The Black Widow. BEVERLY BARTON
could split up and go in different directions to look for them,” Rick suggested. “Then meet back here in five minutes.”
“Okay. Good idea. You start your search in here and I’ll go into the other parlor,” Nic told him, then just as she turned around, she stopped and said, “Wait up. I see Claire. She’s motioning to me.”
Rick fell in step beside Nic as she headed toward the foyer again. He caught sight of Nic’s cousin, Claire, a leggy brunette almost as tall as Nic.
“Come on,” Nic said.
When they approached Claire, she met them at the pocket doors open to the foyer. “Ryan is in Dan’s study. He’s waiting for us.”
Rick followed the two women down the wide hall and into a dark-paneled room with three floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall, and two walls covered with built-in bookshelves. Ryan Price stood, with his back to the door, in front of a fireplace topped with an ornately carved mantel. When he heard the door open, he turned slowly.
He moved forward and extended his hand, first to Nicole and then to Rick. “Thank you for coming to the funeral.”
“Dan was a good man,” Nic said. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
Ryan grimaced. “I don’t know how to say this any other way, so here goes—I don’t believe Dan killed himself.”
“I see.” Nic glanced at Claire as if silently asking her if she agreed with her husband. “What makes you think he didn’t kill himself? It’s my understanding, from what Claire told me, that the local authorities and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation have ruled Dan’s death a suicide.”
As she rushed to her husband’s side, Claire said, “Officially, Dan’s death was ruled a suicide. But we were told that it’s difficult, if not sometimes impossible, to prove a suicide wasn’t murder. Especially when the person supposedly shot himself in the head.”
Ryan’s gaze settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “He was lying there when Jordan found him. The only fingerprints on the gun were Dan’s. And there was gunshot residue on his hand from where he had supposedly fired the weapon.”
“Then why—?” Nic asked, but Ryan cut her off.
“I knew Dan. Knew the kind of man he was. Under no circumstances would he have killed himself.” Ryan slipped his arm around Claire’s waist, obviously needing her com-fort and support. “I want to hire the Powell Agency to do a thorough investigation and find a way to prove that my brother didn’t commit suicide.”
Nic glanced at Claire again.
Claire cleared her throat, then said, “I told Nic that we discovered, after Dan’s death, that he was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.”
Ryan heaved a deep sigh. “That information is not to go beyond this room.” He glared at Rick. Rick nodded. “Dan might have considered suicide, but I’m telling you that he wouldn’t have—” Ryan’s voice cracked. Swallowing hard, he turned his head sideways, averting his teary gaze.
“You realize the alternative to suicide is murder,” Nic said.
“Yes,” Claire answered for both of them.
“Do you have any reason to believe that someone murdered your brother?” Rick asked.
A loud, startled gasp came from the doorway. All heads turned. Jordan Price had opened the door and stood there, eyes wide with shock, her mouth parted and her pale cheeks suddenly flushed.
“Oh, my God, no, no! You can’t honestly believe that someone murdered Dan.”
“Oh, Jordan, I’m so sorry.” Claire pulled away from Ryan and took a tentative step toward her sister-in-law. “We wanted to spare you—”
“Exactly what’s going on here?” Jordan asked as her gaze quickly flashed around the room, scanning the four people in her husband’s study.
Claire, all wide-eyed guilt but genuine concern, halted a few feet from Jordan as if uncertain of what to do or say.
“I wanted to wait until later to speak to you about this,” Ryan said. “You have enough to deal with as it is.”
With thick auburn hair, the tall, slender Ryan was a younger version of Dan. Only Dan’s eyes had been a brilliant topaz and Ryan’s were a honeyed brown.
Nicole Baxter Powell remained silent, her compassionate gaze focusing steadily on Jordan. Although Jordan had met the former FBI agent only a few times, she liked Claire’s cousin and had no reason to distrust her.
The man at Nicole’s side was a stranger, someone she’d never seen before today. His eyes, so dark they appeared almost black, bored into her, his stare intense and hostile. Hostile? Was her imagination working overtime? This man had no reason to be antagonistic toward her. They didn’t even know each other.
Jordan looked directly at Ryan. “Answer the man’s question. Do you have any reason to believe that someone murdered Dan, that his death wasn’t a suicide?”
Ryan frowned, emotional pain etched on his features as he faced Jordan. “I don’t believe Dan killed himself. It went against his very nature to take the coward’s way out. He was one of the strongest, bravest men I’ve ever known.”
“Dan was also loving and protective,” Jordan said. “If he believed that by taking his own life, he might spare us the agony of watching him die by slow degrees, then he might have—”
“No!” Ryan bellowed the one word as he clenched his hands into stiff fists and closed his eyes for a split second.
Startled by her brother-in-law’s vehement response, she tensed, every muscle in her body suddenly taut. “There’s more to this than just your belief that Dan wouldn’t commit suicide, isn’t there?”
“Tell her. She’ll find out sooner or later.” Claire looked from her husband to Jordan and then back to Ryan as if she couldn’t decide who needed her comfort more.
“Tell me what?” Jordan asked.
“I spoke to Steve privately the day the autopsy report came in,” Ryan said. “You know that Steve and I go way back, that we’ve been—”
“Yes, I know that you and Sheriff Corbett are good friends, so please stop stalling and just come right out and tell me whatever it is.”
“Steve agrees with me that, despite the coroner ruling Dan’s death a suicide and the fact he has no solid proof to the contrary, it’s possible that Dan didn’t kill himself. Steve says that details about a gunshot wound can rule out suicide, but they can’t prove it conclusively, that sometimes it’s a judgment call.”
Jordan felt cold, as if the temperature in the room had dropped a good 20 degrees in a matter of seconds. A chill rippled over her body causing her to quiver.
“You realize what you’re saying, don’t you? If Dan didn’t…if he wasn’t responsible, then that means someone else…” No, she refused to believe that anyone would kill Dan. “But that’s not possible. I found Dan lying over there—” she indicated the sofa with a glance “—with the gun still in his hand. The doors were locked and there was no evidence that anyone had broken into the house.”
“Who else was in the house other than you and the senator?” Mr. Carson asked.
Surprised by his question and by the fact that he had injected himself into what was a family matter, Jordan snapped her head around and glared at him.
“Rick!” Nicole Powell frowned at her companion.
“No, it’s quite all right,” Ryan said. “I