Death Benefits by Jennifer Becton

Author:Jennifer Becton [Becton, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: mystery
Publisher: Whiteley Press
Published: 2012-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

I left instructions for the SWAT team to keep the scene secure until the state team arrived and began walking back toward the Vanderbilt house. I couldn’t think with the smell of blood still assaulting my nostrils.

Theodore Vanderbilt was well and truly dead now.

But who had killed him?

Back at the house, I began to pace the front porch. Kathy leapt to mind as our primary suspect, and that meant we needed to find her pronto. Not only was she still going to be charged with insurance fraud and arson, but now she was also wanted for questioning in Theo’s murder.

Try as I might, though, I couldn’t imagine Kathy Vanderbilt killing her husband in such a bloody way and leaving him there for us to find, and the only other suspects I could think of were Carter Hashaway, who was still in jail, and Sheriff Harper, but that was based on nothing more concrete than a rumor at this point.

The kill was fresh, so Carter couldn’t have done it.

But what about Sheriff Harper? Was he connected? Was Deputy Marston’s rumor true? It could be. After all, I’d witnessed that strange exchange between him and Kathy the day Carter was arrested for possession. But I seriously doubted that a LEO would have slaughtered Theo and left so much evidence for us to collect.

I paced back and forth again.

No, we were probably looking for someone else.

But who? Was it someone connected with the body in the LTD?

Those questions had barely registered in my mind when I heard Deputy Marston’s voice from within the house. “Special Agent Jackson, I’ve got a problem.”

Expecting to find out that he’d discovered some piece of evidence or maybe heard something on his radio from the teams at the U-Strip-Em, I rushed into the main room of the house to find Deputy Marston being used as a human shield by Kathy Vanderbilt.

For a moment, all I could do was stare. The scene was utterly unfathomable. We were within shouting distance of nine SWAT team members, and here was a young, strong, seemingly competent sheriff’s deputy being held neatly at gunpoint by a short, albeit determined, woman.

And this woman looked like her day had gone to hell the moment she’d gotten out of bed. Kathy’s blond hair stuck out in all directions, and she wore tennis shoes with a set of plaid flannel pajamas. I could see a swipe of blood on one arm.

But that was all.

One streak of blood on her left arm.

I looked back at Deputy Marston, whose wide brown eyes begged me to do something, and his bloodless cheeks told me that he was probably too shocked to do anything but comply with his captor’s every demand. My eyes dropped to his duty belt. The holster was empty, and I spotted his service weapon on the floor a few yards away.

How in the hell had this happened?

Those moments of frozen contemplation and assessment proved to be a mistake. As soon as my brain awoke and told my hand to reach for my weapon, I knew I was already too late.

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