thanks a lot,” she said, walking slowly towards Wendy’s boat, as if she had all the time in the world. Each berth came with a large tackle box bolted to the dock, so items such as extra rope, life jackets, and the like could be safely stored. Once the man who opened the gate was out of sight, Olivia ducked behind one. It wouldn’t do for Wendy to see her coming.

  In the distance, approaching sirens confirmed the police were en route. Time was ticking. A wave of panic threatened, but Olivia pushed it back. Why had she come here? To save Richard? To show Richard what a brave woman she was?

  Her eyes on Wendy’s boat, she scurried down the dock, her legs quickly adapting to the gentle sway of the water. Every few berths, she would duck out of sight, careful to remain unseen. As the sirens got louder, Wendy appeared on the deck of her boat. She listened for a moment before she untied the boat and slowly backed out of her berth. Pulling her cell phone out, Olivia called Brian’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Olivia, what the hell do you think you’re—”

  “She’s getting away.
Richard’s on that boat. Tell the cops.”

  “Okay. We can see you ducking down. She won’t get away. You need to come here and turn yourself in.”

  “I know.” Olivia stood, ready to accept the consequences for her reckless act of attempted heroism.

  “It’ll be okay,” Brian said. “Stephen’s given the recording …” His voice trailed off.

  “Are you seeing this?” Olivia whispered.

  After untying her boat, Wendy disappeared for a few seconds. When she came back into view, she carried Inspector Bailey’s limp body over her shoulder like a sack of sugar. In one fluid motion, she dumped the policewoman over the back of the boat as if she were disposing of garbage. Olivia heard the engine rev as Wendy took the helm of her boat and headed towards the Golden Gate Bridge and out to sea.

  Glancing back, Olivia saw a cluster of bystanders. More than one person had their phones out and were filming the whole scenario. Three uniformed cops – Sausalito PD by the look of them – were running towards her. She ignored them, sprinted to the end of the dock and dove in. The shock of the frigid water nearly took her breath away, but she was close enough to see Inspector Bailey’s body floating face down. Numb from the cold and driven by adrenaline, Olivia swam towards Sharon, her stroke strong and sure.

  It took her about thirty seconds to reach her. Remembering the water safety class she had taken when she was a teenager, she flipped Sharon on her back, put an arm across her chest, and dragged her towards shore.

  Paramedics waded into the water just as Olivia reached the shore, took Sharon from her and immediately started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Numb and cold, Olivia staggered out of the water, too weak to walk. A paramedic put an arm around her, holding her up so she could walk to one of two waiting ambulances. She sat in the back of the open ambulance, a wool blanket around her shoulders as the paramedic checked her vitals. From this vantage point, Olivia watched as the other paramedic turned Inspector Bailey on her side as she choked up bay water, coughed and gagged and sputtered until she eventually was revived.

  Once she could breathe on her own, Inspector Bailey was loaded into the ambulance parked next to Olivia’s. As the paramedic headed for the driver’s side, he said, “You got to her just in the nick of time. You saved this woman’s life.”

  Olivia turned her attention to the drama as it unfolded out on the water. Two policemen had commandeered what looked like a Boston Whaler with an outboard motor. The boat rushed towards Wendy’s sailboat, quickly catching up to it. One of the cops stood and held a megaphone up to his mouth. A hush fell over the crowd as Wendy turned to the approaching boat. She held a gun, which she trained on the officers.

  Both of the officers drew their weapons and ducked down as Wendy fired three shots. The officers returned fire. Wendy didn’t bother to duck. Olivia saw her topple just as a sheriff’s deputy arrived at the ambulance to take her back to jail, Brian Vickery and Stephen Vine trailing behind him.

  “What were you thinking?” Brian asked. He pulled the wool blanket tighter around Olivia’s shoulders.

  “I had to clear my name,” Olivia said. “Richard’s on that boat. She’s going to kill him.”

  “The Coast Guard will see to him,” Brian said.

  An eager young reporter ran towards Olivia, a microphone extended.

  “What happened here, Mrs. Sinclair,” she asked. “Why did you break house arrest?”

  “To prove my innocence.”

  The reporter motioned for her cameraman to move closer. “Did you do that, Mrs. Sinclair? Did you prove your innocence?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, a deputy positioned himself between Olivia and the camera and turned his back on the reporter. “You need to come with me, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  Chapter 33

  And just like that it was over. Stephen Vine called in a myriad of favors to get Judge Helman involved on a Saturday. Judge Helman, who was looking at his phone, gave Olivia a look that was full of fury as she was led into his chambers, clutching a wool blanket around her shoulders, wearing a standard issue gray sweat suit, her wet hair matted against her scalp. She smelled of San Francisco Bay and couldn’t seem to get warm.

  Jonas and Stephen sat opposite the judge’s desk. Olivia took an empty chair between them as the court reporter set up her steno machine. Once she had everything situated, the judge put his phone down and stared at Olivia. “We’re on the record. I hear you broke the conditions of your house arrest, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  Stephen stood before addressing the court. “Your Honor, there are extenuating circumstances, if you would indulge—”

  “Mr. Vine, I’m here at your behest on a weekend. Do not try me. I’ll speak to your client directly, if you don’t mind.”

  Stephen sat back down.

  It took all of Olivia’s might not to cower under Judge Helman’s look. He’s going to throw me back in jail.

  “Mrs. Sinclair, what were you thinking?”

  Olivia waited, not sure if the judge actually expected a response.

  “Do you not understand the question?”

  Olivia glanced at Stephen, who gave her an encouraging nod.

  “I discovered that Wendy Betters had Richard. She confessed to killing Sandy Watson, Janelle Maycott, and her own mother. She also confessed to burning my investigator’s house down.” Olivia wiped her tears. “Wendy told me she had Richard. I figured if she was going to try to escape, she would do so in her boat. I needed the police there. I knew they would come for me if I left my house.”

  “Why the urgency?” Judge Helman asked.

  “When I spoke to her on the phone, she sounded—” Olivia hesitated “—unstable, for lack of a better word. It was just a gut feeling, Your Honor.”

  Olivia was crying now. The tears rolled down her cheeks. Her knees threatened to collapse. Stephen stood and put an arm around her. “You can sit, Liv.” He helped her ease back into her chair.

  “Your Honor, if I may?” Stephen asked.

  Judge Helman nodded.

  “During the course of preparing for trial, we discovered a connection between Wendy Betters and Sandy Watson and a young lady named Janelle Maycott, who was murdered in 2000. Mrs. Sinclair discovered evidence that would have exonerated her of all charges, but in the process of doing so, forced Miss Betters – the real murderer – to play her hand, if you will. She may have acted rashly—”

  “You don’t by chance have any proof of this confession?” Judge Helman asked.

  “We do, Your Honor,” Stephen said. “My client recorded her phone call.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Olivia’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt like she was going to be sick and, try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks. They listened to the recording, and on hearing it a second time, Olivia was even more surprised at the crazed madness in Wendy’s voice.

  When the tape recording finished, Judge Helman turned to Jonas. “You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Greensboro.”

  Jonas stood, and out of habit started to button up his sportscoat. When he realized he was wearing a zip-up jacket, he shook his head. “We’ve heard the confession and seen the video.”

  “Video?”

  Stephen stood. “Olivia Sinclair saved Inspector Bailey’s life, Your Honor. Wendy Betters injected the inspector with some type of drug, bound her hands and ankles, and threw her in the bay. Mrs. Sinclair dove in after her. She pulled her to shore, where the paramedics performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Another minute and the inspector would have drowned.”

  “Where is the inspector now?” Judge Helman asked.

  “She’s in the hospital being treated for a concussion. They are expecting a full recovery,” Jonas said. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Judge Helman. “Here’s a video of events.”

  The judge took Jonas’s phone and watched the video. Did Olivia see a flicker of compassion in his eyes?

  Judge Helman reached under this desk and pulled out a box
of Kleenex. “Mr. Vine, give your client a tissue.”

  “Based on this evidence, Your Honor, we move that the charges against Mrs. Sinclair be dismissed with prejudice,” Stephen said.

  “The People join in this motion, Your Honor,” Jonas said.

  Judge Helman faced Olivia. “Given the evidence presented to me, the defendant’s motion to dismiss the charges against Olivia Sinclair with prejudice is hereby granted. Jonas, prepare an order and I’ll sign it. Use your influence to get Mrs. Sinclair out of here. She needs to be home.”

  Chapter 34

  Weeks went by and October turned to November. Denny called when she heard about Wendy Betters and Olivia’s role in solving the case against her, but their conversations were stilted. Olivia felt certain David lingered in the background, supervising their talks, ever in control. Christmas decorations went up on Magnolia Avenue; the days got shorter.

  After helping Olivia clear up the boxes of evidence in her dining room and taking them to Stephen Vine’s office for storage, Brian had rented a studio apartment in San Rafael. Although they spoke on the phone occasionally, they never discussed their kiss. The unspoken words between them made things awkward, and after a while the phone conversations became few and far between. Olivia found she missed his quiet ways and hoped their kiss hadn’t damaged their friendship. She’d give Brian some time and then she’d reach out, invite him for dinner or suggest they go for a walk together.

  Worries of Brian took a back seat to the sadness over her rift with Denny. Olivia withdrew into herself. The grief of losing her daughter wouldn’t let go, and Olivia found she had little interest in socializing. She savored the physical labor of her garden and rattled around her empty house, knowing she couldn’t go on this way forever. Every couple of days she would go for a long walk or a drive with Lauren. Other than that, she didn’t really see anyone. Eventually she found comfort in her solitude.