Coldhearted

by Beverly Barton

  “I need to see Ryan and Claire.” Jordan pulled away from Devon and took a tentative step toward Rick. “I have to explain that—”

  “Ryan is ready to fire me because he thinks I leaked the information. Your brother-in-law seems to have complete faith in you, so you shouldn’t be concerned about what he and his wife might think. Apparently, they’re a hundred percent on your side.”

  Of course, she should have known that she could count on Ryan and Claire’s support. Over the past three years during her marriage to Dan, they had learned to trust one another. They had become as dear to her as the other members of her adopted family.

  “Oh, mercy! Darlene and Roselynne will both go ballistic and worry themselves sick about me. And when this information spreads to the state and then national news media, Kendra and Wes will have to deal with their classmates’ taunts about their stepmother.”

  “Try to stay as calm as you can.” Rick came toward her, but stopped short of touching her. “Your getting upset isn’t good for you or your baby.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Yes, of course you do.” Rick looked at Devon. “Why don’t you gather the family downstairs in the parlor so we can tell everyone at once about what’s happened and how we’re going to handle the situation. Do you think you can do that for Jordan?”

  Devon’s misty eyes widened as if uncertain how to react to Rick’s request. He glanced at Jordan before replying. “If that’s what Jordan wants me to do.”

  “Yes, please,” she replied.

  “I need you to trust that I can and will handle things,” Rick told her. “But in order for me to do some damage control and keep you safe and away from the press, I have to ask that you allow me to be in complete charge, to make the decisions and issue the orders.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Devon said. “After all, how do we know for sure that you’re not the one who leaked this information about Jordan to the Daily Gazette?”

  With her gaze glued to Rick, Jordan placed her hand on Devon’s arm. “It’s all right, Devon. I trust Rick.” She pivoted and smiled at Devon. “Round up the herd and corral them in the parlor. I’ll be down shortly.”

  Hesitantly, Devon nodded, returned her smile, and headed for the door. He gave Rick an if-you-hurt-her-you’ll-answer-to-me glower.

  Once alone in her bedroom with Rick, Jordan suddenly realized that she was standing there in front of him wearing nothing but her silk pajamas. She shifted uncomfortably on her bare feet.

  “I—I need to get dressed,” she said.

  “Do you really trust me?” he asked.

  She breathed deeply, steadying her nerves, and then answered. “Yes, I do.” Oddly enough, she really did trust him. She felt certain that Rick had not leaked the info about her past and she had no qualms about him being in charge. “I trust you enough to put myself in your capable hands.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

  “I…uh…should put on some clothes,” she told him.

  They stood facing each other for a full minute before Rick broke eye contact and said, “I’ll just let myself out and wait for you in the hall. Take your time. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Why was it that she felt as if Rick truly could protect her from everything and everyone? Something deeply primitive and totally feminine urged her to run into his arms.

  Instead of acting on impulse, she said, “I won’t be long,” as she rushed into her dressing room.

  Ryan and Claire arrived at Price Manor shortly after Rick escorted Jordan downstairs to alert her family of the upcoming media frenzy that would soon consume Jordan and everyone associated with her. Sheriff Corbett arrived at Price Manor before nine, accompanied by Lt. Haley McLain and two male deputies, Wilson and Burgess. The deputies were posted at the closed gates at the end of the long drive where news crews from area newspapers and television stations had begun congregating by seven that morning.

  Steve Corbett spoke to Jordan and then to Ryan, reassuring both of them that, as sheriff, he would see to it that his deputies took care of crowd control,.

  “And we’ll cooperate with the Powell agents,” Corbett told Ryan. “We can coordinate this any way y’all want us to.”

  While the sheriff continued his conversation with the Price family, Rick went over to Haley and as inconspicuously as possible, grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the hall. She huffed and glared, but didn’t utter a word of protest until they were alone.

  “What’s the manhandling all about?” she demanded.

  He released her. “Want to tell me how the Priceville Daily Gazette got hold of the information about Jordan’s past?”

  Taking a defensive stance, she glared at him. “If you’re implying what I think you are, then—”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m point blank asking you if you contacted someone at the Daily Gazette and gave them the information I shared with you last night.”

  “Why would I leak the information? What possible reason would I have to do such a thing?”

  “You think Daniel Price was murdered,” Rick said. “And after what I told you last night, you’re probably convinced that Jordan killed him.”

  “Like you’re not.”

  Ignoring her comeback, he outright accused her. “You leaked the info in the hope you could get the case reopened and the senator’s death ruled a homicide. Am I right?”

  “Yes, you’re right about my wanting the case reopened, but you’re wrong about my betraying your confidence and deliberately leaking info about Mrs. Price.”

  Rick didn’t believe her. Logic dictated his certainty that she was the guilty party. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

  She relaxed a little, lowering the protective barrier she had erected between them. “I have no idea. Maybe someone overheard us talking last night at the restaurant. Or maybe someone at the Powell Agency—”

  “It was not a Powell agent.”

  “Then I don’t know.”

  “If I find out that you’re lying to me—”

  “You’ll do what, big man?” With her protective barrier in place again, Haley shot him an eat-dirt-and-die glare. “I’ve told you I wasn’t the one who leaked the info. You can believe me or not. Your choice.” Without a backward glance, she whirled around and went into the parlor.

  Usually, his gut instincts were pretty accurate, but lately they seemed to be off. Way off. He should believe Haley. She was a law enforcement officer, someone sworn to protect and defend. He had no reason not to trust her. On the other hand, Jordan Price’s background all but proclaimed her to be a killer, a woman who had murdered at least four men. So why was it that his instincts told him that Haley was lying and that Jordan was innocent?

  When Rene informed Jordan that Jane Anne Price had been one of the numerous callers who had left a message for her to get in touch, Jordan excused herself from the parlor where she’d been trapped since early morning. The entire family was here, except for her stepchildren, and she had begun to feel smothered with so much loving support. Although she dreaded speaking to Dan’s ex-wife, she found that she would gladly use any excuse to get away from the inter-family chaos the news headlines had created. When she shut the study door behind her, she leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing she could blot out the nightmare her life had become as easily as she shut out the light. She was tempted to lock the door. But what was the use? If anyone wanted her, they would knock until she let them in. There was no privacy in this house, no privacy in her life.

  Although she’d had more than enough people hovering around her, each one doing his or her best to comfort her, Jordan realized that the person she had wanted to turn to for understanding, to lean on for support, had been busy doing his job, doing what needed to be done.

  Of course, her desire to seek comfort from Rick wasn’t logical. He was little more than a stranger, a man who doubted her inn
ocence, the person others thought might have betrayed her. And yet her feelings were what they were. Maybe it was nothing more than foolishness to want a strong shoulder to lean on, to long for someone to take care of her instead of her carrying the burden alone. She felt as if she’d spent a lifetime looking after everyone else’s needs and neglecting her own.

  Except for when she was engaged to Robby Joe.

  He had been her rock. A strong, gentle, caring man who had loved her as much as she had loved him. Her one true love. Her only love.

  Releasing a cleansing breath, Jordan opened her eyes. The plantation blinds that covered the windows were closed, blocking the outdoor light. Her study caught the afternoon sunshine since the back of the house faced southwest. With a frantic rush, she opened one set of blinds after another, flooding the room with the light and heat.

  If only she hadn’t lost Robby Joe…

  But she had. He was dead and buried. Lost to her forever.

  Boyd Brannon had been a decent man and she had cared for him, but neither he nor she had gone into their marriage expecting grand passion. He’d been a widower more than fifteen years her senior, with two young children he was raising on his own. They had met when his company had hired the Peachtree Agency as their PR firm. Their relationship began as friendship and in all honesty that’s what it had remained, even after they married. He had wanted a mother for his children, a congenial companion, and a wife who would be an asset to an ambitious executive. Looking back, she realized she shouldn’t have married him, but she had thought she could find fulfillment in motherhood. At first Boyd had suggested they wait to have a child of their own, but after a year of postponements, she had confronted him.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan, but I don’t want another child. Why can’t you be satisfied with helping me raise Wes and Kendra? They’ve grown to love you like a mother.”

  Boyd’s decision for them not to have a child had broken her heart, but she had accepted the hand she’d been dealt and tried to make her marriage work. Even when she had discovered he’d been unfaithful to her, she hadn’t left him because of the devastating effect it would have had on Wesley and Kendra.

  When Boyd was killed in a senseless hunting accident, she had mourned the loss of the children’s father, but not the loss of her husband.

  Jordan sat down at her desk. She couldn’t use the land-line because Rene had been forced to disconnect the phone. The calls had poured in, one after another, keeping the phone ringing off the hook all morning.

  She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone and laid it atop the desk. She had turned it off, per Rick’s instructions, earlier today.

  Call Jane Anne and get it over with.

  There was no way she could leave Price Manor today or tomorrow or possibly even the day after to meet Jane Anne. She would be followed everywhere she went, her every move scrutinized.

  She wondered if Dan had ever loved Jane Anne, even in the beginning of their marriage? Maybe she’d been a different person then, a better person, or at least Dan must have thought so or he wouldn’t have married her. In a way, Jordan supposed she understood why Jane Anne had been so bitter about the divorce, why she had reacted as she had. But if she had loved Dan, truly loved him, she would have forgiven him and accepted the truth without seeking revenge. Even now, twelve years later and with Dan dead, Jane Anne posed a threat to his good name, his unblemished record, his part of the Price family legacy, and to the future of the child Jordan carried.

  She turned on her cell phone and the moment it picked up a signal, she dialed Jane Anne’s number.

  “It’s about time you returned my call.” Jane Anne laughed. “But I suppose you’ve been busy trying to convince everyone that you really aren’t a black widow who has killed two husbands.”

  “Is that why you called, to ask me if I killed Dan?”

  “Hell no. I don’t give a damn if you killed him. The son of a bitch deserved what he got, don’t you agree?”

  “No, I don’t agree, but then I loved Dan and apparently you never did.”

  “Jesus! You’re such a liar.”

  “I assume your reason for calling has to do with the arrangement we made for us to meet,” Jordan said. “I’m afraid that will be impossible right now. I’m virtually trapped here at Price Manor. I need a few more days, maybe a week—”

  “You can’t get out, but I can get in. All you have to do is add my name to the Please Admit list and I can come to you.”

  “I don’t have the amount we agreed on here at the house.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll take a check.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Look, you can’t talk me out of this,” Jane Anne said. “I want my money and the sooner the better. I’m doing you a favor taking a down payment instead of demanding the entire million up front. Now more than ever, you certainly don’t want me telling the world about your arrangement with Dan, do you?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “Then see to it that I can get past the front gates this after noon and have my check ready.”

  “Please, can’t this wait a few days?”

  “Each day you delay means the price goes up. In a few days, I may want two million. Or maybe I’ll just contact Devon and see if—”

  “Leave Devon alone!”

  Jane Anne’s self-satisfied laughter angered Jordan. The woman was deriving pleasure from taunting her.

  “So protective. Like a mother hen. You’d do just about anything for Devon, wouldn’t you? You must love him a great deal.”

  “Be here at five. Go to the back gate. You know where it is. I’ll meet you there and let you in.”

  “You don’t want anyone to see me, do you? That’s fine by me. I’m willing to stay completely in the background as long as I get my money.”

  “You’ll get it. I promise.”

  Rick hadn’t gotten a chance to talk privately with Jordan again and it was probably better that he hadn’t. Whenever he had glanced her way during this long, exhausting day, she had looked at him with an expression of longing in her cool blue-gray eyes. He’d told himself that it was his imagination, that he’d seen what he wanted to see. He wanted her to need him, wanted her to depend on him, and he wanted to be her champion. God knew she didn’t have anyone else, not really. Yeah, sure, she had a bunch of people smothering her with attention, but their actions simply masked their own need for Jordan to soothe their worries. Except for Ryan and Claire, the rest of them depended on Jordan for either financial or emotional support or for both. But who could Jordan depend on?

  At the end of the day, maybe she turns to Devon Markham. Maybe he holds her in his arms and comforts her. Maybe he tells her that he’ll take care of her.

  Maybe, but not likely.

  Rick sensed that, whatever their relationship might be, Jordan and Devon were not equals. She was the stronger of the two by far, and a woman such as Jordan needed a man who was her counterpart in every way.

  What was there about her that made a guy go all goofy in the head? He had to question his own common sense. He knew damn well there was a definite possibility she was a ruthless killer, and yet he couldn’t control some gut-level need to take care of her.

  Right this minute, his first impulse was to look for her, just to check on her and see how she was holding up. With Maleah and Holt here at Price Manor, he had been able to relinquish some of his duties to them, but that didn’t mean he had time to search for Jordan. He had spent part of his day working with Rene Burke to formulate a game plan, one they had already set in motion. Rene had cleared the press release with Jordan, a simple statement from Ryan Price saying emphatically that he had complete confidence in his sister-in-law and supported her without question.

  What Rick really needed about now was some fresh air. Dinner this evening was bound to be a three-ring circus. He hated the thought of watching Jordan try to force down food she didn’t want simply to keep others from worrying about h
er. He’d speak to her before dinner and suggest she request her meal be sent to her room.

  A long walk around the grounds should help him let off some pent-up steam and clear his head. He was torn between wanting to take Jordan away from all this madness, to keep her safe, and simply walking away before she enticed him even deeper into the quagmire her life had become.

  He went out onto the side porch and walked to the back of the house. The sun rested low in the western sky, a yellow-orange globe of brilliant springtime light and warmth. The country air was crisp and clean, the scent of flowering trees, shrubs and flowers in the air. As he gazed out over the grounds, he caught a glimpse of someone entering an archway of trees that led to one of the two ponds on the property. The lone figure moved quickly, almost running. A woman. Small and slender. Wearing brown slacks and a beige sweater. Jordan?

  Rick decided to follow her. If it was Jordan, and he was pretty sure it was, where the hell was she going? Could it be that she, like he, needed some time alone and had decided to take a brisk walk in the fresh air? He’d follow, but keep a discreet distance behind her.

  As he drew closer, he was able to see that it was Jordan and she was carrying something in her hand, something that looked like a rectangular piece of paper or maybe an envelope. When she walked past the pond and straight toward the vine-covered fence at the back of the estate, Rick watched from behind a large oak tree, making sure she remained unaware of his presence.

  She went directly to the electronic gates, ones that were kept locked at all times and required a security code to open. The gates faced an old dirt road that hadn’t been used in years. The back entrance from that road to Price Manor had long ago become overgrown with grass and weeds, leaving only scattered patches of gravel from the unpaved drive.