The Black Widow

“So it seems that Mrs. Price is a fortunate woman— she has two mothers.”

Before either woman could respond, the room fell into an instant hush and all eyes turned to the doorway. Jordan entered the dining room quietly. But her presence captured everyone’s attention, their reaction to her entrance as reverent as if she were the Queen of England, or maybe an angel come down from heaven.

How did one small, fragile woman command such devotion?

Had he pegged her all wrong? Was she the cold-hearted bitch who hadn’t shed a tear at her husband’s funeral? Was she the beautiful, vulnerable widow he instinctively wanted to comfort? Was she the adulterous wife who was having an affair with her husband’s assistant? Was she the much adored daughter to two women? Was Jordan Price really a candidate for sainthood or was she a heartless murderer?

Rick watched as, one by one, Jordan’s admirers swarmed around her. Although they showed concern for her, and it was obvious that they all cared about her and she them, Rick got an odd vibe. It was almost as if they fed off her, draining her of her strength and energy, absorbing her light into their darkness.

Hell, where had that weird thought come from? Absorbing her light into their darkness. Getting a little deep there, Carson. Next thing you know, you’ll need some hip boots to wade through the crap.

Jordan parted her sea of devotees and came to him, pausing when she was within arm’s reach. “Good evening, Mr. Carson…Rick.”

“Jordan.” He nodded.

“I hope your accommodations are satisfactory. If not—”

“The room is fine. Thanks.”

“I apologize for keeping y’all waiting,” she said. “I was on the phone with the governor. He wanted me to know that he’s appointing Gary Werneth to complete Dan’s term. He—” Her voice trembled. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Everyone in the room seemed to move forward, as if ready to envelop Jordan with comfort or catch her if she fell. But it was Kendra Brannon who actually wrapped her arms around her stepmother and hugged her.

Jordan returned the hug, then pulled free and announced, “Please be seated, everyone. I’ll let Vadonna know we’re ready for dinner to be served.”

During the hour and a half it took to complete the four-course meal, Jordan made a great effort to put everyone at ease. Rick had been placed between Rene Burke, Jordan’s assistant, and Darlene Wright. Both women treated him with cordial respect, but neither was actually friendly. Across from him, Tammy Harris spoke only when spoken to, and eyed Rick shyly when she thought he wasn’t looking. Jordan included Rick in the conversation whenever possible, as did her stepmother, Roselynne, but for the most part, everyone ignored him. They probably thought of him as the proverbial white elephant in the room. No one was openly rude to him, but he sensed a mixture of antagonism and curiosity from Jordan’s family and friends.

After dinner, as everyone rose to their feet and milled around the room, Jordan made her way to him, pulled him aside, and asked, “Would you join Devon and me in my study?”

“Sure.”

She motioned to Markham who stood halfway across the room, watching and waiting. She snaps her fingers and he comes running, Rick thought. How many poor bastards had been at her beck and call the way her husband’s handsome young assistant was?

Both Rick and Markham fell into step behind Jordan as she led them away from the others, down the hall and into her private sanctum. After closing the door behind her, she reached out and took Markham’s hand in hers. Rick looked from their clasped hands to their faces. Whatever this was about, they were presenting a united front.

“I want to clear something up right now,” Jordan said. “There is no need for you to try to find out what my relationship with Devon is. Don’t waste your time when it’s better spent trying to find out if Dan was murdered and if so, who killed him.”

“Are you ordering me not to—”

“Jordan and I are not lovers,” Markham said.

Yeah, tell me another one and maybe I’ll believe it. “If you say so.”

“Devon and I have known each other since we were children,” Jordan said. “He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, in grade school and in high school. But we are not lovers. We’ve never been lovers.”

“Okay. You’re not lovers, just good friends. I got it.”

“And if you’re concocting any other scenarios where Jordan and I killed Dan, then erase those from your mind,” Markham told him. “We both loved Dan. Neither of us would have ever done anything to hurt him.”

“Who do you think would have had a reason to hurt him?” Rick asked. “Mrs. Price claims that she can’t think of anyone who might have had a motive to kill Dan. She doesn’t think that the senator’s disgruntled ex-wife or her money-grubbing stepbrother is capable of murder. What do you think, Mr. Markham?”

Devon Markham’s movie idol handsome face flushed, but other than that he kept his feelings completely under control. “I agree with Jordan. The divorce was difficult for Jane Anne, but eventually she and Dan moved beyond what had happened in the past. I can’t say they were friends, but they certainly weren’t enemies. As for J.C.—he’s a charming good old boy, but—” Markham glanced toward Jordan and shrugged “—but despite the fact he is part of Jordan’s family, the man isn’t worth shooting. It would be a waste of good lead.”

“Well, thanks for the information,” Rick said. “Nobody wanted Dan Price dead, but the man’s dead nevertheless. Possibly, somebody went to a great deal of trouble to make his death look like a suicide.” Rick swung his right index finger back and forth, pointing at Jordan and Markham. “And you two are really good friends, but not lovers, so I shouldn’t waste time suspecting that either of you or the two of you together might have killed the senator for reasons unknown. Have I got all that right?”

“See here, Mr. Carson.” Markham released Jordan’s hand and confronted Rick face-to-face. “There’s no excuse for such insulting behavior. Jordan has endured more than enough these past few weeks without having to deal with attitude from you.”

Rick looked directly at her. Big mistake. She had that woeful look of a sad, vulnerable creature greatly in need of solace. And God help him, he wanted to give the widow a lot more than solace.

She laid her hand on Markham’s arm. “It’s all right, Devon. Really. I believe Mr. Carson…Rick…was simply playing devil’s advocate. He didn’t mean to be insulting.” She gave Markham’s arm a tender, loving squeeze. “Would you mind leaving us alone? Rick and I have a few other matters to discuss.”

Markham looked at her questioningly, evidently hesitant to leave her alone with Rick. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Markham glowered at Rick, issuing him a silent but definite warning before he reluctantly walked out of the room.

The moment they were alone, Jordan closed her eyes and sighed.

Very effective. Sweet and helpless. And here I am, a big, strong shoulder to lean on. God, how stupid did she think he was?

“From here on out, take all the pot shots at me you want,” Jordan said. “But Devon is off limits. I can take whatever is dished out, by you, by anyone, by life in general. But Devon can’t. Dan’s death has hit him hard. I know someone like you can’t possibly understand another man being emotionally fragile, but that’s exactly what Devon is right now. If you hurt him, I’ll—”

“What do you mean, someone like me?”

“A tough guy. All macho rough and proud of it.”

“It seems I’m not the only one who’s made a gut reaction judgment call. Yesterday, I pegged you for a cold-hearted bitch and today you’ve decided that I’m a Neanderthal, all brawn with no brains or feelings.” When he moved toward her, she took one step back, then halted and stood her ground as he approached. When only a hairsbreadth separated them, he looked down at her and asked, “If you’re wrong about me, maybe I’m wrong about you.”

“Am I wrong about you, Mr. Carson?”

“Partially. Am I wrong about you, Mrs. Price?”

“I’ll leave that for you to decide when we become better acquainted.”

It was all he could do to keep his hands off her. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her or shake the living daylights out of her.

After Rick left her study, Jordan locked the door and turned out all the lights, except the one on her desk. She walked to the windows and looked out into the darkness. A powerful, almost unbearable ache welled up inside her and for the first time since Dan’s death, she allowed the pain freedom. She stopped trying to control it, temporarily succumbing to her grief. Standing alone in the shadows, unable to cry, she trembled as the sadness engulfed her. She grieved for Dan, for a future that would never be, and for a past that she could not change.

She closed her eyes and moaned quietly. She wanted to scream, to rant, to curse the heavens. If it were within her power to go back a few short weeks and change things, would she? For her child’s sake?

How many more good years might Dan have had? One? Five? They would never know. His untimely death had saved all of them and at the same time had cheated them. Even if Devon could not see both sides of the issue, she could. If that made her the cold-hearted bitch that Rick Carson had accused her of being, then she accepted the condemnation. Life was never all black or all white; instead it was shades of gray. People were never all good or all bad, but myriad combinations.

Had life and circumstances taken away all that was pure and good and loving inside her? Had she truly become cold hearted, so much so that she could admit, if only to herself, that perhaps Dan’s death would free her from the lie her life had become?

Forgive me, Dan. Please forgive me.

We both deserved so much more than what we had to settle for, a marriage without passion, living two separate lives, one in public and the other in private.