Текст книги "Cold Hearted"

Автор книги: Beverly Barton

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Sheriff Corbett pumped Rick’s hand in a cordial, good old boy way. “Come on in, Mr. Carson, and meet Lt. McLain. I’m afraid Nolan Trumbo had a family emergency this morning. You’ll meet him later.”

They exchanged a strong cordial handshake; then Rick turned to the lieutenant. “Ma’am.”

She nodded and offered him a hint of a smile, responding in a friendly manner without being flirty. The deputy, probably in her mid-to-late thirties, filled out her uniform quite nicely, with curves in all the right places. She wore her light brown hair cut short with wispy curls framing her heart-shaped face.

“Take a seat.” Sheriff Corbett indicated a chair to the right of his desk as he sat down in his leather swivel chair behind the desk. “I’ve spoken to Ryan and assured him that this office will cooperate with the Powell Agency’s independent investigation.”

“We appreciate that,” Rick said as he lowered himself onto the metal folding chair.

“You understand that the Georgia Bureau of Investigation took over and it was their medical examiner who did the autopsy on Dan, so, in a way, my hands have been tied,” Corbett explained. “Officially, Dan’s death has been ruled a suicide, but with Ryan’s doubts and Haley here not a hundred percent convinced, I’m glad Ryan hired your outfit to dig around and see what y’all can find.”

“I’m working for Jordan Price, too,” Rick said. “She and her brother-in-law hired Powell’s.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ryan told me. He sure hated to upset Jordan so soon after the funeral.” Corbett made a clicking sound with his tongue as he shook his head. “It was hard enough for her to have to accept that Dan killed himself, but if Ryan’s right, it’s going to be even more difficult for her to know somebody murdered her husband. She’s been a pillar of strength for Ryan and Claire. I don’t know what they’d have done without her to step in and handle all the details. She’s a mighty fine lady and Dan was as lucky as a man could be to have had her for his wife.”

How could he reply to that comment? Obviously Sheriff Corbett had fallen under the Jordan Price spell. Rick glanced up at the deputy, who stood rigid and silent. “Do you agree with Ryan Price that his brother didn’t kill himself?”

She looked to the sheriff for permission to speak, and answered only after he nodded. “I have my doubts.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“The evidence points to suicide,” Lt. McLain said. “Senator Price’s right hand showed evidence of firearms residue and trace metal indicating he was holding the gun when it was fired. Also, the skin around the wound showed a powder tattoo, which indicates—”

“That the weapon was fired from no more than two feet away,” Rick completed her statement.

“That’s right.” She nodded. “The GBI ballistics lab did a test firing, and their findings, along with one other fact – that there was a contact wound and an impression of the muzzle on the senator’s head, indicating the weapon came in direct contact – suggest suicide.”

“What makes you think it wasn’t suicide?” Rick looked her right in the eye. “Nothing you’ve told me indicates that the senator’s death wasn’t—”

“You’re right,” she replied. “On the surface, the evidence points to suicide. But since this was my case, I made a point of thoroughly studying the autopsy report – even reading between the lines, if you want to call it that. A few things seemed a bit off to me, but I dismissed them as nothing but my investigator’s curiosity and possibly my imagination. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn’t let it go. So, I told Steve… uh, Sheriff Corbett and he agreed with me.”

“Exactly what seemed ‘off’ to you?” Rick asked.

“For one thing, the autopsy report showed arthritis in the senator’s hands, including the fingers of his right hand, which might have made pulling the trigger painful.”

“Painful but not impossible,” Rick said. “The evidence clearly showed that his finger pulled the trigger, right?”

“Right. He could have pulled the trigger. But there was something else – the senator’s trigger finger was broken and there was bruising on the top of his hand.”

Son of a bitch!

“You think that somebody grabbed the senator’s hand, forced the gun into it, and squeezed their hand over his hard enough to bruise his hand. And this person pressed down so hard when they forced his finger against the trigger that it broke the bones.”

“It’s all speculation,” Sheriff Corbett said. “But coupled with Ryan’s sincere conviction that his brother would never have killed himself, it’s enough to question if the senator might have had a little assistance in shooting himself.”

“The senator wasn’t a small or weak man,” Lt. McLain said. “Either he would have had to have been drugged or the person who forced the gun into his hand had to be quite strong. The autopsy showed no evidence of drugs, but I found evidence at the scene that he’d been drinking.”

“Apparently the GBI didn’t think this info was significant proof of murder or they wouldn’t have ruled the death a suicide.”

“Apparently,” Lt. McLain said. “And you do realize that it’s highly unlikely that we can prove it was murder.”

“But if we work under the assumption that it was murder and not suicide, we can look for a killer. In order to prove our theory, we will have to find the murderer and if possible, get a confession.”

“Then you believe I might be right to question the GBI’s Medical Examiner?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think there’s a good possibility you’re right and he’s wrong.”

“I know what we’ve got isn’t much,” the sheriff said, “but it’s a start. Anything you need from us, just let us know. You can contact Haley day or night while you’re on this case. She’ll be available.”

When Corbett glanced at her, Haley McLain said, “Yes, sir.” Then she looked at Rick. “Our department doesn’t have the budget or the manpower – or for that matter, the authority – to investigate further. The M.E.’s official decision was suicide, but if Powell’s can prove otherwise, then we can reopen this case.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a list of possible suspects, do you, Lieutenant?”

Haley cleared her throat. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Rick figured by the nervous way she cut her eyes toward Corbett and then cast her gaze to the floor that the deputy did have a list, even if it was just a mental tally of who might have had a reason to murder Senator Daniel Price.

“I’d like to take a look at the case files, including the autopsy report,” Rick said.

Corbett nodded. “Haley, why don’t you walk Mr. Carson out and see that he gets copies of whatever he needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rick fell into step behind the curvy brunette, his gaze settling on the sway of her trim hips, noting how her slacks cupped her firm buttocks, not a panty line in sight. That meant one of two things: either she wasn’t wearing panties or she was wearing a thong. Either was damn sexy. And the thought intrigued him.

While they waited for the sheriff’s secretary to copy the files on the Price case, Haley offered Rick a cup of coffee, which he accepted.

“If Dan Price was murdered, who heads your suspects list?” Rick asked.

“I told you that I don’t have a—”

“A political adversary? A disgruntled constituent? The loyal assistant? The grieving widow?”

Haley eyed him over her half empty coffee cup and took a sip before responding. “The husband or wife is usually the chief suspect until he or she is ruled out. But from what I know about Mrs. Price, people believe she’s practically a saint.”

Rick grunted. “I guess I’ll find out for myself pretty soon. I’m going to be staying at Price Manor for the duration of this investigation.”

“And whose idea was that?”

“Mrs. Price invited me to stay.”

“And naturally you agreed.”

Rick shrugged.

“There’s something else I’ve heard about Mrs. Price.”

“What’s that?” Rick asked.

“That the lady can be very persuasive.”

She watched from the upstairs window while the Powell agent parked his Jeep in front of the house. They didn’t want him here. He was not welcome, but he mustn’t know that, just as no one must ever find out that Dan had told her about the Alzheimer’s diagnosis. How fortunate that he had trusted her so completely, enough so that she was able to plant the idea of suicide in his mind. If only he had followed through… Water under the bridge. She had to accept the reality of their situation and deal with it accordingly.

They would have to be polite to Mr. Carson; how ever, there was no reason for them to be friendly.

Ryan had done what he thought best and the rest of them had to live with his decision. She’d had no idea that Dan’s brother would refuse to believe he had killed himself, especially not after the medical examiner ruled his death a suicide. Why couldn’t he have accepted their findings? If he had, they could all move on and put the unfortunate incident behind them.

But now we have to be very careful not to give Mr. Car son any reason to suspect us. He has no proof that Dan did not commit suicide and unless we slip up and do or say something suspicious, Mr. Carson can investigate as long as he’d like and in the end, he’ll still have no proof. We didn’t make any mistakes that night.

Tobias met Mr. Carson in the middle of the drive way. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but after only a few moments, Tobias took the man’s suitcase and he returned to his Jeep. Apparently he was taking the vehicle around to the garage at the side of the house.

She stepped away from the window, turned, and walked into the bathroom. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Pale. Dark circles under her eyes. She was a woman in mourning. That’s what she wanted Mr. Carson to see.

Jordan met Tobias as he entered the foyer, a black suitcase in his hand. He paused and said, “Mr. Carson has arrived, Miss Jordan. I had him park in the garage. I told him that you would be waiting for him in your study.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“In which room should I put his things?”

“I had Vadonna air out Mr. Ryan’s old room. It’s one of the larger bedrooms and is quite masculine. I believe it will suit Mr. Carson, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. It should.”

Jordan took a deep breath. She dreaded having a stranger living in her home almost as much as she hated the thought that he would be trying to prove that someone had murdered Dan. But by keeping Mr. Carson close, she would be able to oversee his investigation on a day-to-day basis and all information would come to her before it reached Ryan.

Instead of going directly to her study, she made a detour through the kitchen. Vadonna lifted her head and turned from where she was loading the dishwasher.

“Yes, ma’am, is there something you need?”

“I’d like a fresh pot of decaf coffee for two delivered to my study in about ten minutes, please. Until then, I don’t want to be disturbed. I’ll be speaking privately with Mr. Carson.”

“Yes, ma’am, coffee in your study in ten minutes.” Vadonna closed the dishwasher and hit the START button. “Oh, Miss Jordan, have you seen Mrs. Wright in the past few minutes? She was concerned that you hadn’t joined them for lunch and said she might take you up a tray.”

“No, I haven’t seen Darlene, but if you do, please tell her that I’m fine and I don’t want anything to eat.”

Vadonna nodded.

Jordan left the kitchen and made it halfway to her study before Rick Carson entered the house. She looked down the long hall to where he stood in the foyer, his head tilted upward as he scanned the open staircases leading to the second level. Yesterday, she had paid little attention to the dark-haired man who had attended Dan’s funeral with Claire’s cousin. But today, as she studied him while he was unaware of her presence, she realized that he was the type of man who wouldn’t ordinarily be overlooked. It wasn’t because he was tall, muscular and attractive in a rough and rugged sort of way, but because he exuded a raw masculinity that disturbed her as it probably did every woman he met.

Don’t just stand here gaping at the man. Meet and greet. Put a pleasant expression on your face and welcome him.

Jordan walked down the hall. Rick looked directly at her as he waited for her to come to him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Carson.” She held out her hand. “Welcome to Price Manor.”

He hesitated for a millisecond before he clasped her hand. His grip was strong yet gentle and his hand was warm and hard. She was suddenly acutely aware of him in that age-old way a woman is aware of a virile man.

She jerked her hand away, hating how his touch had made her feel. But she managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face.

“Before I show you up to your room so that you can settle in, will you please come into my study for a few moments. I’d like to speak to you privately.” Jordan indicated the direction with a sweep of her right hand.

When she glanced at Rick Carson, she noticed that he was staring at her left hand. She looked down and realized the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows had hit her engagement ring and wedding band, making the diamonds sparkle with brilliant fire. She dropped her left arm to her side and pressed her palm against her thigh.

She knew what this man, this trained investigator, was thinking. The three-carat diamond flanked by two smaller half-carat diamonds and coupled with a diamond-studded platinum wedding band all but screamed rich widow. He no doubt believed that her husband had spoiled her with outrageously expensive jewelry. But the rings, as with the other jewelry Dan had given her, had been for show. At the time, she had tried to dissuade him from buying her the gaudy rings. But he had insisted, telling her that it would be expected for a man with his wealth to buy his second wife rings that would equal or exceed the value of those he had bought his first wife.

Jordan and Rick Carson exchanged heated glances before she turned and headed for her small study at the rear of the house. She didn’t look over her shoulder to see if he was following, but she knew he was. Not only could she hear his heavy footsteps, but she could feel his presence as if it were a shadow hovering over her. Watching her. Examining her.

The man made her nervous.

She didn’t pause when she reached the open door that led into her private sanctuary. This room had once been part of a back porch that had spanned the length of the house, but sometime in the past 50 years, a section of the porch had been enclosed and divided into two rooms. A glass encased sunroom filled with antique white wicker lay on the right side and her study on the left. A wall of windows faced the back courtyard. The ceiling and two walls boasted old beaded board painted a pale peach and what had once been the exterior wall was white-washed brick. She had decorated the room herself and had chosen each item, each piece of furniture, with great care. This was the only room in the entire house that was hers alone. Even though she had not shared a bedroom with Dan, her room, like the others in this old mansion, held priceless antiques and had been professionally decorated.

Jordan paused in front of the beige-and-brown striped settee, then turned slowly to face her guest. Their gazes clashed. Jordan swallowed.

“Please, take a seat,” she told him as she eased down onto the settee.

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the rust-colored easy chair across from her. “Is there some kind of problem?”

“I hope not, but if there is, I think we need to resolve it as soon as possible. Agreed?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ryan trusts you because you’re employed by Nicole and Griffin Powell and normally I trust Ryan’s judgment. But I need to be certain that I can trust you to keep any personal information you uncover during your investigation completely private and never reveal it to anyone other than Ryan and me.”

“I can assure you that, unless I uncover something that directly incriminates either you or Ryan in your husband’s death, all information will be kept in strictest confidence.”

Jordan’s heart stopped for a millisecond. Was this man saying what she thought he was? Was he implying that – No, surely he wouldn’t dare suggest that either she or Ryan might have been responsible for Dan’s death.

“Mr. Carson, are you actually suggesting that Ryan or I might have—”

“Look, let’s lay our cards on the table right now. I’m a straightforward kind of guy and since you’re paying for my services through the Powell Agency, you have a right to know that my only goal is to find out if your husband was murdered and if he was, who killed him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. That’s why Ryan and I hired you.”

When he leaned forward, Jordan instinctively withdrew, pressing back against the sofa, her body unconsciously trying to escape from the threat she sensed he posed.

“Then you won’t object if I ask you one simple question, will you?”

Her heart raced at breakneck speed.

“Ask your question,” she said.

He looked her square in the eye, his dark, penetrating stare pinning her to the spot. “Mrs. Price, did you kill your husband?”

Chapter 4

Rick could tell that his question had not surprised Jordan Price. She glowered at him with those cool blue-gray eyes, her expression an odd mixture of hurt and anger. But she stayed perfectly calm. Only the telltale clenching of her jaw and the hard glare revealed any emotion.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I did not kill my husband and that I cared deeply for him?”

“Cared deeply? Odd choice of words, Mrs. Price.”

“Honest choice of words,” she said. “I loved Dan, but not in some silly, youthfully passionate way. Our marriage worked for both of us. In our own fashion, we were quite content.”

“Another odd choice of words.”

“But once again an honest choice.”

“You’re not much for deep, passionate feelings, are you?”

She stared at him, a glimmer of something unsettling bubbling just below the surface, a hint of fury, a tinge of inner fire.

Don’t go there, Carson. Do not for one minute believe that she hasn’t used this feminine trick on other men. What she wants is for you to believe that you’re the one man on earth who could bring her dormant passion to life. Don’t be a fool. Don’t fall for her oh-so-smooth act.

He gave her a thorough once-over, not subtle in the way he appraised her physical assets. Yeah, so his manner was a bit on the crude side, not the least respectful. But in his book – the Rick Carson book of rules and regulations – a person had to earn his respect.

Jordan was willowy slender, but not skinny. Her hips rounded nicely and her breasts were large enough to fill a C-cup bra. He surmised her height and weight: five-four, a hundred and twenty pounds. Her creamy skin was like fine porcelain, unmarred by the sun or a tanning bed. She possessed an almost ethereal quality, like an angelic statue brought to life.

“You’re staring,” she told him, her voice slightly breathless.

Yes, he was. He was staring at a beautiful woman, but one he suspected was deadly. Was Jordan Price a black widow? Or was she what she appeared to be – sad, vulnerable, and in need of a strong shoulder to lean on?

Rick shook off the latter thought. He wasn’t here to give comfort. His job was to investigate a murder.

“Let’s say for the sake of argument that I believe you, that you didn’t kill your husband. Do you have any idea who did?”

She lifted her slender hand and smoothed back an errant strand of ash blonde hair. The thick mass was pulled loosely away from her face and secured with a silver clasp into a broad bun at the nape of her neck. Other than the ostentatious set of rings on her left ring finger, her jewelry was minimal, only a silver-and-gold watch and a pair of small, discreet diamond earrings.

Goddamn, why did she have to be so beautiful?

“I have no idea who killed Dan, if indeed he was murdered,” Jordan said. “He had political enemies, of course, but certainly none of them would have killed him.”

“What about personal enemies?” Rick tried his best not to skim his gaze over her body again, but his best wasn’t good enough. Sitting there in a pair of navy blue slacks and a white cotton sweater, she was hardly dressed for sex appeal, but he found her sexy as hell. When he returned his attention to her face, his gaze collided with hers.

“I don’t know of anyone who would want to kill Dan.”

He sensed that she might be withholding something. But why? Did she suspect Devon Markham and was protecting him because they were lovers?

“You do realize that if there was bad blood between your husband and another person, I’ll find out while I’m investigating. So, why don’t you save me some time and just tell me.”

She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. He noted the rise and fall of her breasts. Damn it, he had to stop lusting after Jordan. First and foremost, it was hardly professional to have the hots for your employer. And second and probably even more important, it would be stupid to become emotionally involved with a woman he suspected of murder.

“Dan and his ex-wife, Jane Anne, were not the best of friends, but I don’t think she’s capable of murder.” Jordan paused for a moment and glanced toward the closed door to her study. “My stepbrother, J.C., and Dan have had a few arguments. J.C. is a gambler and last year, he got himself into deep debt. Dan helped him, but when he went to Dan again this year, Dan turned him down.”

Rick nodded. “And that’s it. His ex-wife and your stepbrother?”

“As far as I know. Dan was highly respected and people in general liked him. He was a man with a good heart.”

She clenched her teeth and swallowed. If she was faking emotion, she was doing a really good job. Unable to stop himself, Rick reached out and clasped her hand. Their gazes met and God help him, it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms to comfort her.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then abruptly released her. “I’ll need office space of some type while I’m here.” That’s it, Carson, stick to Powell Agency business and steer clear of any monkey business. “Access to high-speed Internet, a fax machine, a copier and printer. Could that be arranged in whatever room you’ve—?”

“All of it is available in Dan’s study. He used that room as his home office. Feel free to arrange things any way you’d like. I’ll inform Tobias and Vadonna that the room will be yours to use while you’re here.”

“Are you sure you want me using your husband’s study? I mean, considering that’s where he died.”

Jordan clutched her hands together and moistened her lips with a quick, light lick.

Did she have any idea what kind of an effect she had on him? Sure she did. She was playing him and he’d damn well better not forget it.

“Yes, I’m sure you may use Dan’s study. I – I hadn’t been back in there until yesterday when I interrupted your private conversation with Ryan.”

“Everyone is a suspect until I rule them out, including you and Ryan. If you have a problem with that, I need to know now.”

She almost smiled. Her lips curved upward ever so slightly and he noted a faint trace of laughter in her eyes. “Please, call me Jordan. And may I call you Rick?”

He nodded. What sort of game was she playing? Please, call me Jordan. And may I call you Rick?

A soft rap on the half-open door interrupted them.

“Yes, come in, please,” Jordan said, as if she was expecting someone.

A plump, middle-aged woman entered the room, a silver tray in her hands. She set the tray on Jordan’s desk.

“Thank you, Vadonna,” Jordan said.

“Yes, ma’am. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you, that will be all.”

While the woman exited, Jordan indicated the silver pot and accessories on the tray. “Would you care for coffee?”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jordan focused on him. “You laid your cards on the table, Rick, and asked me point blank if I killed my husband. Now it’s my turn to be brutally honest. I don’t like you. I don’t want you here invading my home and my grief, taking away my privacy and questioning my integrity. But if my husband was murdered, I want his killer found and brought to justice. I want you to do your job. However, if you do anything to sully Dan Price’s reputation, I’ll see to it personally that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Crystal clear. Any skeletons your husband had in his closet will remain there.”

She sighed heavily. “I expect to be kept up-to-date on the investigation. For now, a daily report will suffice.”

The lady was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. The privilege of wealth – her dead husband’s wealth. “Will every morning right after breakfast be suitable for my daily report or do you prefer for me to report right before bedtime?”

“Every morning works for me.” A cool, succinct reply.

When she stood, he stood.

“I’ll have Tobias show you to your room. If there’s anything you need, please let us know.” As she walked toward the door, he followed. “Dinner is at seven.”

She opened the door and ushered him out of her study, effectively dismissing him. “If you’ll wait in the foyer, I’ll find Tobias.”

He watched her as she walked away. She moved with a fluid grace that came as naturally to her as breathing. Jordan Price’s kind of class couldn’t be learned. It was innate.

If he didn’t watch his step, the lady would have him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all.

Rene washed hurriedly, removing the smell of sex from her body, then not bothering to dry off, she yanked on her thong and pulled up her slacks. As she hooked her bra, she noticed a bruise on her left breast. J.C. liked to bite, not forcefully enough to bring blood to the surface, but hard enough to bruise. While slipping on her blouse, she returned to the bedroom and found J.C., still naked, sprawled in the center of the bed, a rakish smile on his too-handsome face.

“What’s the hurry, babe? Sister won’t need you this after noon. She’s got that stud Powell agent to keep her company.” J.C. chuckled.

“Will you shut up! What a thing to say, to imply that Jordan would find Mr. Carson sexually appealing and poor Dan not cold in the ground.”

“Dead’s dead. Dan’s as dead now as he will be six months from now. Besides, you and I know that she wasn’t getting any from old Danny boy.”

“Hush! You say the most awful things. Have you no respect for your sister and Dan?”

“I respected my brother-in-law’s power and money. And I respect the hell out of Jordan, frigid bitch that she is.”

“Get up, take a shower and get dressed,” Rene told him, hating herself for having succumbed to J.C.’s immeasurable charm once again. The guy could be a real jerk, but he was dynamite in bed. At least she thought so. Maybe the fact that she was halfway in love with him colored her vision.

“The only reason you think Jordan is frigid is because she can so easily resist you.” Picking up a comb from the vanity, she raked it through her short black hair. “For God’s sake, she’s your sister and you still hit on her. You’re a real ass, you know that?”

J.C. slithered out of bed like the snake he was, and stood to his full five-eleven height. Lean, lightly muscled, his skin appearing darker than it actually was because of his sandy hair and pale blue eyes, the man was gorgeous.

As his gaze glided over her sensually, he moved toward her, then reached out and jerked her up against him. “She’s my stepsister. Technically, if I screwed her, it wouldn’t be incest.”

“You’re a worthless shit.”

He grinned, rubbed his semi-erect penis against her and grabbed her butt. “Yeah, but I’m your worthless shit, aren’t I?”

Rene pulled away from him. “I’m not fool enough to think you’re exclusively mine. Not when I know you’ll fuck just about anything with a pussy.”

J.C. laughed. “Honey, you know you’re my favorite pussy.”

Ignoring him as he turned and headed for the bathroom, Rene inspected herself in the mirror. She needed lipstick. Otherwise, she’d do.

She hadn’t seen Jordan since breakfast this morning and it was past time she checked in with her boss. It had taken her a while to adjust to working for Jordan instead of with her. They had met when they’d been in college, both working two jobs to pay their tuition. A few years after graduation, Jordan had called her out of the blue and offered her a position at the Atlanta PR firm where Jordan had just received a promotion. They had remained friends ever since and when Jordan married Senator Daniel Price and needed a personal assistant, she’d offered her the job. She had snapped it up posthaste.

Halfway along the upstairs hall and lost in her thoughts, Rene almost ran over Darlene Wright, who stepped aside just in time to prevent being hit head-on.

“Good afternoon.” Rene spoke to the old biddy simply out of courtesy.

Turning up her sharp, birdlike nose, Darlene gave Rene a condescending glance. “Have you seen Jordan?”

“Not since breakfast. Why?”

“I know she was expecting Mr. Carson, the Powell agent, and I wanted to make sure she’s all right and that his arrival didn’t upset her.”

“Why should his being here upset her? After all, she hired him, didn’t she?”

Darlene snorted. “I suspect that Ryan gave her little choice. If he had simply accepted the medical examiner’s findings, it would be unnecessary for Jordan to suffer more than she already has.”

“You’re right.” As much as she hated to agree with this snooty old bitch, she, too, didn’t want to see Jordan put through the wringer. “But all we can do is stand by and try to help her as much as we can. And pray that Dan wasn’t murdered.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t. After all, who would want to kill a lovely man like Dan?”

“He was a sweetie, wasn’t he?” Rene sighed. “Our poor Jordan. She has the damnedest luck with men.”

Darlene gasped. “What a terrible thing to say!”

“Oh, crap. You know I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just meant if anybody’s had enough tragedy for two lifetimes, it’s our Jordan.”

“If my Robby Joe had lived…” Her voice trailed off on a fragile, whispery moan.

Damn, she didn’t want to hear about Robby Joe being the love of Jordan’s life. Not again. Not today. If Darlene had spouted off that tale of woe once, she’d done it a million times.

“Look, if I see Jordan, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.” Rene eased around Darlene and headed straight for the back stairs.