Coldhearted Page 7

  How many more good years might Dan have had? One? Five? They would never know. His untimely death had saved all of them and at the same time had cheated them. Even if Devon could not see both sides of the issue, she could. If that made her the cold-hearted bitch that Rick Carson had accused her of being, then she accepted the condemnation. Life was never all black or all white; instead it was shades of gray. People were never all good or all bad, but myriad combinations.

  Had life and circumstances taken away all that was pure and good and loving inside her? Had she truly become cold hearted, so much so that she could admit, if only to herself, that perhaps Dan’s death would free her from the lie her life had become?

  Forgive me, Dan. Please forgive me.

  We both deserved so much more than what we had to settle for, a marriage without passion, living two separate lives, one in public and the other in private.

  Jordan slumped down into the nearest chair, bent over and covered her face with her hands, effectively muffling her moans. She wanted to cry, wished she could weep cleansing tears, allowing them to flow freely until she was spent. Crying would be such a relief. She curled up in the large, overstuffed chair, pulled the folded afghan from the arm, opened it, and wrapped it around herself.

  Tomorrow morning she would face what lay ahead: the reading of Dan’s will, the private investigation into his death, Gary Werneth taking Dan’s place in the senate, holding together and providing for her hodgepodge of a family, bringing her child into the world without his or her father, accepting the fact that she was destined to live the rest of her life without love.

  But tonight, she didn’t have to be strong and brave. She didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She didn’t have to feel guilty or blame herself for what had happened.

  All she had to do was survive one more night.

  She tapped softly on the door. She was concerned about Jordan. Devon should have stayed with her. He had always been such a comfort to her, had been at her side through all her tragedies. But perhaps this time, Devon couldn’t give her what she needed because he, too, was grieving a personal loss. He had loved Dan, as they all had loved him. What would happen to them now that Dan was gone? Unless he had changed his will without informing anyone, Jordan stood to inherit a third of his vast fortune. If only she’d been able to tell him about the child she was carrying, he might have divided things up differently. Even now, it was possible that a clever lawyer could protest the will and claim a portion of Dan’s wealth for his son or daughter. But no matter what Jordan decided to do about the inheritance, there was no need to worry. Jordan would take care of her. She’d take care of all of them, just as she’d been doing for years.

  “Jordan…Jordan, are you all right?” She tried the handle and found the door locked. Oh, my, that wasn’t a good sign. “Please, Jordan, let me in. We’ll talk. Please, Jordan…”

  Silence.

  “If you need anything…Oh, Jordan, I’m so very sorry about Dan.”

  Why wouldn’t she answer? It wasn’t like Jordan to shut her out of her life this way.

  “I love you, Jordan, so very much. You know I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

  No reply. No response of any kind.

  She pressed her forehead against the closed door and laid both hands, palms open, flat against the door frame on either side. “I’ll never leave you. I promise that you can depend on me as long as I live.”

  Rick took the call from fellow Powell agent, Maleah Perdue, at nine-thirty that night.

  “I’ll fax you everything we’ve got in the morning,” Maleah told him. “But I thought I’d fill you in on some information I found more than interesting.”

  “Shoot,” Rick said.

  “I’ve formed a theory based on the preliminary info we’ve gathered. Let’s see if you agree after I present the evidence.”

  “Evidence? You sound like you’ve decided who our killer is.”

  “We aren’t a hundred percent sure Senator Price was killed, are we?”

  “Not a hundred percent,” Rick said.

  “If he was murdered, at this point in the investigation, I’ll give you odds that the wife killed him.”

  Rick’s gut tightened. “Based on what evidence?”

  “You already know that Daniel Price was not Jordan Price’s first husband, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “She was a widow when she married the senator, so now at the ripe old age of thirty-four, she’s been widowed twice,” Maleah told him. “Actually, she was almost widowed three times.”

  “Explain.”

  “When she was twenty-one, she was engaged to a man named Robby Joe Wright. Three weeks before their wedding, he died in a one-car accident. Then a few years later, when the lady was in her late twenties, she lost husband number one, Boyd Brannon, in a hunting accident, and now her second husband supposedly committed suicide. Odd, don’t you think, that three men who loved Jordan Price have died?”

  “Are you saying you think she killed all three men?”

  “Maybe. Possibly. I’m going to dig deeper and find out if she gained financially from Robby Joe Wright’s death or Boyd Brannon’s death. Want to bet me that she did? Let’s say fifty bucks?”

  A sick feeling hit Rick in the pit of his stomach. “If I was sure the lady was innocent, I’d take you up on that bet.”

  “But you’re not sure, are you? You’re wondering, just like I am, if maybe Jordan Price is a black widow.”

  Chapter 6

  Rick spent his first night at Price Manor alternating between a restless sleep riddled with odd dreams and episodes of wide-awake floor-walking. There was something about staying in this old mansion that didn’t set right with him. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but if he did, he would be on the lookout for the late senator. He’d sure like to ask Dan Price who had killed him.

  A couple of times during the night, he could have sworn he’d heard footsteps in the hall outside his door. And then once, he woke up because he was dead certain he’d heard someone scream. But when he had checked the hall, it had been empty and silent. Apparently, he’d been suffering from some really weird nightmares.

  It didn’t help that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Maleah had told him about Jordan. The lady had lost two husbands and a fiancé in the span of twelve years, each man having met an untimely death. Okay, so it was possible that she was simply very unlucky in love. But what were the odds that a woman who hadn’t even celebrated her thirty-fifth birthday would have buried three men who had loved her?

  While Rick shaved and showered, he listed all the reasons he should not jump to conclusions, reasons he should not assume Jordan was guilty of murdering her husband. Then he listed the logical reasons why she could have murdered three men. By the time he had dressed and was ready to go downstairs for breakfast, he had come to one conclusion—he should call Nic and ask her to replace him on this assignment. The bottom line was simple: he suspected his employer of murder. Before he phoned Nic, he needed to speak to Jordan. She would be expecting his first report this morning and the least he could do was confront her with the information and give her a chance to defend herself.

  Once downstairs, Rick caught a glimpse of Tobias as he entered the dining room.

  “Good morning, Mr. Carson.” Tobias nodded, then carried a silver coffee pot into the dining room and placed it on a silver tray atop the sideboard.

  Rick paused in the open doorway. “Has Mrs. Price come down yet?”

  “Yes, sir. Miss Jordan is in her study.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rick checked his wristwatch as he headed toward Jordan’s study at the back of the house. Seven-thirty. Apparently, she was an early riser, just as he was. Except for the servants, the downstairs appeared to be empty of other inhabitants. He wondered just how many people had actually spent the night here and how many had finally made their way home.

  When he neared Jordan’s study, he h
eard voices coming from inside, but he couldn’t make out the conversation. The door stood ajar, more than halfway closed, so he paused and listened without making his presence known.

  “You don’t have to do this today,” a female voice said.

  Rick thought it sounded like Rene Burke, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

  “The sooner the better,” Jordan said. “The longer we wait, the more speculation there might be about who the father of this child is.”

  Child? What child?

  “You make a valid point,” Rene replied. “I’ll put together a press release, that is, assuming you don’t want to make the announcement yourself.”

  “No, I think it would be in poor taste for me to speak publicly so soon after Dan’s death. But please express how happy I am about the baby and how much Dan and I wanted this child.”

  The news hit Rick like an anvil dropped on his head. Jordan Price was pregnant!

  “Oh, sweetie, if Dan had only known…,” Rene said. “At least this way, you’ll always have a part of Dan with you. We all will, all of us who loved Dan. And anyone who knows you would never question your child’s paternity.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” Jordan told her assistant. “From now on, the most important thing in my life is my child. He or she comes first. I will do whatever it takes to protect my baby and give him or her the best life possible, even without Dan here to help me.”

  “He will have Devon and his Uncle Ryan for male role models and all of us to love him. And he’ll grow up knowing what a fine man his father was.”

  After knocking on the partially closed door, Rick swung it open all the way. “Am I interrupting anything? If so, I can come back later.”

  The two women turned quickly to face him, both obviously surprised by his intrusion.

  “No, please, come in,” Jordan said. “Rene was just leaving.” She turned to her assistant. “I’d like to read over the press release before you contact the media.”

  “Certainly.” Rene offered Rick a forced smile as she walked past him and out of the room.

  “Would you care for coffee?” She indicated the carafe on her desk. “I’m afraid it’s decaf. Or if you prefer hot tea, I can—”

  “Coffee’s fine, but it can wait. I’m here, as promised, to report to you.”

  “Yes, of course. I suppose I wasn’t expecting anything this soon.”

  Rick looked her over, from head to toe. She didn’t look pregnant. No tummy bulge, not even a slight one. She was slender and pale. Too pale. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to glow?

  How could he confront a pregnant woman with his suspicions? He had already asked her if she’d killed her husband and she’d told him that she hadn’t. What if he pointed out that she’d lost two husbands and a fiancé and implied how unlikely that all three died of natural causes and it upset her? He didn’t like the idea of upsetting Jordan, especially considering her condition.

  “Look, I think you should know that I overheard your conversation with Ms. Burke,” Rick confessed. “At least enough to know that you’re pregnant.”

  Sighing, she nodded slowly. “My pregnancy isn’t a secret. Everyone in my family and close circle of friends already knows. And after the press release later today, the whole world will know.”

  Rick glanced at her flat stomach. “You’re not showing. You must not be very far along.”

  “About six weeks.”

  “And the senator didn’t know you were pregnant?”

  “No. I had planned to tell him that morning when I found him in his study.”

  “You want this child, don’t you? I heard you say that your child was the most important thing in your life.”

  “We wanted a child. Dan and I. I just wish he could have…” She swallowed hard.

  Rick gritted his teeth. She seemed so sincere, so genuinely sad.

  “Dan would have been such a good father. He was a good man. Kind and caring. He would have loved this child so much.”

  When she unconsciously laid her hand over her belly in such a gentle, protective movement, Rick sensed how much this child meant to her. She wasn’t faking the depth of her feelings. And if she loved his child, didn’t it stand to reason that she had loved Dan Price?

  “Look, is there anything I can do for you?” Rick took a tentative step toward her, desperately wishing he could erase the pain he saw in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Carson…Rick.” Jordan tried to smile. “I’m all right. Really I am.” She changed the subject quickly. “You’re here to give me a report, aren’t you?”

  He watched while she poured herself a cup of decaf from the carafe on her desk. She took a sip of the black coffee.

  “I really don’t have anything to report,” he said. “Nothing you don’t already know.”

  She took several more sips of coffee, then set the cup and saucer on her desk and glanced at Rick. “I sense there’s something you wanted to say to me.”

  “It can wait.”

  “Please, won’t you sit down? Have some coffee and tell me whatever it is.”

  His experience with pregnant women was very limited. He’d never been married or fathered a child. His sister was older than he, so he hadn’t seen his own mother pregnant. And after devoting most of her life to her career, his sister had married only a couple of years ago and she and her husband had adopted a ten-year-old last year.

  Rick didn’t sit. Instead, he walked over to Jordan and looked her right in the eyes. “I received a report from Powell’s last night.”

  “A report on what?” she asked, her expression one of total innocence.

  “A report on you.”

  Her expression didn’t alter except for a slight flickering of her eyelashes that hinted surprise. “You requested a report on me?”

  “It’s standard procedure. I’ll get one on Ryan, too, probably later today.”

  “Did you find anything of interest in the report, something that adds to your suspicions?”

  “You’ve had several tragedies in your life.”

  “I’d say that’s an understatement.”

  He suspected that she was forcing herself not to break eye contact, to continue looking directly at him. “It’s no secret that Dan is the third man that I’ve loved and lost. My fiancé died in a one-car accident shortly before we were to be married. I was twenty-one. My first husband was killed in a hunting accident when we’d been married only two years. And now, Dan…Neither Robby Joe nor Boyd was murdered, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Murder can be made to look like an accident,” Rick said and when her face went chalk white and her eyes widened in shock, he wished he’d kept that assessment to himself.

  Jordan slumped into the chair behind her desk, her movements indicating that she could barely manage to stand on her own two feet. Rick took several tentative steps toward her, concerned about her welfare.

  She held up a restraining hand. “No, please. I’m all right. Just shocked that you would even consider such a thing was possible.”

  “Look, I was hired for a specific reason and I have to consider every aspect of the situation, which means looking into the past. The senator’s past, your past, and the past of anyone who had an opportunity to kill Dan Price.”

  “I know you’re just doing your job, but the very idea that Robby Joe’s death or Boyd’s was anything other than an accident is ludicrous.”

  “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you, especially since you’re pregnant,” Rick said. “I think maybe we should discuss Powell’s sending in another agent to replace me, all things considered. I’m probably not the best man for this job.”

  “No! I don’t want another agent,” Jordan said vehemently. “I—I don’t want to start all over again with someone else. You’re here. You’re qualified. If you weren’t, Nicole wouldn’t have sent you. Am I right?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you’re right. But I thought that since—”

  “I’m not offended that you thi
nk I might have killed Dan. In your place, I might question my innocence, too, especially after learning that Dan was not the first man in my life who died unexpectedly. But I didn’t kill Dan anymore than I killed Robby Joe or Boyd. I’m not afraid of the truth and the truth is that Robby Joe’s death and Boyd’s death were terrible accidents. And if Dan really was murdered, I’m not his killer.”

  Damned if he didn’t believe her. At least for the moment. She looked so sincere, sounded so sincere, and sent out strong I’m-sweet-and-innocent vibes. Everything in him wanted to believe her without question. He wanted her to be just what she seemed, a grieving, pregnant widow who really had cared deeply for her husband and wouldn’t have harmed a hair on his head.

  Maybe he should stick around, stay on the job and prove to himself that Jordan was innocent of any wrongdoing. Wasn’t that what he wanted?

  “Will you please reconsider leaving, Mr. Carson? Please stay and continue to investigate Dan’s death.” She gave him a pleading look that had him all but dropping to his knees and begging her to forgive him for ever doubting her. Damn, she was good. Either that or he was far too susceptible to her charm.

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll consider staying, if that’s what you really want.”

  “It’s what I want, someone impartial who will find out the truth about Dan’s death.” She offered him a fragile, seductive smile.

  Hell, he was reading far more into her delicate smile than she intended. He wanted it to mean something personal. It didn’t and he damn well knew it didn’t.

  You can’t stay here. You’re too vulnerable to Jordan’s charm to remain impartial. You know she could be guilty of three murders, but you want her to be innocent because you want to screw her.

  There, he’d said it. He had admitted that he was thinking with his dick and not his brain. And he suspected he wasn’t the first man who’d let his libido take over and his good judgment go out the window where Jordan Price was concerned.

  Before he had the chance to refute his agreement to stay on as the Powell agent investigating her husband’s murder, they both heard a loud ruckus, the sounds of shouting, screaming and running feet coming from somewhere nearby.