Cold Hearted (19 page)

A light rap on the door quieted Ryan and silenced Rick.

“Ryan, Steve’s here. He’s waiting in the living room,” Claire called through the closed door.

“Thanks, honey. Ask him to come on back.”

“He doesn’t know?” Rick asked.

“Good God, no!”

A couple of minutes later, Claire opened the door, smiled lovingly at her husband, and stepped aside to allow the sheriff to enter. “Would you like for me to bring in a fresh pot of coffee?” She eyed the silver coffee pot on Ryan’s desk.

“Not now, thank you,” Ryan told her. “Come on in, Steve.”

Corbett, dressed in brown slacks and a tan sport coat, held his hat in his hand. “I hate like the devil to cause your family more grief, but I’ve got to do my job.”

“I understand,” Ryan said. “I’d appreciate it if you could wait a day or two before questioning Jordan, considering she just lost her baby.”

“I sure wish I could do that, but I can’t,” Corbett said.

“Why not?” Rick asked.

“I guess Ryan told you about the check we found in Jane Anne Price’s purse.”

Rick nodded. “I’m sure Mrs. Price has a simple explanation for the check.”

“Sure hope so,” Corbett said. “And I sure hope she can explain why the scarf tied around Jane Anne’s neck, the scarf the coroner is pretty sure was used to strangle her, belongs to Jordan.”

“It’s a damn shame that the sheriff’s wasting his time looking at Jordan for Jane Anne Price’s murder when we all know she didn’t do it,” Roselynne said, then popped the last bite of buttered biscuit into her bright red mouth.

Tammy watched as her mother washed down the biscuit with her liberally sweetened coffee. Her mother was a beautiful woman despite being nearly sixty. She was slightly overweight, but her skin was flawless, her hair silky blonde, and her makeup and clothes impeccable. Of course, Roselynne’s style was perhaps a bit too flamboyant for most women, but it suited her exuberant personality. Oh, how she wished she was half as attractive as her mother. It wasn’t fair that J.C. had inherited their parents’ good looks while she was the ugly duckling in the family.

“Somebody’s sure got it in for our Jordan,” J.C. said.

“What do you mean?” Roselynne asked.

“Well, somebody gave the
Daily Gazette
the information about Boyd and Robby Joe and Mr. Farris and Daddy Wayne. And my bet is that same somebody killed Dan’s ex-wife and deliberately used Jordan’s scarf to strangle the bitch.”

“Now who on earth would hate our Jordan enough to try to frame her for a murder?” Roselynne asked, a totally baffled expression on her face.

“I agree with your mother,” Darlene said. “Everyone loves Jordan and I can’t imagine anyone trying to implicate her in a murder. Perhaps the scarf that was used to kill Jane Anne Price wasn’t Jordan’s and instead simply a scarf just like Jordan’s.”

“Don’t y’all think it’s odd that the information about the scarf was released to the press,” Tammy said. “Now everyone who read the morning paper knows about it.”

J.C. snorted. “For once you’re right, Miss Straw-for-brains. You’d think the sheriff’s department would have kept that tidbit under wraps.”

Tammy both loved and hated her brother. Although he often was unmercifully cruel in the way he kidded her about her nervous condition — such as calling her Miss Straw-for-brains — he was equally nice to her some of the time. He would buy her little presents: a new music CD, a pretty sweater, a pair of earrings, her favorite candy. And when they’d been children, before Mama had married Daddy Wayne and she’d had to work nights, J.C. had taken care of Tammy. He’d fixed her meals and helped her with her homework and if she had a nightmare, he had sat beside her bed until she’d gone back to sleep.

“I hope Jordan isn’t putting her trust in the wrong person.” Darlene folded her linen napkin and placed it to the side of her plate. “Although I admit that Mr. Carson seems to be a good man and he’s been genuinely concerned about Jordan, we don’t really know him.”

“He isn’t one of us,” J.C. said. “Not part of the family. Of course, that could be a plus for him. By now, Jordan’s got to be damn sick and tired of the whole lot of us.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” As she pushed back her chair and stood, Darlene gave J.C. a belittling glare. “We are Jordan’s family and she loves us as we love her. However, you have, no doubt, tried her patience almost beyond endurance and embarrassed her with your vulgarity and crudeness.”

“You’re not family, not the way we are.” J.C. smiled that cocky, devilish grin that meant he was up to no good. “You’re not Jordan’s mother. Hell, you’re not even her stepmother. You’re just some pitiful old woman Jordan feels sorry for.”

“J.C., you apologize to Darlene right this minute,” Roselynne said.

“No need to waste your breath,” Darlene told him. “Your hateful words mean absolutely nothing to me nor would your apology.”

Tammy didn’t especially like Darlene, although the woman had never been unkind to her. Actually, she mostly ignored Tammy, as if she didn’t exist. But Darlene despised J.C., probably because he took every possible opportunity to rile her.

There was something sad about Darlene. When she’d mentioned this, her mama had said it was because Darlene had lost her only child and when a mother loses a child, she never quite gets over it.

Did that mean that Jordan would never get over losing her baby?

She wished she could think of something special to do for Jordan. Make her a cake or buy her a present, anything that would show her how much she was loved. And Tammy did love Jordan, who had always been the best sister in the world. Oh, she knew they weren’t truly sisters, that they didn’t have the same mama and daddy. But Daddy Wayne had been Jordan’s real daddy and he had adopted her and J.C., so that meant she and Jordan were sort of real sisters, didn’t it?

Jordan did so much for everyone. She supposed the others thought she didn’t have sense enough to realize that without Jordan they would be destitute. She’d heard Mama say that to J.C. once when he’d been complaining that Jordan wouldn’t lend him a thousand dollars.

“Boy, you’d try the patience of a saint.” Their mama had shaken her finger in his face. “It’s not enough for you that Jordan puts a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and clothes on our backs, is it? No, you expect her to pay off your gambling debts. Why, that girl is a saint, I tell you. Without her, we’d be destitute.”

Tammy and Mama agreed that there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for Jordan. They owed her more than they’d ever be able to repay.

“When Daddy Wayne died, she could have washed her hands of us,” Mama had said. “But she didn’t, did she?”

Sometimes she loved hearing J.C. laugh, but other times, like now, when he was laughing at someone, she hated the very sound of it. His laughter followed Darlene as she left the dining room. Holding her head high, she completely ignored J.C.

“That old biddy’s got a cob stuck up her ass,” J.C. said. “I swear, she’s the snootiest old heifer I’ve ever known.”

“I wish you’d learn to keep your mouth shut,” Roselynne said. “But you’re just like your father. He had a smart mouth, just like you. That man could cut a person to pieces with his sharp tongue. But mind what I tell you, boy, that mouth of yours is going to get you killed one of these days.”

J.C. got up, leaned over their mama’s chair and kissed her cheek. “But you love me, just like you loved him. And you’re glad I got his handsome face and his sweet-talking charm, aren’t you?”

Roselynne slapped him on the arm. “Just behave yourself. Jordan’s coming home this morning and it’s going to be rough enough for her, what with losing the baby and being a suspect in Dan’s ex-wife’s murder, without your adding to her problems.”

“She’s a person of interest, Mama, not a suspect,” J.C. corrected her. “And you don’t have to worry about our Jordan. She’s got the Price millions at her disposal. Ryan’s brought in half the Powell agency to keep the old homestead locked down. And I overheard Rick Carson and Ryan talking about bringing in Camden Hendrix. That guy’s made a fortune defending rich folks like Jordan and getting them off scot-free whether they’re innocent or guilty.”

“Well, Jordan is most certainly innocent.”

“You really think she’s not capable of murder?”

“Most certainly not.”

J.C. shrugged.

“Don’t you be mean to Jordan,” Tammy said. “Don’t you dare be mean to her.”

“Now, look what you’ve done.” Roselynne huffed. “You’ve gone and upset your sister.”

J.C. came over to Tammy and ruffled her hair. She stared up at him. He smiled down at her.

“I won’t be mean to Jordan. I promise. So don’t you worry, kiddo.”

She smiled. “Okay.” She liked it when J.C. called her kiddo. “I know you mean it because you’ve never broken a promise to me. Not ever.”

The hordes descended on them the moment they slowed down to wait for the electronic gates to open. They pounded on the SUV’s doors, jumped on the hood, and pressed their faces against the windows. All of them were shouting questions, their voices combining to create a horrendous roar like the sound of a monstrous beast. Devon, who was sitting in the backseat with Jordan, wrapped her protectively in his arms.

“My God, they’re like a pack of mad dogs,” Devon said.

“Hold on,” Rick ordered. “I’m going to gun it and get away from them.”

Jordan held her breath. The Jeep lurched forward, sending the people hanging onto the SUV flying off onto the ground. Rick barely managed to maneuver his Jeep through the front gates and onto the private drive without running over a reporter.

“The Powell agents at the gate will gather up anyone who came through with us by hanging onto the Jeep,” Rick said. “And they’ll escort them out.”

Devon grasped Jordan’s hand. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

“Yes, I know. I’m safe for now.” She looked at the back of Rick’s dark head and broad shoulders. She instinctively knew that as long as she was in Rick’s capable hands, she would be all right.

“You like him,” Devon whispered in her ear, so softly that she barely heard him.

She squeezed his hand, looked right at him, and nodded.

Rick pulled up at the front of the house, hopped out of the Jeep, and opened the back door. By the time he helped her out and he and Devon escorted her to the veranda, her family poured through the front door. Flanking Jordan, Rick and Devon formed a protective shield between her and the others.

As she looked among smiling, concerned faces and heard murmurs of “welcome home” and “we love you,” Jordan’s gaze connected with her brother-in-law’s. Ryan stood in the open doorway, his somber expression warning her of what was to come.

When she caught a glimpse of Sheriff Corbett standing in the foyer, behind and to Ryan’s left, her steps faltered. Rick slid his arm around her waist to steady her. She closed her eyes for half a second and prayed for strength.

“Y’all need to let Jordan get through and into the house,” Devon said. “Everyone can talk to her later.”

The sea of friendly, loving faces parted, clearing the path to the front door. When they reached the entrance, Devon paused, kissed her cheek and then relinquished his position at her right side.

Once in the foyer, Ryan reached out and took her hands in his. “I’m so sorry about the baby.”

Although she prided herself on being able to control her emotions, losing her child had punched holes in her steel armor.

She looked past Ryan and stared at Steve Corbett. Suddenly she noticed that the sheriff was not alone. A deputy, whom she recognized as Lt. Haley McLain, stood at his side.

“Steve’s not going to question you until after you’ve spoken to your lawyer,” Ryan said. “And Mr. Hendrix will be with you during the questioning.”

“Has Cam gotten here yet?” Rick asked.

“He arrived about ten minutes ago,” Ryan replied. “He’s waiting in Dan’s study.”

“Take all the time you need, Mrs. Price,” Sheriff Corbett told her.

“Thank you.” She glanced around, searching for Tobias. When she caught a glimpse of him near the rear of the foyer, she motioned to him. “Tobias, please see that Sheriff Corbett and Lt. McLain have anything they need. Coffee or tea and sandwiches and cakes. And ask Vadonna to prepare lunch for everyone.”

“Yes, Miss Jordan.” He looked at her with a combination of sympathy and worry. “Do you need anything? Just tell me and—”

“Thank you, no.”

Ryan fell into step alongside Jordan as Rick led her toward Dan’s study. Ryan opened the door and entered first. An attractive, sandy-haired man rose from the sofa and came toward her. He wore a tailor-made, dark blue, pinstriped suit that fit his broad shoulders to perfection. His silver-dotted yellow silk tie lay neatly against his white-and-pale-silver-striped shirt. The man’s attire proclaimed him as a person of wealth and good taste. His closed-mouth smile and the cunning sparkle in his light blue eyes attested to his self-confidence.

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.”