Coldhearted Page 16

  He held out his hand to her. “Mrs. Price, I’m Camden Hendrix.”

  Keeping her gaze on his handsome face, she shook his hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Hendrix.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Now, we can speak alone, just the two of us, or your brother-in-law may stay with us, whichever you prefer.”

  “I prefer to speak to you alone.”

  Mr. Hendrix glanced from Ryan to Rick. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, please.”

  She sensed that both Ryan and Rick were reluctant to leave her. But when she walked over and sat down in the chair behind Dan’s desk and placed her hands in her lap, Ryan motioned for Rick to follow him. After they closed the door behind them, Mr. Hendrix turned and looked at her.

  “You understand that anything you tell me will be—”

  “Confidential,” Jordan said. “Client-attorney privileged information.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. That’s correct.”

  “Am I to assume you think I might be guilty?”

  “We’re all guilty of something, Mrs. Price. But if you’re asking if I believe you killed your husband’s ex-wife, then the answer is simple—I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “I didn’t kill Jane Anne.”

  “All right. Let’s say I believe you. Tell me why you gave her a check for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “She was blackmailing me.” She kept her gaze focused on his face. “I thought perhaps you’d already spoken to Rick Carson and knew all of this.”

  “I asked Rick not to tell me anything.”

  “I see. Then I need to fill you in on the whys and wherefores, don’t I?”

  “Right to the point,” Cam Hendrix said. “I like that. You and I are going to get along just fine, Mrs. Price.”

  “Please, call me Jordan.”

  Twenty minutes later, Cam invited Sheriff Corbett and his deputy into Dan’s study and the official interrogation session began.

  “First, I need for you to clarify something for me, Sheriff Corbett,” Cam said. “Is my client a suspect in the murder of Jane Anne Price?”

  Steve Corbett looked downright uncomfortable and after shifting about and heming and hawing, he finally replied, “No, sir, but Mrs. Price is considered a person of interest.”

  Cam leaned back against the side of the desk, resting his hips leisurely on the edge as he crossed his arms on his chest. The sheriff pulled up a chair and positioned it in front of where Jordan sat behind the desk. Lt. McLain remained stationed by the closed door.

  “Did you see Jane Anne Price the day she was murdered?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When and where?”

  “At the gates of the back entrance to the estate. And I believe it was around five o’clock.”

  “Why were you meeting secretly with—?”

  “My husband’s former wife was blackmailing me,” Jordan said. “I had arranged to pay her a hundred thousand dollars and meet with her away from Price Manor. But once my home was surrounded by reporters, I arranged to meet with her at the back of the estate. I gave her a check and I returned to the house. When I left her, she was very much alive.”

  “Why was she blackmailing you?”

  There it was, the one question she didn’t want to answer. She looked at Cam. He nodded.

  “Having been married to Dan, she had certain information about his health that I preferred not to become public knowledge.”

  “And what was that information?”

  Jordan placed her hand over her belly, swallowed hard and said, “Dan and I very much wanted a child, but my husband was sterile, so we agreed to try artificial insemination. Jane Anne knew that Dan was not the biological father of the child I…” She curled her hand into a fist and lifted it off her stomach. “I paid her to stop her from revealing this personal information to the world.”

  “But keeping this information secret certainly wasn’t important enough to kill someone to keep them quiet, was it?” Cam injected the comment into the interrogation process.

  Sheriff Corbett gave Cam a hard glare, then turned back to Jordan. “The scarf used to strangle Jane Anne Price belonged to you. It has your initials on it and was purchased for you by your late husband at a specialty shop in Priceville.”

  “The scarf is lavender silk and my initials are in dark purple,” Jordan said. “I haven’t worn the scarf since this past fall. I kept it in the top drawer of my dresser along with other scarves and several pairs of gloves.”

  “Then anyone in the house could have taken the scarf,” Cam said.

  Sheriff Corbett’s face turned beet red as he glowered at Cam.

  “I think what you’re leading up to asking me is if I killed Jane Anne,” Jordan said, “and the answer is no. I met her, gave her a check, and returned to the house. Rick Carson, the Powell agent Ryan and I hired to privately investigate my husband’s death, saw the entire transaction. He followed me back to the house and we spoke in my study. We were still together when Jane Anne’s body was found.”

  “I’d say you have all the information you need from my client.” Cam unfolded his arms, eased his hips away from the desk and stood. “I believe your next step is to verify what Mrs. Price just told you. I’m sure Rick Carson will corroborate her statement.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Sheriff Corbett frowned, then glanced over his shoulder at his deputy. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out—it looks like we’re going to be reopening the investigation into the senator’s death.”

  Jordan felt as someone had sucker-punched her.

  “Since Mrs. Price and her brother-in-law hired a private firm to investigate Dan Price’s death, then I’m sure they welcome this news.” Cam gave Jordan a sideways glance, as if checking to make sure she was reacting properly.

  “Yes, of course we do.” Jordan rose to her feet slowly and rounded the desk to stand beside her attorney. “I assume your department now has reason to believe that my husband did not commit suicide.”

  “District Attorney Anderman has consulted with the GBI and they’re in agreement that there is now reasonable doubt concerning your husband’s death. In light of new…er…uh…new information, they believe that further investigation into the senator’s death is called for.”

  “What new information?” Jordan asked, but she knew. Dear God, she knew.

  “Mrs. Price, I don’t know what to say.” Sheriff Corbett shook his head and then rubbed his jaw. “It wasn’t my decision and I don’t want you or Ryan to think for one minute that I believe any of it. I don’t. But…considering your past and all, the suspicious deaths of your first husband and your fiancé and—”

  “Both deaths were accidents,” Jordan said.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure they were.”

  “If you’ve finished questioning my client, Sheriff Corbett, then may I show you and your deputy out?” Cam Hendrix glanced at Jordan, his gaze silently ordering her to stay put. Then he walked the sheriff to the door and ushered him and Lt. McLain out into the hall.

  Jordan stood glued to the spot, her body frozen in place, her emotions numb. This isn’t happening. It can’t be. I’m innocent. I didn’t murder Dan or Boyd or Robby Joe.

  Cam returned quickly and slammed the door shut.

  As she stared at him, shivering inside, the only outward sign of her distress was a slight tremble in her hand.

  “One question, Mrs. Price—have you ever killed anyone?”

  “No,” she croaked the single word, barely managing to get it past her lips.

  “I didn’t think so. But not everyone is going to believe you, which means that in all likelihood, you’re going to be considered guilty until we can prove you’re innocent.”

  Chapter 14

  After Sheriff Corbett questioned Rick about where Jordan was when Jane Anne Price was killed and seemed satisfied with his answers, he excused himself. “I need to speak to Ryan. I want him to know that I didn’t have any choice i
n this matter. I’m just doing my job.”

  When Rick started to leave the room, Haley called his name. He paused and looked back at her. During the sheriff’s questioning, she had stood silently in the corner. He’d caught a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision more than once and each time she had been studying him closely, gauging his reactions.

  “Would you stay for a few minutes?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded and turned to face her. “What do you want?”

  “You still believe that I called someone at the Daily Gazette and told them about Jordan Price’s past, don’t you?”

  “I can’t figure out who else it could have been,” Rick said. “And I know Sheriff Corbett didn’t leak the info that the scarf used to kill Jane Anne Price belonged to Jordan. You wanted the investigation into Dan Price’s death reopened. Now, you’ve got what you wanted. The way I look at it, you’re the only one who possessed the information and had a reason to leak it to the press.”

  “Why do you believe her when she tells you she’s innocent and yet you won’t believe me?”

  Rick smirked. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Haley was jealous of Jordan. “Who says I believe her?”

  “You’re backing up her story about your being able to vouch for her whereabouts when Jane Anne Price was strangled and dragged into the pond. You wouldn’t do that unless she’d been able to convince you that she’s innocent.”

  “I backed up her story because she was telling the truth,” Rick said. “She didn’t kill the senator’s ex-wife. She couldn’t have because she was with me when it happened.”

  Haley sucked in her cheeks, then huffed loudly. “Okay, so maybe she didn’t kill the former Mrs. Price. She could have had someone else do it. Devon Markham or that stepbrother of hers or—”

  “Or she could have had nothing to do with it.” He examined Haley closely, noting the flare of her nostrils, the color in her cheeks and the way her eyes narrowed to slits. “You want her to be guilty. Why?”

  “If you weren’t infatuated with her, you’d see the obvious, as almost everyone else does. Damn it, Rick, you can’t let her sucker you this way. You’re too smart for that. Look at the evidence. You know as well as I do that the odds of a woman losing that many men in her life to so-called accidents are highly unlikely. She killed Dan Price and managed to make it look like suicide. She didn’t want to get stuck taking care of a sick husband, or maybe he found out she was fooling around and he was going to divorce her or just possibly she wanted his money, so she—”

  “You went to the DA with this theory, didn’t you? You pressed him to order the case reopened. And you probably called the boys at the GBI, too. After the article ran in yesterday’s paper, it would have been fairly easy to stir things up.”

  “Okay, so what if I did? I struck while the iron was hot. I did what Sheriff Corbett wouldn’t do because he’s a friend of the family.”

  “Yeah, and you did it while Jordan Price was in the hospital miscarrying a baby that meant everything to her.”

  “My God, would you listen to yourself! She’s got you so snowed you don’t know which end is up.”

  “I know that like every other U.S. citizen, Jordan Price is innocent until proven guilty.” Rick needed to hit something, but he sure as hell couldn’t hit Haley. He’d never struck a woman in his life. And he couldn’t ram his fist through the living room wall without breaking his hand. This old house had hard plaster walls that were probably at least a foot thick.

  “Just how much proof do you need?” Haley asked.

  “A hell of a lot more than you’ve got. Even if you could prove that Dan Price and the men in Jordan’s past were murdered, it doesn’t mean she killed them.”

  “When we dig deeper into her past and unearth more information about those deaths, we’ll be able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that no one other than Jordan had motive and opportunity and—”

  “While y’all are doing all that digging, just remember that Powell’s will be doing our own digging.”

  “Oh, I won’t forget and I won’t forget that you’re working for Mrs. Price.”

  “The Price family wants to learn the truth and that is what we’ll be trying to find out. But you’re not interested in the truth, are you? You’ve already tried and convicted Jordan. You and the DA are on a witch hunt.”

  “I really hoped you were smarter than other men. Smarter than Ryan Price and Sheriff Corbett and Devon Markham and the late senator and all the others Jordan Price has charmed. But you’re as big a fool as the rest of them.” She walked to the door and opened it, then paused and looked back at him. “Let’s just hope you don’t regret trusting her and wind up paying with your life like at least four other men have.”

  Haley’s words echoed in Rick’s head as he stormed out of the house. Was Haley right? Was he letting Jordan play him for a fool?

  “They’re not going to arrest Jordan, are they?”

  Only when she spoke did Rick realize he wasn’t alone on the veranda. Rene Burke was standing at the end of the porch. She took a last drag on her cigarette, crushed the burning end between her hot pink nails, and flicked the butt into the yard.

  “No,” Rick said.

  “Things don’t look good for her, do they?”

  “She’s being crucified in the press right now.”

  “She’s tough. She’ll survive.”

  Rick concentrated on Rene’s face, scrutinizing her expression, trying to discern what emotions provoked her comment. “I thought you were her friend.”

  “I am,” Rene said as she walked toward him. “We met in college, hit it off right away, and after college, when she helped me get a job at the Peachtree Agency, we became best friends. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. What I said about her being a survivor is true. It’s one of her many admirable qualities.”

  “You knew her first husband, Boyd Brannon, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I knew Boyd and I knew Robby Joe Wright, too. I’ve known all the men in Jordan’s life.” Rene smiled at him. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Ask me if I think she killed them.”

  “Okay. Do you think she killed them?”

  “No. Jordan’s a caretaker, not a killer.”

  “You knew Dan Price pretty well, didn’t you? Do you think he committed suicide?”

  “I suppose it’s possible, but Dan never struck me as the type. I’d come closer to believing that he was murdered.”

  “If that’s true and Jordan didn’t kill him, then who did?”

  “How should I know? Everybody liked Dan.”

  “Not everybody.”

  “Almost everybody,” she corrected her statement.

  “What if someone killed him for Jordan, someone who either knew or suspected the senator had Alzheimer’s and wanted to save Jordan from the agony of having to look after a slowly dying husband? Who do you know who would kill for her?”

  Rene cocked her head to one side, cut her eyes in his direction and stared up at him. “That’s some theory you’ve concocted, Mr. PI. Point the blame at someone else. Hmm…Who do I know who would kill for Jordan? The first person who comes to mind is Devon Markham, but he never would have harmed Dan.”

  “Anyone other than Markham?”

  “Sure, several people. Darlene Wright for one. She all but worships the ground Jordan walks on. And then there’s the Harris threesome, Roselynne and her two kids. They’d do anything in the world for Jordan because she’s their meal ticket.”

  “What about her stepchildren?”

  “I don’t see either of them as a killer, but they’re devoted to Jordan, so yeah, I suppose if push came to shove, they’d kill for her.”

  “And what about you, Rene?”

  “What about me?”

  “You said yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Jordan. Would you kill for her?”

  “Sure I would, if I had to.”

  * * *
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  Jordan escaped to her study and locked the door, something she never did. But she desperately wanted a few minutes alone without anyone hovering over her, asking her if she needed anything, if she was all right. No, she was not all right. She had lost her husband and her baby. She was being vilified in the press. They were calling her a black widow. She was also being labeled “a person of interest” in Jane Anne Price’s murder. Her brother-in-law had hired one of the most famous criminal lawyers in the South to represent her. She found it difficult to believe how quickly her contented life had spiraled out of control, beginning with Dan’s death.

  When a woman suffered a miscarriage, she should have her husband at her side, someone to share the grief, to mourn the loss. Right now, she should be lying in her husband’s arms, being comforted and consoled by the one other person whose loss was as great as hers.

  But even under the best of circumstances, Jordan’s life was far from normal and it hadn’t been since she was a child of ten.

  She sat in the comfortable armchair, leaned her head against the cushioned back and closed her eyes. If she had only herself to consider, she would have the luxury of shutting herself away to mourn for days on end. She could wallow in self-pity. She could let the world pass by until she was once again ready to participate in life.

  But she could no more put her own needs first now than she’d been able to when Dan had died. Then she’d had to think of Devon, who had lost the love of his life. And she’d had to think of the child she’d been carrying.

  When Boyd had died, she’d had to take care of his children and prepare them for a life without their father. It had been her responsibility to see to it that they not only had a home and the necessities of day-to-day living, but she’d had to think of their futures.

  When Robby Joe had died, she had thought she would die, too. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. But she hadn’t been alone in her grief. Darlene had lost her only child, the son who had been her whole world. She’d been left with no one except Jordan.

  Her father’s death had changed her life, but not for the better, his legacy the burden of a stepfamily that anyone else would have abandoned to fend for themselves. Roselynne had a good heart, but she was lazy and incompetent. Tammy had emotional and mental problems that required medication and counseling, neither of which was cheap. And J.C. was a charming, good old boy who, as Devon so aptly put it, wasn’t worth shooting.