Last Betrayal: The Twisted Deception Series, #5

By Maggie Thom

The one secret she did not know… changes everything.

 

On her deathbed, Addison's grandmother leaves a wake of ominous, unanswered questions. In her Will, she gives Addison the farm and insists she resolve the conflict of the past. Confused and unsure what to do, Addison's mom then drops a bombshell about who she is and what she has in her possession. Determined to right some old wrongs, Addison is out to change a past that is looming ever closer.

 

Mitch, a burnt-out counselor, agrees to do some security work for a friend. It turns out for both sides, the good and the bad. Playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a man pushed to the edge, Mitch knows if he doesn't succeed, more people might die.

 

Can Addison bring to light the horrors of her mother's and grandmother's past and ensure justice is served? Or will she pay the ultimate price when she discovers who is truly behind it all?

 

The past can never truly go away.

 

Deborah grew up in a foster home run by Mrs. Stephanos. Now, thirty-five years later, the jewelry from her past has been delivered to all the foster sisters. She is playing with fire but wants to draw out the person responsible for all their terror.

 

 

Last Betrayal, Book 5 and the final novel in The Twisted Deception Series. All books in the series have standalone stories. But the story running in the background, the story that connects all the books, will keep you reading. Who is behind sending out the gems and what is their end game? An engaging thriller mystery with some interesting twists. Enjoy!

 

The Twisted Deception Series should be read in order:

   Fostered Identity

   Shadowed Footsteps

   Exploited Innocence

   Lost Tears

   Last Betrayal

 

"This series was explosive with twist and turns on every page…" Emma McCabe

 

"I loved it. I'm so sad that the series has ended as I loved every one of them…" Connie Nixon

 

"This series will keep you guessing. Last Betrayal is an awesome ending to a well written series. Thank you, Maggie." A. Dan

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie Thom
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781777622657

Book preview

Chapter 1

Unlike her sisters , Rose wasn’t a big fan of going into The Can. It was a large metal container sitting deep in the recesses of the mountain. She knew that her foster sisters liked it because it got them out of work but Rose liked the work. She liked being outdoors. Her mom and dad used to take her on hikes and adventures all the time. She had a picture of when she was a baby and was in a pack on her dad’s back. They’d been high in the Rocky Mountains. Her parents had told her that a lot of people thought they were awful people for always taking their baby daughter with them. Especially in the backcountry. Their hikes were sometimes dangerous. Not only the terrain but the wildlife. Once, they had been chased by a bear. Another time, they had been stalked by a cougar. Her parents had always been smart, though, and they’d always protected her.

Until they couldn’t.

They died. It had been winter. Normally, they kept their hiking to the spring through fall season but some friends had talked them into going snowshoeing in winter. It was the one time they’d left her alone, at home with a babysitter. She remembered being so angry with them but her screaming and crying and begging to go hadn’t done anything. That had been the last time she’d seen them. An avalanche had taken out their party of eight. No survivors. No bodies ever found.

Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of them. Never once had she doubted that they loved her but she felt terrible that the last time they’d seen her she’d been angry.

Unlike the other foster sisters, she’d been lucky. Mrs. Stephanos’s had been the first place she’d been sent to. She was eleven. It was supposed to be temporary while they tracked down family. But no one ever came. It hadn’t been warm and loving like home but she’d been safe. Many of her foster sisters had been sent to several homes, having horrific experiences. Mrs. S came across as tough and unloving, especially in the beginning, but Rose was okay with that. She hadn’t felt like she deserved much love, not after the last time her parents saw her, throwing a temper tantrum at being left behind. They might have died but she knew they were still there. She could feel them. She was still asking for their forgiveness.

Rose tilted her head back so the tears wouldn’t fall. Her sisters would tease her if they saw them. She bent down and picked up Love, the chicken she’d named. Love followed her everywhere she went. The other girls made fun of her, but she didn’t care. None of them seemed to care that they were in a beautiful place and had beautiful animals for friends.

Rose. Have you cleaned your jewelry today?

Rose ducked her head, wishing Mrs. Stephanos wouldn’t make her go into The Can. It was dark and closed in. And once, Amethyst had held the door so she couldn’t get out. She was always doing something mean.

I’m just going, ma’am. Rose kissed her chicken before setting it down and slowly making her way to the container at the backside of the house. Carefully looking around, she made sure no one saw her go in. She didn’t want to be locked in again.

Pulling open the huge, heavy door, she stepped inside and pulled the door closed. She was supposed to latch it, but she never did. Knowing that she had a job to do, she walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway, and made her way to the third room on the left. All the other girls were always curious about what was in the other rooms. She didn’t care. If it was anything like what she had, it was a thing. Nothing warm or cozy or inviting. Just a thing.

She reached for the door handle, her fingers just brushing it, when the door just across the hall banged open. Opal jumped out at her. Rose screamed. Opal bent over, laughing.

You’re mean. I hate you.

Big baby. Can’t even take a little joke. Opal locked her door, as there would be severe punishment if she didn’t, and skipped her way out of The Can, still laughing.

Rose glared at her back and waited until she was outside before she quickly unlocked her door, using the key that was around her neck, and slipped inside, locking it behind her.

She didn’t trust her other foster sisters. Inside, she quickly flipped on the light. It wasn’t just because she would need it to do her work but it meant nothing else could jump out at her. Her mom had always taught her that there were things in this world that she couldn’t always see but they sometimes were the things that would hurt the most. Rose sighed heavily. There wasn’t a day she didn’t miss her mom. And her dad. They’d been so much fun, always finding outdoorsy things to do. Often pulling Rose out of school so they could play. It wasn’t until they were gone, and Rose had entered the foster system, that she realized how far behind she was in school. She was supposed to be in grade six but could barely read her ABCs. But she knew how to survive in the wilderness. What to eat. What not to eat. How to tie ten different knots.

She walked over to her display case. The light was centered over it. The one that held her piece of rock. At least that was what Mrs. S kept telling her. But it was pretty. She’d learned from a book she’d gotten from Ms. Angel, that it was, in fact, called rose quartz. The outside was uncut, rough-looking rock but the inside shone a beautiful bright pink under the lights. Even if it was worthless, it made her feel connected. It reminded her of everything beautiful about her mom. Pink had been one of her favorite colors.

Rose slid on her gloves and carefully opened the lid. One day, she was going to set this on her shelf over her fireplace. One of her happy memories was her mom and dad sitting in front of a fireplace. Her eyes widened as she realized how crazy that thought was. First, it wasn’t hers. Second, Mrs. S would never let her have it. She was very protective of the pieces. Even if they were worthless. The one thing that was odd was that the girls always talked about taking care of jewelry. She was the only one that got something outdoorsy. Like her. She was grateful to Mrs. S for giving it to her to look after.

Most of the girls hated Mrs. S. They complained about her frequently. In the beginning so had Rose. But she’d come to actually like her foster mom. In fact, Rose sometimes spent time alone with her late in the evening. When all the other girls thought she was in bed sleeping, she was in Mrs. S’s office, enjoying some hot chocolate, which was normally off limits. It had all started one night when Rose had snuck out of her room and was sitting on the stairs, crying. Mrs. S had found her and asked her what was wrong. Rose had told her she missed her mom and then shared some stories about her mom. None of that seemed to soften Mrs. S, but then Rose had told her she felt safe there, with her. That seemed to find her favor. Then, one night, she’d asked Mrs. S if she could make her a hot cocoa. She, of course, had said no. But Rose hadn’t given up. Over time, she’d finally relented. Rose had given her the list of ingredients she needed. Mrs. S had made it clear she wasn’t to believe she was getting special treatment. It had taken a while for Mrs. S to finally come through, probably because she only sent out a list of groceries to be delivered once per month.

Rose was so excited when the ingredients arrived. She made two cups in which she put cocoa, maple syrup, cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg. And, of course, topped it all with marshmallows. It had become their secret.

It not only allowed Rose to see another side of Mrs. S but had given her privileges not available to the other girls.

Sighing, feeling slightly guilty about her secret and her added privilege, she turned her attention to the item she was to take care of. Even though her rose quartz was pristine, she picked up her feather duster and carefully cleaned off any dust that might have had the nerve to land on it. She laughed to herself. It had taken a while to find the goodness in anything, but she was glad that she finally did. Now, if only she could get her foster sisters to be nicer.

Chapter 2

Addison unlocked the front door and walked in. Mom? You home? She set her keys in the dish by the front door and walked through to the kitchen, looking for breakfast. The back of the house got the most sun and was always stuffy through the summer. Today was already starting to show the heat. She flipped on the fan sitting in the corner. The whir of it made her smile droop. It reminded her of the sound of an electric wheelchair. She grabbed an apple and a glass of oat milk and sat down at the counter.

There was no response to her call out. She kind of remembered her mom telling her she was going to be out that evening. Something to do with Addison’s grandmother’s funeral that she was trying to arrange. It should have already happened but was being delayed. Which didn’t make sense to her. Sadness settled over Addison like an invisible cloak, which made her even more aware that she was sitting there by herself. She had plenty to do. With the school year winding down, she had last-minute things to finalize. Most were done but she liked to look over all the grades and make sure it was all input properly. Not that she could change anything at that point but she needed something to distract herself. But then she remembered that marking papers and tests was something she did while her grandmother sat with her. She’d read over some of the papers and give her opinion. More often than not, she’d comment that kids these days didn’t seem to have any boundaries. It always had made Addison smile but now, just the thought of it, made her miss her all that much more. And kept Addison from doing the work that was in front of her. As she looked down the hallway, she could almost hear her grandmother coming toward her.

Her mind took her back to the last memory she spent with the woman who didn’t show many people her softer side.

I suppose you’re drinking that crap again, her grandmother said, as she came into the kitchen. The whir of her electric wheelchair let Addison know she was coming even before she spoke.

Addison sipped her herbal tea, hiding her grin at the gruff tone. When she looked up and met the disapproving look, she gave a stern look back. I am, Grandmother. Do you want some?

No, she said with disgust before going to the water tank, picking up a glass that was left on the table beside it for her, and filled it with water. Your mother’s out.

Ah. Right. Since it’s five, I guess she might not be home for supper. Are you cooking? Or am I? Addison ducked as a half glass of water was tossed at her. Her grandmother hated cooking as much as Addison disliked eating her food. It had been a joke between them since Addison was about eight and told her grandmother that she didn’t want to hurt her feelings but her food tasted like cardboard. Her grandmother, surprisingly, had burst out laughing and had agreed. She’d also agreed from that day on she would not subject them to her cooking.

Missed me. Addison burst out laughing. This was a side of her grandmother that she rarely showed and definitely not when Addison’s mom, Deborah, was home. You made the mess, you have to clean it up.

Damn cheeky, aren’t you? Throw my own words back at me? You’re not very nice to an old woman in a wheelchair.

Oh, you poor thing. Geez, you know what? They invented this thing called a mop. It has a long handle on it. I’m pretty sure it’s so that people who move around in electric chairs can still clean up their own messes. Addison went and got the mop and handed it to her grandmother. Since her grandmother wouldn’t take it, she leaned it against her chair. You clean up and I’ll cook.

She went to the fridge and started hauling out food. It was all leftovers. Nothing looked too appealing, so she reached into the freezer and took out some steak. Taking out her phone, she put on some music, so she could dance while she worked. It took a little while before she realized there was nothing but silence behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her grandmother was still there. Her fingers were wrapped around the mop handle in a stranglehold.

Addison quickly went to her. Are you okay?

Just some chest pain. It’s nothing. She lifted her hand and cupped Addison’s cheek. A look and feel of sadness emanated from her. Addison used her own hand to hold hers tight to her face as she smiled understandingly back.

You are such a blessing. One that I don’t deserve. And in many ways, neither does your mom. She pursed her lips for a moment. Addison bit her tongue. Not in the way you think. But... it’s hers to tell you. You replaced so much that I missed out on in life. My own so—we need...

Addison frowned, her grandmother had sounded stern, foreboding, sometimes even threatening but she had never sounded... defeated. Morose. Addison wasn’t sure what to call it. All she knew was that it sent a shiver through to her core. She crouched down. Her grandmother’s health was failing. In fact, Addison couldn't believe she had lasted as long as she had. She’d been in a wheelchair since before Addison was born. Although, no one had ever told Addison how or why she was in the chair, just that her legs didn’t work properly. Addison had often helped her grandmother get up in the morning and had seen that they were bent unnaturally. There were bends where there shouldn’t have been. Addison’s questions had always gone unanswered. Figuring it was due to some disease or something embarrassing, she’d stopped asking.

We need? Addison prodded.

Her grandmother pulled back, setting her hand in her lap. To talk. There are things I need to tell you. Things your mom doesn’t want me telling you. But it’s time. She looked on the verge of tears. The woman had never even come close to having a damp eye in Addison’s thirty years. Okay, Addison didn’t know if it was that long but as long as she could remember.

You are a beautiful child. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Don’t let... the stories change that for you. Don’t let him... Do you hear me?

Addison eased back. I do. What’s going on? Him, who? What deep, dark secret warrants so much—

Don't make light of this. You’re going to need to protect your mom. She’s doing something foolish. Something... I encouraged but should have stopped. I should have gotten rid of those damn things years ago. I hadn’t meant to keep them. They were just something to teach the girls how to take care of themselves. How not to be taken in by trinkets. I know those things could have changed a lot for all of us but they were dangerous. I only used a few so that I could setup that farm. Setup... everything.

What are you talking about? Is Mom in danger?

Mrs. S bowed her head. Maybe. On one hand, I thought it would be a way to bring them all back together. To apologize. To make things right. You’re the only one I’ve done right by in my life and I can’t even take real credit for that. Your mom is the one who made you happy. She’s the one who, beyond all odds, has always seen the bright side. Even with you... How she turned out so good, I don’t know. Her parents must have been amazing. I do know I can’t take the credit. Heaven knows I wasn’t nice.

You’re freaking me out. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about but it sounds very sinister. Just cut to the final chapter. Tell me what’s going on.

Mrs. S pressed her hand to her chest. A long time ago, I was—

The door to the garage opened and closed. Footsteps could be heard coming up the basement steps. Hi. I’m home early. I hope no one started supper. I brought pizza.

What? Addison prodded her grandmother in a low but stern tone.

I have notes that will explain everything. They’re in The Can.

You put papers in the bathroom?

No. The CAN.

Oh. You mean a can, can. Like what a coffee can? What am I looking for?

Her grandmother shook her head, her face heavy with burden. That’s what the girls called it. I never did. I called it—

Addison, I could use some help. Her mom came into view, her arms full of bags and two boxes of pizza. Addison hustled over to her and took the pizzas out of her arms.

Of course, you’d take them. They’re the lightest and smell the best. Her mom chastised her while smiling. Addison danced out of her way and set the boxes on the kitchen counter.

Ruth, are you doing okay? Her mom set down the bags of groceries and went over to her.

I’m fine. A bit tired is all. I think I’ll lie down. I’ll eat later. Addison had wanted to help her grandmother into bed but her mom insisted on doing it, something she’d been doing for almost thirty years. Her mom was such a good soul.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted Addison that her mom was home. She sighed as the sound pulled her out of her reverie. The irony of the same incident being part of her memory and her current situation wasn’t lost on her. Her mom would say it was an omen.

It thrilled her that her grandmother had loosened up so much. It had taken Addison years of one-sided water fights to get her grandmother to retaliate. The fact that it was shortly before she died saddened Addison, that she’d never get to see that side of her again.

That was the last time she’d talked with her grandmother. That night, she died in her sleep. It had left a hole in Addison and her mom’s life. The woman had taken up a lot of their days. And she was always there, whirring around in her wheelchair, needing help with one thing or another. Since she’d been in the wheelchair for many years, she’d been pretty independent but, because of age, she’d lost some of her mobility. Arthritis had set in her shoulders, leaving them weak and achy. Addison had been the one to help her get up and get dressed most mornings. Her mom helped her throughout the day when Addison was at work and at bedtime.

Addison swallowed back the lump in her throat and pasted on a smile as her mom came into view. Seeing the tired lines on her mom’s face kept her from asking her what she knew about where her grandmother would hide some notes. It had been her last request but Addison hadn’t been able to find them. And she’d looked everywhere. In every can in the house. She hadn’t found anything. So far, she hadn’t shared it with her mom. She had a lot on her shoulders and didn’t seem to be handling losing Ruth very well.

I need your help.

Addison felt a sinking feeling in her gut. It wasn’t that her mom asked, it was how she asked. Her face had gone white. Fear was stamped all over her words.

Chapter 3

Mitch hunkered down in his van. It wasn’t much but it had served him well. And was serving him well. He’d probably spent more time in his vehicle than anywhere else. If he wasn’t driving around trying to give food, clothing, or blankets out to the homeless and convince them there was a better life, he was trying to rescue someone with it.

Which hadn’t turned out so well the last time.

Slouching down in the seat, so as not to be too visible, he stared out the window, feeling lost and bored. This job sucked but at least he got to do something that was boring for a change. He’d spent almost fifteen years helping adults and kids on the street. Seeing twelve-year-olds die from overdoses and being used as prostitutes had always hit him hard. But the last one, Zana, had kicked him while he was down. She was one he thought he had saved. He thought he’d gotten her out of the lifestyle she’d been living but her pimp found her. Got her hooked again. Got her turning tricks again. And ultimately killed her. Mitch had let her down. The one time he’d been busy helping a friend, she needed him and he hadn’t been there.

You can’t save everyone.

That had been said to him by many people. His good friend, Jordie, being one of them. Jordie, whom he had met on the street. Jordie, who had been living a dual life—that of a homeless man and that of an undercover policeman. Not that he’d known the real role Jordie was playing for almost two years. But he’d wondered. Jordie might have played the homeless man with mental instability really well but he had been too grounded and had disappeared for long stretches. One night when Mitch was doing his 2 a.m. rounds trying to find one of his underage homeless kids, he’d found him. Another guy was beating him, as the kid was being told he was going to be a drug mule but had refused. Mitch had jumped in but soon found himself at the wrong end of a knife fight. Jordie had come out of nowhere and saved his ass. Mitch had ended up in the hospital but had a long conversation with Jordie about life on the streets. Jordie had finally come clean as to who he was. Ever since then, they’d worked together many times trying to make the streets a bit safer. And now Jordie had come through for him. Trying to give him something else to do while he tried to deal with the destruction of life that had been his focus for too many years. Working with those on the streets was not easy.

Emotion kicked Mitch in the solar plexus. He swallowed convulsively, trying to shove it back. Not a good time. Although, he’d learned over the years, there never was a good time to be upset. And the reality of life and all of its foibles was going to hit him when it hit him. This one, though, had been the one that broke him. Or at least had ended his career. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to providing counseling to those on the street. He couldn’t take the loss anymore.

This stop-gap job, if it worked out the way Jordie hoped, might help him get his head on straight.

When Jordie had called and asked if he’d wanted to act as a security guard, he’d jumped at it. He hadn’t even cared about the details, the what or the where. Jordie had told him that they’d like to use him to catch someone. They were hiring him to provide surveillance to a place but they were hoping someone else would hire him to watch the same place. They wanted to list him on the dark web as a security guy. Their hope was that he’d be hired by the owner of the property, whom they had determined was looking to hire someone to provide security for his place.

Thinking about it made Mitch smile. He was a big guy but he’d never hurt a soul. The martial arts training he’d taken had really been because he’d been an awkward kid. His mom and dad had hoped it would help him gain some control of his spindly body and his trip-stepping feet. It had. He’d just been a late bloomer, finally growing into his six-foot-two-inch frame and filling out the way his athletic father had hoped.

Jordie had wanted to use all of that and create a profile of someone who had done a lot of security for some sketchy, high-level people. He had a guy who could make it happen. Mitch hadn’t even stopped to think what that might mean. Or how dangerous it might be. Even though Jordie had repeated many times, he would be dealing with some really bad guys. But Mitch had dealt with many bad people. Many evil people. People at their lowest. People