Rotten Apple (Bennett Dynasty Book 1)

by Kate Allenton

  Grams rested her forearm over her eyebrows. “I’m going to be homeless.”

  “I would never let that happen. Who was he?” I asked again.

  “Phillip McArthur III. He seemed like such a nice boy.”

  “His real name is Rudy Fillpot,” an unfamiliar male voice interjected from the doorway.

  Grams groaned again. “Someone named Fillpot took me to the cleaners. I’m never going to live this down.”

  The cop at the door entered the room and held out a picture. “Mrs. Bennett, I’m Detective Collins. Is this the man that talked you into doing business with him?”

  She peeked beneath her arms, opening only one eye to stare at the picture. “That’s him.”

  I took the picture to memorize the features of the man I intended to kill and snapped a photo of him with my phone. No way would he be getting away. “I don’t understand.”

  “This isn’t the first time Fillpot has been on our radar. The FBI has a file they aren’t willing to share, but apparently his questionable business practices walk a thin line.”

  A thin line would suggest they didn’t have enough evidence for an arrest. I wasn’t buying it.

  “He’s a crook. Why haven’t you captured the creep?”

  “He’s slippery. He changes his appearance. His name. The FBI isn’t telling me much.”

  Slippery was an understatement. He’d stolen from a woman that neither my sisters nor I could get anything past growing up. Old didn’t mean senile. I would have to find this guy first. Make him realize his mistake without fear of red tape or the jurisdictional tug of war. And I’d find him before the cops finished typing up their evening reports.

  “They gave you his photo; that’s something,” I said, standing. “What about the money he took? Will they get any of it back?”

  The detective let out a lengthy, agitated breath. “If there’s any left once he’s caught and convicted. The judge might order restitution.”

  “Hard to pay restitution if you’re locked up.” Or in a watery grave.

  “I need to get your statement,” the detective prodded.

  “I’ll be right back, Grams.” I stepped out into the hallway as my Grams gave her statement. The nurses around the corner were talking. Their conversation carried in the quiet corridors.

  “Twenty-three.”

  I slid closer to the corner and out of sight to eavesdrop.

  “You’re kidding,” another one gasped.

  “I wish I was. He scammed twenty-three of our residents, and not once did he sign in as a visitor,” one whispered.

  “Someone will be fired,” the first one whispered back.

  “Probably more than one person. Some of our residents don’t even have any family members that come to visit them. They won’t have anywhere to go.”

  I lowered my head and rubbed my clenched heart. Anger thrummed in my veins. My grandmother liked these people, the residents and the nurses. Some might say she liked them more than me and my sisters.

  “If they can’t pay their bill, management will have no choice but to evict them.”

  I shook my head. “Not on my watch.”

  Chapter 3

  My six sisters didn’t work at FDG, even though each one was gifted like me. They had their own unique abilities. We were as different as flavored ice cream, but each of us had the same unique ingredients. A splash of crazy mixed into our DNA.

  I pulled up outside Faith’s picturesque cottage surrounded by a white picket fence. The only thing missing was the doting husband and two kids with the dog playing in the yard. The flashing bright pink neon sign, reading Psychic Is In, was the only thing her neighbors might view as out of place.

  Faith had it worse than most of us. It wasn’t her talent to see and talk to the dead that made her unique. It was the fact that she spoke out loud to the apparitions while in public that made others think she was weird. For years we’d tried to break her of the habit, and for years, she ignored our attempts.

  Faith’s beat-up pickup truck was in the driveway with another car I didn’t recognize behind it. She had a client, and judging by the plates, this one had traveled from North Carolina to meet with her.

  I jogged around to the back door and let myself in. We each had spare keys to each other’s homes. Getting locked out and without a way back in would never be our problem. Not again, anyway. But Faith was the only sister who left her doors unlocked. Her innocent faith in humanity was skewed. If she didn’t change, then one day she’d be the victim.

  I grabbed a water bottle from her fridge and peered out the kitchen door as I uncapped the bottle. Taking a swig, I made eye contact with Faith as she sat at the dining room table. She gave a little nod, and I closed the door once she knew I was here.

  I stared at the new magnets on her fridge and grinned. Every time she’d go somewhere, she’d bring back a token of the place she’d visited. She called it collecting the energy from the locations. A quirk, but a harmless one. I stepped back over to the door and listened as the voices rose. Voices I vaguely recognized.

  “We came to warn you that trouble is brewing,” a male said.

  I eased the door open again to get a look at my sister’s clients, only to realize that they weren’t clients; they were family, although distant. I pushed the door open and stepped into the room, “Faith, how come you didn’t tell me our cousins were in town?”

  Abby Bennett rose from her seat with a great big smile on her face and moved around the chairs to grab me and pull me into a hug. I wasn’t a hugger, most the time, but Abby was one of my favorite Bennett relatives. Between her and her son, John, they were the most like me. She was a forensic investigator, and John was a cop. We once traced our lineage back to a Bennett long ago who had three sons. Each went in their own directions when they’d turned eighteen. Abby was from the great-great ancestor Jonathan, who settled in Southall, North Carolina, while our ancestor George had gone farther north and still there was one unaccounted for. A Bennett that had never made an appearance and had fallen off the grid.

  Abby was closer in age to what my mother’s age would be had she not died, but John was closer in age to my sisters and me.

  “My God you’ve grown up, Gwen.” Abby squeezed me tight. “Are you still working for FDG?”

  “She is, Mom. I already told you that,” John interjected, rising from his seat. He pulled me into his embrace after his mother let me go.

  Even though family came first, they were making me claustrophobic with all their touchy-feely-ness. “So, how long are you in town?”

  Abby and John exchanged a look with each other. A look I knew well. There was more to their visit than just catching up with family.

  “Actually, this will be just a short visit,” John said.

  “John, if you’re here to tell me that somebody swindled my Grams’ money, I already know. And I’m about to go find him.”

  “What do you mean somebody took Grams’ money?” Faith asked.

  I had wanted to tell my sisters all together so they knew what was going on, but with Abby and John’s presence, the butterflies in my stomach turned to lead. In Abby’s line of work, telepathy let her look at crime scenes and helped her to discover clues that helped solve her cases. John was different. He got premonitions, kind of like my other sister, Nina.

  “Someone swindled Grams’ money, but I’ll tell you all about it later. I already plan to get it back,” I answered Faith.

  “I don’t believe this is about your grandmother,” Abby said.

  “Mom, you can’t be so sure about that. The man I saw could be the swindler.” John met my gaze. “Do you have a picture of the guy?”

  I slipped my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the picture that the police officer had shown us. I handed my phone to John so he could get a better look.

  “Nope, that’s not him. That’s not the man I saw.” John went to hand me back the phone, but Faith intercepted. Disappointment registered in John’s eyes.

  F
aith handed me the phone back. “If somebody swindled Grams’ money, and you guys aren’t here about that but another man we’re in danger from, then you’re telling me we have two issues we have to deal with?”

  John slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded. “He’s a faceless man of my dreams but he definitely has a bigger build then the guy in that picture. The only constant is the invitations.”

  “I haven’t gotten an invitation, have you?” I asked Faith.

  “No, I haven’t checked the mail today, but no. I haven’t gotten an invitation to anything,” Faith answered.

  “The invitation is just the beginning,” John said. The remnants of the ghost from his dreams showed in his determined gaze.

  Whatever had happened in his dream had rocked him. “What happens next?”

  “My dreams are subject to change. They’re like premonitions that come when I sleep. Just because I see it doesn’t mean it has to come true,” John said.

  Faith and I shared a look similar to the one that Abby and John had. He was stalling. “Tell us.”

  “You and your sisters with three graves lying next to each other. I can’t make out the names on the headstones. That’s all I saw.”

  “The spirits on the other side haven’t warned me of any impending doom,” Faith said.

  “I couldn’t see any names on the headstones, but they all had one thing in common.” John pulled out his wallet, showing us a glimpse of his badge as he pulled out a folded piece of paper inside. He handed it over. “This was on all the stones.”

  I unfolded the paper to find a symbol drawn on it in the shape of a spiral sun. I glanced up to meet his gaze while handing the drawing to my sister. “I’ve never seen it before. You know what it is?”

  “I’ve never seen it either,” Faith said.

  “Well then, that’s good. That symbol is believed in several Shamanic traditions to be the first shaman, otherwise the first known healer of people.” Abby said.

  “Maybe whoever is going to send us invitations has a sun fetish.” Faith chuckled.

  “Or maybe there’s an easier explanation for why John is seeing the six of you and these three graves.”

  “Maybe the thief that stole from my Grams has three brothers and I’m going to kill them all.”

  “I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that,” John said. “God forbid your thief winds up dead.”

  “Yes, God forbid,” I said, rolling my eyes. “This guy didn’t just steal from my Grams. He stole from twenty-three residents of the retirement home.”

  John tilted his head. “Send me the picture again and the guy’s name, and I’ll see what I can pull up on him.”

  “Your guys are already working it.” I smiled and hit his arm. “But if I need more than what they told me; I’ll call you.”

  “And if any of you get an invitation, you can send it for my special brand of testing,” Abby said.

  I grinned. Abby would find its origins with her abilities. I could read between the lines.

  “You could have called to warn us,” I said.

  “Not that we don’t love your visits…we do,” Faith added.

  “Well…” Abby smiled. “It’s been too long since our families got together. John and I actually have a second agenda. We hoped that Cassie could help us with something.”

  My sister Cassie was like a trace scryer. She located people who just wanted to disappear and not just those that had jumped bonds. She was a detective when she needed to be, and a reporter when she had to be. She was a finder of lost things and used her skills much like Abby, if only a little different. Cassie used the art of psychometry by touching things to see into the past. But she had her own unique skill of finding people and things. If all else failed in trying to locate Fillpot, she’d be the sister I’d ask to help.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “We’re trying to close the gap on our genealogy. There’s still one Bennett line that’s unaccounted for,” Abby said.

  “Oh, that’s a tough one. I think, through the years, we’ve all searched for that other line,” I said.

  “Yes, well, maybe if we all use our abilities to track down those Bennetts, we might find out more. I’ve found an artifact in the attic so to speak,” John said. “It has handprints of all three Bennett brothers with their names below each one.”

  My lips twisted. “Isn’t that more your thing, Abby?”

  She frowned. “I tried to use my psychometry and was unsuccessful.”

  “Why do you think Cassie can help?” I asked.

  “We’re hoping she can pinpoint the location of the owner. It should lead us at least in the general direction and give us new clues to pursue.”

  “I’m sure she’ll help. If you brought the artifacts, Faith could get them to her.”

  John’s eyes widened. “Oh no. We didn’t travel with it. We wanted to make sure she’d be willing to help. I’ll send it to her if you’ll just let her know to expect it.”

  “I have to get started on finding the thief that took Grams’ money so I can steal it back,” I said as I pulled Abby in for another hug, squeezing her tight. “It was good to see you. Don’t be a stranger. Let’s visit more often.”

  “We are overdue for a family reunion. Once we find the other Bennetts, we’ll schedule something,” John said.

  I turned to my sister and gestured with my head toward the kitchen.

  “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to walk Gwen out,” Faith said.

  “Take your time,” John said.

  We reached the door and were almost to my car before Faith spoke. “Tell me what you need to help find the guy that took Grams’ money.”

  I smiled at my sister. “I don’t need help. I came by to tell you what was going on should Grams call one of you and have another breakdown.”

  “She cried?” Faith’s eyes widened.

  “She bawled like a baby.”

  Faith’s mouth parted. “When you find him, you’re going to kill him.”

  I grinned. “He’s going to wish I’d killed him.” I rested my hand on my sister’s arm. “I’ll make the guy pay.”

  Max Pierce

  Chapter 4

  Maxwell Pierce stood outside Gwen Bennett’s secluded house waiting on her to answer the doorbell. The things he’d do for his little brother amazed him. When Carter had returned, explaining that the operative he wanted to hire flat-out refused and had turned him down, Max had outright laughed until tears formed in his eyes. It was a humbling experience for his baby brother. No one turned him down. Carter was a man used to getting what he wanted. So, the fact that Maxwell was standing at Gwen’s door about to attempt again, on his brother’s behalf, was proof Carter could manipulate even Max into doing his bidding.

  Locks moved on the other side of the door, sliding and unbolting before the door flew open. Max stared down the barrel of a Glock pointed at his face. The brunette had her finger on the trigger. “This is private property.”

  “I saw all five signs along your fence, and the two hanging on the gate. They were hard to miss.”

  “Then you know I’m within my rights to shoot you.”

  His lips twitched. She was cute, although misguided. “Actually, for it to be justified, you have to feel threatened for your personal safety, and I’m positive that probably isn’t the case.”

  She glanced down at Max’s attire all the way to his freshly polished shoes before slowly raising her gaze. Her green eyes sparkled. “You’re an attorney.” She raised her brow. “A decent one if you can afford a five-thousand-dollar suit.”

  “You know your designers. Carter told me you were observant.” Max gave her a half-smile.

  “You can’t force me into taking a job I don’t want,” she said, turning the weapon to show him the safety was on before she lowered it to her side. “I thought I made that crystal clear when he was trying to buy me.”

  Maxwell grinned and meant it. “Few people tell my little brother no. That’s why I’
m here.”

  She spun on her heels and headed into her house. “I’m cooking and in the middle of something. You’ve got five minutes to state your case and then get out.”

  Max followed her into the brick house, taking his time to look around the spacious living room. She’d set it up like mission control. Six computer screens hung on one wall. A picture of a man was front and center on one screen while the others were running programs Max had never seen. There were no plants and only a few pictures on the mantel. One of her and an elderly woman, a relative, judging by the eyes, and another of her and some other women closer in age who resembled each other. Sisters, perhaps? But no trinkets, awards, or anything that screamed Fairy Damn Godmother operative. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Maybe a wall full of guns on one side and a walk-in closet on the other, complete with beauty chair and wigs to change her appearance.

  He had not expected this elaborate computer setup. A couch, a recliner, a TV, and three filled bookshelves lined the other walls. When Carter had told Max this woman was skilled, he now understood where she was gaining her knowledge. She had everything from the classics to new releases. Seven languages alone was impressive, not to mention a Ph.D. He followed his nose to the smell of freshly baked bread, the kind his parents’ chef used to make as he and his brother were growing up. The scent of Italian herbs drifted to his nose as she stirred something in a pot.

  “You cook too. I’m impressed.”

  That remark earned him a glare.

  “Not that I’m implying it’s a woman’s job. I love to cook; my mom’s chef tried to teach me more than once. I never could master the art.” He stopped on the other side of the bar that separated both rooms. Out of her reach seemed appropriate. Something about this woman told him she didn’t like people in her personal space. “It smells delicious.”

  “I don’t have time to cook much. I’m always gone, so when I get the opportunity, I do it as much as I can.” She replaced the lid on the pot and grabbed her glass of wine, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Counselor? I’ve already told your brother no. There are plenty of other operatives just as resourceful as I am. He has his pick.”