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Like The Mentalist? You’ll Love This Free Excerpt From Thriller of The Week J. W. Becton’s Perfect Blend of Suspense, Humor, Southern Charm And Just a Touch of Romance – Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2) – 4.5 Stars & Just 99 Cents on Kindle

Last week we announced that J. W. Becton’s Perfect Blend of Suspense, Humor, Southern Charm And Just a Touch of Romance – Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2) is our Thriller of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the thriller, mystery, and suspense categories: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Thriller excerpt:

Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2)

by J. W. Becton

4.5 stars – 32 Reviews
Or currently FREE for Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:

Fraud investigator Julia Jackson is back in action, and her next assignment throws her straight into the crosshairs of a bevy of desperate people…and one man who will do anything to keep his secret safe.

Late one night, a car burns on a lonely rural road, and the discovery of a body–charred beyond recognition–in the driver’s seat sets in motion a series of deadly events. And when the wife of the supposedly deceased driver demands her husband’s million-dollar life insurance policy payout before the autopsy can be completed, fraud investigators Julia Jackson and Mark Vincent must determine exactly how the victim died and at whose hands.

As Julia and Vincent interview witnesses and tangle with a host of angry suspects, another man is working behind the scenes to sever his mysterious connection to the body by any means necessary.

Soon Julia and Vincent realize they are not dealing with an average death benefits scam, but with a potential serial killer instead.

Death Benefits is the second book in the six-volume Southern Fraud crime dramedy series, which blends suspense, humor, and Southern charm with just a touch of romance. If you enjoy reading humorous mysteries or watching TV crime dramedies like Castle or The Mentalist, you should like the Southern Fraud series.

One Reviewer Notes
“Death Benefits is amazing! Amazing plot full of twists and turns. She kept me in suspense, but I also laughed out loud and had a great hint of romance/attraction. She also has done a great job developing characters and their relationships with others. She leaves me wanting more more more!!! Can’t wait for the 3rd book in this series to get here! I will be the first to buy it!” – Amazon Reviewer, 5 Stars

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

 

One

The course of his life had already been set—written on his soul as if chiseled in cold, hard stone—and that meant that the bodies would never quit coming.

He’d never be able to stop them.

Resigned to his fate, the man in the baseball cap paused only for a moment to look into the night sky. The oppressive heat of summer had finally begun to taper off, but fall had not yet arrived. During this in-between time, reality seemed suspended somehow—not quite summer, not quite fall—and he felt nothing, neither anger nor pleasure, as he undertook his task.

He simply pushed the limp, lifeless body onward to its final destination.

It was what he must do.

Two

 

“A dead body, a car fire, and a potentially fraudulent death benefits claim,” Ted Insley announced far too cheerfully for eight o’clock on a Monday morning.

Too cheerfully for anytime, really, but especially for my first day back at work at the Georgia Department of Insurance after a two-week medical leave.

“And good morning to you too,” I tossed back, looking up from my laptop monitor where I’d been catching up on my long-neglected email. I watched my boss saunter into my office, place the new case files in a neat stack on my desk, and take a seat.

Ted chuckled as he picked some imaginary lint from his trousers and leaned back into the beam of sunlight that streaked through the window. His silver hair and starched white shirt seemed to glow, and I squinted at him as he said with exaggerated formality, “On behalf of the Georgia Department of Insurance, welcome back, Special Agent Julia Jackson. We’ve missed you around here.”

“I’ve missed being here,” I said as I crossed my arms in front of me and tilted my chair back. A shrill squeak of springs filled the room, almost as if the furniture were heckling me for bending the truth.

Well, I’d mostly missed being there. Even if I were already mourning the loss of freedom my little mandatory vacation had provided, I could at least be happy about one aspect of my return to the DOI: it meant I’d officially been cleared in the shooting that ended my last fraud investigation.

I knew my actions had been justified. After all, an armed gunman had broken into my house and tried to kill me, but in a society fraught with frivolous lawsuits, you just never know what might happen. I half expected the guy’s widow to sue me.

That would have been a disaster.

Of course, the news of my being cleared in the shooting didn’t fully assuage my conscience. I was still coming to grips with what I’d done—I had taken a life—but at least I knew I wasn’t going to be tried for defending my own.

And I wouldn’t be confined to my desk either.

“So…,” Ted began in an overly cautious tone that had me cringing after only one word. “How are you feeling? Are you healing well?”

He looked pointedly at my left arm, where the bullet had made its impression, and then at my head as if it might conceal a ticking time bomb.

Geez, I wasn’t exactly okay with killing another human or being shot myself, but I was definitely not fragile either. I was just…wounded. I forced my thoughts away from the bandage on my arm and smiled brightly at Ted. “Me? I’m just fine.”

I hated having people tread carefully around me and despised having them question my ability to cope with a difficult, yet regrettably normal, aspect of a law enforcement officer’s career. But what I loathed even more was the fact that I had been asking myself the very same questions that Ted was dancing around now.

“I’m perfectly okay. Thanks for asking,” I repeated in a firm tone that was meant to reassure both of us.

It appeared to work on Ted.

“Excellent! The timing couldn’t be better.” He gestured at the files. “This big case came in late last night, and we need someone on the scene today. I was running out of investigators.”

I smiled to myself, understanding what Ted had not said. If I hadn’t been cleared and healed enough to come in on this lovely Monday morning, Ted himself would have had to go into the field and investigate the case on his own. Although he was a former field agent, Ted was much more suited to—not to mention comfortable with—sitting behind a desk in a nice clean office where everything was ordered and regular. These days, he avoided the field as much as possible.

“Big case, huh?” I asked, already curious about the files in front of me.

“Well, nothing like the last one. No one’s been abducted. But there is a body.” Then he added soberly, “It’s not pretty.”

Even though I’d taken two weeks off and was supposedly recovered from the shooting, I was surprised that Ted would assign me a case involving a dead body.

Why not a nice staged car accident or a simple homeowner’s insurance scam? Heck, even a medical con would be better at this precise moment.

Still, I began to thumb through the paperwork in front of me. I scanned the cover sheets and flipped through the rest of the pages, stopping when I saw a few photographs of a burned car leaning unevenly on the shoulder of a wooded road. I shut the folder before I saw any bodies.

Still a bit early in the day for that.

“It’s not a problem, Ted,” I said, hoping that was the truth.

“I was reluctant to assign it to you”—he looked at my arm again—“given the circumstances. It’s not the ideal case for your first day back, but I really need you on it. Everyone else is busy handling the backlog of investigations that accumulated while you were gone.”

I restrained a sigh. There was no denying that this backlog of cases was the result of my time off. I knew Ted wasn’t trying to be a jerk by handing the death benefits case off to me, but I wondered if he might be testing me, making sure I was really capable of continuing with my duties after what happened.

Well, if that were the case, I would prove to Ted, everyone at the DOI, and even myself that I was more than capable of doing my job.

Determined, I flipped the pages of the files again.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Ted said, his tone still tentative, “you’ll have help.”

I raised my eyes to meet his. “Help?”

“Yeah, you remember those new policies mandated by the Atlanta office?”

I nodded. The new policies had also been the result of my last case. When it became clear that I’d been the target of an abduction and an attempted murder, the DOI went into cover-your-ass mode. Their first mandate was that DOI investigators must be armed at all times during the course of their duties, which explained the Smith and Wesson M&P .40 caliber pistol strapped securely to my hip as I sat at my desk.

Now, apparently, they’d added more stipulations to their new list of rules.

“All major DOI investigations must be run by no fewer than two agents,” Ted said as if quoting from the official memorandum. “This death benefits claim qualifies as a major case.”

“So I’ve got a partner?” I translated.

Ted nodded, his expression uncertain as he looked away from me. I wondered if he thought I’d complain about this new mandate.

I leaned back, causing the chair springs to shriek in protest again and wondering if I should protest too, but truth be told, I didn’t mind the idea of working with a partner. I sure could have used a partner beside me when I was staring down the barrel of a revolver two weeks ago.

“Who? Gershman?” I asked, thinking he’d likely pair me with the other investigator in the Mercer, Georgia, office.

“Me,” a deep voice said.

It was clearly not the voice of nearing-retirement-age Webb Gershman.

I looked up to find Mark Vincent lingering just inside the threshold of my office door, and I took him in for a beat. Tall, broad, and all business, Vincent was the quintessential military man, and even though he was currently dressed in dark jeans and a sport coat, there was no mistaking him for a harmless civilian.

Nope. Not at all. There was a Sig concealed under that jacket, and years of personal protection experience meant he was deadly accurate at 100 yards with his weak hand only.

Well, maybe not 100 yards with a pistol, but with a rifle? Definitely.

I looked purposefully back at Ted, who seemed to be gauging my reaction, so I did my best not to react.

“Special Agent Vincent requested a transfer from Atlanta,” Ted explained, “and you worked so well together last time….”

Of their own volition, my eyes darted back to Vincent’s face, trying to read his intentions there. He’d requested a transfer? I studied his stoic expression. Nothing. He was a complete blank.

And yet I’d witnessed that face so full of longing and pain that it hardly seemed possible that it could ever be void of emotional cues.

My first thought, which managed to teeter on the border of hope and abject fear, was that he had asked to move to Mercer for me. After all, we had shared a bit of a moment after the shooting, but I forced myself to think logically. His son, Justin, was attending college nearby. Yes, that was it. He came for his son, not me.

Why would anyone make a drastic life change after working with someone for just a week and a half? That would be highly unlikely and, frankly, a bit presumptuous.

But given what I knew—and it was admittedly not much—about Vincent’s strained relationship with Justin, he would make such an extreme choice for his son. He would probably move to Antarctica if it meant a relationship with Justin.

Surely that explained what he was doing in my office.

Somewhat relieved, I turned my gaze back to Ted. He said Vincent and I had worked well together, and that was true enough. We had similar investigative styles, and I felt comfortable with him. Not only was I sure he’d have my back, but somehow he’d managed to make me feel freer when I’d been working with him than when I’d been going it alone.

Odd. That was hardly ever the case, at least in my experience as a law enforcement officer.

“Excellent,” Ted said as he slapped his palms on the knees of his perfectly creased trousers and smiled. “Vincent is already settled into the office next door, so unless you have any questions, I’ll let you two take it from here.”

Vincent stepped farther into my office, and his increased physical presence caused a palpable shift in the balance of power. Ted seemed to disappear into the bright sunlight as Vincent addressed me, and we became the only two people there, the two most powerful, a team.

“I emailed you a link to the digital pictures of the fire scene and a few other items that have trickled in during the last half hour, but I’m still working on getting a copy of the life insurance policy in question. How long do you think you’ll need to get up to speed?”

Resolute, I flipped open the top folder, which was marked “Theodore Vanderbilt.”

“I’ll do a preliminary read-through now,” I told Vincent. “Why don’t we meet for lunch to discuss where to start?”

Vincent nodded his assent and added, “That should give me time to compile all the pertinent financial and police records. And get that policy out of Americus Mutual.”

From the pale wash of sunlight, Ted said, “Good, and if you two need any assistance, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Translation: I’ll be in my office enjoying my cushy management position.

Both Vincent and Ted left my office then, and I took a deep breath before delving back into the world of fraud and, apparently, death.

A gruesome case began to take shape before me.

The deceased, Theodore Vanderbilt, had owned the U-Strip-Em Auto Salvage, an automotive junkyard, and the We-Shred-Em, a metal recycling center, both located in Cranford County, Georgia. At approximately 3 AM Saturday, his 1986 Ford LTD was found engulfed in flames on Highway 403 with his body in the driver’s seat. The scene seemed to indicate an accident, but the burn patterns had raised suspicions among the fire personnel.

Overwhelmed, the Cranford County sheriff, Bart “Tiny” Harper, had requested the help of a state arson investigator. Eva Sinclair from our sister office, the Georgia Department of Fire Investigation, had been sent in. Eva was the source of most of the photographic evidence in the files, and apparently she was still in Cranford County working to determine the source of ignition of the fire. At the time of the writing of her initial report, she had not been able to rule out arson.

Cranford County Coroner Morton Ivey had removed the body under Eva’s supervision and transferred it temporarily into refrigeration at Cranford General Hospital’s morgue. When Ivey had been unable to determine the victim’s identity or the cause of death through the limited methods available to him, the body had been moved to the Georgia medical examiner’s office at the state crime lab to undergo a full autopsy. The unclear circumstances of death, along with widow Kathy Vanderbilt’s prompt phone call to Americus Mutual Insurance and her demand for the life insurance money even before the death certificate could be issued, had moved the whole investigation to DOI jurisdiction pretty damn quick.

Lovely, I thought as I turned to my laptop and found the place on the server where the rest of the fire scene photos were stored. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look at each one closely. The photographs began with general shots of the area—a wooded two-lane road surrounded by tall pines and a few mature oaks—and became progressively more specific in the details they captured.

In a way, it helped to start out vague and become more specific. Each shot prepared me to deal with the next, and it piqued my curiosity to learn what had actually occurred.

From what I could tell from the photographs, the condition of the burned Ford LTD was certainly suspicious. If the accident scene in the photographs were taken at face value, the fire was the result of a front-end collision with a pine tree. Supposedly, Theodore Vanderbilt had crashed his LTD into a tree, passed out, and then been consumed by flames that started in the engine compartment.

And it was a rather realistic scenario. Accidental car fires often begin in the engine compartment, where flammable fluids can combine easily with the heat of the motor and ignite. Most damage occurs there, and then the flames spread to the rear portions of the vehicle.

However, the photos of the LTD told a different story. Most of the damage seemed to occur inside the passenger compartment, so that meant the fire was likely centered there. And because the rugs and fabrics in automobiles are treated with heavy-duty flame retardants, making interior fires notoriously difficult to start, this hinted at a purposeful blaze. So even if Vanderbilt had hit the tree, passed out, and happened to drop a lit cigarette, a small ignition source, the interior wouldn’t burn. A larger flame and some sort of liquid accelerant are usually necessary to start an interior car fire.

That was a pretty major hitch in Kathy Vanderbilt’s death benefits claim.

I flipped to the next picture, wondering what else it would reveal about the claim, and discovered the first detailed shot of the burned body. It was almost hard to believe that such a thing had once been a living, breathing human. The remains looked like something from a horror movie set: fleshless, mouth open, lips burned away, the face was frozen in a permanent scream.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

But only a moment.

Then I began to think logically about what these pictures told us. We could certainly rule out a simple disappearance scam. Usually, those dumbass cons try to fake their deaths by hiding long enough for their beneficiary to receive the insurance money, and they are in for a long haul because a life insurance payout without a body can take up to seven years. And if they actually manage to remain hidden for that long, miracle of miracles, the dead arise and walk again, only now quite a bit richer.

And usually with a new name.

No, we were dealing with a body, and that opened the door to multiple possibilities. If I were wrong about the origin of the fire and it had been the result of a front-end collision, then Theodore Vanderbilt was likely rendered unconscious, and then the car had caught fire, burning or asphyxiating him before he could awaken and escape. Or he may have died of a heart attack or stroke while driving, causing the car to collide with a tree and ignite.

But if the scene had been staged and the fire set purposefully—and this seemed the more likely scenario as far as I could tell—then that could signal more disturbing events.

Although it was rare, Vanderbilt could have chosen to commit suicide by fire.

Or he could have been murdered, and the fire was used to cover up the evidence. Perhaps Kathy Vanderbilt had killed her husband in order to collect the insurance money. So we could also be looking at arson and murder.

But I am not a fire investigator or a homicide cop. I investigate insurance fraud, and though my cases sometimes take me into the realm of other crimes, my primary job in this instance was to determine if Kathy Vanderbilt’s death benefits claim was legit. If so, the insurance company had to pay up. If not, then someone was going to prison.

I finished looking at each picture of the fire scene, and when I closed the photo viewer, I leaned back and sighed. Originally, I’d taken a job at the DOI in the hopes that I’d be dealing with boring—and safe—white-collar crimes, but I was beginning to realize that even the insurance world could become grisly and uncomfortable. And the fraudsters out there were often desperate and dangerous people, no matter where they fell on the social spectrum.

Earlier, I’d been hoping for a dull fraud, a crime of numbers, not bodies. But in this case, we were dealing not only with a potential arson but with a horrible death as well.

Already, I felt the familiar pull of justice at my heart. The images of death I’d encountered were horrific, but my need to unearth the truth forcefully overcame the lingering feelings of guilt induced by my own brush with violence.

Continued….

Click on the title below to download the entire book and keep reading

J. W. Becton’s Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2) >>>>

Like The Mentalist? You’ll Love KND’s Brand New Thriller of The Week – J. W. Becton’s Perfect Blend of Suspense, Humor, Southern Charm And Just a Touch of Romance – Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2) – 4.5 Stars & Just 99 Cents on Kindle

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Then you’ll love our magical Kindle book search tools that will help you find these great bargains in the thriller, mystery, and suspense categories: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

PLEASE NOTE: Occasionally a title will continue to appear on these lists for a short time after its price changes on Kindle. ALWAYS check the price on Amazon before making a purchase, please! If a book is free, you should see the following: Kindle Price: $0.00

But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor

Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2)

by J. W. Becton

4.5 stars – 31 Reviews
Or currently FREE for Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:

Fraud investigator Julia Jackson is back in action, and her next assignment throws her straight into the crosshairs of a bevy of desperate people…and one man who will do anything to keep his secret safe.

Late one night, a car burns on a lonely rural road, and the discovery of a body–charred beyond recognition–in the driver’s seat sets in motion a series of deadly events. And when the wife of the supposedly deceased driver demands her husband’s million-dollar life insurance policy payout before the autopsy can be completed, fraud investigators Julia Jackson and Mark Vincent must determine exactly how the victim died and at whose hands.

As Julia and Vincent interview witnesses and tangle with a host of angry suspects, another man is working behind the scenes to sever his mysterious connection to the body by any means necessary.

Soon Julia and Vincent realize they are not dealing with an average death benefits scam, but with a potential serial killer instead.

Death Benefits is the second book in the six-volume Southern Fraud crime dramedy series, which blends suspense, humor, and Southern charm with just a touch of romance. If you enjoy reading humorous mysteries or watching TV crime dramedies like Castle or The Mentalist, you should like the Southern Fraud series.

Features
* Approximately 77,000 words
* Specially formatted for ebook
* Linked table of contents
* Full-color interior art

The Southern Fraud Thriller Series (in order)
Absolute Liability
Death Benefits
At Fault–Coming 2012

One Reviewer Notes
“Death Benefits is amazing! Amazing plot full of twists and turns. She kept me in suspense, but I also laughed out loud and had a great hint of romance/attraction. She also has done a great job developing characters and their relationships with others. She leaves me wanting more more more!!! Can’t wait for the 3rd book in this series to get here! I will be the first to buy it!” – Amazon Reviewer, 5 Stars

Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store

Welcome to Kindle Nation’s magical and revolutionary Free Book Search Tool — automatically updated and refreshed in real time, now with Category Search! Use the drop-down menu (in red caps next to the menu bar near the top of the page) to search for free Kindle books by genre or category, then sort the list just the way you want it — by date added, bestselling, or review rating! But there’s no need to sort by price — because they’re all free!

Like The Mentalist? You’ll Love KND’s Brand New Thriller of The Week – J. W. Becton’s Perfect Blend of Suspense, Humor, Southern Charm And Just a Touch of Romance – Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2) – 4.5 Stars & Just 99 Cents on Kindle

Like Thrillers?

Then you’ll love our magical Kindle book search tools that will help you find these great bargains in the thriller, mystery, and suspense categories: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

PLEASE NOTE: Occasionally a title will continue to appear on these lists for a short time after its price changes on Kindle. ALWAYS check the price on Amazon before making a purchase, please! If a book is free, you should see the following: Kindle Price: $0.00

But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor

Death Benefits (Southern Fraud Suspense 2)

by J. W. Becton

4.5 stars – 31 Reviews
Or currently FREE for Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here’s the set-up:

Fraud investigator Julia Jackson is back in action, and her next assignment throws her straight into the crosshairs of a bevy of desperate people…and one man who will do anything to keep his secret safe.

Late one night, a car burns on a lonely rural road, and the discovery of a body–charred beyond recognition–in the driver’s seat sets in motion a series of deadly events. And when the wife of the supposedly deceased driver demands her husband’s million-dollar life insurance policy payout before the autopsy can be completed, fraud investigators Julia Jackson and Mark Vincent must determine exactly how the victim died and at whose hands.

As Julia and Vincent interview witnesses and tangle with a host of angry suspects, another man is working behind the scenes to sever his mysterious connection to the body by any means necessary.

Soon Julia and Vincent realize they are not dealing with an average death benefits scam, but with a potential serial killer instead.

Death Benefits is the second book in the six-volume Southern Fraud crime dramedy series, which blends suspense, humor, and Southern charm with just a touch of romance. If you enjoy reading humorous mysteries or watching TV crime dramedies like Castle or The Mentalist, you should like the Southern Fraud series.

Features
* Approximately 77,000 words
* Specially formatted for ebook
* Linked table of contents
* Full-color interior art

The Southern Fraud Thriller Series (in order)
Absolute Liability
Death Benefits
At Fault–Coming 2012

One Reviewer Notes
“Death Benefits is amazing! Amazing plot full of twists and turns. She kept me in suspense, but I also laughed out loud and had a great hint of romance/attraction. She also has done a great job developing characters and their relationships with others. She leaves me wanting more more more!!! Can’t wait for the 3rd book in this series to get here! I will be the first to buy it!” – Amazon Reviewer, 5 Stars

Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store

Welcome to Kindle Nation’s magical and revolutionary Free Book Search Tool — automatically updated and refreshed in real time, now with Category Search! Use the drop-down menu (in red caps next to the menu bar near the top of the page) to search for free Kindle books by genre or category, then sort the list just the way you want it — by date added, bestselling, or review rating! But there’s no need to sort by price — because they’re all free!

KND Kindle Free Book Alert for Friday, January 20: 219 BRAND NEW FREEBIES in the last 24 hours added to Our 2,250+ FREE TITLES Sorted by Category, Date Added, Bestselling or Review Rating! plus … J. W. Becton’s ABSOLUTE LIABILITY (Today’s Sponsor – $2.99 and FREE to Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library!)

PLEASE NOTE: Powered by our magical Kindle free book tool, here are this morning’s latest additions to our 1,500+ Kindle Free Book listings. Occasionally a title will continue to appear on this list for a short time after it is no longer free on Kindle. ALWAYS check the price on Amazon before making a purchase, please! If a book is free, you should see the following: Kindle Price: $0.00
But first, a word from ... Today's Sponsor
The characters are believable, the mystery hangs on until the end, and I found myself hoping that this would be a series!
Absolute Liability (A Southern Fraud Thriller)
by Jennifer Becton, J. W. Becton
4.3 stars - 38 reviews
Supports Us with Commissions Earned
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here's the set-up:
Meet Julia Jackson. Apparently, she's been abducted....

A woman is taken at gunpoint from the downtown office of Southeastern Insurance, and the police believe the victim is Special Agent Julia Jackson. Only it isn't true.

Now, with the help of her new partner Mark Vincent, state fraud investigator Julia Jackson must find justice for the woman who was taken in her place.

As Vincent and Julia begin to unravel the multimillion-dollar frauds that led to the abduction, they encounter a cast of quirky characters, one of whom will go to desperate lengths to hide a deadly secret.

Things only become more dangerous as bodies begin accumulating around town, and Julia must discover the truth before the abductor comes to rectify his mistake.

Absolute Liability is the first in the six-book Southern Fraud Thriller series, which blends suspense, humor, and Southern charm with just a touch of romance. If you enjoy reading humorous mysteries or watching TV crime dramedies like Castle, The Mentalist, or In Plain Sight, you should like Absolute Liability.
One Reviewer Notes:
I stumbled across this book by accident and I have to say--I found it highly entertaining and the characters so well rounded I was sucked in from the first page. Julia is a funny, fierce, compassionate woman who just wants to do what's right without getting herself killed in the process. Her familial demons add another layer to her character and I suspect those threads of life experiences will be woven throughout this series. Lots of clues to keep you guessing and tension on every page. Readers will especially appreciate the portrayal of a female protagonist with a backbone of steel. A gem in the mystery/thriller genre and an author to be watched.
Barbra Annino, author of Opal Fire
About the Author
J. W. Becton (a pseudo-pseudonym for Jennifer Becton) has worked for more than twelve years in the traditional publishing industry as a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader. Upon discovering the possibilities of the expanding ebook market, she created Whiteley Press, an independent publishing house, and has since published three novels: Absolute Liability, Charlotte Collins, and Caroline Bingley. Death Benefits, Southern Fraud book 2, will be released in January 2012. J. W. Becton (a pseudo-pseudonym for Jennifer Becton) has worked for more than twelve years in the traditional publishing industry as a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader. Upon discovering the possibilities of the expanding ebook market, she created Whiteley Press, an independent publishing house, and has since published three novels: Absolute Liability, Charlotte Collins, and Caroline Bingley. Death Benefits, Southern Fraud book 2, will be released in January 2012.
UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Absolute Liability (A Southern Fraud Thriller)
Each day’s list is sponsored by one paid title. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store
Welcome to Kindle Nation’s magical and revolutionary Free Book Search Tool — automatically updated and refreshed in real time, now with Category Search! Use the drop-down menu (in red caps next to the menu bar near the top of the page) to search for free Kindle books by genre or category, then sort the list just the way you want it — by date added, bestselling, or review rating! But there’s no need to sort by price — because they’re all free!

 

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Desperate to save his family from the alien invasion, Derek Williams searches for the last known human outpost. Tracking them across the frozen wastelands of the Northern Frontier, the Firewalkers; led by the command of Faceless are in pursuit. Far from Planet Earth and unaware that they might be...
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(Story written without ChatGPT or generative AIs)A HUMANITY STRUGGLING TO SURVIVEAN AI THAT GUIDES OUR FUTUREAND A SURPRISING EVENT THAT ...WILL CHANGE EVERYTHING FOREVER.Everything that civilization has to offer is a product of human intelligence; we cannot predict what we might achieve when this...
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KND Kindle Free Book Alert for Friday, January 20: 219 BRAND NEW FREEBIES in the last 24 hours added to Our 2,250+ FREE TITLES Sorted by Category, Date Added, Bestselling or Review Rating! plus … J. W. Becton’s ABSOLUTE LIABILITY (Today’s Sponsor – $2.99 and FREE to Amazon Prime Members Via the Kindle Lending Library!)

Free Kindle Nation Shorts — An Excerpt from ABSOLUTE LIABILITY: A Southern Fraud Thriller, by J.W. Becton

Fans of the TV shows Castle and The Mentalist will love both today’s 3,600-word Free Kindle Nation Short and the complete book, Absolute Liability, a thriller about a case of mistaken kidnapping.  Part of the proceeds go to this special cause: 
*     *     * 
“…whether they grip the handle bars with their hands or clamps….”   
These chilling words are part of the description for Ride 2 Recovery, a charity funding the medical and physical rehab of injured US Veterans through a core focus on cycling and a 450-mile race.
J. W. Becton has assigned royalties from the sale of Absolute Liability during her Free Kindle Nation Shorts promotion to Ride 2 Recovery, and sweetened the pot in this way:
10 percent of all author’s royalties during this time period will be donated to Ride 2 Recovery, a 5013c charity that benefits the physical and mental rehab of injured veterans through cycling.
If Absolute Liability makes the Amazon Top 100 ebook list for even 1 hour, the donation will be increased to $500.  
If the book cracks the Amazon Top 20, the donation will be further increased by $500, totaling $1,000 to help our wounded warriors.   
by J.W. Becton 
Already 3 Straight 5-Star Reviews!
(Published June 29, 2011)
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled 

Here’s the set-up:    
   

Meet Julia Jackson. Apparently, she’s been abducted….

A woman is taken at gunpoint from the downtown office of Southeastern Insurance, and the police believe the victim is Special Agent Julia Jackson. Only it isn’t true.

Now, with the help of her new partner Mark Vincent, state fraud investigator Julia Jackson must find justice for the woman who was taken in her place.

As Vincent and Julia begin to unravel the multimillion-dollar frauds that led to the abduction, they encounter a cast of quirky characters, one of whom will go to desperate lengths to hide a deadly secret.

Things only become more dangerous as bodies begin accumulating around town, and Julia must discover the truth before the abductor comes to rectify his mistake.

Absolute Liability is the first in the six-book Southern Fraud Thriller series, which blends suspense, humor, and Southern charm with just a touch of romance. If you enjoy reading humorous mysteries or watching TV crime drama like Castle, The Mentalist, or In Plain Sight, you should like Absolute Liability.

Features
* Approximately 77,000 words
* Specially formatted for ebook
* Linked table of contents
* Bonus excerpt from Simple Simon by Ryne Douglas Pearson


Two More For Kindle
By J.W. Becton



Charlotte Collins 

Maria Lucas 
Kindle Edition: $0.99 
Free Kindle Nation Shorts – July 15, 2011
An Excerpt from    
Absolute Liability  

 

 A Southern Fraud Thriller
By
J.W. Becton  
Copyright © 2011 by J.W. Becton and published here with her permission
Note: Special Agents Julia Jackson and Mark Vincent, fraud investigators with the Georgia Department of Insurance (DOI), are investigating the disappearance of Amber Willis, a college student who was taken in a mistaken attempt to abduct Julia. Their first suspect is Roger McKade, an alleged arsonist.

“I thought we’d start by interviewing Roger McKade.” I eyed [Vincent], wondering what he would think of beginning with the suspected arsonist instead of the wastewater treatment plant, the more obvious choice. It had been insured by Southeastern, which was where the abduction had taken place. There was a clear link between Southeastern and the plant, but to me, it made sense to start with the arson. It was a much more violent crime than a standard fraud.

Vincent surprised me by nodding. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “Statistics say that arsonists are prone to aggression and violent behavior, so it might not take much for McKade to come after you. That, in conjunction with his arrests for public intoxication and assault, makes him more likely to be involved in Amber’s abduction. Just knowing he was under scrutiny might be enough to set him over the edge.”

I looked at him, realizing for the first time how much I’d missed working with a partner, and, I admit, I was pleased that he agreed with me. It would make working together more enjoyable if we were on the same page.

He caught me studying him, but I didn’t turn away. I had nothing to feel guilty about. I was just looking, not admiring.

Into the silence, he said, “Tell me about McKade. What wasn’t in the DOI prelims.”

“Roger McKade owns a furniture warehouse that burned this weekend. His claim was $500,000 in lost property and inventory. After some checking, his insurer found that he filed for bankruptcy last month, so the claim has the stink of duplicity. In fact, it reeks of owner-initiated arson.”

Sorry to say, but insurance doesn’t cover voluntary destruction of property.

“Have you had one of the arson guys out yet?”

“I called Eva Sinclair. She’ll be out Monday with her arson dog. I went to the site yesterday to get a preliminary feel for what might have happened and to take some pictures. Unfortunately, those pictures were on the camera that was taken with Amber, so I obviously can’t show them to you. I’m not an arson expert, but it seems entirely possible that the fire was set purposely.”

If it turned out McKade had set the fire himself, the truth would soon be out. He would have a darn good reason to be pissed at me: he wouldn’t get a dime out of his insurance company, and if it were proven that he’d torched the place, then he’d be charged with second-degree arson, a felony that would put him away for as many as ten years. Plus, he’d be stuck with stacks of charred furniture in a scorched building.

“He has half a million reasons to want to end your investigation.”

“That he does,” I said, not liking the sound of it at all.

We rode in silence to McKade’s neighborhood, which turned out to be a sea of middle-class brick ranches almost indistinguishable from each other. We pulled onto his street, and Vincent drove slowly enough for us to read mailbox numbers. Finally, we pulled into the right driveway.

Here’s where I expected Vincent to warn me about letting him do all the talking or remind me that seeing me alive and free could set off the guilty party. But he didn’t. We just got out of the truck and walked together through the heat toward the door. I put on my cursed jacket and began to sweat almost immediately, but the gun on my hip was a comfort.

I rang the doorbell, and we waited. I sweated.

The door opened, and we encountered a short, bald man who endeavored to hide that fact by sweeping about five long hairs from the left side of his head to the right. I had news for him: it wasn’t working all that well.

“Roger McKade?” I asked.

He glanced down at the badge I had clipped to my belt. “Shit. Cops?”

“Department of Insurance,” I said, studying his reaction. He didn’t look surprised as much as pissed to see us. Maybe in this case pissed was good, but honestly, I wasn’t sure.

He jerked a thumb at Vincent. “Who’s this jackass?”

Vincent introduced himself by flashing his badge, and McKade used a few more choice words.

“Mr. McKade, we’re here about the fire at your warehouse this weekend,” Vincent said with extreme patience.

“I thought you already went to the warehouse to investigate,” he said, making air quotes around “investigate.”

“This is just a follow-up visit, Mr. McKade.”

“Yeah, well, I told the cops-the real cops-I didn’t burn my own warehouse, for chrissake. You gonna arrest me? I ain’t in no mood to be arrested today.”

I wondered vaguely if there were actually a mood in which I’d want to be arrested. While I mulled over that little tidbit, Vincent said, “We just have a few questions, Mr. McKade.”

“About the fire? I done talked all about that already.”

“This will help us process the claim faster,” I lied. Nothing short of a papal declaration could make claims move any faster, and of course, I had nothing whatsoever to do with his claim.

But he didn’t know that.

“Fine. Come in.” McKade opened the door wider and the air conditioner hit us in a cool, welcoming wave. We entered, and that was where the hospitable feeling ended. Abruptly. The front room was cluttered with magazines, mail, and dirty dishes, but the furniture was nice, what I could see of it anyway. The TV was on and muted. It was some morning show I’d never watched. I’m not much for morning TV.

A gun display case stood in the corner. As I picked my way through the trash around it, I noted that it was locked. And absolutely packed with firearms of all shapes and sizes.

There was no doubt that McKade met another criterion for the abductor. He had easy access to firearms.

As he tromped to his oversized blue recliner, McKade evinced no interest in opening the gun case and shooting me. This was a good sign. He flopped into the recliner and issued us an invitation fit for royalty: “Since you’re here, you might as well sit.”

I tripped and stumbled my way toward the couch and then used my purse to clear a patch to sit on. Vincent remained standing in front of the gun case. “Nice collection,” he commented.

McKade perked up a bit. “You hunt?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” With that one syllable, it was clear that McKade was writing Vincent off as a city-boy pansy. “Well, I’m a hunter. It’s my constitutional right to kill bears with arms.”

I was glad when Vincent didn’t laugh. It gave me hope that the sense of humor I’d glimpsed beneath his stoic exterior was decent. He just studied the cabinet and then walked around the room, checking things out, I guess. I could already tell him what he’d find. More trash. Maybe a shotgun.

McKade gestured at the glass cabinet. “Those are my rifles and shotguns over there, but I just picked up a dandy little hunting revolver.”

“Yeah?” Vincent asked. He was on the other side of the room now, peeking into the kitchen.

Curious, I got up and plowed back over to the case. I hadn’t noticed any revolvers on my first pass. “It’s not in here.”

“Then it’s probably in the gun safe in my bedroom. I keep things secure. I ain’t no animal,” he said to me and then returned his attention to Vincent for some man talk. “Taurus Tracker .357 Magnum. Loud as hell. Ported barrel helps with the kick, but it would still knock this little lady on her cute little ass.”

“Nice,” Vincent said. I turned from the cabinet to find them both looking at a suspiciously low point on my anatomy. I wasn’t sure if Vincent was responding to the gun or the comment about my ass. I didn’t want to know.

I frowned. Comments on my anatomy signaled that the time was past to build a rapport with the suspect, and I glared at Vincent. He got the message.

“Mr. McKade, the DOI sometimes checks up on claims like yours. Just to make sure the insurance company is handling everything properly.” He took out a notebook and pen, as if poised to take notes. “Tell me, are you satisfied with the way Southeastern Insurance is processing your claim?”

This wasn’t the line of questioning I’d expected. I shot a look at Vincent and then studied McKade. I could tell he hadn’t anticipated this type of question either. He scratched his head roughly, and I began to worry that those five hairs would soon be down to four.

“Well, I’d like to have my money.”

“Of course you would.” Vincent was all affability. “But we do require these types of claims to be investigated thoroughly.”

“Well, Southeastern ain’t been nothing but thorough.”

“Good, good.” Vincent made some notes. “No complaints then?”

“As long as I get my money, I got no trouble with them.”

Vincent tapped his pen on his notebook a few more times and then looked at me. “Any follow-up questions, Special Agent Jackson?”

I tried to find a nice segue between Vincent’s checking-up-on-the-claim ruse and the questions we needed to ask. “As you know, our investigator was on site yesterday.” I left out the fact that I had been the investigator. “And for our records, we need to know where you were from eleven to three.”

McKade shuffled his feet, clearly deciding whether or not to lie. “Why do y’all care where I was yesterday?”

“We just need to make sure the investigator got an unbiased look at the site. He’s not supposed to meet with owners. You know the drill.”

“Well, I wasn’t there.” He shuffled his feet around some more, crumpling newspapers with each movement. “I ain’t been there since it burned, and that was over the weekend. This whole insurance deal is taking forever. You should be out writing me a check for the damages, not sending out no investigators.”

“Mr. McKade,” I said in my best placating tone, “these things take a lot of time. Red tape. Nothing I can do. You know how it is.”

I was pretty sure McKade didn’t grasp the concept of bureaucracy. Judging by the way his gaze kept dropping to my butt, I suspected he was more interested in grasping other things. If he were to act on these grasping impulses, I would be forced to cause him a great deal of pain.

“Well, I need the money pretty darn soon. My bills are piling up.”

I glanced around. Something was certainly piling up.

Vincent had worked his way around the whole room and was standing behind the recliner when he asked, “So where were you?”

McKade shuffled his feet yet again. He’d moved the pile of debris so that I could make out a bit of green carpet beneath his feet. Before he burrowed through the carpet to the subfloor, he managed to say, “I was getting a haircut.”

I looked at the five hairs on the top of his head. A four-hour haircut seemed unlikely. That was almost an hour per hair.

“All afternoon?” asked Vincent, obviously as skeptical as I was.

“Yeah.”

Both of us eyed him. He squirmed some more. “Okay, okay, I might have gotten a facial too.”

We kept staring. I felt my mouth drop open, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to see how his pores looked after his facial. I was pretty sure that wasn’t why Vincent was staring. He looked more disbelieving than curious.

“Right,” he said.

“No, really. I got a facial and a massage.” He looked sheepish. “And a mani-pedi.”

I almost laughed. “Seriously?” The guy looked like he hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in months, and he expected us to believe he’d been at a spa. I would have been much more likely to believe he’d been at a deer processing center.

Roger McKade looked positively insulted. “Hell, yeah. Women like smooth skin.” He looked at me. “You like smooth skin, right?”

The only thing that kept me from laughing was the fact that we were here on deadly serious business. Vincent saved me from responding.

“What salon?” He said the word “salon” as if it were an epithet.

“La Belle Day Spa.”

Vincent recorded the info, gave McKade a disgusted look, and then gestured to me that we were done. “We’ll check on that.”

McKade walked us across the piles of debris toward the door, no doubt eager to see the back of us. “I’d rather you get me my check.”

“We’ll get back to you.” As we headed down the walk, I turned around and added, “Mr. McKade, do you recognize this woman?” I felt like Colombo as I showed him the picture of Amber Willis that the MPD had provided, as if I’d completely forgotten about it.

He studied it for a moment. “She that bartender down at Boony’s?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then I don’t know her.”

“Her name’s Amber Willis,” I said helpfully. “Does that ring any bells?”

“Doesn’t matter what her name is.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know her. She’s cute though. You got her number?”

With that, Vincent and I retreated to the truck. Even though it was only mid-morning, the Georgia sun had heated the cab to approximately 900 degrees Fahrenheit. Vincent opened my door, and I stepped back from the blast of heat. After a few moments, I took my jacket off and slid onto the seat. The vinyl burned my bare arms. Gotta love summer in the South.

Vincent got in, started the truck, and turned the air on full blast, which wouldn’t do any good until we started rolling and the compressor began working in earnest. But it was a nice thought.

He removed his sport coat and rolled up his sleeves. Here is where I was supposed to notice his muscular forearms, but that’s not what drew my attention. He had a tattoo: an anchor inked on the inside of his left forearm close to the crook of his elbow. The anchor was entwined with a rope, and a nautical star was centered above it. Underneath were the words “Hold Fast.” It wasn’t fresh ink or even a modern-looking tattoo. Simple and stark in plain black ink, it looked more like the tattoo a World War II sailor might have.

I knew that tattoos had been a part of the naval tradition since the first sailing vessel was launched into the ocean blue. I’d bet Noah himself had a tattoo of a pair of doves to commemorate his famous sea voyage. But that anchor on Vincent’s forearm surprised me. He just didn’t look the type. I wasn’t much of a fan of tattoos in general, so I couldn’t explain exactly why I liked Vincent’s, but I did.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I forced myself to stop thinking of tattoos and start reviewing what McKade had told us. Suddenly, my mind was overwhelmed by the image of his porky little body in a fluffy white robe and his face covered in a mud mask and cucumbers. I had restrained myself during the interview, but couldn’t hold back now.

Vincent looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“La Belle Day Spa?” I squeaked by way of explanation. “Can you imagine what the manicurist must have had to deal with? I’ll bet she wore two pairs of gloves to keep herself from getting a fungus!” I was really laughing now.

I looked at Vincent. His face reflected a mixture of amusement and disgust. “I can honestly say that day spa wasn’t the alibi I was expecting. Pathetic.”

“Agreed,” I said. No woman wants a man who spends his days at the spa and uses the term “mani-pedi.”

“Yes, and now we have to go there. Unfortunately.”

“I’ll look it up.” I fiddled with my smartphone and found the place after a few minutes. “It’s not too far from here,” I said, and then on a whim I added, “Maybe you can get a facial too.”

Vincent’s blue eyes brightened and a slow smile spread across his face. “Super,” he said with an affected lisp.

He parked the truck in the lot at La Belle Day Spa, which was housed in an old shopping center off Riverdale, and we went inside.

Green plants were arranged around the entryway and a faux rock fountain dribbled water next to the reception desk. New Age music played in the background.

McKade would fit right in here. I could just see him in a spa robe, waddling around with pedicure separators between his toes.

A woman in her forties with hair colored an unnatural red and shaped into a severe, angular bob appeared behind the desk. Her hair would probably not move in a hurricane. I made the mistake of looking at my hair in the mirror we passed in the lobby. Good Lord, it looked like it had never seen the business end of a brush.

Based on the look the receptionist gave me, she agreed. “Good morning, I’m Mimsy,” she said while looking down her nose at me. She slid her eyes over to Vincent and began ogling him like he was a choice cut of meat. “How may I serve you today?”

This was directed at Vincent. She punctuated her question by leaning forward on the desk and mashing her breasts together for his viewing pleasure. The effect, unfortunately, wasn’t all that pleasing. Unless you preferred women’s breasts to be shaped and textured like partially deflated footballs.

Vincent gave me a dark look, as if daring me to laugh, and then kept his eyes focused on the floor. I took that as a plea for me to take the lead.

“I’m Special Agent Julia Jackson, and this is Special Agent Mark Vincent. We’re with the Georgia Department of Insurance.” He offered his identification, and Mimsy leaned closer, smashing her boobs together even more as she reached out to stroke the badge. Vincent managed to retain his ID without making eye contact with her nipples. “We need to ask you a few questions about Roger McKade.”

“Roger? You found out he burned down that warehouse for the insurance money, huh?”

Actually, we hadn’t known for certain, but that was good to hear. It would sure make the fraud complaint easier to clear up.

Apparently, Vincent agreed because his head snapped up, and Mimsy immediately angled her chest toward him. His focus went right back to the floor.

“He tell you that he burned it?” I asked.

“A man will tell me anything when I’ve got him on the table.” Mimsy fluttered her long mascara-laden lashes at Vincent. “I’m the masseuse, but I fill in up here when the receptionist is out.”

“Ah. We’ll be calling you to testify about that,” I said. “What Roger told you on the table, I mean.”

“There goes another client.” She lifted a salmon-colored nail to her lips, thinking. “He wasn’t that great a tipper anyway.”

Vincent took out his notebook. “How can we contact you, Mrs….?”

“It’s Miz.” She drew out the Z sound. I wondered if she thought it sounded seductive. “I’m divorced. Miz Mimsy Monahan.”

Vincent wrote.

“You’ll need my number too.”

He nodded reluctantly-at least he looked pretty darn reluctant to me-and she gave it to him with an admonition to call any time.

Vincent seemed to ignore that last comment and asked, “Was Mr. McKade here yesterday?”

“Sure, he was in for his monthly treatments.”

“Monthly?” I snickered. A vague look of amusement flashed across Vincent’s face, but he kept his eyes studiously downcast.

“How long do these treatments take?” he asked.

“Oh, it varies.” Miz Mimsy crooked a finger at him. “Come on back and I’ll show you.”

I was surprised when Vincent followed. We didn’t really need to look around the place. Just to get an idea of a time frame. But dear old Mimsy gave us the grand tour of the spa and described each of McKade’s treatments in painful detail. By the time we returned to the reception area, she had her arm laced through one of Vincent’s, pressing herself firmly against his bicep. He had maintained his politeness, but his facial expression was glacial. I was surprised she didn’t freeze right on the spot.

I was getting annoyed at her ridiculous flirtation, so I repeated Vincent’s earlier question. “The treatments he received yesterday would take how long?”

“Gosh, he came in at lunchtime, and he was here a couple of hours at least.”

“You’re not sure?”

Now Mimsy was annoyed with me. She dropped Vincent’s arm and stepped toward me, one finger raised in warning. “Baby, I just keep track of when they come in. Not when they go out.”

She went to the reception desk and checked the scheduling book. Vincent took the opportunity to retreat to a safer position behind one of the chairs. I doubted a chair-or a solid titanium wall-would stop Mimsy.

“He came in here at 12:30.”

“Thanks for your time, Mrs. Monahan.” I stressed the Mrs. just to annoy her. “We’ll be in touch.”

And Vincent and I left the salon.

“Pretty flimsy,” he said as we walked back to the GMC.

I smirked. “What? McKade’s alibi or Miz Mimsy Monahan’s attempts at flirting?”

“The alibi,” Vincent said. “He could have driven to Mercer and abducted Amber or hired someone else to do it.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t seem shocked to see me this morning.”

“There is that.”

“What do you think it means?” I pressed. I really wanted to know his opinion on whether or not I needed to be worried about Roger McKade and his hunting arsenal.

“Not sure yet, but at least we’ve got the fraud case pretty much in the bag.”

Absolute Liability

  

by J.W. Becton

List Price: 99 Cents

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