Cold Hearted (37 page)

“What type of relationship did you have with your husband, Mrs. Price?” a reporter shouted. “Did you have sex with both the senator and Mr. Markham? Or did you simply watch while they had sex?”

Jordan felt Rick’s muscles tense. “Ignore them,” she told him.

“I can, if you can,” he replied.

A barrage of questions followed, each one bouncing off Jordan like water off a duck’s back. She had no intention of dignifying the lurid questions with answers. Neither the heartless paparazzi nor the pit-bull legitimate reporters could harm her anymore than she’d already been harmed. Her reputation was in shreds, her personal life past and present exposed for the world to see, her children hounded, her best friend harassed unmercifully, her family hiding away at Price Manor, and her bodyguard shot.

“Did you sleep three to a bed?” someone else called out to her.

“Whose baby were you carrying?”

“Are you a lesbian, Mrs. Price? Do you hate men?”

“Just how many men have you killed?”

“Who are the guys with you, Jordan?” Another reported yelled. “Have you moved on and formed a new threesome?”

“You’d better watch out,” someone else hollered. “One of you could be her next victim.”

Snide laughter clashed with the damnations chanted by the sign-carrying bigots, the resulting sound a loud echo of voices that didn’t blend.

The ugly questions and the vicious taunts continued as Rick and Hart plowed a path through the crowd lining the sidewalk and covering the street. Jordan didn’t know if it was their formidable size, both men being tall and muscular, or the steely determination in their eyes combined with auras of sheer masculine strength that parted the reporters, hecklers and onlookers. But they all fell away, one by one, as Jordan and her protectors marched toward the front entrance of the townhouse.

“Got your key?” Rick asked her.

“It’s in my pocket.”

“I want you to walk up the steps and unlock the door,” he told her. “Hart and I will guard your back and then follow you inside.”

Hart spoke to one of the policeman at the foot of the front steps and the officer stepped aside to allow them to pass. Jordan followed Rick’s instructions, ignoring the barrage of new questions and insults propelled at her and the rocks hitting and cracking the windows and bouncing off the brick walls. A few golf ball size stones barely missed her head. Despite her hands shaking, she managed to insert the key in the lock and open the door. Not glancing back, she entered the marble-floored foyer. Within seconds, Rick came in behind her and then Hart, who closed and locked the door.

She didn’t wait for her companions. She hurried down the hall, calling Devon’s name. If she knew Devon, and she did, he would be waiting for her in the cozy den, a room in the center of the house with one window that opened onto the small screened back porch. There, he was more protected from the ugliness going on outside.

Just as she reached the den, the door opened and Devon stepped out. He rushed into her open arms. She hugged him to her, rubbing his back, and whispering soothingly to him.

“It’s all right. I’m here now.”

“You practically risked your life coming through that pack of wild animals out there,” Devon said as he hugged her and then lifted his head from her shoulder. “How are we going to manage to get out of here?”

“We’re going out the back and through your neighbor’s yard,” Rick said as he approached. “Hart has a distraction planned out front in approximately” — he glanced at his wristwatch — “ten minutes. We don’t have much time, so don’t bring anything with you. Whatever you want can be picked up later. Powell’s is sending a couple of agents to guard the townhouse.”

“What if the distraction doesn’t work?” Devon asked.

“Then we’ll face them down,” Rick said.

“Ignore the reporters and feel sorry for those poor, misguided people who misuse the Bible to justify their hatred,” Jordan told him. “We used to stand up to people like that when we were just teenagers, remember?”

Devon nodded. “That seems like a lifetime ago. Before I met Dan and started living a double life.”

“You did what you did to protect Dan. No one can fault you for that.” Jordan eyed Rick, her gaze daring him to contradict her.

“I denied the truth for so many years that lying started seeming like the normal thing to do,” Devon said. “I lied and said anyone who claimed I was gay was misinformed. I pretended to be straight. I even dated a string of lovely women until finally I couldn’t stand the subterfuge any longer and Rene agreed to go to social functions with me after you and Dan married.” He hung his head. “Those reporters have every right to have a heyday with this news. I wouldn’t blame them, no matter what they said or did.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Rick told him. “Think about Jordan and what your and Dan’s secret has done to her.”

“Rick!” Jordan glared at him. “How dare you say such a thing.”

“No, he’s right,” Devon said. “I’m the one who pulled you into our web of lies. It’s all my fault.”

“We can discuss who’s at fault, who’s to blame, and who’s guilty of what later,” Rick told them. “We need to be out back and ready to make a run for it as soon as Hart calls me. He’ll meet us down the block where he left the car.”

Ten minutes and one teargas explosion later, Rick, Jordan and Devon made it halfway down the street when Hart caught up with them.

“Keep going,” he shouted. “Time’s a-wasting.”

They managed to get to the car before some reporters on the fringes of the crowd, coughing, wheezing and crying from the teargas, caught sight of them and ran toward the car. Just as Hart backed up the Lincoln, two men hurled themselves onto the hood, but when Hart whipped the big black car around, the intruders sailed off into the street.

Sitting in the front seat with Hart, Rick glanced in the rearview mirror and his gaze met Jordan’s.

That singular moment of silent communication ended practically before it began when Rick’s phone rang. Jordan grasped Devon’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and then closed her eyes as she said a prayer, asking for the strength to see this nightmare through to the end.

When Rick answered his phone, Griff Powell said, “Maleah’s going to be all right. She’s out of surgery. Nic and I are at Erlanger in Chattanooga. We’re staying over-night and plan to see Maleah in the morning.”

“That’s good news,” Rick replied. “Now if we can figure out who shot her and why—”

“That’s one of the other reasons I’m calling. The deputies arrested a guy about an hour ago. They found him and his high-powered rifle in the woods. He shot Maleah from outside the estate.”

“Are you sure they’ve got the right person?”

“Reasonably sure. The man confessed. We’ll know for sure once the bullet is examined, but this nut-job claims he meant to shoot Jordan. It seems he considered it his duty to act on God’s behalf and mete out punishment. As far as we know, he’s not connected with her or her family or the late senator in any way, other than the fact he lives in Priceville.”

“If this turns out to be on the up-and-up that means people we eliminated from our suspects list have to go right back on it.”

“By people, you mean Devon Markham, don’t you?” Griff said.

“Yeah.”

“While we’re on the subject of suspects, I talked to Derek Lawrence and he’s promised us a profile to fit each of your scenarios by Thursday. Maybe one of those profiles will fit one of the suspects to a T.”

“If only,” Rick said.

“In the meantime, be careful. If we’re right, there is a serial killer among Jordan Price’s family and close friends, someone who has possibly killed seven people. He or she won’t hesitate to kill again. You’re not just investigating Dan Price’s murder now, you’re guarding Jordan.” Griffin paused. “And even though I know you don’t want to entertain the possibility that Jordan herself is the killer, you’d be a fool to totally discount her as a suspect.”

Rick landed the helicopter at the Price estate Tuesday evening. A couple of Powell agents and a sheriff’s deputy met them when they disembarked.

The deputy spoke to Rick. “Sheriff Corbett wants to talk to you, privately. He’s waiting down by the pond.” He hitched his thumb in the general direction. “Mr. Price and Mr. Keinan are with him.”

“Sure thing,” Rick said. “As soon as I get Mrs. Price settled.” He motioned to one of the two agents, a fairly new Powell Agency recruit named Nix Elliott. “I want you to stay with Mrs. Price until I relieve you. Stay close to her and know exactly where she is and who’s with her at all times.”

Elliott nodded.

Rick explained the situation to Jordan, who simply said, “I’ll be fine. I’m home now. We’re safe.” She had slipped her arm around Devon’s waist and hugged him to her side.

The poor guy looked as if he’d been through a physical and emotional wringer. But oddly enough Jordan was cool, calm, and totally together. Rick marveled at her ability to keep herself in check while taking care of others, in this case, looking after Devon.

If only he could believe that she was safe here on the Price estate. But he couldn’t. If his suspicions were correct, someone she loved and trusted was a killer. The only thing he didn’t know for certain was whether this person loved Jordan or hated her.

When they reached the house, Rick pulled Jordan aside. “I just need a minute, okay?”

She looked back at Devon. “Go on in. I won’t be long.”

Agent Elliott waited on the veranda while Devon and the other agent went inside the house.

“Everything that I discussed with you, Ryan, and Steve Corbett this morning is to stay among the four of us,” Rick told her. “Understand?”

“Yes, of course.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, you mean now that we know the man who shot Maleah isn’t personally connected to me or Dan or the other deaths, then Devon is a suspect again.”

“I’m sorry. I know you love him and trust him, but—”

“But you don’t trust him. You don’t even trust me. Not really.”

He grabbed her arm. “Damn it, Jordan, why can’t you understand that if you trust the wrong person, it could cost you your life.”

Trembling, she stood there and stared at him, but didn’t respond to his warning.

“Honey, don’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Make me the bad guy.”

“I know you’re one of the good guys,” she told him. “But so is Devon. I trust him as much as I trust you.”

She trusts me.

I want to trust her. And I do. Almost.

When he released his hold on her, she walked away and went inside the house. Rick waited until Nix Elliott followed her before he left to find the sheriff.

The late afternoon sunlight glistened off the pond’s smooth surface. Several geese floated leisurely, paying no heed to the humans. Thick, rich grass grew along the bank and wildflowers had recently sprouted in the field nearby. May in the Georgia countryside was fresh and green and vibrant.

Steve Corbett threw up his hand and motioned for Rick to join them where they stood near the pond, obviously waiting for him.

“Thank you for bringing Jordan and Devon home safely.” Ryan extended his hand to Rick and the two men exchanged a cordial shake.

“You know that we found the man who shot Maleah Perdue, don’t you?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I know. Griff called me.”

“That puts Devon Markham back on the suspects list,” Holt said. “Until we get those profiles from Derek Lawrence, we can only speculate about who we think killed Senator Price.”

“Even with the profiles, we’ll be speculating,” Steve said.

“I find it difficult to accept that any one of the people closest to Jordan may have killed my brother.” Ryan grimaced. “And I refuse to even consider the possibility that Jordan is guilty of any crime other than perhaps being too self-sacrificing.”

“We’ve been working on a plan.” Holt glanced at his two co-conspirators. “I’ve run it by the boss and he’s in agreement, but Griff said the final decision would have to be yours and Mrs. Price’s.”

Just what sort of plan had these guys come up with? “Well, spit it out.”

“If either of your scenarios about why someone has killed numerous men in Mrs. Price’s life is correct, then whoever our killer is, he or she goes after anyone, men in particular, whose death benefits Jordan in some way. She benefits either by eliminating a perceived threat or by her inheriting large sums of money,” Holt explained. “Our killer isn’t going to make another move unless he or she is presented with someone new who fits either description.”

“It doesn’t really matter why this person kills, does it? If he or she has killed in order to punish Jordan or in order to protect her, the end results have been the same,” Steve added.

“The plan is to present the killer with a new victim,” Ryan said. “Someone they would believe capable of harming Jordan.”

A tight knot formed in the pit of Rick’s belly. He wasn’t sure exactly what the game plan was, but he figured he had been chosen as the killer’s next target.

“Okay,” Rick said. “I’m the new victim, right? Just what am I going to do to threaten Jordan?”

“Jordan will know from day one what the plan is,” Ryan said. “You have to believe in her innocence, but pretend otherwise.”

“If our plan is to work, it will require some acting on your part and Jordan’s.” Steve shuffled his feet nervously, as if he wasn’t sure how Rick would react to the details of their plan. “On the surface, you’ll be Jordan’s champion. You believe in her. You know she is completely innocent. She sees you as her knight in shining armor. The two of you exhibit some personal interest in each other. But while you’re supposedly playing up to Jordan, you’re going behind her back trying to prove she murdered Dan and the others.”

“The plan’s too complicated,” Rick told them. “Besides, I don’t think Jordan will agree to it.”

“Don’t shoot it down. At least not yet,” Steve said. “Once we get the profiles from Powell’s expert and get a better idea of who our killer could be, we’ll know whether to follow through with the plan or try another tactic.”

“My brother’s reputation is ruined,” Ryan said. “Everything that Jordan and Devon sacrificed for Dan was for nothing. Now Jordan’s life could well be on the line. How can she ever move past what’s happened unless the killer is found? We have to find the real killer and prove Jordan’s innocence.”