Текст книги "Cold Hearted"

Автор книги: Beverly Barton

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“Darlene, what’s wrong? Is it Robby Joe?”

“Oh, Jordan… Jordan…” Darlene had kept saying her name over and over again.

“What’s happened? Is Robby Joe all right?”

“He’s dead.”

Everything that happened after that became a blur and to this day was still a blur. Somehow she had managed to do all the things that were required, undoubtedly working on automatic pilot, her emotions thankfully frozen. She had identified Robby Joe’s body, had made the funeral arrangements, had stayed at Darlene’s side day and night, had held it all together from the moment she’d been told the love of her life was dead until over a week after they buried him.

She had awakened in the middle of the night, her body drenched in sweat, her heart racing alarmingly, her emotions hot with pain and anger. The agony she endured during the following weeks had nearly destroyed her.

And then she had accidentally overdosed on prescription medication.

While recovering in the hospital, she had made a solemn vow, a promise to herself that she had kept these past twelve years. She would never allow anyone or anything to ever hurt her that way again. Whatever she had to do to protect herself, she would do. If that meant never falling in love again, she had considered it a small price to pay. If it meant living half a life instead of a whole life, she had accepted that fact.

And not since that day when she’d walked out of the hospital, had she shed a single tear. Not for Boyd Bran-non. Not for Dan Price. Not for her sweet lost baby. Not even for herself.

Rick had heard her when she got out of bed. He’d been lying there listening to her tossing and turning for the past hour. When he had come upstairs for the night and relieved Nix Elliott, Jordan had already been in bed and either asleep or pretending to be. He had grabbed a quick shower, put on the pajama bottoms he never wore when at home, and tried to get comfortable in the daybed. Eventually, he had fallen asleep, but he seldom slept soundly, not when he was on guard duty. He woke the minute Jordan began stirring.

Lying there in still silence, he watched as she walked across the bedroom, moving slowly toward the French doors that opened onto the balcony. He tossed back the covers, sat up, and reached for his wristwatch lying under the bed, alongside his holstered Smith & Wesson. He checked the lighted digital face and noted that it was three-eighteen.

Don’t get up. Don’t follow her. She’s safe.

He sat on the edge of the daybed and listened. He heard rumbles of distant thunder, the tick-tock of the mantel clock in Jordan’s bedroom, and then the distinct creak of the French doors opening.

She’s going outside for a breath of fresh air. She doesn’t need you. She wants to be alone. Give her some space.

Was she thinking about Robby Joe Wright?

Probably.

Rick rose to his feet, walked into the bathroom, and, in the dark, turned on the faucet. He cupped his hands together to catch the flow and threw cold water into his face.

A streak of lightning flashed, illuminating the small window in the bathroom and giving him a quick glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. His face was darkened with beard stubble and his hair was too long. He definitely needed a shave and a haircut.

He tried to talk himself out of checking on Jordan; but instead of crawling back in bed and leaving her alone, he entered her bedroom and halfway to the French doors, he stopped and looked at her. Both doors stood wide open. The wind blew the sheer curtains, billowing them into waltzing fluffs of fabric. Another rumble of thunder, louder and closer, followed the slash of lightning that momentarily brightened the dark sky.

Rick’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jordan, her slender body covered with a floor-length, silk gown. Pink. No lace. No ribbons. Pencil thin straps. Cut almost to her waist in the back, revealing her shoulder blades.

He gripped his hands into loose fists, opened them, and then repeated the movement a couple of times. He wanted to touch her, to put his hands all over her, to feel every creamy inch of her skin.

As if sensing he was watching her, Jordan glanced over her shoulder. Only the pale glimmer from the outside motion-sensor, security lights, activated by the high winds, prevented total darkness.

Rick swallowed hard.

Their gazes met and locked.

He moved toward her. She watched him until he was within a couple feet of her, then she turned her head and looked away. He came up behind her, almost touching her. He felt her heat. Smelled her sweet femininity. Sensed the need she couldn’t hide.

When he touched her, his hands moving over her shoulders, she gasped, then sighed heavily. He slid his hands down her upper arms, slowly moving into her, bringing her back against his chest, her hips against his erection. As he slipped one hand across her waist and covered her breast with the other, she whimpered and leaned her head back against his collarbone. He rested his jaw against her temple and strummed his thumb across her tight nipple, stroking it through the thin silk.

He nuzzled the side of her face. He kissed her temple. And then he moved lower until his open mouth pressed against her neck. Moaning softly, she shuddered. While he toyed with her nipple, he trailed his other hand down over her belly. Slowly. Driving himself crazy with his hunger for more. He pressed his hand over her mound and shoved his fingers between her legs, plastering her gown against her inner thighs. When he rubbed her intimately, she covered his hand with hers.

He nibbled on her neck as he clutched the sides of her gown and drew it up. Bunching the shimmering silk in his hands, he lifted it high enough to touch the triangle of curls nestled at the apex of her thighs. When he inched his fingers through the soft dampness and discovered her sensitive nub, her breathing quickened with excitement. The edge of her gown draped his wrist as he fondled her.

She sighed. She whimpered. She moaned.

He loved every sound. He loved the feel of her beneath his hands and the taste of her on his tongue. Her moisture gushed around his fingers. She was slick and wet and hot. So very hot.

“Come for me,” he whispered huskily, his lips against her ear. “Let go. Let me feel you falling apart.”

Her entire body tensed. He increased the pressure and the tempo as he gently bit her shoulder. She cried out when her orgasm hit. Shuddering with release, she reached on either side of her and grabbed his thighs for support.

As she climaxed, the first hard, heavy drops of rain fell. But he didn’t rush her into the bedroom. Instead he let her float down from the sensual high by slow degrees. When he eased his hand up and under her gown, caressing her belly, she shivered and he knew her skin was sensitive to the touch.

By the time her breathing returned to normal and the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided, they were both drenched. He draped his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. She looked up at him. Until the day he died, he would never forget how beautiful Jordan was at that very moment.

Without saying a word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Leaving the French doors open, the rain blowing inside and the curtains fluttering, Rick put her on her feet when they reached the bed. When his gaze traveled from her face, down her throat, across her breasts, over her stomach and down her legs, she reached for him. Her fingertips caressed his face and then slid down his throat. When she spread her open palms flat against his damp, naked chest, he groaned. Her mouth opened with a surprised smile. He grasped her gown where it stuck to her hips, pulled at the wet material and brought it up and over her head.

He looked at her. Her full, round breasts high, her nipples peaked. A thatch of thick dark blond curls covered her mound.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded.

“It’s not too soon after… the baby?”

“No. I – I… it’s not too soon.”

He looked in her eyes. “Then say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” Her voice was raspy with emotion.

He shrugged off his pajama bottoms, stepped out of them, and left them on the floor as he pushed her back, then lifted her up and onto the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. “I’ve got some condoms in my shave kit.”

Smiling, she nodded, and then seductively slinked across the satiny cotton sheets and into the middle of the bed.

Rick made a mad dash into the bathroom, unzipped his shaving kit and upended the contents in his haste to find the three condoms. Clutching them in his hand, he returned to the bedroom, tossed two down on the nightstand and ripped open the other.

Jordan sat up halfway in the bed, her gaze on his penis, and watched him. Feeling her looking at him excited him. With the condom in place, he got in bed and came down over her, his knees on either side of her legs, his arms braced against the mattress, keeping his weight off her.

He hesitated, but only for a moment. He kissed her hungrily, then began an assault on her body, covering every inch with his hands and mouth, leaving him trembling and her begging.

He lifted her hips, bringing her body up to his, and thrust into her. She clung to him, enthusiastically meeting each deep, hard lunge. They mated wildly. No pretense. No pretty words. Nothing, but the raw, animal pleasure they both craved.

Hours later, as early morning sunlight poured into the room, Jordan woke. She stretched languidly, her body aching and slightly bruised. But she had never felt more alive in her entire life.

Rick lay beside her, his dark head on the blush-rose pillowcase. She reached down and ran her index finger softly over his lips. He grunted. She jerked her hand away. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her.

“Good morning.”

She leaned over him, her tangled hair falling about her shoulders, and returned his smile. During the night she had become as familiar with this man’s body as he had with hers. They knew each other on the most physically intimate of terms. And yet in the cold hard light of day, she felt oddly shy with him.

As if sensing her timidity, he ran a finger down her throat and between her breasts. “It’s all right. Neither of us made any promises.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Don’t analyze what happened,” he told her. “This thing between us is what it is.”

It isn’t love. It isn’t love.

“You understand, don’t you? The timing is all wrong.”

“Wrong time, wrong place. Wrong man?” He tossed back the covers separating their bodies, then reached out and pulled her down over him.

She snuggled close, her naked body fitting perfectly on top of his. “Wrong time, wrong place, but there’s nothing wrong about or with the man.”

He skimmed her hips and buttocks with his fingertips. His touch set her on fire. When he urged her up enough to ease inside her, she shuddered, loving the feel of him, big and hard, sheathed within her.

They made love again, but this time with a tender passion, savoring each moment.

They have no idea that I opened the door and I’m watching them. They’re too caught up in having sex. I had planned to surprise Jordan with fresh flowers from the garden and instead she surprised me.

You have no idea what you’re doing. You don’t love him. And he certainly doesn’t love you.

Don’t you know what kind of man Rick Carson is? He believes you’re a killer. You can’t trust him.

If only you hadn’t lost our precious baby, we would be complete and neither of us would ever need anyone else.

I can’t stay here any longer. I have to leave. I have to forget what I’ve seen. But I must remember that you’re in danger, now more than ever.

I know what I have to do. I finally realize what will make you happy. And it’s not Rick Carson or any other man. Why has it taken me all these years to understand that there is only one place on earth where you belong?

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make all the plans for us and soon, very soon, Rick Carson will be out of our lives forever.

And you’ll be happy again. Truly happy.

Chapter 31

Rick figured everyone suspected that his relationship with Jordan had changed, which worked to their advantage in trying to force the killer to attack him. Although they weren’t openly affectionate toward each other when anyone else was around, they often looked at each other, smiled at each other and sometimes even laughed as if they shared a secret.

He and Jordan were lovers. For the past four nights, he had shared her bed.

They had just finished breakfast in the dining room this morning, along with Darlene, Devon, Roselynne, Tammy, and Rene. He had felt their curious stares during the meal and sensed that each of them wanted to warn him that if he hurt Jordan, he’d be sorry. But on the surface, each of them was cordial to him; Roselynne and Rene were even friendly.

While walking Jordan to her study where she and Rene would go over the morning mail and attend to any other business matters concerning Price Manor and the loose ends of the late senator’s life, Rick’s phone rang.

“You two go on,” he told them.

From where he stopped in the hallway, he could see the door to the study. He flipped open his phone. “Morning. I hope you have some news for us.”

“Actually, I do,” Griff replied. “First, I thought you’d want to know that J.C. Harris made a phone call to Sheriff Corbett last night.”

“Is that right?” Rick snorted. “Not of his own free will, I’ll bet.”

“Let’s just say that Luke Sentell persuaded him to tell the truth.”

“Which is?”

“Lt. Haley McLain went to Harris and encouraged him to sell the information about Jordan and her marriage to the senator to The Chatterbox. She even set things up for him.”

Rick wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. He had hoped he was wrong about Haley. “I hate being right.”

“She’ll receive disciplinary action,” Griff said. “More than likely, she’ll lose her job, but that’s what happens when you betray the people who trust you. Seems, according to Harris, the lieutenant had her eye on Sheriff Corbett’s job.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either.”

“I didn’t call you last night to tell you about Lt. McLain because I was expecting a report from Dr. Hamilton this morning and hoped I’d have some good news for you.”

“And?” Rick’s gut tightened. He hadn’t admitted to himself until this very second how important the autopsy report was to him.

“We did a rush job on the lab work,” Griff told him. “Neither the autopsy nor the lab results show anything suspicious. Dr. Hamilton’s opinion is that Robby Joe Wright was a healthy, drug-free young man and his death was caused by trauma from injuries sustained in the car wreck. Add these findings to the initial police report, which we went over with a fine-tooth comb, and there’s only one logical conclusion.”

Rick released a deep breath. “His death wasn’t the result of murder. It was an accident.”

“Out of seven deaths, that’s two we know for sure Jordan wasn’t responsible for. You were with her when Jane Anne Price was murdered and her former fiancé’s death was an accident.”

“How does this change the dynamics of the black widow theory?”

“It adds the element of doubt. If Jordan didn’t kill her fiancé, then it’s possible she didn’t kill either husband number one or husband number two. Brannon’s death could have been a hunting accident and nothing more. But Dan Price was murdered. At this point, I don’t believe there’s any doubt about it.”

“Do you think it’s possible the other deaths were just what they appeared to be and we’re not looking for a Jordan-obsessed serial killer after all?”

“At this point, I don’t know,” Griff admitted. “I talked to Derek before I called you and, even knowing Robby Joe wasn’t murdered, he still thinks some if not all of the others were murdered by the same person.”

“Damn!”

“Are you willing to keep your head in the noose to see if somebody will try to tighten it around your neck?” Griff asked.

“Yeah. Absolutely. I want Jordan cleared and I want the real killer brought to justice.”

“Do I take it that you now have no doubts about Jordan’s innocence?”

He hesitated before replying. All of his adult life, Rick had gone with his gut instincts, which luckily had been proven right most of the time, but not always. One thing he’d never done was go on blind faith alone. This time, things were different. He was different.

“Let’s just say that I know Jordan isn’t a killer.”

“All the same, don’t take any stupid chances.”

Rick grunted. “I’ll do my best.”

“By the way, you can tell Mrs. Wright that we’ll send her son’s body to the funeral home this afternoon. She can contact them and follow through with the arrangements.”

“I think having a re-interment service is a bad idea. It’s only going to make it more difficult for everyone involved.”

“She’s his mother. It’s her right to do whatever she wants. Maybe having this second funeral is necessary for her peace of mind.”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe you’re right.”

The last thing Rick wanted was for Jordan to be dragged back into that emotional black hole created by Robby Joe’s death. She was alive again, truly alive, and he’d be damned if he would let her regress and disappear back into the passionless existence she’d lived in for the past twelve years.

The private service for Robby Joe took place the following day at Jernigan Crossroads Funeral Home, a small town operation that had been in business for nearly a hundred years. Rick and Nix Elliott had taken two cars. Jordan, Mrs. Wright and Devon rode with Rick. Roselynne, Tammy and Rene rode with Nix. The service had been postponed until three in the afternoon so that a quartet from one of the local churches could perform two songs, both chosen by Darlene.

Nix remained outside the chapel while Rick waited inside, standing at the back, close by in case Jordan needed him. But he wasn’t one of the mourners. If he’d had his way, Robby Joe’s casket would have been put back in the ground unceremoniously.

Jordan accompanied Darlene from the front pew to the casket which was draped in a full blanket of fresh spring flowers. Five large floral arrangements flanked the torchieres on either side of the casket. Recorded music, piped through the room from strategically placed speakers, provided an organist’s rendition of an old spiritual. Darlene laid her hand on the side of the dark blue coffin. Weeping quietly, she dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief.

Rick noticed that Darlene said something to Jordan, who immediately broke off one of the red rosebuds from the blanket. When she walked Darlene back to their seats, Jordan handed her the flower.

Just as the minister, Reverend Crowell, from the church Darlene had attended as a young woman, approached the pulpit, Claire and Ryan Price entered the chapel. They paused beside Rick and both glanced his way. Ryan nodded at him, then he and Claire made their way forward and sat in the pew directly behind Jordan.

Rick could only imagine the effect today’s events would have on Jordan, who sat ramrod straight, her arm draped around Darlene’s hunched shoulders.

After the minister read several verses from the Bible, the quartet sang “The Lord’s Prayer.” When the good reverend spoke about Robby Joe in a kind, sympathetic voice, a chorus of sniffling and soft weeping filled the chapel.

Thankfully, the service was short. Twenty minutes from beginning to end. While Devon and Jordan helped Darlene into the car, Jordan pulled Rick aside.

“We won’t be going on to the cemetery today,” she told him. “There was some sort of mix-up about the backhoe to cover the grave and it won’t be available until tomorrow. Darlene and I will drive back over to the cemetery in the morning.”

“You can’t go alone, just the two of you. I’ll drive y’all.”

“All right.” She looked at him, her eyes dry, her expression solemn. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For staying inside the chapel for the service. I couldn’t see you, but I felt you were there with me.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her to cry and keep on crying. Instead, he cupped her elbow and helped her into the backseat of the sedan.

It hadn’t been difficult to cancel the backhoe and re-schedule it for tomorrow morning. All it took was one little phone call pretending to be a new funeral home employee. But getting Rick Carson out of the way might prove to be more difficult. She had to find a way to distract him, if she intended to get Jordan alone. Of course, killing him was one solution. But she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself, so she’d have to find another way.

While waiting for the results of Robby Joe’s autopsy, she had formulated her plan. She should have known all along that there was only one way to secure Jordan’s happiness. All these years, she had done everything possible to keep Jordan safe, to protect her, to support her, love her, give her whatever she needed, and to share every sorrow with her. And yet she had only partially succeeded.

She knew she had a very brief window of opportunity to accomplish her goal and secure Jordan’s happiness.

It had to be tonight.

Dinner had been a somber threesome that evening. Rene had been a no-show, using the excuse of a headache in order to escape. Darlene had requested hot herbal tea be brought upstairs to her guestroom. Roselynne had phoned to say that she and Tammy were going to have dinner at home. And even Devon had excused himself before Vadonna served dessert.

Jordan had moved her food around on her plate for the past thirty minutes, but Rick noticed she hadn’t eaten more than a bite or two.

When Vadonna placed the bowls of blackberry cobbler à la mode in front of Rick and Jordan, she frowned as she stared at Jordan’s plate.

“If you don’t start eating, Miss Jordan, you’re going to dry up and blow away. I want to see you eat that cobbler. I picked those wild blackberries myself, off the bushes here on the estate.”

“The cobbler looks delicious,” Jordan said. “I promise I’ll eat as much as I can.”

Vadonna smiled as she cleared the table and returned to the kitchen.

“Is there any way I can persuade you not to go to the cemetery tomorrow?” Rick asked.

“I have to go. It’s important to Darlene.”

“Couldn’t you talk to her, maybe convince her to wait and you two visit his grave in a few weeks?”

“No. She needs to see this through tomorrow and so do I.”

He nodded. “Cam Hendrix called when you went upstairs to take Darlene her tea. He plans to meet with the district attorney and the sheriff tomorrow. With the proof that Robby Joe’s death was an accident and with J.C.’s written confession that Lt. McLain was involved in The Chatterbox exposé, Cam believes he can persuade the DA not to pursue you as a suspect in your husband’s murder.”

Jordan’s hand holding the dessert spoon shook so badly that she dropped the spoon against the glass bowl. She jerked her hand back, took a calming breath and pressed her open palm over her neck.

“I still find it difficult to believe that someone killed Dan,” Jordan said. “And it seems our little plan to force someone to attack you hasn’t worked, has it? Maybe your theory is wrong. Maybe no one—”

Tobias called, “Miss Jordan, you have to go over to Mrs. Harris’s right away.” He stood in the doorway, concern etched on his face. “She just called and said Miss Tammy has gone crazy or something. She’s screaming and crying and throwing things and Mrs. Harris can’t do a thing with her. Miss Tammy keeps saying your name.”

Jordan shoved her chair back and shot to her feet. Rick got up and followed her through the house and out the back door. When she broke into a run, he caught up with her halfway to the Harris’s cottage. Even from that distance, they could hear Tammy hollering.

Roselynne, in her red satin robe and matching slippers, met them in the yard, a look of absolute fear on her face. “I’ve never seen her like this. Not ever. This isn’t one of her usual temper tantrums. It’s as if she’s gone berserk. I can’t get her to calm down and she won’t tell me what’s wrong.” Roselynne grabbed Jordan’s hands. “She keeps saying that she wants you.”

“I’ll go in and talk to her,” Jordan said.

“She’s locked herself in her room and told me to get out of the house and stay out, that she doesn’t want to see anybody but you.”

Jordan looked at Rick. “Please, stay out here with Roselynne and let me go in alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rick told her.

“Tammy won’t hurt Jordan, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Roselynne said. “If she hurts anybody, it’ll be herself.”

“Stay out here, both of you,” Jordan said. “If I need you, I’ll let you know.”

Rick didn’t like the idea of Jordan going into the house alone, but short of using physical force, he knew he couldn’t stop her.

He grabbed her arm. “Be careful.”

She pulled away from him and went into the house.

They could hear Tammy screeching, the sound slightly muffled through the closed doors. Then suddenly a door slammed and Tammy quieted.

“Maybe just seeing Jordan has calmed her down,” Roselynne said.

“You have no idea what caused Tammy to—”

“She was fine when I went into the bathroom to take my nightly bubble bath. I usually listen to some soothing music and relax for thirty minutes or so. I left Tammy in the kitchen, putting the supper dishes in the dishwasher. She’d been kind of quiet ever since the service for Robby Joe, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was a sad day for all of us. And even though Darlene’s not my favorite person, I felt so sorry for her. I guess it was kind of like losing her boy all over again.”

“Were you already in the bathtub when Tammy started screaming?” Rick asked.

“Sure was. I’d been soaking a good fifteen minutes when I heard her wailing like a banshee and tearing through the house, stomping like a horse. Lord, you should see the mess she made in the living room. She knocked over lamps and tossed throw pillows on the floor and broke two of my snow globes.”

“Exactly what did Tammy say?”

“Nothing that made any sense.”

“Stop and think and then tell me, word for word, if possible.”

Roselynne crossed her arms under her ample breasts and huffed. “Just a bunch of gibberish. Some nonsense about Jordan.”

“What sort of nonsense?” Rick wanted to shake Roselynne and he would if he thought it might help the situation.

“Oh, she kept saying that she loved Jordan. Her exact words were ‘I do so love Jordan. I do.’ She kept repeating that over and over again. Then she said something about our having to help Jordan be happy.”

“When Tammy gets upset, she doesn’t usually rant and rave and scream and tear the house apart, right?”

“Right.” Roselynne glanced at the closed front door. “She throws a hissy fit now and again, but nothing like tonight. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was putting on an act.”

Rick grabbed Roselynne by the shoulders. “Why would she pretend to go berserk?”

“I – I don’t know. I didn’t say she did, but maybe she did it to get Jordan to come over here to the house and talk to her.”

Rick loosened his hold on Roselynne. “Wouldn’t Jordan have come if Tammy had just called her?”

“Of course she would have and Tammy knew she would. That’s why none of this makes any sense.”

Rick rushed past Roselynne, bounded up the front steps and onto the porch. As he opened the door, she called after him.

“What’s wrong? Why are you going in there? Jordan told us she wanted to go in alone and we should wait out here.”

Rick didn’t respond. He went down the hall. Two doors stood open. A bedroom, obviously Roselynne’s, and a bathroom. The third door was closed. Rick tried the knob. The door swung open and revealed a semi-dark room. The only illumination was a nightlight plugged into a wall outlet.

“Jordan?”

No response.

“Jordan?”

Roselynne came up behind him just as he felt along the wall and flipped on the light switch. Tammy sat in the middle of her bed, her legs folded as if she were sitting at a campfire. She looked at him and smiled.

“Where’s Jordan?”

“Jordan’s happy now,” Tammy said, then repeated the phrase over and over again in a singsong fashion. “Jordan’s happy now. Jordan’s happy now.”

Rick turned to Roselynne. “Talk to her. See if you can get her to tell you where Jordan is.”

Rick visually searched the small bedroom. Twin beds. He peered under one and then the other. A dresser on one wall, a chest of drawers between the two windows on the other outside wall. The windows were closed and locked. He yanked open the closet. Small, no more than three feet wide and three feet deep.

“Tammy, honey, where did Jordan go?” Rick heard Roselynne ask as he ran through the house and searched, room by room. When he entered the kitchen he stopped dead still when he saw the back door standing wide open.

“Rick!” Roselynne screamed his name as she came running into the kitchen, all but dragging Tammy with her. “Somebody put Tammy up to that little wild girl performance.” Roselynne shoved Tammy in front of her. “Tell him. Tell Rick what you told me.”

“If I love Jordan and want her to be happy forever, then I should act crazy,” Tammy said, smiling and cheerful. “And I should get Jordan to come in the house alone to talk to me. Everything will be all right then because Jordan can go away and be happy forever.”

“Tell him where Jordan’s going?” Roselynne looked at Rick, terror in her eyes.

“She’s going to be with Robby Joe because she’s never been happy except when she was with him.”

Chapter 32

Rick ran out the back door, all the while hoping and praying that Jordan was still nearby. But after a quick search, he realized that whoever had taken Jordan had planned well ahead. He couldn’t waste precious time trying to search alone. He flipped open his phone, brought up the number, and waited impatiently for the phone to ring.

“Elliott here.”

“Jordan’s missing,” Rick said. “She hasn’t been gone more than five minutes. Contact the front gate to alert them. Get in touch with Holt and tell him to get out here to Price Manor. In the meantime, do a search of the house to see who’s there and who isn’t, then get back to me.”

“Rick!” Roselynne yelled.

He looked back at the cottage. Waving her arms, Roselynne came running toward him.