Cold Hearted Read Online Free PDF Page A

Robby Joe Wright, who had longed to be a grade school teacher and the mother of at least three children, was only a vague, melancholy memory.
    Twice before, fate had given her two choices: let tragedy defeat her or make her stronger. She had that same choice now. And if she knew nothing else about herself, she knew one thing — Jordan Price was a survivor.
     
     
    Rick kicked back in Nicole’s Cadillac Escalade and relaxed as they flew along Interstate 75, halfway between Priceville and Chattanooga. The lady drove like a bat out of hell, slowing down only when absolutely necessary. Right now she was speeding along at 85 and the limit was 70.
    “If you don’t want to head this case, I can assign someone else.” Nic cast a sidelong glance his way.
    “What makes you think I don’t want the case?”
    Nic chuckled softly. “Oh, maybe your obvious animosity toward Jordan Price for one thing. You can’t go into an assignment with an open mind if you’ve already found the client guilty.”
    “You think I believe Mrs. Price killed her husband?”
    “Do you?”
    “Do I think the lady is capable of murder? I’m not sure. Maybe. She’s one cool customer.”
    “Just because she wasn’t hysterical with grief today doesn’t mean she didn’t love Dan.”
    “You’re right, it doesn’t,” Rick agreed. “But look at the facts. He was twenty years older, rich and powerful, and his death may not have been suicide. What’s the first rule of thumb in a case such as this?”
    “Suspect the wife.”
    “Right. And add to that scenario a young lover and you’ve got a recipe for murder.”
    “You’re assuming that Jordan and Devon Markham are lovers,” Nic said. “I think you’re wrong about that.”
    “Why do you think I’m wrong?”
    “Woman’s instinct.”
    Rick laughed. “Care to elaborate?”
    “Yes, I think they love each other, but they’re not in love. They don’t look at each other or touch each other the way a couple in love does.”
    “You can tell if a couple is in love from watching the way they look at each other?”
    “I told you that my theory is not based on scientific facts, just good old-fashioned woman’s intuition.”
    “Okay, say I buy your theory. That doesn’t rule out Jordan Price as a suspect.”
    “Jordan is not a suspect. She’s our client,” Nic reminded him. “She hired us, remember?”
    “Ryan Price hired us. She jumped on the bandwagon when she realized that we were going to do an investigation. After all, if she had put up a protest, it would have made her look guilty.”
    “I think maybe I should put Holt Keinan or Maleah Perdue on this case.”
    “Don’t.”
    Nic gave him another sidelong glance, her gaze questioning him. “Give me one good reason why I should hand this case over to you, all things considered?”
    “Because I want to be proven wrong,” he admitted. “I don’t want Jordan Price to be guilty.”
    “Hmm… You surprise me. I never suspected—”
    “That I find the lady intriguing? That I’m as susceptible as the next guy to a beautiful, vulnerable woman?”
    “Okay, the case is yours,” Nic told him. “But if I get one complaint from either Jordan or Ryan, I’ll jerk your ass off the case and put another agent in charge. Understand?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
     
     
    By seven that evening, the house had cleared, the string quartet had left and the caterers had cleaned up and gone. Only family and close friends remained, only those to whom Dan Price had been far more than a colleague, an acquaintance, another good old boy, or just their senator. The numbness that had encompassed Jordan for the past few weeks, from the moment she discovered Dan’s body until this evening, began to fade. She wished that she could remain in the semi-frozen emotional state, acting and reacting with control and logic. But sooner or later, she would have to confront the truth and deal with her personal grief.
    “Do you want us to stay here