Coldhearted

by Beverly Barton

  He hesitated, but only for a moment. He kissed her hungrily, then began an assault on her body, covering every inch with his hands and mouth, leaving him trembling and her begging.

  He lifted her hips, bringing her body up to his, and thrust into her. She clung to him, enthusiastically meeting each deep, hard lunge. They mated wildly. No pretense. No pretty words. Nothing, but the raw, animal pleasure they both craved.

  Hours later, as early morning sunlight poured into the room, Jordan woke. She stretched languidly, her body aching and slightly bruised. But she had never felt more alive in her entire life.

  Rick lay beside her, his dark head on the blush-rose pillowcase. She reached down and ran her index finger softly over his lips. He grunted. She jerked her hand away. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her.

  “Good morning.”

  She leaned over him, her tangled hair falling about her shoulders, and returned his smile. During the night she had become as familiar with this man’s body as he had with hers. They knew each other on the most physically intimate of terms. And yet in the cold hard light of day, she felt oddly shy with him.

  As if sensing her timidity, he ran a finger down her throat and between her breasts. “It’s all right. Neither of us made any promises.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Don’t analyze what happened,” he told her. “This thing between us is what it is.”

  It isn’t love. It isn’t love.

  “You understand, don’t you? The timing is all wrong.”

  “Wrong time, wrong place. Wrong man?” He tossed back the covers separating their bodies, then reached out and pulled her down over him.

  She snuggled close, her naked body fitting perfectly on top of his. “Wrong time, wrong place, but there’s nothing wrong about or with the man.”

  He skimmed her hips and buttocks with his fingertips. His touch set her on fire. When he urged her up enough to ease inside her, she shuddered, loving the feel of him, big and hard, sheathed within her.

  They made love again, but this time with a tender passion, savoring each moment.

  They have no idea that I opened the door and I’m watching them. They’re too caught up in having sex. I had planned to surprise Jordan with fresh flowers from the garden and instead she surprised me.

  You have no idea what you’re doing. You don’t love him. And he certainly doesn’t love you.

  Don’t you know what kind of man Rick Carson is? He believes you’re a killer. You can’t trust him.

  If only you hadn’t lost our precious baby, we would be complete and neither of us would ever need anyone else.

  I can’t stay here any longer. I have to leave. I have to forget what I’ve seen. But I must remember that you’re in danger, now more than ever.

  I know what I have to do. I finally realize what will make you happy. And it’s not Rick Carson or any other man. Why has it taken me all these years to understand that there is only one place on earth where you belong?

  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make all the plans for us and soon, very soon, Rick Carson will be out of our lives forever.

  And you’ll be happy again. Truly happy.

  Chapter 31

  Rick figured everyone suspected that his relationship with Jordan had changed, which worked to their advantage in trying to force the killer to attack him. Although they weren’t openly affectionate toward each other when anyone else was around, they often looked at each other, smiled at each other and sometimes even laughed as if they shared a secret.

  He and Jordan were lovers. For the past four nights, he had shared her bed.

  They had just finished breakfast in the dining room this morning, along with Darlene, Devon, Roselynne, Tammy, and Rene. He had felt their curious stares during the meal and sensed that each of them wanted to warn him that if he hurt Jordan, he’d be sorry. But on the surface, each of them was cordial to him; Roselynne and Rene were even friendly.

  While walking Jordan to her study where she and Rene would go over the morning mail and attend to any other business matters concerning Price Manor and the loose ends of the late senator’s life, Rick’s phone rang.

  “You two go on,” he told them.

  From where he stopped in the hallway, he could see the door to the study. He flipped open his phone. “Morning. I hope you have some news for us.”

  “Actually, I do,” Griff replied. “First, I thought you’d want to know that J.C. Harris made a phone call to Sheriff Corbett last night.”

  “Is that right?” Rick snorted. “Not of his own free will, I’ll bet.”

  “Let’s just say that Luke Sentell persuaded him to tell the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “Lt. Haley McLain went to Harris and encouraged him to sell the information about Jordan and her marriage to the senator to The Chatterbox. She even set things up for him.”

  Rick wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. He had hoped he was wrong about Haley. “I hate being right.”

  “She’ll receive disciplinary action,” Griff said. “More than likely, she’ll lose her job, but that’s what happens when you betray the people who trust you. Seems, according to Harris, the lieutenant had her eye on Sheriff Corbett’s job.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me either.”

  “I didn’t call you last night to tell you about Lt. McLain because I was expecting a report from Dr. Hamilton this morning and hoped I’d have some good news for you.”

  “And?” Rick’s gut tightened. He hadn’t admitted to himself until this very second how important the autopsy report was to him.

  “We did a rush job on the lab work,” Griff told him. “Neither the autopsy nor the lab results show anything suspicious. Dr. Hamilton’s opinion is that Robby Joe Wright was a healthy, drug-free young man and his death was caused by trauma from injuries sustained in the car wreck. Add these findings to the initial police report, which we went over with a fine-tooth comb, and there’s only one logical conclusion.”

  Rick released a deep breath. “His death wasn’t the result of murder. It was an accident.”

  “Out of seven deaths, that’s two we know for sure Jordan wasn’t responsible for. You were with her when Jane Anne Price was murdered and her former fiancé’s death was an accident.”

  “How does this change the dynamics of the black widow theory?”

  “It adds the element of doubt. If Jordan didn’t kill her fiancé, then it’s possible she didn’t kill either husband number one or husband number two. Brannon’s death could have been a hunting accident and nothing more. But Dan Price was murdered. At this point, I don’t believe there’s any doubt about it.”

  “Do you think it’s possible the other deaths were just what they appeared to be and we’re not looking for a Jordan-obsessed serial killer after all?”

  “At this point, I don’t know,” Griff admitted. “I talked to Derek before I called you and, even knowing Robby Joe wasn’t murdered, he still thinks some if not all of the others were murdered by the same person.”

  “Damn!”

  “Are you willing to keep your head in the noose to see if somebody will try to tighten it around your neck?” Griff asked.

  “Yeah. Absolutely. I want Jordan cleared and I want the real killer brought to justice.”

  “Do I take it that you now have no doubts about Jordan’s innocence?”

  He hesitated before replying. All of his adult life, Rick had gone with his gut instincts, which luckily had been proven right most of the time, but not always. One thing he’d never done was go on blind faith alone. This time, things were different. He was different.

  “Let’s just say that I know Jordan isn’t a killer.”

  “All the same, don’t take any stupid chances.”

  Rick grunted. “I’ll do my best.”

  “By the way, you can tell Mrs. Wright that we’ll send her son’s body to the funeral home this afternoon. She can contact them and follow through with th
e arrangements.”

  “I think having a re-interment service is a bad idea. It’s only going to make it more difficult for everyone involved.”

  “She’s his mother. It’s her right to do whatever she wants. Maybe having this second funeral is necessary for her peace of mind.”

  “Yeah, sure. Maybe you’re right.”

  The last thing Rick wanted was for Jordan to be dragged back into that emotional black hole created by Robby Joe’s death. She was alive again, truly alive, and he’d be damned if he would let her regress and disappear back into the passionless existence she’d lived in for the past twelve years.

  The private service for Robby Joe took place the following day at Jernigan Crossroads Funeral Home, a small town operation that had been in business for nearly a hundred years. Rick and Nix Elliott had taken two cars. Jordan, Mrs. Wright and Devon rode with Rick. Roselynne, Tammy and Rene rode with Nix. The service had been postponed until three in the afternoon so that a quartet from one of the local churches could perform two songs, both chosen by Darlene.

  Nix remained outside the chapel while Rick waited inside, standing at the back, close by in case Jordan needed him. But he wasn’t one of the mourners. If he’d had his way, Robby Joe’s casket would have been put back in the ground unceremoniously.

  Jordan accompanied Darlene from the front pew to the casket which was draped in a full blanket of fresh spring flowers. Five large floral arrangements flanked the torchieres on either side of the casket. Recorded music, piped through the room from strategically placed speakers, provided an organist’s rendition of an old spiritual. Darlene laid her hand on the side of the dark blue coffin. Weeping quietly, she dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief.

  Rick noticed that Darlene said something to Jordan, who immediately broke off one of the red rosebuds from the blanket. When she walked Darlene back to their seats, Jordan handed her the flower.

  Just as the minister, Reverend Crowell, from the church Darlene had attended as a young woman, approached the pulpit, Claire and Ryan Price entered the chapel. They paused beside Rick and both glanced his way. Ryan nodded at him, then he and Claire made their way forward and sat in the pew directly behind Jordan.

  Rick could only imagine the effect today’s events would have on Jordan, who sat ramrod straight, her arm draped around Darlene’s hunched shoulders.

  After the minister read several verses from the Bible, the quartet sang “The Lord’s Prayer.” When the good reverend spoke about Robby Joe in a kind, sympathetic voice, a chorus of sniffling and soft weeping filled the chapel.

  Thankfully, the service was short. Twenty minutes from beginning to end. While Devon and Jordan helped Darlene into the car, Jordan pulled Rick aside.

  “We won’t be going on to the cemetery today,” she told him. “There was some sort of mix-up about the backhoe to cover the grave and it won’t be available until tomorrow. Darlene and I will drive back over to the cemetery in the morning.”

  “You can’t go alone, just the two of you. I’ll drive y’all.”

  “All right.” She looked at him, her eyes dry, her expression solemn. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here. For staying inside the chapel for the service. I couldn’t see you, but I felt you were there with me.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her to cry and keep on crying. Instead, he cupped her elbow and helped her into the backseat of the sedan.

  It hadn’t been difficult to cancel the backhoe and re-schedule it for tomorrow morning. All it took was one little phone call pretending to be a new funeral home employee. But getting Rick Carson out of the way might prove to be more difficult. She had to find a way to distract him, if she intended to get Jordan alone. Of course, killing him was one solution. But she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself, so she’d have to find another way.

  While waiting for the results of Robby Joe’s autopsy, she had formulated her plan. She should have known all along that there was only one way to secure Jordan’s happiness. All these years, she had done everything possible to keep Jordan safe, to protect her, to support her, love her, give her whatever she needed, and to share every sorrow with her. And yet she had only partially succeeded.

  She knew she had a very brief window of opportunity to accomplish her goal and secure Jordan’s happiness.

  It had to be tonight.

  Dinner had been a somber threesome that evening. Rene had been a no-show, using the excuse of a headache in order to escape. Darlene had requested hot herbal tea be brought upstairs to her guestroom. Roselynne had phoned to say that she and Tammy were going to have dinner at home. And even Devon had excused himself before Vadonna served dessert.

  Jordan had moved her food around on her plate for the past thirty minutes, but Rick noticed she hadn’t eaten more than a bite or two.

  When Vadonna placed the bowls of blackberry cobbler à la mode in front of Rick and Jordan, she frowned as she stared at Jordan’s plate.

  “If you don’t start eating, Miss Jordan, you’re going to dry up and blow away. I want to see you eat that cobbler. I picked those wild blackberries myself, off the bushes here on the estate.”

  “The cobbler looks delicious,” Jordan said. “I promise I’ll eat as much as I can.”

  Vadonna smiled as she cleared the table and returned to the kitchen.

  “Is there any way I can persuade you not to go to the cemetery tomorrow?” Rick asked.

  “I have to go. It’s important to Darlene.”

  “Couldn’t you talk to her, maybe convince her to wait and you two visit his grave in a few weeks?”

  “No. She needs to see this through tomorrow and so do I.”

  He nodded. “Cam Hendrix called when you went upstairs to take Darlene her tea. He plans to meet with the district attorney and the sheriff tomorrow. With the proof that Robby Joe’s death was an accident and with J.C.’s written confession that Lt. McLain was involved in The Chatterbox exposé, Cam believes he can persuade the DA not to pursue you as a suspect in your husband’s murder.”

  Jordan’s hand holding the dessert spoon shook so badly that she dropped the spoon against the glass bowl. She jerked her hand back, took a calming breath and pressed her open palm over her neck.

  “I still find it difficult to believe that someone killed Dan,” Jordan said. “And it seems our little plan to force someone to attack you hasn’t worked, has it? Maybe your theory is wrong. Maybe no one—”

  Tobias called, “Miss Jordan, you have to go over to Mrs. Harris’s right away.” He stood in the doorway, concern etched on his face. “She just called and said Miss Tammy has gone crazy or something. She’s screaming and crying and throwing things and Mrs. Harris can’t do a thing with her. Miss Tammy keeps saying your name.”

  Jordan shoved her chair back and shot to her feet. Rick got up and followed her through the house and out the back door. When she broke into a run, he caught up with her halfway to the Harris’s cottage. Even from that distance, they could hear Tammy hollering.

  Roselynne, in her red satin robe and matching slippers, met them in the yard, a look of absolute fear on her face. “I’ve never seen her like this. Not ever. This isn’t one of her usual temper tantrums. It’s as if she’s gone berserk. I can’t get her to calm down and she won’t tell me what’s wrong.” Roselynne grabbed Jordan’s hands. “She keeps saying that she wants you.”

  “I’ll go in and talk to her,” Jordan said.

  “She’s locked herself in her room and told me to get out of the house and stay out, that she doesn’t want to see anybody but you.”

  Jordan looked at Rick. “Please, stay out here with Roselynne and let me go in alone.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rick told her.

  “Tammy won’t hurt Jordan, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Roselynne said. “If she hurts anybody, it’ll be herself.”

  “Stay out here, both of you,” Jordan said. “If I need you
, I’ll let you know.”

  Rick didn’t like the idea of Jordan going into the house alone, but short of using physical force, he knew he couldn’t stop her.

  He grabbed her arm. “Be careful.”

  She pulled away from him and went into the house.

  They could hear Tammy screeching, the sound slightly muffled through the closed doors. Then suddenly a door slammed and Tammy quieted.

  “Maybe just seeing Jordan has calmed her down,” Roselynne said.

  “You have no idea what caused Tammy to—”

  “She was fine when I went into the bathroom to take my nightly bubble bath. I usually listen to some soothing music and relax for thirty minutes or so. I left Tammy in the kitchen, putting the supper dishes in the dishwasher. She’d been kind of quiet ever since the service for Robby Joe, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was a sad day for all of us. And even though Darlene’s not my favorite person, I felt so sorry for her. I guess it was kind of like losing her boy all over again.”

  “Were you already in the bathtub when Tammy started screaming?” Rick asked.

  “Sure was. I’d been soaking a good fifteen minutes when I heard her wailing like a banshee and tearing through the house, stomping like a horse. Lord, you should see the mess she made in the living room. She knocked over lamps and tossed throw pillows on the floor and broke two of my snow globes.”

  “Exactly what did Tammy say?”

  “Nothing that made any sense.”

  “Stop and think and then tell me, word for word, if possible.”

  Roselynne crossed her arms under her ample breasts and huffed. “Just a bunch of gibberish. Some nonsense about Jordan.”

  “What sort of nonsense?” Rick wanted to shake Roselynne and he would if he thought it might help the situation.

  “Oh, she kept saying that she loved Jordan. Her exact words were ‘I do so love Jordan. I do.’ She kept repeating that over and over again. Then she said something about our having to help Jordan be happy.”