Cold Hearted (32 page)

He grinned. “I assume the suitcase didn’t come that way.”

“Oh, no. I added the circles to help for easy identification. I certainly hope the bag hasn’t been lost or misdirected, but the inefficiency at airports these days has become par for the course, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, I guess it has.”

When he ventured toward the conveyor belt that was only now beginning to make its slow journey around and back again, Ms. Sinclair followed him.

“Did you have a good flight?” he asked, simply trying to make conversation.

“Yes, thank you. I slept on the flight from London. It was quite nice traveling first class.”

“Nothing but the best for any friend of Griff and Nic Powell.”

“Oh, I’m not a friend of theirs, Mr. Carson.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but you’re a good friend of their good friend, Dr. Meng. Right?”

“I wouldn’t say that Dr. Meng and I are good friends. Our relationship is quite complicated and not something I discuss with strangers.”

Rick was torn between laughing and telling Ms. Sinclair to lighten up, that he didn’t give a rat’s ass what her relationship was with Dr. Meng. All he’d been doing was making an effort to be polite. And he was finding that with her, it was becoming more and more difficult.

Finally, after the empty conveyor belt made a couple of rounds, a variety of luggage emerged from the chute. A large black suitcase with a green circle painted in the middle was the fourth piece to appear. Rick yanked it off the conveyor belt and set it upright. God, the thing must weigh seventy pounds. What the hell did she have in there? Lead? Gold?

She reached for the suitcase. “I’ve got it,” he told her.

“All right. Thank you.”

“If you’ll follow me,” he said as he lifted the handle and dragged the suitcase behind him.

Ms. Sinclair didn’t say another word until they left the airport and were on Highway 129. “I’ve never been to Tennessee. Dr. Meng says that it’s quite beautiful here. I believe she especially likes the mountains and the lakes.”

Rick nodded, keeping his eye on the road. “Being an old Mississippi boy, I grew up where the land was mostly flat. I remember the first time I saw the Smoky Mountains. I was about seven and I was awestruck.”

“Is it a long drive to Griffin’s Rest?” she asked.

“No, not long.”

He had thought by telling her he was from Mississippi, she might mention where she’d been born and raised. He heard a definite southern drawl in her speech, but he couldn’t imagine anyone from the South never having visited some area of Tennessee since it bordered eight other southern states.

“I hope it didn’t inconvenience you having to pick me up at the airport so early this morning,” she said.

“No, ma’am, not at all. It’s just part of my job.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

He briefly cut his eyes in her direction and noted that she sat stiff as a board, her feet flat on the floor and her hands resting in her lap. There was something prim and proper about her, like an old-fashioned schoolmarm or a strict governess. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her about her profession, but why should he feel compelled to carry on a conversation with this odd, somewhat unfriendly lady? If she wanted to talk, he’d talk. If not, that was fine with him.

Jordan took her morning coffee outside, sat in the swing beneath the canopy of budding trees and sighed with a contentment she hadn’t felt since before Dan died. Her life had returned to something resembling a normal routine, although she hadn’t ventured beyond the gates of the estate. Claire and Ryan had visited several times, bringing little Michael with them. The child was an adorable, auburn-haired, blue-eyed imp, with Ryan’s coloring and Claire’s beauty. His presence at Price Manor was always like a breath of fresh air. Although being with Michael reminded her of what she had recently lost, of the child that wasn’t meant to be, the joy his lively presence brought into their lives far outweighed any sorrow she felt.

With Rick Carson out of her life and the craziness surrounding the black widow news reports all but stopped now, a semblance of peace had settled over Jordan and everyone at Price Manor. The harassing phone calls and letters had also stopped, as of this past Friday. If not for remaining under Maleah Perdue’s watchful eye, Jordan could almost convince herself that everything was going to be all right.

Last week, she had spoken to J.C. When she had asked him to leave, he hadn’t seemed surprised nor had he put up a fuss.

“Yeah, I figured I’d overstayed my welcome this time. Even Mama’s been hinting that she thinks it’s time I went back to work. Of course, she still thinks I’ve got my job at a casino in Biloxi Mississippi.”

Jordan had handed her stepbrother a check for $10,000.

“What’s this for?”

“For a fresh start.”

“Why so generous?”

“Because you’re family,” she’d told him. “But the handouts end with this check. Understand?”

“Sure thing, Sis.”

First he had kissed her cheek, then he’d grinned and winked at her.

When he left sometime Thursday, she’d been glad to see the last of him. At least for a while. She didn’t kid herself. Like a bad penny, he’d eventually show up again.

Devon had flown to D.C. Friday and gone to their town-house in Bethesda to pack up Dan’s personal items. They would eventually put the place on the market, but there was no rush. With Dan gone, neither she nor Devon had any desire to ever live there again. He had phoned every evening, but they had kept their conversations short. Devon was still highly emotional whenever he spoke of Dan. She hoped that during his stay at the townhouse, he could find a way to finally say goodbye to the man he had loved.

Only yesterday, she had persuaded Darlene to return to her apartment in Priceville. As much as she loved Darlene and appreciated her staunch support, there were times when she felt smothered by her attention. She understood that Darlene had no one else, that she had become Darlene’s substitute child, and was her only remaining link to Robby Joe. Also, with the little romance between Roselynne and Wallace heating up, Jordan felt it was better if Darlene wasn’t around to see the lovey-dovey couple on a daily basis.

With everything relatively calm, Jordan found that she had way too much time on her hands, for thinking, for brooding, for mourning, and even for daydreaming. Considering the sizeable fortune she would inherit from Dan, she didn’t have to worry about supporting Roselynne and Tammy and she certainly didn’t have to return to the work force. But she couldn’t spend the rest of her life as a member of the idle rich set. Eventually, she would have to find something to fill her days. She could broaden her participation in various philanthropic organizations or she could open her own PR firm or even renew her teaching degree.

Finding a new purpose in life would take time, but it would happen. She could fill her days with work, but what about her nights?

She would never remarry, of course. She did not want or need…

Liar!

She did want. She did need. She longed for something that had always been just beyond her reach, the kind of happiness so many people took for granted.

Don’t think about Rick. He’s gone. Out of your life forever. Whatever you thought you felt for him, it wasn’t love.

“Mind if I join you?”

Rene’s request brought Jordan out of her thoughts about Rick Carson.

She looked up and smiled at her friend. “Not at all.” She patted the cushioned seat.

Rene held an empty coffee mug, which she placed on the ground beside the swing after she sat down with Jordan. “You know, I think May is probably my favorite month of the year. It’s usually warm, but not hot yet. And everything is in full bloom.”

“I’d love to drive into Priceville later today and go to Elmore’s and buy some bedding plants and see what their selection of ferns looks like. Would you go with me?”

“Of course, I will, but do you think your jailer will allow you to leave Price Manor? She keeps a close watch over you.” Rene inclined her head toward the house where Maleah Perdue stood by the back door, doing her best to allow Jordan some personal space while at the same time guarding her.

“We’ll take her along,” Jordan said. “But I feel as if I don’t leave this place, at least for a few hours, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own home.”

“Then let’s go and make a day of it. If people stare at you, we’ll just make funny faces at them.”

Jordan chuckled. “I think I can deal with a few people staring at me. But I hope most of the people in Priceville have come to know me well enough not to believe everything they’ve been hearing about me lately.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Rene said. “Oh, while we’re out and about, let’s go to Ruff’s Barbeque for lunch and pig out on ribs and onion rings.” Rene smacked her lips. “Just thinking about that delicious food makes me practically orgasmic.”

Jordan laughed. “As much as I love Ruff’s ribs and onion rings, I don’t think even eating them, let alone thinking about them, has ever brought me close to an orgasm. But I have to admit that eating their fried pies has curled my toes a few times.”

They sat together, laughing, appreciating the warmth and beauty of an early day in May. Just two girlfriends, acting silly, and planning a little excursion into town. Life’s simple pleasures.

For the first time since she had found Dan’s lifeless body six weeks ago, Jordan sensed that eventually she would be able to enjoy living again.

Rick had intended to drop Ms. Sinclair off, fully expecting someone to meet her, so it didn’t surprise him when, as they pulled up in front of the house, Sanders approached the Jeep. But instead of opening the passenger door, he rounded the hood and motioned for Rick to lower his window.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

“Griffin and Nicole would like for you to come into the house with Ms. Sinclair. I will park your Jeep and bring in the luggage while you escort her to Griffin’s study.”

Rick shrugged, left the motor running and keys in the ignition, then opened the door and got out. By the time he made his way to the other side of the Jeep, Ms. Sinclair stood on the sidewalk waiting for him.

“If you’ll come with me.” He held out his arm.

“Please, lead the way and I’ll follow.”

“Sure.” What was it with this woman? Did she have an aversion to touching other people or just to touching him?

Although she tried not to gape, Rick noticed the way she stared at the house and even paused in the foyer, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted as she took in the understated splendor of Griff and Nic’s home.

“They’re waiting for us in Griff’s den,” Rick said as he led her down the hall. “You’ll like staying here. Nic and Griff know how to make their guests feel welcome.”

She didn’t reply, didn’t smile, didn’t even blink an eye.

Meredith Sinclair was an odd one, no doubt about it.

The den door stood wide open. As they entered, Griff came forward from where he’d been standing beside Nic in front of his massive antique desk. Rick noticed that Griff didn’t offer his hand in greeting to their guest. That told Rick that his boss obviously knew something about the peculiar Ms. Sinclair that he didn’t.

“Meredith, I’m Griffin Powell. This is my wife, Nicole.” Nic smiled and nodded. “And this is Barbara Jean Hughes, one of the Powell Agency’s most valued employees.”

Barbara Jean rolled her wheelchair toward their guest, a warm, friendly smile on her face. “Have you had breakfast, Ms. Sinclair?”

“I ate on the plane quite early this morning,” she replied.

“Please, come to the kitchen with me. We have coffee-cake and I can prepare fresh coffee or make you a cup of tea. Sanders will join us after he takes your luggage upstairs and then he can show you to your room so you can freshen up.”

Ms. Sinclair looked at Griff. “Am I to stay here, in this house, with you and your wife?”

“For the time being, yes,” Griff said. “You’ll have all the privacy you need and if you prefer to have your meals in your room, you may.”

“I had hoped I would have separate accommodations.”

“All in due time,” Griff said, effectively dismissing her.

Apparently Ms. Sinclair, just as the rest of them, understood that the subject was closed. Decisions had been made on her behalf and Griffin Powell would brook no arguments.

“Tea would be nice, Ms. Hughes,” Meredith said.

“Then come along, Ms. Sinclair. You can tell me all about London and how Yvette is doing these days.” When Barbara Jean guided her wheelchair into the hall, Ms. Sinclair followed and they heard Barbara Jean say, “We want you to be comfortable here at Griffin’s Rest, so if there’s anything you need or anything we can do for you, please let me know.”

Griff closed the door.

An uneasy feeling took root in Rick’s gut. Something was wrong, something he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the Powell’s recently arrived houseguest.

“Whatever it is, just tell me.” Rick looked from Griff to Nic.

“There’s been a new development in the Price case,” Griff told him.

“What sort of new development?”

Nic reached out on the desk behind her, turned Griff’s open laptop around so that Rick could see the screen, and said, “Take a look at The Chatterbox Web site. They’ve posted the headlines that appear on this week’s issue that hit the stands today.”

Rick grunted. What had that sleazy gossip rag printed about Jordan now? He moved in closer and leaned down, scanning the screen. The headlines jumped out at him.

“Son of a bitch!”

Pam and Jim Elmore had inherited Elmore Feed and Seed from Jim’s daddy and he from his daddy before him. In Priceville, now as in the past, businesses tended to be handed down from one generation to the next. Ted Payne, who owned the local drugstore, had taken over as druggist when his maternal grandfather retired. Wages & Odell Insurance Company had been in the Odell family for more than 100 years. A Mr. Wages had married into the family 50 years ago. And a member of the Ruff family had been barbequing pork since the late 1800s.