Cold Hearted (12 page)

“Some other time?” Claire asked. “Michael has the sniffles and he’s a handful when he’s sick. I’m afraid he’s worn my poor mother to a frazzle.”

“Of course, some other time.”

Tobias brought in the bottle of brandy. He opened the bottle, poured a liberal amount into a snifter and handed it to Wallace, who swirled it around and around before taking the first sip.

“Ah, delicious,” Wallace said.

Within minutes, everyone had a glass of brandy, except Jordan. Wallace lifted his glass.

“Here’s to one of the finest men I ever knew, my good friend and dear cousin, Dan Price.”

She agreed. Dan had been a fine man. Such a pity that she’d had to kill him. But she had done what was necessary, just as she had in the past. She had to protect them, didn’t she? In the future, they wouldn’t need a man in their lives. They would have the baby. That would be more than enough to make them happy. And they deserved to be happy. And if anyone else stood in the way of their happiness, she would take care of them, just as she planned to take care of J.C. if he caused them any more trouble.

“You are not going alone to meet her,” Devon said, his usually smooth brow wrinkled with worry. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. I’m meeting her alone on Old Pine Creek Road tomorrow at four. I’ll make some excuse to everyone about needing some time alone to think.”

Devon rubbed the back of his neck. “I tried to tell Dan that Jane Anne had never forgiven him, that despite her act of we-can-be-friends, the woman wasn’t to be trusted.”

“You know how Dan was, he wanted to think the best of everyone and that included his ex-wife.”

“How someone as genuinely nice as Dan survived in the dog-eat-dog world of politics still amazes me, but he did what he had to do to continue his family’s legacy of service to the country. You and I know better than anyone else what lengths he would go to in order to keep his seat in the senate.”

Jordan caressed Devon’s arm tenderly. “His personal life was a lie and you and I helped him deceive the world. Now, it’s up to us to keep his secrets safe, no matter what we have to do and that includes paying his ex-wife a million dollars.”

“Do you think she’ll be satisfied with only a million? The lady has expensive tastes. She’s gone through the ten million divorce settlement in the past twelve years.”

“What choice do we have but to pay her? I’m not thinking only of Dan’s reputation, but of my baby. If the truth comes out, the press will have a field day with the news. We’ll be hounded for months, Dan will be vilified and made fun of and our child will be ridiculed for the rest of his or her life.”

“I swear I could strangle that woman for putting you through this now, just after our losing Dan and with you pregnant, not to mention our having to deal with that private investigator trying to prove that Dan was murdered.” Devon ran his hands together, his slender thumbs rubbing against his open palms as he switched from his right hand to his left and back again.

Poor, sweet Devon. He’d been a nervous little boy, shy and hesitant, with big blue eyes that looked at the world with wonder and uncertainty. She remembered the first time she saw him peering around his mother’s hip where he was half hidden from view. It had been the first day of school, Mrs. Coker’s second-grade class. Within a week, they had made friends. Within a month, they were good friends. By the year’s end, they had become best friends for life.

There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other.

Jordan clutched his hands to steady them. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything, just as I always have. I’ll deal with Jane Anne and make sure she knows that this million-dollar payoff is a one-time only deal and if she tries to extort more money from me, I’ll contact the police. If I can get my bluff in on her now, we might not have to deal with her for a few years.

“As for Rick Carson — he’s simply doing the job that Ryan and I hired him to do.” Not even to Devon, her oldest and dearest friend, would she admit that she was afraid of Rick. Afraid of him because he suspected she was a murderer. And afraid of the unwanted attraction she felt for him.

“You were practically forced to go along with Ryan’s wishes. If you hadn’t agreed to hire an investigator, what—?”

Jordan framed Devon’s face with her hands and looked up into his eyes. “Sweetie, you have to stop doing this to yourself. If you don’t, you’re going to have a nervous breakdown. I know that you’ve been barely holding it together since Dan died and worrying about me has only made matters worse. Everything is going to work out. I promise.”

Devon grabbed her hands that were on his face, clasped them together and kissed the tips of her entwined fingers. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes, I know. I love you, too. And I’ll take care of you. I’ll find a way to make things right again.”

She slid her arms down across his shoulders and opened them to embrace him. When he laid his head on her shoulder, she felt the dampness of his tears through her thin silk blouse.

Not wanting either Jordan or Devon to realize that he had overheard their confessions of love just as he arrived outside the partially open door, he turned and walked away. He had intended to speak to Jordan before he met with Ryan Price. The updated info on the men in Jordan’s past that Maleah had e-mailed him only increased his suspicions. Good thing he’d happened upon the lovers; otherwise, Jordan might have hoodooed him and convinced him that she had been a devoted wife to Dan Price, as she had been to Boyd Brannon. Rick had wanted to believe she was what she represented herself to be. But the grieving widow bit was just an act. In reality, she was in love with her husband’s handsome young assistant and he with her. That information alone made the two of them prime suspects in the senator’s murder.

Rick hurried through the house and went outside on the back porch. The late afternoon thunderstorm had moved through, leaving behind a slow, steady drizzle. Although it was not quite five-thirty, with the sunlight obscured by gray clouds, twilight was approaching early today.

He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Ryan’s number. “Mr. Price, this is Rick Carson. I need to speak to you. I have some information I believe you will find interesting. I’d like to drop by your house after dinner this evening.”

“Yes, of course,” Ryan replied. “Would seven-thirty be okay with you?”

“Seven-thirty’s fine.”

One call down and another to go. He dialed again and when he heard the woman’s no-nonsense voice say “Lieutenant McLain here” he smiled.

“Lt. McLain, this is Rick Carson.”

“Hello there.” Her voice softened.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“It’s a little early for dinner, isn’t it?”

“I’d like to talk to you and I thought we might have an early dinner, maybe in downtown Priceville. I’m buying.”

“There’s a nice Italian restaurant on Main Street,” Haley told him. “I could meet you there in about twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes it is.”

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Want to give me a hint about what we’re going to be discussing over dinner?”

“Sure. Powell’s has unearthed some information that has me halfway convinced I know who killed Dan Price. I need somebody smart, savvy and unbiased to tell me that either I’m right or that I’m reading this all wrong.”

They finished their salad before Haley put down her fork and looked directly at Rick. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“You don’t want to wait until after the lasagna?”

“Nope. I’ve waited long enough. My curiosity is driving me nuts.”

Rick grinned. He liked Haley. He liked her up-front, in-your-face personality, her air of self-confidence, her sexy voice, and her big boobs. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she had an earthy quality that appealed to him. Haley McLain was as different from Jordan Price as day is from night. Haley was like good everyday earthenware, sturdy and reliable, that could withstand the rigors of daily use and was dishwasher friendly. Jordan was like fine china, easily broken, meant to be taken out and used only on special occasions, and that required hand washing.

“Dan Price isn’t the first man in Jordan’s life who died under mysterious circumstances,” Rick said.

Haley’s brows lifted. “I know she was a widow with two stepchildren when she married the senator.”

“Her first husband died in a hunting accident, but the authorities never discovered who the other hunter was, the one who shot Boyd Brannon.”

“And you find that suspicious?”

“Not if that’s all there was to it, but it is when added to the other information.”

“Which is?”

“Boyd Brannon had a half-million-dollar life insurance policy. His beneficiary was his wife, Jordan Harris Brannon.”

“There’s nothing unusual about a husband naming his wife as his beneficiary,” Haley said.

“Six years earlier, Jordan’s fiancé died in a one-car wreck. Robby Joe Wright had inherited several hundred thousand dollars worth of stock from his grandfather. He left that stock to Jordan.

“Two years before her fiancé’s death, Jordan lost her father. Supposedly, he died from a heart attack. Even though he was married at the time to his second wife and he did leave her the house and their joint bank account, his insurance went to Jordan. A hundred thousand.”

“Very interesting.”

Haley lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip of iced tea. Their waitress brought two plates piled high with delicious-smelling, steaming-hot lasagna and set their meals in front of them.

“Will there be anything else?” the waitress asked. “More tea or more bread sticks?”

“I’m good,” Rick said.

“Me, too,” Haley said. “Thank you.”

As soon as the waitress left, Rick asked, “Don’t you see a pattern?”

“Are you saying that you think Jordan Price killed her father, her fiancé, and her first and second husbands?”

“And a former boss.”

“What?”

“When she worked for a PR firm in Atlanta, her boss accidentally fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck. Who do you think stepped into his shoes and got a major promotion and pay raise?”

“Jordan.”

“Whether or not she killed all those men, a relationship with the lady seems to be deadly for the guys in her life.”

“Do you have any proof that she killed even just one of them?”

“No proof,” Rick admitted. “But what are the odds of a woman having that many men in her life die suddenly, one right after the other?”

“Stranger things have happened. But I have to admit that that many accidental deaths are unlikely and would be a really odd coincidence. And since Jordan profited from each of their deaths, that does make her look guilty. I hear that Senator Price was worth in the neighborhood of sixty million. Even if she doesn’t get the whole bundle, I’d say that this time, the lady hit the jackpot.”

“So you agree with me?” Rick asked. “You think it’s possible that Jordan Harris Brannon Price is a killer.”

“Sure, it’s possible, but how can you prove it? All these deaths were years ago, except the senator’s. And I assume each of the accident victims underwent an autopsy and nothing suspicious showed up.”

“No one was looking for evidence of a murder in any of the cases,” Rick said. “Give me some advice, lieutenant. The Powell agent who gave me the info on Jordan suggested that I tread very carefully because, technically, the Powell Agency is working for Mrs. Price. I have an appointment with Ryan Price at seven-thirty this evening. Do I tell him that I suspect his sister-in-law, Saint Jordan, may have killed not only his brother, but her first husband, her fiancé, and possibly her father and a former boss? Would he or anyone else believe that someone who appears to be so genteel, so kind and so very vulnerable could be a murderer?”

Haley studied him quietly for a couple of minutes, long enough to make him uncomfortable.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Despite the evidence staring you in the face, you don’t want her to be guilty. You want me to talk you out of it, don’t you? You want me to convince you that you’re wrong, that Jordan is all those things — genteel, kind and vulnerable. You want to be convinced that she isn’t a murderer.”

He opened his mouth to deny her accusation, but his denial died on his lips. “Okay, let’s say you’re right and I don’t want her to be guilty, that my gut is telling me I’m wrong, that there’s no way in hell she could kill anybody.”

“Is it your gut talking to you or is it your dick?”

Rick clenched his teeth, totally pissed by her question and by the fact that Haley was right. If he didn’t have the hots for Jordan, he wouldn’t question the hard, cold facts. He wouldn’t second guess his usually sound judgment.

Rene watched Rick Carson and Lt. Haley McLain as they left Gino’s Restaurant in downtown Priceville. She had followed the Powell agent when he left Price Manor this evening because she had accidentally overheard his cell phone conversations with Ryan and with the lieutenant. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she’d been outside for a smoke break, and a hedge barrier between the back porch and the patio had prevented Rick from seeing her. She heard him tell the sheriff’s deputy that Powell’s had unearthed some information that halfway convinced Rick he knew who killed Dan. Rene realized then and there that she had to find out what he knew.

Wearing a hat and sunglasses, she had arrived at Gino’s before Rick and Haley McLain and as luck would have it, they’d been seated in a booth in front of her. Wanting to get closer to them, she had quietly asked her waitress if she could move to the booth right behind Rick and the lieutenant. She hadn’t been able to hear their entire conversation, but she’d heard enough to know that Rick suspected Jordan of not only murdering Dan, but Boyd, Robby Joe, Mr. Farris, her old boss, and even her own father. And now, Rick would go to Ryan and tell him about his suspicions. The question was, would Ryan believe him? And if he did, what would he do about it?

Ryan Price hadn’t laughed in his face. Rick supposed that was something. Jordan’s brother-in-law had listened patiently while Rick explained the information that Powell’s had dug up about his brother’s wife. Then he had calmly defended her.