Cold Hearted (27 page)

“Either way, we’re still working with the only information we have to date and that information is all but screaming serial killer, and certainly not your usual garden-variety serial killer at that.”

“We have another problem,” Nic said.

“And that would be?”

“We have new information that might relate to two active murder cases. Griff and I disagree whether we’re obligated to share this info with the Dade County sheriff’s department.”

“Let me guess. You believe we should notify Sheriff Corbett and Griff thinks we shouldn’t.”

“I don’t have to ask you which one of us you agree with, do I?”

“Jordan Price is our client and this information can only hurt her,” Rick said.

“What’s that old saying about the truth not hurting anyone unless it should?”

“Do you think she’s guilty, that she really is a black widow who has killed man after man?”

“The evidence points us in that direction, doesn’t it?” Nic said. “But the way I look at it, we have three possibilities: Jordan is indeed a black widow. Or someone close to her has been killing the men in Jordan’s life who have, in some way, harmed her. Or someone close to her hates her and by killing these men has been punishing Jordan, maybe even laying the groundwork for our black widow theory.”

“Maybe Griff should contact Derek Lawrence and ask him to look over the information and draw up a profile on the type of person who could have killed all six men.”

“And Jane Anne Price, too,” Nic reminded him.

“Her killer could be someone else,” Rick pointed out the obvious. “The former Mrs. Price was definitely killed in order to keep her quiet, but whether it was done to protect Jordan or to protect Dan Price or both, we don’t know.”

“Speak to Darlene Wright and Roselynne Harris. Griff and I will duke it out over whether or not to contact Sheriff Corbett.”

“Just remember one thing — you’re not an FBI agent now. You’re in the private detective business. That changes things. Your first allegiance is to your client.”

“Didn’t you forget all about that allegiance when you shared information with Lt. McLain?” Nic reminded him.

“Yeah, I did, and I’ve lived to regret that decision.” The mention of the deputy reminded Rick that the lady in question was waiting for him just beyond the closed door.

“I’ll keep an open mind and not make a hasty decision,” Nic said. “I promise.”

Rick laid his cell phone on the back of the commode and turned off the faucets. He whipped off the towel around his waist and grabbed his briefs from the vanity. His shirt and jeans hung on the door hook. He dressed hurriedly, grabbed his phone, stuck it in his pocket, and then walked into the bedroom.

Haley sat in one of two chairs facing the coal-converted fireplace. When he entered the room, she smiled.

“I’d begun to think you’d forgotten about me,” she told him.

He had almost forgotten about her. “Like I said, the call was business. If you had a problem waiting, maybe you should have considered phoning ahead of time instead of just dropping by.”

“The news must not have been good,” she said. “You seem to be in a bad mood.”

“Why are you here, Haley? If it’s in a professional capacity—”

“Only in a way. Actually, I came by to invite you to breakfast.”

He stared at her, trying to figure out what she was up to. Although he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that Haley had been the one who leaked the info about Jordan to the press, his gut instinct warned him that he couldn’t trust the lady.

“Breakfast is provided here at the Inn,” he told her as he put on his socks and shoes. “It’s part of the B&B deal.”

“Then invite me to join you.”

“Why so friendly all of a sudden?”

“I want to bury the hatchet. I thought the best way to start was to share some information with you, just as you did with me, to prove that I trust you.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?”

She grinned at him, her expression flirtatious. “We both want the same thing — to find out the truth. Who killed the senator and his ex-wife? The way I look at it, that puts us on the same side. We should be working together, not against each other.”

“Steve Corbett didn’t send you here, so who did?”

She laughed, but it was a nervous, I’m-hiding-some-thing laugh. “We’re not asking you to betray your client, but if we could share information, wouldn’t that help us both?”

“I’ll ask you again — who sent you?”

She huffed, obviously disappointed that her let’s-be-friends tactic didn’t work. “Cy Anderman thought I could talk sense to you.”

“Cyrus Anderman, the DA?”

She nodded. “Cy has contacted the FBI and asked them to look into the possibility that the murders of Senator Price and his ex-wife are the work of a serial killer who murdered Boyd Brannon, Donald Farris, Robby Joe Wright, and Wayne Harris.”

“Good,” Rick said. “Maybe if the FBI gets involved, they can prove that none of those men were murdered.”

“Do you really believe that?

“Whatever you thought you’d get from me, forget it. You’re wasting your time fluttering your eyelashes at me. It’s beneath you, Lt. McLain, to use your feminine charms to try to worm information out of me.”

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you think I know that’s so important?”

“You tell me.”

“Any information that Powell’s collects for our client belongs to the client,” he said. “If we come across anything that we believe the police should know, Griffin and Nicole Powell decide how to handle it.”

“Okay. I tried. I failed.” Haley shrugged.

“Giving up so easily?”

She sauntered over to him, stopping when only inches separated their bodies. She looked up at him, then ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

He grunted. “I’m not. I was just curious to see how far you’d go.”

She glowered at him. “You son of a bitch.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

She shook her head as if stunned that he’d turn down her unspoken offer. Then she turned and walked away. When she reached the door, she paused and said, “Watch your back, Rick. If you aren’t careful, you could wind up as dead as all the other men who trusted Jordan Price.”

“It was a relief when I drove up to the gates to see only a handful of reporters,” Ryan said as he entered the foyer at Price Manor. “I believe all the hullabaloo is finally dying down.”

“We can only hope,” Jordan said.

Ryan leaned over and kissed her cheek. “How are you holding up?”

She laced her arm through his. “By sheer will power alone.”

“If not for this damn investigation, I’d suggest you and Devon take off to the house in Key West for a few weeks. Some sun and sand and complete privacy would do you both a world of good.”

“I’m afraid running away from our problems isn’t an option.”

He searched her face, his gaze sympathetic and caring. Ryan was a fine man, so like Dan in many ways. Claire was a very lucky woman.

“Has Rick Carson arrived yet?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, he arrived about five minutes ago. Tobias told me that he showed Rick into my study and took him some coffee. I was dealing with an unpleasant family matter that held me up.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, not really. It’s nothing serious. Just one in a long line of squabbles between Darlene and Roselynne.”

“I thought those two had called a truce for the duration,” Ryan said. “What on earth are they at each other about now?”

When Jordan tugged on his arm, he fell into step alongside her as she led him out of the foyer.

“Would you believe they’re quarreling over a man?”

Ryan chuckled. “You’re joking.”

“No. It seems that Darlene saw Wallace slipping out Roselynne’s back door this morning and she is livid.”

“Why should Darlene care? It’s not as if it’s news to anyone that Roselynne’s morals are questionable.”

“I’m afraid Darlene may have a little crush on Wallace. I have noticed that whenever he has come to Price Manor during the past year or so that she’s managed to be here, also, and always wearing a new outfit and her hair and makeup perfect.”

“Of all the things for you to have to deal with now — a romantic triangle involving your two mothers.”

“Actually, in an odd way, having something that trivial to focus on is a relief. It takes my mind off other things. Serious things.”

Ryan didn’t reply, he simply gazed at her with understanding in his eyes.

When they reached the open door to her study, Jordan released Ryan’s arm and entered first. Standing to the right of the fireplace, Rick held a cup and saucer in his hand. He took a sip of coffee, then eyed Jordan over the rim of his cup.

“Good morning.” Rick glanced from Jordan to Ryan.

“You sounded dead serious when you phoned and asked me to meet you here,” Ryan said. “You mentioned that something has happened that will directly affect Powell’s investigation into Dan’s death.”

Rick placed the cup and saucer on the mantel. “Cyrus Anderman has contacted the FBI and asked them to come on board with the investigation into the senator’s death.”

“Why would the FBI be interested in Dan’s death?” Jordan asked. “Even if Dan was murdered, it’s hardly a case that falls under federal jurisdiction.”

“Serial killers fall under federal jurisdiction,” Rick said.

Jordan’s blood went cold. “Serial killers?”

“This is ridiculous,” Ryan said. “I’ll call Steve and see—”

“There’s not much Steve can do,” Rick told them. “The DA’s calling the shots.” He looked at Jordan. “Anderman’s bought into all the news hype about your being a black widow.”

She couldn’t tell from Rick’s expression what he was thinking. She wanted to cry out to him, “I’m innocent. I swear to you, I have never killed anyone.” But she simply stared at him, her heart aching for him to believe her.

“So, what can we do?” Ryan asked. “Have you notified Camden Hendrix about this latest development?”

“I called him before I did you,” Rick said. “He’s not overly concerned at this point because asking the Bureau to come in on an investigation and their actually doing it are two different things.”

“You must believe that the FBI will take over,” Jordan said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried.” She held up a restraining hand. “And please, don’t try to tell me… us… that you aren’t worried.”

“I’ve spoken not only to Cam, but to Nicole and Griffin Powell. We’re all in agreement that what is needed now are some preemptive measures.”

“Such as?” Ryan asked.

“Before we get into that, there’s something else.” Rick seemed reluctant, as if he dreaded burdening them with this new information.

“For pity’s sake, just say it.” Jordan braced herself, knowing that whatever happened, she had to remain strong. “It couldn’t be any worse than the FBI stepping in to investigate Dan’s death and—”

“Why didn’t you tell us about Jay Reynolds?” Rick asked.

Jordan’s heart stopped for a millisecond. “Jay Reynolds? Why would anything I had to say about Jay be of interest to you or anyone else?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jordan, maybe because you worked with this man and even dated him several times and he, too, wound up dead, just like so many other men in your life.”

Jordan felt as if he’d backhanded her.

“See here, Carson, I object to your speaking to Jordan in such a manner.” Ryan stepped between Jordan and Rick.

“No, it’s all right.” Jordan gently pushed her brother-in-law aside and walked right up to Rick. “Jay Reynolds was mugged in the parking deck of his apartment building. How on earth could his death have any connection to me whatsoever?”

“It wouldn’t, if five other men in your life hadn’t also died. Bam, bam, bam—” Rick snapped his fingers “—one right after the other. Reynolds makes six. Nobody, including the FBI, is going to believe that all those deaths were mere coincidence.”

“Oh, my God!” Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Jordan swayed ever so slightly.

Rick and Ryan both reached for her, but Rick moved faster and slipped his arm around her waist. He helped her to the nearest chair.

“Do you need some water?” he asked. “Or a stiff drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Should we call Dr. Carroll?” Ryan asked. “Or perhaps your obstetrician? What’s his name — Lamar? You’re not fully recovered from the miscarriage.”

“No, really, I’m okay. It’s just that I believe Rick is right. It couldn’t be just a coincidence that six men who were a part of my life died, one after the other, over the past dozen or so years.” She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. “It’s possible that two or three deaths could be a coincidence, but not six. Unless we can prove that each death was either from natural causes or truly was an accident, then we have to assume that some, if not all, of them were murdered.”

“And if the same person killed some or all of them,” Rick said, “then the FBI has a serial killer case.”

“I know that I didn’t kill Dan or Boyd or Robby Joe or anyone else,” Jordan said. “So if they were all murdered and I didn’t do it, who did?”

J.C. eased his red Thunderbird off the two-lane county road and onto the gravel path that dead-ended halfway into the woods. The brick chimney and cinder block foundation was all that remained of the old house that had burned down years ago. He got out of the car, leaned against the closed door, and retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Just as he flipped open his lighter and lit his cigarette, he heard the gravel crunching as another car pulled up behind his. He took a long drag on the cigarette as he waited for her. He didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. He knew. She had called him half an hour ago and asked him to meet her. Actually she hadn’t asked, she’d ordered.

“Morning, sugar.” The smoke from the cigarette he held in his hand curled upward into the bright morning sunlight. He glanced at her and grinned. She was a damn fine looking woman and an even better piece of ass. His only complaint was that she liked being the aggressor, liked to be in charge when they fucked.