by Diane Capri
“Since she was a child. Sabatier, Haiti, is a very small city. You remember I’ve been traveling to a clinic there on medical missions for years, I’m sure. Dominique is my colleague Peter Wren’s daughter.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “She’s going to win that Instant Pop Star competition, don’t you think? You’re working at Channel 12. Put in a good word for her.”
“I’ll do that.” Jordan seized the perfect segue to the current events on campus. “Dr. Ross, if you don’t mind me asking, I’ve been tracking a story at Plant University and I’m trying to explain the situation. Quite a few of the athletes have been sick lately. Have you heard about that? I heard it might be MRSA.”
Dr. Ross reverently shook her head. “The heart palpitations?” she said in her soft and gentle voice. “The cramps and aggressive behavior?”
Jordan kept her face impassive. She hadn’t heard about the aggressive behavior.
“It’s not MRSA,” Dr. Ross said. “No. This is—well, I don’t want to speculate.”
She ruled out MRSA just as decisively as Ruby had. “Do you think it could be some kind of drug abuse? Have you heard anything about a synthetic Adderall, like a Super Adderall, going around campus?”
Dr. Ross glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no one else was listening. “A synthetic Adderall is the rumor in the medical community. I haven’t treated any cases personally, so I’m not sure.”
If she could develop this story before Miles did, Jordan could finally get some respect. It might not solve her Instant Pop Star dilemma, but she’d dilute the sugar puff reputation she’d somehow acquired.
“Would you consider sitting down with me for a brief interview about MRSA and drug abuse on campus?” If Jordan could score this interview, she’d have a huge component of a Super Adderall story securely in place.
“When I get back, I’d be happy to help you,” Dr. Ross said, “but I’m busy packing meds and gear tonight. Tomorrow we leave for our mission trip to the clinic in Sabatier for five days. That’s why I didn’t return your call. I’m sorry.”
Jacksonville, here I come.
“So soon?” Jordan said, lowering her gaze to cover her disappointment.
Dr. Ross’s tone brightened a bit. “You know, Jordan, I’m glad I ran into you. We might be able to help each other.”
“What do you mean?” Jordan blinked away the moisture clouding her vision and turned her gaze to Dr. Ross’s kind brown eyes.
“We just lost one of the women scheduled for the trip to Sabatier. She discovered last week that she’s pregnant. She’s a photographer. She was planning to make a documentary of the trip.” Her words picked up speed. “Why don’t you take over her role? We could use some visibility and support for our mission. You wouldn’t have to make a documentary film. But any coverage we can get on Channel 12 can only help us. And I’m sure we could find an hour or so for you to conduct your interview on the Super Adderall problem.”
Jordan’s mouth formed an open oval. She saw opportunity here. For adventure, sure. But even better, journalistic experience that Drew Hodges couldn’t match. “I’m supposed to work…” Her response was optimistic and honest at the same time. “But I can call my boss at home tonight and ask for a field assignment.”
Her pulse quickened and her excitement grew. She could pitch this as a perfect replacement for Instant Pop Star. Instead of Jacksonville, she’d take a multi-day trip to Haiti. Definitely more newsworthy, especially if she could think of a medical angle to focus on that would have a connection to the Tampa area.
Jordan started formulating a cohesive pitch for the call to Richard as soon as possible.
Her voice sounded a little breathless in her own ears when she said, “I’d love to do this, if I can get authorization, Dr. Ross. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
“Let me know as soon as you can. I’ve got paperwork I’m required to submit for you. You’ll need vaccines, too, and I’ll take care of that. But you’d be perfect for this, Jordan. It’s a terrific opportunity for you.” Dr. Ross gave Jordan’s arm a quick squeeze. “And while you’re in Sabatier, you can collect material to do a story on Dominique when she wins that Instant Pop Star contest, right?”
Jordan blinked. “How did you know I’m looking at Dominique for an Instant Pop Star feature?”
“She told me.” Dr. Ross laughed. “That’s why I was watching out for you here tonight. You didn’t think meeting me here was a total coincidence, did you? Don’t tell Dominique I mentioned it though. She’d be mortified.”
“I need a bit more before I can feature Dominique. I’ve got some ideas, though. Maybe you can help me with those, too.”
Dr. Ross frowned. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She leaned in for one more hug before she dashed off to rejoin her group.
Jordan wanted to rush out and get started on her pitch right that second, but the assignment she actually had been given came first. “Let’s hurry, Amy. If we run to the stage door now, we can meet Dominique before she slips out. And then I need to get home to call my boss.”
Jordan and Amy hurried around the back of the building to a door labeled Stage Entrance. Friends and family members of the student performers crowded the area holding flowers. Jordan studied the group, seeking Dominique’s father, but she didn’t see the man she’d found pictured in the news articles. Jordan fidgeted with her program. If Dominique didn’t come out soon, she’d leave without seeing her. Dominique would be here in six days when Jordan returned from Haiti, but she had to get Richard’s permission tonight.
Finally, the stage door opened. Two men in jeans, t-shirts, and eyeliner emerged, followed closely by Dominique. Classmates hugged her and handed her flowers. Jordan and Amy waited a few steps beyond, visible but not intrusive until the celebration waned a bit. Jordan stepped forward and smiled in Dominique’s direction. They made eye contact, and Jordan reached out with both arms. “Dominique, you were fantastic. I’m Jordan Fox. This is my friend Amy.”
“Thank you so much for coming,” Dominique said, a wide smile lighting up her face. She glowed from the inside out.
“My pleasure. You were really incredible. You should go to the auditions for Instant Pop Star, for sure.”
Dominique bowed her head, shyly. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I want to go, but I would have to miss school.”
“Surely you can get permission and make up the work somehow, can’t you?”
“I’m hoping,” she replied.
“I was thinking we could grab coffee tonight and talk about doing a possible news story.”
“That would be great.”
“—but something’s come up at work.” Jordan didn’t mention Sabatier because Dr. Ross had asked her not to mention it. “Can we meet another time?”
“Of course. I’m thrilled for the chance.” Dominique pulled a small white card out of her pocket with her name and contact information printed on it. “Thanks so much for coming, Jordan Fox.” Her friends rushed up and consumed her attention then, as if the move was as tightly choreographed as tonight’s performance.
Jordan linked arms with Amy. “Can we put a rush on getting me home?” Jordan said quietly. “I want this Haiti trip, bad.”
“Let’s go.” Amy picked up her pace. “But if you ask me, Instant Pop Star auditions in Jacksonville sounds a lot better than a medical mission trip to Haiti. Forget MRSA. Think of all the diseases you could get there.”
“Either way, I’ll be out of town for a few days. Any chance you can stay at my house in case my dad needs something? I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.” He didn’t need around-the-clock care, but someone to make his meals and be there in case of emergency was still a requirement.
“I’d be glad to do it. You know I love Nelson. He’s adorable. No trouble at all.” Amy grinned. “Unless you want to take me with you to Jacksonville.”
Jordan flashed off a mock groan. “Am I the only person on the planet sane enough to hate that stupid show?”
/> “Yep.”
They scurried along through the downtown streets and back to Plant University where Amy’s car was parked.
Jordan’s watch read 10:40 p.m. Richard always stayed up to watch the 11 o’clock news. If she hurried, she could make it home and call as soon as the news ended at 11:33. She’d call him now, but she’d failed to store his cell number in her phone. It was in her paperwork at home.
Jordan unlinked arms with Amy when she felt her phone buzz. It was a text from Patricia: We need to shift the schedule. Can you be ready to go to Instant Pop Star auditions in Jacksonville tomorrow morning?
Jordan stuffed her phone back into her pocket without replying. Either Richard agreed to her Haiti proposal tonight, or she’d be shipped off to Jacksonville before she had a second chance.
“What’s that text about?” Amy asked.
“You’ve got your pajamas in the car, right?”
CHAPTER 12
Jordan and Amy quick stepped over the bridge above the Hills River, which separated downtown Tampa from not-downtown Tampa. Jordan heard and then saw a speedboat racing up the river like it was being chased.
“What’s that jerk doing?” Amy said. “There’s no lights out there. He could run smack into something and kill himself.”
“Never a cop around when you need one.”
They reached the west side of the bridge and approached the campus parking lot, which faced the river. The boat sped up on a collision course with the landing near the park. But the driver cut speed at the last second and propelled silently to the dock. The driver leaned over the side of the boat, grabbed onto the dock and tied up. The moves were so perfect that he must have done them dozens of times before in exactly the same way.
He hopped onto the bow of the boat, waved, and shouted to a group of guys standing around in the parking lot near where Amy’s car was parked. “Second round of beer’s here, boys! Come ’n get it.”
The street lamp illuminated not only Amy’s car, but what was now the group’s personal play area. Jordan saw about fifteen guys and maybe five parked trucks, beds open, coolers and beer bottles placed about, tailgating and completely blocking Amy’s car in.
Jordan recognized Power Paxton as she and Amy arrived at her car. “Is that the soccer team?”
“Would you guys mind moving?” Amy politely asked the guys in the bed of the truck parked immediately behind her. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
Jordan remembered that Amy had started her career in social work by counseling teenagers a lot like these guys. That experience failed her. The guys glanced at her, then completely ignored her request.
“Excuse me? Would you mind moving?” Amy said, more forcefully this time, but the result was the same.
“I think we can squeeze out if you all would move this one truck.” Jordan pointed toward one red Ford that was particularly in the way.
No response.
“Here, I’ll grab this cooler,” Jordan said, rolling it aside.
That elicited a reaction.
“Hey! Get your paws off our beer!” One guy yelled, jumping down from the truck bed. Jordan took a step back, into Amy’s parking spot. A couple other guys laughed.
The driver of the speedboat chimed in from all the way down by the river. “Don’t let them out, guys! Couple of babes!” He cackled. The guys guzzling in the truck bed echoed his hostile laughter.
A very unamused Amy crossed her arms and leaned against the side of her SUV, signaling for Jordan to come closer. “That guy, that speedboat driver?” Amy whispered. “He’s a jerk. He’s the assistant soccer coach but he acts like he’s entitled to every facility at the school. That speedboat isn’t even his. It belongs to the crew team.”
Jordan spied a security phone nearby and took a step toward it. “I’m gonna call campus security.”
“You sure?” Amy’s voice shook slightly. “There’s way more muscle power here than you and I have.”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. They’re not going to move otherwise and I really need to get home.” Jordan got out her cell phone and called the number written on the panel above the security phone.
A shadow crossed the streetlight. Jordan turned. A couple of guys with broad shoulders and Plant University baseball caps approached the tailgating soccer players. Behind the leaders, more of the same—a posse of guys built like bulky baseball players.
“Tell me we’re not going to have a frat boy brawl here.” Jordan called the security number. She heard the call ring through. She’d turn on the video camera on her phone once she completed the call, just in case a story developed.
The baseball leader spoke up first. “Hey, soccer boys. Listen up. Move your party to your goal boy’s backyard and let these ladies out, would ya?”
Two of the soccer players smirked. Another spat out his beer, spraying it in the face of an approaching baseball player.
The call kept ringing. Jordan tapped her foot. Come on. Answer the phone. The testosterone factor was getting totally out of control.
“We’ve got this guy bringing us beers from the river. And two hot women here.” The soccer player lounging in the truck bed gestured toward the guy still tying up the speedboat at the dock and toward Jordan with the other hand. “Explain to me, why exactly would we want to leave?”
“Because I’m not gonna ask again,” the lead baseball dude said.
Jordan and Amy needed to get out of there. Jordan looked around for an escape route, but found none. The security call kept ringing. She ignored the insults hurled back and forth until one loud shout felt openly hostile instead of just the usual guy stuff.
A baseball player stood toe-to-toe and face-to-face with a soccer player not more than five feet in front of Jordan.
“Give me your keys so I can move your truck and let the ladies out,” the baseball player demanded half a second before he raised his fist and swung a hard punch that connected with empty air and knocked him off balance.
Jordan jumped sideways to avoid being in the line of momentum as he fell. She disconnected the call. She’d dial 911 as soon as she could.
Instead of falling, he threw a second punch that would have hit home. But the soccer player ducked and ran away, as if this was a funny game of chase.
The baseball player steadied his feet, picked up a full beer bottle and tossed it, hitting the soccer player in the back.
The soccer player turned around. “Was that your best pitch? No wonder you guys are in last place.”
“That wasn’t a pitch, homeboy. Just getting your attention.”
The guy at the dock looked on from the speedboat. He’d cracked open a beer. “Get him back, Brandon. Get him good.”
“Yeah? Well here’s some attention.” The soccer player grabbed a beer bottle and hurled it, hitting the baseball player right between the eyes and slicing his skin open.
He screamed while his face gushed blood.
The speedboat driver laughed hysterically. “Get him again!” he yelled as he tossed the empty beer can into the river and popped the top on another.
The flashing yellow lights of the security truck approached. Finally.
Everybody scattered.
Suddenly, the scene was clear and Jordan and Amy could finally head home. Jordan looked at her watch. Eleven-fifteen p.m. She saw her window of opportunity closing. She could wake Richard from a sound sleep, but that probably wasn’t the best idea.
Once they safely closed the doors and drove off, Amy exhaled heavily. “I’m glad we got out of there alive.”
“Just college boys being college boys.” Jordan said to reassure Amy and because she hoped that was true.
“Not even close. Listen to me. I’m five years older than you, and at least five years wiser. We could have really been hurt, Jordan.” Amy’s arms shook even as she hung onto the steering wheel with both hands. “I’ll bet at least half of those guys were taking that Super Adderall. It causes aggressive behavior, right? We certainly saw plenty of that.”
“You think so?” Jordan had been so preoccupied with getting to Richard tonight, she hadn’t been worried about violence from those boys. She should have been.
“You saw who the real instigator there was, right?” Amy said. She glanced at Jordan. “That speedboat driver. Can you believe he’s the assistant soccer coach?”
“That’s crazy, for sure.”
“I have no clue how he got the job or how he keeps it. He’s the reason I quit working with teenagers.”
Something like a silent alarm sent chills up and down Jordan’s entire body. “You don’t mean that exact guy. You mean someone like him.”
“That specific guy,” Amy turned onto the last straight stretch of road that would lead them to Jordan’s home. “He’s dangerous, Jordan. Don’t make the mistake I made and assume he’s not.”
“What do you mean?” Could Jordan have missed malevolence on that level? She’d believed her radar was finely tuned to dangerous people and situations. She’d learned those lessons from the school of hard experience when her mother died and in all the years since. But if that guy was as dangerous as Amy believed, and Jordan had totally missed it? Now, Jordan was worried.
“I can’t tell you anything specific about his treatment. But it’s no secret he’s a lost cause.” She lowered her voice as if anyone else could hear. “I was convinced that guy was going to murder someone before he hit age twenty.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“He’s past that age now. But I can’t say for sure I was wrong.” Amy looked at Jordan for a long moment. “Can you?”
Jordan knew nothing about the assistant soccer coach. But she would make it her business to find out.
“What’s the guy’s name?” Jordan asked.
Amy replied, “Stay away from him. I mean it. He’s not someone to mess with, whether he’s on drugs or not.”
CHAPTER 13
It was 11:25 p.m. when Amy pulled into the driveway and Jordan dashed inside. She flipped on the TV to see the weather segment of the news just ending. Sports would be next. She knew Richard was still awake. Was it unprofessional to call him this late, or did it show initiative?
