Текст книги "Cold Hearted"

Автор книги: Beverly Barton

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“That’s right, but she’s been as determined as Ryan to find out the truth.”

“What about Ryan Price?”

“What about him?” Rick asked.

“He’s not among the suspects you listed. Why not?”

“As you said, he hired us to prove the senator’s death wasn’t suicide. If he’d killed his brother, he wouldn’t have questioned the ME’s findings, would he? Besides, his relationship with Jordan doesn’t go back far enough for him to have had anything to do with any of the deaths before the senator’s.”

Derek nodded, apparently agreeing with Rick.

“If you want details in writing, I can send you everything by e-mail,” Derek said. “I need to get going. I’m supposed to be in Atlanta by one. Griff’s got me on speed dial, so if there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”

Rick walked Derek to his car, shook his hand, and thanked him. Now that he had a professional profiler’s opinion, which just happened to match his own, Rick felt more confident about their plan to trap Dan Price’s killer. All he had to do was convince a ruthless murderer that he, Rick Carson, was a threat to Jordan.

Rick set things in motion later that day by questioning each suspect individually, masking his inquiries under the guise of wanting to help Jordan. He’d said the same things, asked the same questions, made the same observations with each of them, beginning with Roselynne. She had defended Jordan and even scolded him for questioning her innocence; then practically in the same breath, she had encouraged Rick to romance Jordan.

“You’ve got a thing for my girl,” Roselynne had said. “And as her mama, I’m giving you permission to make your move. I know it doesn’t seem like the right time, but Lord knows Jordan’s been in need of a real man for quite some time.”

Apparently, despite the fact that he’d all but come right out and told Roselynne he believed Jordan might be a murderer, she saw him as a potential lover for Jordan, not her captor.

He had fared a little better with Rene, who had told him off in no uncertain terms. “How can you possibly still think Jordan killed Dan? And Boyd? And even Robby Joe? I thought you knew her better than that by now. I thought you honestly cared for Jordan. What’s going on? Are you pretending to be her friend so you can trap her into confessing? Well, forget it. Jordan is not a killer!”

Questioning Devon had been like walking a tightrope. Rick wanted him to believe that he suspected Jordan had killed Dan, Dan’s ex-wife, her first husband and all the others, too, while the truth was that he actually thought Devon could be the murderer.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jordan,” Devon had said. “And the way you are when you’re with her. You care about her and I don’t believe it’s an act. So how can you possibly believe that she’s capable of murdering seven people?”

“I don’t want to think it,” Rick had told him. “But all the evidence points to her. No one else has a motive for each murder. Only Jordan. If she did kill Dan and the others, she needs help. As her oldest and dearest friend, you should want to know the truth and if she’s guilty, get her the help she needs.”

“Does Jordan know that you still suspect her? My God, she trusts you and you’re betraying that trust!”

His talk with Devon had ended abruptly when Devon, eyes flashing with outrage, had walked out on him. If he’d wanted to make Devon angry, he had achieved his goal.

Three down and one to go.

He found Darlene alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table by the windows, a cup of what he assumed was tea in her hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he approached her.

She glanced at him and smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Carson.”

“May I join you?” he asked.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thanks. But I’d like to talk to you, if you have time.”

“Won’t you sit down.”

He joined her at the table, taking the seat across from her. “You want to help Jordan, don’t you?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“You know that she’s considered the most likely suspect in Dan Price’s murder.”

“Yes, I know, and it’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Some people believe she not only murdered the senator, but also her first husband, her father, a former boss and even your son.”

Darlene eyed him speculatively. “I think I know where this is going. Roselynne told me that you asked her for permission to have Wayne Harris’s body exhumed and an autopsy performed.”

“She refused,” Rick said. “Powell’s thought if an autopsy proved Mr. Harris died of natural causes—”

“I’m sure he did. And I know, without a doubt, that Robby Joe died from injuries he received in the car wreck and that the wreck was an accident.”

“If we could prove—”

“You can,” Darlene told him. “I had what was left of the car inspected thoroughly at the time. I had planned to sue the manufacturer if the accident had been caused by any type of default. There was none. So you see, if your theory is that there might have been tampering, there wasn’t.”

“Do you still have that report?” Rick asked.

“Yes, I do. And if you believe that it’s possible Robby Joe was drugged or poisoned and his condition either caused the wreck or the wreck was a cover-up, then an autopsy might prove otherwise. Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you have my permission to exhume Robby Joe’s body and have an autopsy performed.”

“No!” Jordan cried.

They turned and stared at Jordan standing in the doorway, a stricken expression on her face.

“Yes,” Darlene said. “You didn’t kill Dan or anyone else. Certainly not Robby Joe. If allowing them to do an autopsy will prove he wasn’t murdered, then let them do the autopsy.”

“No. You don’t have to do this.” Jordan came into the room, her gaze searing Rick with her barely restrained anger. “I thought I told you not to ask her. I believed you understood—”

“Don’t blame Mr. Carson.” Darlene rose to her feet and held out her hand to Jordan. “He didn’t ask me. I made the offer because I want to help you, because it’s what Robby Joe would want me to do.”

Chapter 29

During the next few days, Rick came to understand something important about Jordan, something he had sensed about her for weeks now. The lady had an uncanny ability to hide her true emotions. Although she had been angry with him since this past Thursday and was still upset with him, she played her part in their public charade. But in private, she barely spoke to him. He could deal with her coldness even if it did piss the hell out of him. What he had real difficulty dealing with were his doubts. Jordan’s reluctance to have Robby Joe Wright’s body exhumed worried him. Did that mean she had something to hide, that if an autopsy was performed on Robby Joe, it would reveal that he had been drugged or poisoned?

When Devon had learned that Darlene had given Powell’s permission to have her son’s casket unearthed, he had reacted just as Rick had thought he would, with a great deal of hostility, all of it directed at Rick. But committed to their plan of trapping Dan’s killer, Jordan had defended Rick to Devon and the others, pretending she agreed with Rick.

Considering Jordan’s reluctance to have her former fiancé’s body exhumed and her devotion to Devon, was it possible that Jordan either knew or suspected that Devon had killed Robby Joe? And Dan? Would she really have covered up for him over the years, time and time again? Rick didn’t want to believe that she was capable of either murder or of protecting a friend she knew was a killer.

It was possible that she opposed the exhumation only because, as she had told him, she thought it would be a difficult ordeal for Darlene.

He wanted to believe her. God, how he wanted to believe her.

With Darlene Wright’s permission, Powell’s had set the legal wheels in motion to have Robby Joe’s casket removed from the cemetery and taken to the Powell agency’s lab in Knoxville. Darlene’s only requests were that she be present for the exhumation and that before the reburial, they would have a private ceremony at the local funeral home chapel.

Rick didn’t understand why she would want to watch while her son’s casket was dug up and removed from the burial plot. But if that’s what she wanted, so be it. He suspected that Jordan didn’t want to be there, on the scene, but she wouldn’t allow Darlene to go to the cemetery without her.

If he had thought he could talk Jordan out of going, he would have tried; but when it came to family obligations, she always stood firm. There had been no use wasting his breath.

While Jordan and Rene went over Tuesday morning’s mail, Rick left Nix Elliott at the study door to keep watch while he took a break. Although he had come to the conclusion that Jordan was in no real danger, that all the phone calls and letters had merely been attempts to take suspicion off Jordan, guarding her twenty-four/seven was now part of the deadly game they were playing.

The cold, silent wall that Jordan had erected between them when they were alone bothered him more and more each day. And Jordan damn well knew it.

Just as he opened the door to the kitchen, intending to get a cup of coffee, his phone rang. When he noted the caller – Griff Powell – he answered immediately.

“Everything is set for the exhumation,” Griff said, not bothering with any preliminary greetings or small-talk. “This afternoon. Three-thirty.”

“It’s a forty-five minute drive,” Rick said. “The cemetery is a private family place, out in the country, on land that’s been in Mrs. Wright’s family for generations.”

“I take it that you haven’t been able to persuade Mrs. Wright not to be there when they bring up the casket.”

“Nope. I’ll be driving her and Jordan and Devon Markham to the cemetery.”

“The body will be taken directly to Knoxville, to our lab at headquarters. We’re bringing in two retired medical examiners to oversee our doctor’s autopsy. I’m asking for a rush job on this. Hopefully, we’ll have some answers in days instead of weeks.”

“The sooner the better,” Rick said. “Mrs. Wright insists on a private ceremony before the reburial. She’s already made plans with the local funeral home to provide a new casket. I think it’s a bad idea having a second funeral, no matter how small and private. It’ll be difficult for Jordan and for Mrs. Wright.”

“If the autopsy indicates that any factors, such as drugs or poison, or an injury not likely to have occurred in the car wreck, led to Robby Joe Wright’s death, Powell’s will have to turn over that information to the proper authorities.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Watch your back,” Griff told him. “You’re the bait in the trap. If the killer comes after you, you’re at a disadvantage because you don’t know for sure who the killer is or exactly when he or she will strike.”

She watched him as he stood there on the patio, his cell phone to his ear. Who was he talking to? His boss? Or had someone from the hospital called to give him a report on Maleah Perdue, who was supposed to be released tomorrow? Perhaps the caller was a woman, someone he had known in the past? He was quite handsome and rather charming when he chose to be. There were probably numerous women in his past.

Even though she knew that Jordan would never find anyone to replace Robby Joe, she could be tempted by broad shoulders and piercing brown eyes. After all, she was only human. But surely Jordan realized that Rick Carson was no different from other men.

They couldn’t trust him.

Knowing how untrustworthy he was, how could Jordan have allowed him to move into her bedroom? She said he slept on the daybed in her dressing room, and there was no reason not to believe her. But it was obvious, at least to her, that Jordan had strong feelings for Rick. Hadn’t she learned anything from past experience? He was not her friend. Couldn’t she see that? She was putting her trust in the wrong person, putting her life in the wrong hands.

She should know by now that I will take care of everything, as I always have. I’ll protect her, no matter what the cost. I’ll even protect her from herself.

He doesn’t love you, Jordan. He may want your body, but sex isn’t love. Why can’t you see him for what he is? He’s a user. He’ll toss you aside once he’s finished with you. He will break your heart.

If I don’t stop him.

The Jernigan Cemetery, atop a hill outside the small town of Jernigan Crossroads, Georgia, looked down over green fields in three directions and thick woods to the north. The oldest headstone dated back to 1812. Darlene had informed them that the couple buried beneath the stone marker were her father’s ancestors, one of the first families to settle in the area.

“Jernigan Crossroads was named for Ezekiel Jernigan,” Darlene had told them, quite proud of her heritage.

On the drive over from Priceville, the sky had turned dark as rain clouds moved in, but not a drop had fallen. Jordan hoped that the rain would hold off until after the exhumation.

It had been a year since she and Darlene had been here at the family cemetery where Robby Joe was buried. They usually came once every year, on Mother’s Day, which was Decoration Day at this cemetery and many others throughout the South. This year, they had arranged for flowers to be delivered, but had stayed away because the press had been following Jordan’s every move. Even today, a couple of reporters had somehow found out what was happening and were already here waiting for them.

Jordan leaned over and whispered to Darlene, “Are you sure about this? If you’ve changed your mind—”

“I haven’t. The autopsy will prove that Robby Joe’s death was the result of an accident.” She grasped Jordan’s hand. “As for being here this afternoon… I have to be. I feel that if I’m here, Robby Joe will understand that I would never disturb his rest without a very good reason.”

Jordan swallowed hard, determined to stay strong. When they made their yearly pilgrimage to Robby Joe’s grave, Darlene always cried. Jordan didn’t.

Rick pulled the Mercedes up behind the patrol car that was parked on the gravel drive circling the small cemetery. A spit-and-polished young deputy leaning against the side of the hood snapped to attention.

“If y’all will stay put, I’ll see if I can get rid of those reporters.” Rick opened the car door.

“Wait,” Jordan called. “They aren’t likely to leave just because you tell them to, and right now, they’re not rushing toward us, so don’t create a scene.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

Whatever I want? I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to watch while that big, loud backhoe digs into the earth, going deeper and deeper with each lunge until Robby Joe’s casket appears. I don’t want to see the casket. I don’t want to think about the day Robby Joe died or the day we buried him or the fact that he’s not in that casket, not really. Only what remains of his body is inside the casket. He’s gone from me forever. He’s in a better place. Isn’t that what the minister had said at his funeral? Robby Joe’s soul is now in heaven.

“They’re waiting for word from you, Mrs. Wright,” Rick told her as he opened the back door and held out his hand to assist her.

She looked up at him, her eyes damp with tears, and took his hand. “Thank you.”

Jordan emerged from the car, but when Rick offered her his hand, she refused to touch him. Devon got out last and immediately slipped his arm around her waist. She could accept Devon’s tender concern, but not Rick’s. She couldn’t explain why she felt the way she did, but somehow having Rick here today didn’t seem right. Even though she wasn’t sure how she felt about him, she did feel something – something powerful – and feeling that way seemed like a betrayal of her love for Robby Joe.

“I can go with Darlene,” Devon told her. “You should stay here.”

“He’s right,” Darlene said. “If you don’t want to—”

“My place is with you,” Jordan said. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”

In her peripheral vision she noticed Rick glancing her way. She had gotten over her initial anger with him rather quickly, but she still held him at least partially responsible for their being here today.

“Please, tell them to begin,” Darlene said to Rick.

He nodded and then spoke to the deputy who held up his hand and signaled the workers. The roar of the small backhoe’s engine shattered the gentle stillness enveloping the cemetery. Flocks of birds perched in nearby trees, startled by the racket, fluttered into the sky and flew away.

Jordan moved to Darlene’s side, then reached out and took her hand. They stood there together and watched as the machine dug into the grave, scooped up a shovel of earth and dumped it behind Robby Joe’s headstone. As the process continued, shovel after shovel of dark, rich Georgia earth excavated, Darlene wept quietly, her slender shoulders quivering. Jordan felt immense pity for Robby Joe’s mother. For Darlene, the agony of his loss always seemed as fresh and painful as the day they had buried him. But it wasn’t like that for Jordan. Odd that she only now realized how on their visits to his grave the past few years, she had thought only of consoling Darlene, not once thinking about her own grief and her own great loss.

She had loved Robby Joe with youthful passion. So many of her dreams had been wrapped up in the fantasy of the life they would share. Their home. Their children. Their perfect happiness.

Emotionally buried in the past with her first love, she had married twice, both times to men she hadn’t loved, not the way a woman should love her husband. She had gone into both marriages believing they could protect her from ever being hurt again. But by barricading herself against pain, she had also cut herself off from the joy of truly loving again.

Oh, Robby Joe, I loved you. A part of my heart will always belong to you.

The backhoe engine shut off. An eerie silence echoed on the warm spring breeze. Two men with shovels walked over to the gaping hole in the ground and removed the last few inches of earth covering the casket. Then they moved aside as the mini-crane wheeled off the gravel road, onto the thick, green grass, and pulled to a stop by the open grave.

Darlene keened softly. Jordan squeezed her hand.

Once the casket had been raised, four men who had been standing near the large dark truck parked in front of the backhoe approached the dirty, age-stained casket nestled in the grass.

“Those men will load the casket onto the truck and take it directly to the Powell lab in Knoxville,” Rick explained.

Darlene broke away from Jordan and ran toward the casket. She laid her shaky hand atop the damp, faded lid. “We’re doing this for Jordan. I’ve taken care of her for you and she’s taken care of me. Forgive us for disturbing you. I promise that we’ll bring you back here soon and then we’ll all be at peace again.”

Jordan walked slowly toward Darlene. Once at her side, she touched her back gently. “Are you ready to go now?”

Darlene lifted her hand from the casket, looked at Jordan, and nodded.

When she took Darlene’s hand in hers, she felt the moist, gritty earth that had transferred from the casket to Darlene’s palm and fingers.

A strange, foreboding tingle shivered along Jordan’s nerves.

Before they reached the Mercedes sedan, which had been Dan’s car, the two reporters, who had been taking photographs throughout the excavation procedure, made a beeline to Jordan. Rick rushed Darlene and Jordan into the backseat, then he and Devon faced the reporters.

“We’d like to ask Mrs. Price a few questions,” one said.

“It’s not going to happen,” Rick told him.

“Then what about you, Mr. Markham?” the other reporter asked. “Now’s your chance to tell your side of the story.”

“Get in the car.” Rick motioned to Devon.

“Are you running the show, Mr. Carson? Are Mrs. Price and Mr. Markham taking orders from you?”

“Leave us alone,” Devon shouted. “You have no right to harass us this way.”

Rick eased between Devon and the reporters. He turned his head sideways and reissued his initial order. “Get in the car. Now.”

Devon froze for a millisecond, then backed up, opened the driver’s side door and got in, leaving the door open behind him as he moved over into the passenger seat.

“How about you tell us what’s going on, Mr. Carson?” the younger of the two reporters asked, a cocky grin on his face. “Why dig up Robby Joe Wright?”

“Is Powell’s doing an independent autopsy?” The other reporter, middle-aged and stocky, lifted his camera and snapped a shot of Rick. “Tell me, what’s it like guarding a black widow? With her track record, aren’t you worried about becoming one of her many victims?”

“Is there a problem?” The young deputy walked toward the reporters.

“No problem,” they replied in unison, then backed away from the car.

“I have no statement,” Rick said. “Nor does Mrs. Price or Mr. Markham.” He slid behind the wheel and shut the door.

The reporters continued snapping shots of the car, of the empty grave, of the backhoe, and of the casket as it was loaded onto the truck.

Rick started the engine, backed up, and drove around the squad car and equipment blocking his way.

“Please, get us out of here,” Devon said.

“Y’all can take it easy,” Rick told them. “The worst is over.”

No, it’s not. He only thinks it is. Jordan knew that, at least for her, the worst was yet to come.

Chapter 30

Jordan didn’t realize she had left her bedroom door wide open until she heard Rene’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

Clutching the see-through dress bag she had just taken from the closet and folded over her arm, she whipped around to face her friend. “I’m doing something I should have done a long time ago.”

Rene walked into the bedroom. “Isn’t that your wedding dress?”

“It’s one of them. Remember, I’ve had three.”

“But only one like that, a real fairytale princess gown.” Rene eyed the white satin dress. “You wore a simple, cream-white, knee-length dress when you married Boyd, and a beige suit when you married Dan.”

“You have a good memory.”

“I was your maid of honor when you married Boyd and again when you married Dan.”

“So you were.”

Rene crossed the bedroom and paused in the doorway. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m just doing a little closet cleaning and thought I’d start with this.” She held up the clothes bag. “I should have packed it away or given it away or even thrown it away years ago.”

A loud gasp from the doorway gained their attention. Darlene stood there, her eyes wide with surprise. Roselynne, who stood behind Darlene, patted her on the back and urged her to move.

“I ran into Darlene in the hall,” Roselynne explained. “I was on my way up here to see how you were doing. We’re all concerned about you, you know, every last one of us.”

“I’m fine,” Jordan said. She looked directly at Darlene, then glanced at the wedding gown she held. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that this dress doesn’t mean something special to me. It does. It has since the day you helped me pick it out. But… don’t you see, that’s the problem. It has meant too much to me all these years. I’ve held on to it the way I’ve held on to Robby Joe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with holding on to good memories,” Roselynne said. “That boy was the love of your life. You should keep the dress.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t.” Rene reached out and fingered the zipper on the garment bag. “Maybe it is time she packed it away.” She held out her hands. “Want me to take it and put it in a box and store it in the attic for you?”

Jordan hesitated. Do it. Take that first step, no matter how difficult.

She looked at Darlene.

“It’s all right, dear. I knew today, at the cemetery.”

“What did you know?” Roselynne asked.

Jordan smiled. “Thank you, Darlene.”

“I’m confused,” Roselynne said. “Did something happen at the cemetery today when they dug up Robby Joe’s coffin?”

“Nothing you would understand,” Darlene said before she turned and walked away.

Jordan handed Rene the garment bag. “I appreciate your doing this for me. It makes it a little easier that I don’t have to do it.”

“No problem.” Rene took the bag, folded it over her arm, and leaned in to give Jordan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t let the fact that the timing couldn’t be worse stop you from grabbing happiness with both hands.”

When Rene hurried out of the room, Jordan rushed after her, but Roselynne grabbed Jordan’s arm, stopping her at the bedroom door.

“Don’t,” Roselynne said.

Nix Elliott, who was standing guard outside the bedroom, glanced their way. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Price?”

“Yes,” Jordan replied. She watched as Rene stopped in the hall, lifted the bag and pressed it to her face.

“All these years, Darlene and I haven’t been the only ones mourning Robby Joe,” Jordan said.

“I never knew for sure who she loved the most, you or Robby Joe.” Roselynne wrapped her arm around Jordan’s shoulders and led her back into the bedroom.

“She pretended that she was all right with my dating Robby Joe and even threw us an engagement party. God, how hard that must have been for her. She was in love with him and I didn’t have a clue. And when he died… Why couldn’t I see it at the time?”

“For two reasons. One, you were so wrapped up in your own grief and in consoling Darlene, you weren’t aware that anyone else was suffering. And two, Rene is almost as good as you are at hiding her true feelings.”

“Apparently, she’s better at it. I really had no idea that she was in love with Robby Joe, that she still—”

“She doesn’t still love him, if that’s what you think. What you saw just then with Rene was nothing more than a moment of ‘what-if’ going on.” Roselynne gently clasped Jordan’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re not still in love with him either. You haven’t been in a long time. You just didn’t know it. But something’s happened to make you finally realize it. That something wouldn’t be Rick Carson, would it?”

“I’m attracted to Rick, but—”

“Be careful, baby girl.” Roselynne squeezed Jordan’s chin, then released her. “You’ve just buried a husband, miscarried a child, had your personal life exposed to the world, become a murder suspect, and finally said goodbye to your first love. Now’s not the time to do anything stupid. Rick Carson is one fine-looking man and I daresay he knows a thing or two about pleasing a woman, but it wouldn’t pay to trust him.”

Jordan grabbed her stepmother and hugged her. “Have I ever thanked you?”

“For what?”

“For turning out not to be the wicked stepmother I thought you were when you first married Daddy.”

Roselynne laughed, the sound as boisterous and bawdy as the woman herself. “You’ve thanked me a hundred times over by taking care of me and Tammy and even J.C.”

“Have you heard from J.C. lately?” Jordan asked.

She never wanted Roselynne to find out that J.C. had sold the secrets of her marriage and Dan’s homosexuality to The Chatterbox. It would break her stepmother’s heart.

“He called from Las Vegas a few days ago. He’s got a job out there and he likes it better than the one he had at the casino in Biloxi.”

“That’s good. I hope it works out for him.”

Roselynne smiled. “Me, too.” She nodded to the door. “I need to get home before the bottom falls out. I think we’re in for some stormy weather tonight.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.” Roselynne paused and looked back just before reaching the open door. “You don’t have to trust a man completely to enjoy what he’s got to offer. Just don’t go falling in love and get your heart broken.”

Jordan didn’t respond. There was no point in denying the effect Rick had on her. She never thought she’d feel this way again. All those smoldering feminine passions she had tried to bury with Robby Joe really hadn’t died when he did. She had repressed them for twelve years out of fear. Her reasoning had been that living without the ecstasy of being in love protected her from ever again suffering the agony of losing that love.

Of course, she wasn’t in love with Rick and didn’t expect a future with him. Even if by some miracle he was the right man, not only was now the wrong time, it was the worst possible time. But perhaps someday… in the future…

If she had a future.

Jordan had identified his body to save Darlene from having to do it. As long as she lived, she would never forget the moment she looked down at the mangled lifeless body of the man she loved. Only hours before the accident, they’d had a stupid, senseless quarrel about Devon.

“Honey, I know he’s your best friend, but it’s unheard of to have a man as your maid of honor.”

“Man of honor,” Jordan had corrected.

“I’ve offered to let him be my best man. That’s a far more sensible solution to our problem.”

“We wouldn’t have a problem if you weren’t so narrow-minded. You’re more concerned about what people will think than about how I feel.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. But you have to admit that in the social circle we’ll be a part of when we’re married—”

“Maybe we won’t get married!”

She had stormed out of Robby Joe’s apartment, not listening to his pleas for her to come back, knowing that if she didn’t put some distance between them, she might really call off the wedding. And that’s not what she wanted. She loved Robby Joe. He loved her. And he was very fond of Devon. But sometimes he could be such an old-fashioned man. Of course, some of those old-fashioned masculine traits were part of the reason she loved him.

He had been on his way to her apartment later that evening for makeup sex. He had phoned her and apologized and told her that if she had her heart set on Devon being her man of honor, then so be it.

“You love me that much, huh?” she’d said.

“That much and more.”

“Why don’t you come over here and spend the night?”

“I’m hanging up right now,” he’d told her. “Light some candles and put on some soft music. And wear that pink teddy I bought you for Valentine’s Day. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, she had called his apartment. No answer. She had called his cell phone. No answer. An hour and a half later, when she was almost out of her mind with worry, she dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and grabbed her shoulder bag on her way out the door. As she was locking up, she heard her phone ring. She managed to unlock the door, open it, and run back into her apartment by the time the phone rang the sixth time. At the precise moment her answering machine picked up and she heard Darlene’s hysterical voice, she grabbed the phone off the hook.