Thread of Betrayal

Jeff Shelby

(2013)

Rating: ★★★★☆

Tags: Literature & Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Hard-Boiled

Literature & Fictionttt Mystery; Thriller & Suspensettt Mysteryttt Hard-Boiledttt

So close...

Joe Tyler is close to finding his daughter.

After a narrow miss in Minnesota, Joe follows a money trail to Denver, hoping to finally find Elizabeth, the daughter who was stolen from him nearly a decade earlier. Accompanied by his ex-wife Lauren, he enlists the reluctant help of Elizabeth's friends, only to find that he's missed her. Again.

Armed with new information, Joe races to California, desperate to find his daughter. Stymied by roadblocks and dead-ends, Joe soldiers on with his search, realizing there is more than a reunion at stake. He just might be saving his daughter's life.

With time ticking and no clear answers in sight, Joe focuses on the one thing he's always held on to – the thread of hope that he'll finally reunite with his daughter and bring her back where she belongs.

Home.

Thread of Betrayal

by

Jeff Shelby

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THREAD OF BETRAYAL

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2013 by Jeff Shelby

Cover design by JT Lindroos

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

First Edition: February 2013

Books by Jeff Shelby

The Joe Tyler Novels

THREAD OF HOPE

THREAD OF SUSPICION

THREAD OF BETRAYAL

The Noah Braddock Novels

KILLER SWELL

WICKED BREAK

LIQUID SMOKE

DRIFT AWAY

The Deuce Winters Novels (Under the pseudonym Jeffrey Allen)

STAY AT HOME DEAD

POPPED OFF

FATHERS KNOWS DEATH (June 2013)

Short Story Collections

OUT OF TIME

ONE

Elizabeth was down there somewhere.

I focused on this as the plane began its descent. The snow-covered Rockies stood sentry out the window to our right, the city of Denver pocketed against them like a tiny winter village. The brilliant blue sky hung like a backdrop against the jagged mountain edges and the sun reflected off the wing of the plane, forcing me to squint into the early morning sunlight.

Lauren and I had driven straight to the airport after our visit with Rodney. Still reeling from the news he’d shared, we’d raced to ticketing, only to find there were no scheduled outbound flights to Colorado that evening. We’d been forced to wait until daybreak and had spent the night stretched out across several uncomfortable chairs, waiting at our gate. To the people around us, we probably looked like people who had missed their flight and were simply stuck waiting for the next one. But the truth was we were too impatient and didn’t dare leave the airport for fear of missing the earliest flight out.

Neither of us slept, but we didn’t really talk, either. We sat next to one another, both of us caught up in our own thoughts and worries. By the time they called our flight and we boarded, Lauren had collapsed from exhaustion and slept with her head on my shoulder the entire way. I’d stared out the window, waiting for us to get to right where we were, so I could look down and know that the daughter I hadn’t seen in eight years was down there somewhere.

Lauren stirred against my shoulder and lifted her head up. “We’re here?”

“Almost. Descending now.”

She straightened in her seat and ran a hand through her hair. Her auburn strands were mussed from sleep, her eyes half-lidded, and she stifled a yawn. “You sleep?”

“No.”

She tugged at the seatbelt across her lap. “I never understood how you could operate on so little sleep.”

“A gift.”

“Or a curse,” she said. She leaned across me to get a look out the window. “It’s pretty.”

I nodded. I’d been to Colorado twice before and both times were for fun. Once to ski when I’d been in college and once when I was a kid, a road trip stop on the way to visit relatives in Missouri. I didn’t remember much from the trip as a kid, but the college vacation was seared into my memory. We skied in T-shirts and drank beer on the outside deck, watching other skiers fly down the mountain. There were far worse places to spend the winter.

Lauren reached over and touched the window. “It’s cold. Even with all that sun.”

“Wait until we get out and you can’t breathe,” I said.

“Thin air?”

I nodded.

“Great.” She stared out the window, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the glass. “She’s down there, Joe. She’s down there.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

She moved her eyes from the window to me. “Are we going to find her?”

The landing gear kicked to life beneath us and the flight attendant announced our final descent as the plane leaned downward toward Denver.

“Yes,” I said. “We’re going to find Elizabeth.”

TWO

We took the underground trains to the transportation area and then were shuttled out to the rental car lot on the west side of the sprawling airport. While Lauren had slept on the plane, I’d hooked my phone to the inflight Wi-Fi and pulled up the address of the hotel that had come through on the credit card alert. I punched it into the GPS in the rental car which told us it would take thirty minutes to get to an area called Lakewood over in the foothills.

Lauren drove as I stared out the window. It took seemingly forever to actually get out of the airport and hit Interstate 70. Sunlight glinted off the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and ground. Industrial buildings littered the highway, giving way to an old Purina factory and the stockyards. The GPS swung us southward on Interstate 25 and we passed the massive Invesco Field, a glittering expensive shrine to the city’s football team. We turned west again, venturing out into the foothill suburbs, the tires of the rental car crunching against the layer of gravel and sand that coated the highway. My stomach started to tighten as we got closer.

“What are we going to do when we get there?” Lauren asked, her eyes glued to the road.

“I’m working on that.”

“Good to know. GPS says you have ten minutes.”

It actually took nine for us to exit the highway, head south over the rolling hills and pull into the parking lot of a small chain hotel on the corner of a busy intersection. Lauren shut off the engine and we sat in the parking lot for a long moment.

“You figure it out?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said.

“Well, we’re here.”

“I can see that.”

The hotel was a gray, four-story rectangle. A business hotel, most likely, that housed salespeople in town for the week and sat empty on the weekends. The parking lot was filled with rental cars.

I pulled out my phone, punched the hotel into my browser and waited for it to bring up a phone number. I touched the number and held the phone to my ear.

“We aren’t just going in?” Lauren asked, annoyed. “Why can’t we just go in?”

I held up my finger to silence her.

A friendly voice answered, asking how to direct my call.

“I’m trying to reach a guest,” I said. “Bryce Ponder?”

“Do you have the room number, sir?”

“Ah, yeah, somewhere,” I lied. “Hang on. I have it written down here.” I glanced at the hotel again. “I think it was the third floor. Sorry. My car is a mess, but I know I have it here somewhere. I apologize. My son called me when he checked in last night and I scribbled it down in a hurry when he called me.”