Jordan looked up at Rick. “You’ll stay, won’t you? At least until after I open the package.”
His nonverbal reply of squeezing her hand seemed to be all the reassurance she needed. She released his hand and followed Rene into the house. Just as he started to enter the foyer, his sixth sense warned him that he was being watched. He looked right and left, behind him and then up. A shadow of movement caught his eye. Someone standing in an upstairs window had moved away quickly.
Whoever had been there was gone now.
A weird vibe crept up his spine.
He went into the house and quickly caught up with Jordan and Rene. Not once on the walk from the foyer to her study at the back of the house did Jordan glance over her shoulder to see if he was still there.
Was she that sure of him?
Maleah met them as they entered the study. She eyed Rick inquisitively, but she didn’t say anything.
“Do you want me to open it?” Rene asked.
“No, I’ll do it,” Jordan replied.
Rick held out his hand. “Give it to me and you two step back. I doubt there’s a bomb inside or anything deadly, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
After his comment, Rene couldn’t hand him the package fast enough. Rick took it and examined it thoroughly. With all eyes on him, he ripped open the envelope, upended it, and then shook it. Sheets of white paper held together with a large paperclip slid from the padded container and dropped onto the desk.
Rick picked up the small bundle and looked at the top sheet. It was a copy of Jane Anne Price’s obituary.
After removing the paperclip, he shuffled through the other pages.
“What is it?” Jordan came toward him.
“Copies of obituaries,” he told her.
“Whose?” Rene asked.
Rick went through them, one by one. “Jane Anne Price.” He laid the sheet on the desk. “Daniel Price, Boyd Brannon, Donald Farris, Jay Reynolds, Robby Joe Wright, and Wayne Harris.” He held one final sheet in his hand.
“Who else?” Jordan asked.
He handed the sheet of paper to her. She read it slowly, carefully, then reread it aloud.
“Jordan Helene Price, thirty-four, of Priceville, Georgia is dead. Funeral arrangements will be announced by Benefield Funeral Home. Mrs. Price was a native of Valdosta, Georgia, the only child of Wayne and Helene Harris. She was preceded in death by her parents, her fiancé, Robby Joe Wright, her first husband, Boyd Brannon, and her second husband, Daniel Price.”
Rick snatched the paper out of her hand. “That’s enough.”
Jordan stared at him, a detached look in her eyes.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Jordan. Jordan!”
She continued staring at him, not moving, not speaking.
“Damn it, Jordan, snap out of it.” He shook her again.
“Am I dead?” she asked half a second before she fainted.
Chapter 20
After parking her car a block from his apartment, she removed the wooden baseball bat from the trunk, slipped it beneath her all-weather coat and held it close to her body. She had followed him from the Peachtree Agency, keeping a discreet distance behind him the entire way. Once she realized that he was going home, she had relaxed, knowing that tonight would be the night. If she could catch him alone in the parking garage, she would put her plan into action.
The autumn air was crisp, the half moon semi-bright, the stars twinkling dimly in the black sky. As she hurried along the sidewalk, rushing to reach the entrance to the basement parking garage, her heartbeat raced as excitement rushed through her body.
She had worn rubber-heeled athletic shoes that she had purchased at the Dollar Store, just as she had bought the cheap all-weather coat and the bat at Wal-Mart. None could be easily traced, certainly not back to her. She would burn everything she wore tonight, including her underwear, and also, the weapon.
Breathless, her face warm, her adrenaline high, she paused for a moment when she saw him standing by his BMW, his back to her as he leaned into the front seat. He had no idea that tonight was his last night on earth. Within a few minutes, he would be dead, punished for his sins. She removed the baseball bat from under her coat and held it up, both hands wrapped tightly around it. With quiet, catlike movements, she came up behind him just as he removed his briefcase from the car.
She lifted the bat as high as she possibly could, then with one hard, fast lunge, brought it down on the back of his head. He yelped, then staggered, unsteady on his feet. Before he could turn on her, she hit him again, this time landing a blow to the side of his head. As blood trickled from his scalp in two places, dampening his sandy hair and freckled face with red streaks, he slumped forward, his flailing arms reaching out. His knees buckled. She hit him again. Harder. He fell to his knees. She repeated the blows over and over again until he lay flat on his face, sprawled out on the concrete floor.
He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. He was dead. And yet she couldn’t stop hitting him, bringing the bat down on his head repeatedly until only a raw, bloody mess remained.
Breathing hard, the triumph of the moment obliterating everything from her mind, she stood over his body, proud of her kill, as any hunter would be.
After enjoying her moment of glory, she propped the baseball bat against the side of the BMW, knelt beside him and searched his pockets. She removed his wallet and shoved it into her coat pocket. Then she took off his watch and rings and put them in her other pocket.
After she picked up the bloody baseball bat, she swiped it back and forth over his legs to clean it off, then she slipped it under her coat. Before leaving, she looked down at him one final time.
“You will never harass another woman, never frighten anyone again. You weren’t a nice man, Jay Reynolds. You got just what you deserved.”
The memory of that long-ago night flashed through her mind as if it had been captured on film and was now replaying.
“She’s coming to,” Rene said. “Her eyelashes are fluttering and she’s moaning.”
Rick, who had caught Jordan when she fainted and brought her to the sofa, huddled beside her. He ran the back of his hand over her face. “Jordan? Jordan, wake up.”
She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Rene said.
When Jordan tried to sit up, Rick put his hand high on her chest and gently pushed her back down. “Stay still and relax.”
She grabbed Rick’s hand. “Please, don’t mention this to anyone else. I don’t want them worrying about me.”
“I’m worried about you,” he said. “I sent Maleah to get your doctor’s phone number from Tobias.”
“No, please, I don’t need a doctor.”
“You fainted,” he reminded her. “People don’t faint without a reason.”
“Seeing my own obituary written out like that unnerved me,” she told him. “That’s all it was.”
“I’m not buying it. You didn’t faint when you found your husband’s body, did you? I don’t think reading a mock obituary would—”
“I need to sit up.” She looked at him pleadingly.
He slid his arm beneath her shoulders and helped her into a sitting position.
“I didn’t eat much breakfast,” Jordan said. “I don’t have any appetite and I’m not sleeping well at night. Please, believe me. I do not need a doctor.”
The door flew open and Darlene Wright stormed in. “What happened to Jordan? Is she all right?” Darlene looked Jordan over thoroughly, then slumped down on the sofa beside her. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re all right. I heard that woman…Ms. Perdue…asking Tobias about calling Dr. Carroll. She said that you fainted.”
Jordan took Darlene’s hand in hers. “I’m all right. I was just a little lightheaded.”
Darlene stared at Rick. “Did something happen to upset her?”
“No, no, nothing,” Jordan said.
“There’s no use trying to hide it from her,”
Rene said as she gathered the stack of obituaries and handed them to Darlene. “Someone’s tormenting Jordan. First that damn letter, then the phone call and now this.”
“Oh, my, my.” Darlene’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked through the papers in her hand. “Whoever this person is, he or she may well be the one who killed Jane Anne. I’m afraid you may be in real danger.”
Devon tore into the study. “Are you all right? I overheard Tobias telling Vadonna that you had fainted.” He looked at Rick. “Shouldn’t we call Dr. Carroll?”
“No, we shouldn’t.” Jordan shoved everyone aside and rose to her feet. “I am perfectly all right. I forbid anyone—” she glared at Rick “—to call Dr. Carroll.”
The distinctive ring of Jordan’s cell phone silenced any protests that might have been made. Everyone froze.
“That’s my phone,” Jordan said. “Rene, it’s on the desk. Would you get it for me, please.”
Before Rene had a chance to move, Rick reached the desk and picked up the phone. Caller ID read Unknown. He flipped open the phone. Everyone looked at him.
He listened as the caller rattled off something about being chosen for a special service to pay off credit card debts. With the recorded message still playing, he closed the phone and placed it back on the desk.
“It was a solicitor,” he told them.
They released a collective sigh of relief.
“I think you should go upstairs and rest until lunch time,” Darlene suggested. “I’ll bring you up a pot of tea and—”
“Actually, what I think I need is some fresh air,” Jordan said.
Rene, Devon and Darlene all spoke at once, each offering to go for a walk with her.
She held up her hand in a STOP gesture. “You’re all very sweet to offer, but I need to discuss some things with Rick.” She looked at him. “Do you have time to go for a short walk with me before you leave?”
He nodded. “If you think you feel up to it.”
After hugs all around and verbal reassurances that she really was all right, she shooed everyone out of her study, except Rick and Maleah.
Rick bundled up the obituaries and gave them to Maleah. “Secure these,” he told her. “Then call the sheriff and fill him in on what’s happened—the letter, these obituaries, the phone call yesterday. Don’t speak to anyone else, only to Steve Corbett.”
Maleah nodded, then left Rick and Jordan alone in the study.
“Do you think it’s necessary to involve the sheriff?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah, I think it’s time.”
“Darlene and Devon and even Rene are upset and worried about me. I’m sure one of them will tell Roselynne and then the whole family will know.”
“A lot of people care about you,” Rick said.
“I keep asking myself when this nightmare will end, but I’m beginning to think it never will. First Dan’s death, then all the ugly publicity, followed by Jane Anne’s murder and now this—someone harassing me.”
“Do you really feel up to a walk?” Rick asked.
“Yes, I do.” She smiled. “Fresh air and sunshine is a remedy for almost any ailment.”
“Do you need a sweater?”
She shook her head.
They walked in silence for at least ten minutes, strolling through Dan’s rose garden, Vadonna’s herb garden, and then past the greenhouse and onto a dirt path that led to the pond at the front of the property. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of the drive and the massive front gates. But within seconds, a row of evergreen hedges blocked the view. Noonday bright and warm, the sun poised directly overhead in the clear, blue sky. A hint of a breeze stirred, ruffling the treetops and caressing the high grass. Wildflowers grew in abundance in the fields, their scent delicate and subtle. This was one of those rare, springtime, perfect weather days.
But Jordan Price’s life was far from perfect.
She broke the silence by asking, “When you were in your late teens or early twenties, did you think you knew exactly what your life was going to be like?”
Rick broke a small dead twig off a low-lying tree branch. “I’m not sure if I can remember back that far.”
Jordan smiled. “You say that as if you’re an old man now.”
“I’m thirty-nine,” he told her.
“That’s not old.”
He tossed the brittle twig through the air and watched it hit the ground a good ten feet away. “I’m old enough to know better than to reminisce about boyhood dreams.”
“Then you did have dreams.”
“Sure. I guess everybody does.” Rick kept in step with Jordan as she continued walking.
“When I met Robby Joe and fell in love with him, I thought I would have a perfectly wonderful life.” She didn’t pause or look at Rick. “If he hadn’t died, we’d be married now and have a home in the suburbs, a couple of children, a dog and an SUV. I’d be teaching school and running my kids from soccer practice to ballet lessons. In the evenings, after the kids were asleep, we’d sit alone together and talk about our day.”
Rick glanced at her and the look on her face rattled him. Not once in the time he’d known Jordan had he ever seen happiness on her beautiful face.
“You were very much in love with him, weren’t you?”
“Very much.” She paused and smiled at Rick. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“I’ve been in lust a few times, but not in love. Not the real deal.”
“My life didn’t turn out the way I’d planned. After Robby Joe died…I don’t know, everything changed. I changed.”
“We all change as we grow older and wiser,” Rick said. “The rose-colored glasses come off and reality slaps us in the face.”
“When did that happen to you?”
He didn’t reply.
When she started walking again, he followed along beside her.
Maybe because she didn’t press him for an answer, he chose to be honest with her. “By the time I was a senior in high school, my widowed father, who’d been raised dirt poor, had built up a construction business from scratch. When he met Sharon, he was worth a couple million. She took one look at him and saw dollar signs. It had been my dad’s dream for me to go into business with him. Carson and Son Construction.” Rick hadn’t talked about his father in years and he’d never told anyone about how his stepmother had driven his father to an early grave and had stolen Rick and his sister’s inheritance.
And he wasn’t sure why he was telling Jordan.
They came to a clearing near a spring-fed brook not more than fifteen feet wide. The water flowed slowly over the rocky bed, sunlight reflecting off the surface. Birds chirped from their perches in nearby trees. Bees buzzed as they flew from one plant to another.
Jordan sat down in the grass near the stream, pulled her knees up, and circled them with her arms as she stared dreamily into the rippling water.
Rick sat beside her. “Sharon was fifteen years younger than he was. She convinced him that she was madly in love with him. He believed her, married her, and she made his life a living hell. She spent money as if it grew on trees. She flirted with other men like the tramp she was. But my father was crazy about her and forgave her God knows how many times. Their marriage lasted six years, until the day he died. He was only forty-eight years old. And when she buried him, she never shed the first tear.”
Jordan reached out and laid her hand over his.
He felt her touch to the marrow of his bones.
“By the time he died, Dad and I were barely speaking. He left everything to Sharon and within a year, she’d gone through every cent the old man left her. She sold the business for half of what it was worth and I heard that a couple of years later, when she was flat broke, she found herself another sucker.”
Jordan squeezed his hand.
“My dream of going into business with my dad after college, the two of us working together, growing Carson and Sons into the biggest and best construction firm in the state of Mississippi�
��” Rick snorted. “It was a kid’s dream.”
“I don’t have any more dreams,” Jordan said, her voice whispery soft. “My last dream died with my baby.”
Rick flipped her hand over and held it. “You haven’t had a chance to mourn. You need to cry.”
“Did you cry when your father died?”
“Damn right, I cried,” he admitted. “Not at the funeral, but a week later when I was alone. I cried like a little boy.”
“I cried when my father died and when Robby Joe died.”
“Not since then?”
She eased her hand out of his, then brought her chin down to rest on her knees. “I wish I could cry. I can’t. The tears just won’t come. I couldn’t cry when Boyd died or when Dan died. I can’t even cry for my baby.”
“Jordan?”
She closed her eyes.
Rick put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about the baby.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat there, with the sun shining, the birds singing, and the breeze blowing. Rick wasn’t sure whether five minutes or five hours had passed. It was as if time had stood still. Somehow the only thing that seemed to matter was comforting Jordan, helping her find a few stolen moments of peace.
She turned her face toward him and gazed into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life and had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to taste her mouth. Without conscious thought, he lowered his lips to hers, taking them with tender hunger. She responded, her mouth parting on a sigh.
Suddenly as if only then realizing what she was doing, she ended the kiss and pulled away from him. He stared at her, slightly dazed by the way he’d reacted to the kiss. She jumped up, brushed the grass from her slacks and turned away without saying a word.
“Jordan?”
She walked off, leaving him sitting there staring at her back.
He rose to his feet and followed her.
“Jordan, wait.”
She walked faster and faster. He called her name again. She ran away from him without a backward glance.
Chapter 21
Devon hated seeing Jordan so unhappy, so stressed, so in need of something he could not give her. From childhood, she had been his best friend, his champion when he was persecuted, his confidante when he needed someone with whom he could share his innermost secrets, his comforter when his heart had been broken. He had relied on her unwavering friendship and had depended upon her strength to lend him support whenever it was needed. But what had he ever done for Jordan? Even in the worst times of her life, he had been able to do little except hold her hand and mouth platitudes, promising her a better tomorrow.
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