Cold Hearted (3 page)

As she rushed to her husband’s side, Claire said, “Officially, Dan’s death was ruled a suicide. But we were told that it’s difficult, if not sometimes impossible, to prove a suicide wasn’t murder. Especially when the person supposedly shot himself in the head.”

Ryan’s gaze settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “He was lying there when Jordan found him. The only fingerprints on the gun were Dan’s. And there was gunshot residue on his hand from where he had supposedly fired the weapon.”

“Then why—?” Nic asked, but Ryan cut her off.

“I knew Dan. Knew the kind of man he was. Under no circumstances would he have killed himself.” Ryan slipped his arm around Claire’s waist, obviously needing her com-fort and support. “I want to hire the Powell Agency to do a thorough investigation and find a way to prove that my brother didn’t commit suicide.”

Nic glanced at Claire again.

Claire cleared her throat, then said, “I told Nic that we discovered, after Dan’s death, that he was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.”

Ryan heaved a deep sigh. “That information is not to go beyond this room.” He glared at Rick. Rick nodded. “Dan might have considered suicide, but I’m telling you that he wouldn’t have—” Ryan’s voice cracked. Swallowing hard, he turned his head sideways, averting his teary gaze.

“You realize the alternative to suicide is murder,” Nic said.

“Yes,” Claire answered for both of them.

“Do you have any reason to believe that someone murdered your brother?” Rick asked.

A loud, startled gasp came from the doorway. All heads turned. Jordan Price had opened the door and stood there, eyes wide with shock, her mouth parted and her pale cheeks suddenly flushed.

“Oh, my God, no, no! You can’t honestly believe that someone murdered Dan.”

“Oh, Jordan, I’m so sorry.” Claire pulled away from Ryan and took a tentative step toward her sister-in-law. “We wanted to spare you—”

“Exactly what’s going on here?” Jordan asked as her gaze quickly flashed around the room, scanning the four people in her husband’s study.

Claire, all wide-eyed guilt but genuine concern, halted a few feet from Jordan as if uncertain of what to do or say.

“I wanted to wait until later to speak to you about this,” Ryan said. “You have enough to deal with as it is.”

With thick auburn hair, the tall, slender Ryan was a younger version of Dan. Only Dan’s eyes had been a brilliant topaz and Ryan’s were a honeyed brown.

Nicole Baxter Powell remained silent, her compassionate gaze focusing steadily on Jordan. Although Jordan had met the former FBI agent only a few times, she liked Claire’s cousin and had no reason to distrust her.

The man at Nicole’s side was a stranger, someone she’d never seen before today. His eyes, so dark they appeared almost black, bored into her, his stare intense and hostile. Hostile? Was her imagination working overtime? This man had no reason to be antagonistic toward her. They didn’t even know each other.

Jordan looked directly at Ryan. “Answer the man’s question. Do you have any reason to believe that someone murdered Dan, that his death wasn’t a suicide?”

Ryan frowned, emotional pain etched on his features as he faced Jordan. “I don’t believe Dan killed himself. It went against his very nature to take the coward’s way out. He was one of the strongest, bravest men I’ve ever known.”

“Dan was also loving and protective,” Jordan said. “If he believed that by taking his own life, he might spare us the agony of watching him die by slow degrees, then he might have—”

“No!” Ryan bellowed the one word as he clenched his hands into stiff fists and closed his eyes for a split second.

Startled by her brother-in-law’s vehement response, she tensed, every muscle in her body suddenly taut. “There’s more to this than just your belief that Dan wouldn’t commit suicide, isn’t there?”

“Tell her. She’ll find out sooner or later.” Claire looked from her husband to Jordan and then back to Ryan as if she couldn’t decide who needed her comfort more.

“Tell me what?” Jordan asked.

“I spoke to Steve privately the day the autopsy report came in,” Ryan said. “You know that Steve and I go way back, that we’ve been—”

“Yes, I know that you and Sheriff Corbett are good friends, so please stop stalling and just come right out and tell me whatever it is.”

“Steve agrees with me that, despite the coroner ruling Dan’s death a suicide and the fact he has no solid proof to the contrary, it’s possible that Dan didn’t kill himself. Steve says that details about a gunshot wound can rule out suicide, but they can’t prove it conclusively, that sometimes it’s a judgment call.”

Jordan felt cold, as if the temperature in the room had dropped a good 20 degrees in a matter of seconds. A chill rippled over her body causing her to quiver.

“You realize what you’re saying, don’t you? If Dan didn’t… if he wasn’t responsible, then that means someone else…” No, she refused to believe that anyone would kill Dan. “But that’s not possible. I found Dan lying over there—” she indicated the sofa with a glance “—with the gun still in his hand. The doors were locked and there was no evidence that anyone had broken into the house.”

“Who else was in the house other than you and the senator?” Mr. Carson asked.

Surprised by his question and by the fact that he had injected himself into what was a family matter, Jordan snapped her head around and glared at him.

“Rick!” Nicole Powell frowned at her companion.

“No, it’s quite all right,” Ryan said. “I want Mr. Carson to ask questions. If I hire Powell’s to do an independent investigation into Dan’s death, then—”

“If you do what?” Jordan felt as if she might faint. Had she heard Ryan correctly? Did he intend to hire an outside agency to dig deeper into the events surrounding Dan’s death? What was he thinking? Didn’t he realize that if the investigators unearthed too many facts about Dan’s life, they might discover a truth that Dan had kept hidden for years, one that could destroy his reputation?

“I know why you’re concerned,” Ryan told her. “That’s why I want to hire Powell’s, a firm with a solid reputation for honesty and integrity. Any information they uncover will be kept in strictest confidence.” He looked at Nicole. “Isn’t that right, Nic?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

“Do you need a glass of water, Mrs. Price?” Rick Carson asked. “Or maybe something a little stronger. You look as if you’re going to pass out.”

I don’t like you, Mr. Carson. I don’t like the way you look at me, as if you think you know something about me that no one else knows.

Claire rushed to Jordan, cupped her elbow and said, “Come sit down. Please. Would you like a drink? Ryan can fix you something or I can ring for Tobias—”

“No, I’m all right.” Jordan jerked away from her sister-in-law’s gentle hold and marched across the room, stopping directly in front of the rough-looking Powell agent. Although he wore a suit and tie, he exuded a raw, rugged masculinity that hinted that beneath the neat façade beat the heart of a primitive male.

“We don’t have to do this now, Mrs. Price,” Mr. Carson said.

“We had a full house that weekend because of the Easter holiday. The live-in servants were here. Tobias and Vadonna. My stepchildren, Kendra and Wes Brannon, were both home from college. Dan’s personal assistant, Devon Markham was here, as was my assistant, Rene Burke.”

Rick Carson’s gaze met hers head-on. Neither of them blinked.

“Who has a key to the house and knows the code for the security system?” he asked.

“Really, Mr. Carson, now is hardly the time to—” Claire injected.

“No, no, it’s perfectly all right,” Jordan said. “If Ryan hires the Powell Agency and Mr. Carson heads the investigation, I’m sure he’ll ask far more personal questions than that. We might as well get used to being interrogated.”

“Oh, please, let’s not do this now.” Claire slid her arm through her husband’s and reached for his hand.

“Claire’s right,” Ryan said. “This can wait. Jordan’s near collapse.” He looked pleadingly at Jordan. “I’m sorry. I didn’t handle this very well.”

“No, let’s do this now.” Jordan returned her gaze to Rick Carson. “If there is any possibility that Dan was murdered, I want to know. Consider yourself hired, Mr. Carson.”

Rick glanced from Jordan to Ryan, then looked directly at Nicole.

“Am I to consider this a firm offer?” Nic asked. “If so, then is Powell’s working for you, Ryan, or for Jordan?”

“For both of us,” Jordan replied. “Unless Ryan has any objections.”

“Of course not,” Ryan said. “If you’d like for me to handle the details—”

“And Mr. Carson will be in charge of the investigation, right?” Jordan asked.

“Yes,” Nic replied. “Unless you’d prefer another agent, Rick will head the investigation and will have all of Powell’s resources at his disposal. If, once he begins the investigation, he feels that more agents are needed, he will make the request to you and Ryan for your approval before contacting headquarters. And since y’all are family—” she glanced pointedly at Claire — “Powell’s will offer a discounted rate for our services.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jordan’s jaw tightened. “Spare no expense. You agree, don’t you, Ryan?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

“I’ll fax y’all the contract first thing in the morning and Rick will return and begin the investigation tomorrow,” Nicole explained, then walked over and offered her hand to Jordan, who accepted it immediately. “We’ll find out what happened to Dan. I promise. If he was murdered…” She squeezed Jordan’s hand, then released it and nodded to Rick. “We should get going.”

“I’ll see y’all out,” Claire said, then followed her cousin and Rick Carson as they left the study.

When she and Ryan were alone, Jordan stared at the new sofa which had replaced the one where only weeks ago she had discovered her husband’s lifeless body on Good Friday. On first awakening that morning, she had gone to his room, hoping to share the good news of her pregnancy with him while everyone else was still asleep. But when she saw that his bed had not been slept in, she suspected he had fallen asleep in his study the night before, as he occasionally did. Upon entering the study, she had called his name, but he hadn’t answered.

Now, with her eyes wide open, she could still envision the exact moment she realized Dan was dead. Before she noticed the bullet hole in his right temple, a single wound just above his cheekbone, she saw the dark red blood that discolored the gold silk cushion under his head and the gun that he clutched in his hand.

“Jordan?”

Ryan’s soft, smooth voice snapped her out of her thoughts and brought her back to the present moment.

He laid his hand on her shoulder. She heaved a deep sigh.

“I don’t know which I hate more,” Ryan said. “The thought that Dan would actually kill himself or that someone murdered him.”

Jordan shrugged off Ryan’s hand and walked away. Pausing as she reached out to open the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “If Dan was murdered, I want his murderer found and punished. But I do not want Dan’s good name sullied. I’ll hold you personally responsible for making sure of that.”

“God, Jordan, do you think I want anyone to find out the truth about Dan or about his relationship with you?”

“Then see to it that what was our personal business remains just that.” She narrowed her gaze, issuing her brother-in-law a gentle warning. “And from now on, no more secret meetings with the Powell Agency. I’m to be included in any discussions with Mr. Carson. Is that understood?”

She didn’t give Ryan a chance to reply. She’d made her point. Her brother-in-law’s motives had been admirable — he had wanted to spare her more anguish, especially today. But he had underestimated her as so many people did. Even after knowing her for several years, he saw only the façade that she presented to the world. Few people knew the real Jordan Harris Brannon Price. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure she knew herself. She had buried her true self beneath so many protective layers in order to survive that very little, if any, of the sweet, innocent, somewhat naïve girl she’d once been still remained.

Nothing in her life had turned out the way she had hoped it would. None of her youthful dreams had come true. The girl who had been engaged to Robby Joe Wright, who had longed to be a grade school teacher and the mother of at least three children, was only a vague, melancholy memory.

Twice before, fate had given her two choices: let tragedy defeat her or make her stronger. She had that same choice now. And if she knew nothing else about herself, she knew one thing — Jordan Price was a survivor.

Rick kicked back in Nicole’s Cadillac Escalade and relaxed as they flew along Interstate 75, halfway between Priceville and Chattanooga. The lady drove like a bat out of hell, slowing down only when absolutely necessary. Right now she was speeding along at 85 and the limit was 70.

“If you don’t want to head this case, I can assign someone else.” Nic cast a sidelong glance his way.

“What makes you think I don’t want the case?”

Nic chuckled softly. “Oh, maybe your obvious animosity toward Jordan Price for one thing. You can’t go into an assignment with an open mind if you’ve already found the client guilty.”

“You think I believe Mrs. Price killed her husband?”

“Do you?”

“Do I think the lady is capable of murder? I’m not sure. Maybe. She’s one cool customer.”

“Just because she wasn’t hysterical with grief today doesn’t mean she didn’t love Dan.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Rick agreed. “But look at the facts. He was twenty years older, rich and powerful, and his death may not have been suicide. What’s the first rule of thumb in a case such as this?”

“Suspect the wife.”

“Right. And add to that scenario a young lover and you’ve got a recipe for murder.”

“You’re assuming that Jordan and Devon Markham are lovers,” Nic said. “I think you’re wrong about that.”

“Why do you think I’m wrong?”

“Woman’s instinct.”

Rick laughed. “Care to elaborate?”

“Yes, I think they love each other, but they’re not in love. They don’t look at each other or touch each other the way a couple in love does.”