False Truth 2 (Jordan Fox Mysteries Series)

by Diane Capri

“If you don’t believe me,” the woman continued, “I’ll send it to you and you can see for yourself. If you want it, I will give it to Channel 12 for free.”

  “Exclusively?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes. Any other station, and I’ll try to sell it. Unless you guys want it. Then I’ll give you exclusive rights.”

  The offer was tempting. Even if it was a hoax, Jordan didn’t have anything to lose. It was free video.

  “We’ll take it.”

  Jordan hoped she’d chosen the right answer. She didn’t feel like taking another field trip to Richard’s office today.

  And, of course, if this woman came through, and actually had footage of the murder victim, it would highlight, again, that she’d failed to take video herself.

  Jordan took her chances. She hoped her bosses would be so happy about the video, they wouldn’t focus on the fact that Jordan didn’t shoot it.

  Besides, she really wanted to see this alleged video for herself.

  Five minutes later, the clip was in her inbox. Jordan forwarded it to the web team so they could review it and post it online at their discretion. Then Jordan clicked it open for herself to see Salvador and the presenter at the podium with the aquarium wall behind them. This was the real deal. Then, the screams Jordan remembered so clearly. The camera quickly panned left and zoomed in to the floating body. There were a few shots of the crowd as the woman apparently tried to move closer. Then the camera shut off.

  Jordan let out an audible groan and frowned. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see. A bloody killer running around with a weapon?

  She watched the video a second time, and a third time, and this time, at the end, when the camera showed the crowd, she spotted a guy she had forgotten about. The tall man who had been next to her in the moments after the body appeared. She paused the video, zoomed in, and looked closely. She caught a glimpse of her royal blue shirt.

  She advanced the video forward a few frames and hit play, watching in slow motion. The crowd around her tightened. That must have been the moment when her phone fell and got crushed.

  Jordan rewound and watched that part again. As the crowd moved in around her, the man with the faded polo—the creepy guy from her picture—was part of the swarm of people. He looked almost like he was charging toward her, his face consumed with rage.

  She backed up the video and focused in on him. He was making a stomping motion—like he was marching in place, while the rest of the crowd tried to push through. He seemed to deliberately jerk his knee upward and push his leg downward, looking at the floor. Near Jordan’s feet. Exactly where her phone would have been. She couldn’t see the floor in the video, but everything seemed to line up.

  She shivered. Why was he deliberately smashing her phone? Jordan knew from the website photo that showed him staring at her that he’d seen her take a picture of him. So was he trying to destroy that picture? What was he hiding?

  CHAPTER 9

  “Jordan, you up for an assignment?” A young reporter’s voice grabbed her attention.

  Something that would actually allow her to leave the building? Uhh, yes please. “I’d love to.” Jordan signed out of her computer and gathered her things.

  She recognized the woman from the Afternoon Meetings, though they’d only been introduced once, and briefly. Theresa Parma was a nightside reporter, late 20s, and gorgeous. She had an exotic look, complete with long, flowing caramel hair. She could easily star in a shampoo commercial.

  Theresa gave a couple quick waves of her hand, gesturing Jordan to hurry up. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

  It was five minutes past four. Were they trying to make it somewhere in time to be live for five?

  Jordan jogged to catch up with Theresa as she led the way to the back stairwell.

  “Wait,” Jordan said. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to go out on a story. They put me on the assignment desk.”

  “You’re an intern. Your job is to learn by helping. And I could use your help,” Theresa said. “We’re going to cover the casino death and do a live update for five. You were at the scene. I want you with me.” Theresa spoke quickly as they charged down the back stairwell to the news vehicle parking garage. “I can’t believe they didn’t keep you on that story all day yesterday.” Theresa shook her head. “What’s wrong with people?”

  Jordan didn’t realize anyone else had questioned that decision. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who thought it was a bad call. Theresa was on her side, and Jordan wanted to keep it that way. Nice to have a friend.

  Jordan pulled open the front passenger’s side door to the Jeep and made the mistake of inhaling. It smelled like they’d stepped in to a giant can of hairspray. Unfortunately, it tasted that way, too. Jordan clamped her mouth shut.

  “Anyway,” Theresa hopped into the Jeep, “the latest in the case is that they ran the DNA of the decapitated man through law enforcement databases. Nothing. No trace of the guy. Which means he’s never been in serious trouble with the law and wasn’t fingerprinted for a job. At least not in the United States.”

  “And Garfield has no criminal record either, right?” Jordan asked.

  “Correct. So, the body could be Ted. Or not.”

  Jordan wanted to do whatever it took to keep Theresa on her side. “I told Antonio last night, but I haven’t brought this up at any of the meetings yet. The guy who was getting the award? Salvador Caster? That’s my best friend’s boyfriend.”

  “Really!” Theresa raised her eyebrows and nodded while turning out of the news center complex and on to the main road. “Will he talk on camera?”

  “Um, no. He won’t even talk to me.” Jordan stopped there. She didn’t want to explain her theory about Sal possibly knowing something about the case. She made up an excuse. “His lawyer said it’s best to stay out of the spotlight on this one, you know? Could be bad for his business. Even though it’s unrelated.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Theresa whipped the Jeep around the corner to the street that led to downtown. Jordan gripped the door handle for dear life. As Theresa completed the turn, a phone rang from the ginormous purse plopped at Jordan’s feet.

  “Can you grab that?” Theresa asked.

  “Sure.” Jordan handed Theresa the phone and she glanced at it. “It’s the desk.” Theresa pressed the screen to answer and put it on speaker phone. A courtesy to Jordan, most likely. “Jordan and Theresa here.”

  “We’re gonna switch you to some breaking news,” Patricia said. “There’s been a fatal hit-and-run.”

  Theresa motioned for Jordan to write down the address as Patricia read it to her.

  “We’re on it.” Theresa tossed the phone into her lap and pulled a sharp U-turn.

  “Breaking news?” Jordan said. “Nice!”

  Theresa laughed. “I know. You’re glad Drew didn’t get to go, right?”

  Jordan’s face heated up. Had she made it that obvious? “It’s more that I’m excited to go. Breaking news is what we all live for, right?”

  “It’s okay.” Theresa grinned and tossed a quick glance Jordan’s way. “The whole newsroom knows you guys are competing with each other.”

  Everyone must have found out about what happened in the meeting with Linda yesterday. The demotion. The pay cut. “They do?”

  “Trust me. Word gets around fast. Plus, it’s pretty obvious. When Drew got assigned to a story directly from the afternoon meeting today, even a blind man would have seen your reaction. And I don’t think it’s because you wish you’d been sent to a sinkhole. You were disappointed he was assigned before you. Don’t take it personally. He’s just latched onto Antonio and you need to not to get lost in the hustle.”

  “Is that a bad thing? It mean, it’s good to show that you’re competitive, right?”

  “Yes, but, you aren’t exactly winning here.”

  Jordan could tell what Theresa was doing. She was challenging her. She was trying to make her pull herself up by the bootstraps and put
her best foot forward. As if that wasn’t what she’d been trying to do all along. “Hey, I got the front page story, didn’t I?”

  “You were in the right place at the right time. Total coincidence.” Theresa glanced at Jordan again and this time her voice was stern. “Don’t mistake our bosses for fools. Their priorities may be a little mixed up sometimes, but they’re paying attention.” Theresa shrugged. “If you want to guarantee more success, you’ve gotta start making stuff happen. Don’t let them force you onto the assignment desk. If they put you there, you stand up, you make phone calls….”

  “I didn’t want to come off as overbearing.”

  Theresa guffawed. “Trust me. That’s not possible in our newsroom.”

  They drove on for a bit in silence, giving Jordan time to let Theresa’s point sink in. She was walking a fine line here. She didn’t want to become a problem instead of an asset. But maybe she had been a little too meek, too accepting. “Thanks,” Jordan said.

  “For?”

  “For taking me along today.”

  “I’m happy to stand up for you, Jordan. You’re a smart girl. And you’ve got the motivation of a Spanish bull.” Theresa smiled as she bounced the Jeep along a dirt parking lot and pulled into a makeshift parking spot. “But don’t prove me wrong, okay? You’ve got my reputation in your hands as well as your own.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Theresa parked all the way at the end of the line of news trucks. It looked like all the other stations were already there.

  “Damn, the ambulance is already leaving.” Theresa pointed out the window. “Hope we didn’t miss everything.”

  Theresa slid out of the Jeep more gracefully than she should have been able to in a pencil skirt. She’d clearly been at this reporting thing for a while.

  News crews were gathered across the street from the parking lot. Theresa set a quick pace, stiletto heels clicking rapidly. Jordan jogged a couple paces to catch up.

  They crossed the street near the spot that was blocked off by patrol cars and walked down a dirt path that led to a gravel lot, set back from the road a few feet.

  Reporters worked on their phones while photographers shot video.

  “Fatal confirmed, right?” Theresa asked as she passed a photog she knew.

  He nodded. Down the way, Theresa exchanged a glance with a Channel 17 reporter Jordan recognized—Naomi Willis. Naomi clicked at her phone as Theresa and Jordan approached.

  “Hey girl,” Naomi said, looking up.

  Theresa stood beside her so they were both facing the police action in the street. “What’s the scoop?”

  News stations in the Tampa market were generally friendly with each other. Especially compared to news stations in other markets. Jordan had heard horror stories of the competition within the Orlando market. Out there, it wasn’t uncommon for one crew to literally push another crew out of the way. Yet another reason Jordan needed to make it in Tampa. She wanted to be able to meet her own gaze in the mirror every day, and sabotaging other reporters didn’t fit with that.

  “A woman was crossing, she was hit, driver sped off. She died almost immediately. Your classic hit-and-run.” She turned to Jordan and extended her hand. “I’m Naomi.”

  “Jordan. I’m an intern.”

  Naomi pulled a rag from her pocket and dabbed the sweat from her brow. “The woman was using the crosswalk, apparently.” She gestured to the path which guided pedestrians across two lanes of traffic.

  Naomi looked around as she spoke, constantly observing. Keeping an eye out for a police spokesperson to arrive, maybe.

  “So if they catch the guy, he’s at fault,” Theresa said, half talking to herself. “Vehicular manslaughter. He could go to prison for life.”

  “The road’s not that busy. How do you get hit crossing two lanes of traffic?” Jordan asked.

  “Exactly. Well…” Naomi lowered her voice and pointed across the street to a man standing with his family. “That guy over there…in the black t-shirt? He says he saw it happen. He stopped talking now. I think police scared him away from talking to media. But right after we got here, and we were first on the scene, he told us the car that hit the woman was a monster of an SUV. Black. He said it was barreling down the road, faster and faster, and then it just wiped her out.” Naomi set her purse in the dirt and grabbed her water bottle and took a sip. “He said, if he didn’t have better faith in humanity, he’d think the driver hit the woman on purpose.”

  Jordan gasped. “Do you believe him?”

  Naomi shrugged.

  “No victim’s name released yet, right?” Theresa asked, business as usual. Maybe that’s what Jordan would become. Blasé about a woman run down in the street. She shuddered.

  Naomi replied, “No name. A spokesperson is on the way.”

  Jordan studied the road. It was a straight shot. Not much traffic. This would be an easy place to push the pedal to the metal for a few hundred yards. Maybe the driver had been playing too many racing video games. “I don’t even see any skid marks.”

  Theresa sighed and tapped her foot. “Damn, I wish they’d kept us on the Casino story.”

  Jordan wished the same. She really, really wanted to take something important back to the newsroom. Especially since she knew Drew’s story of the day was a slam dunk. A sinkhole pretty much guaranteed riveting sound bites and video. Right now it looked like she and Theresa were returning empty-handed.

  Jordan said, “I’m not going back to the newsroom with nothing.”

  “That’s the attitude, J-Fox,” Theresa replied.

  She looked creatively at the scene until she found something she could do to avoid failure right now, before it was too late.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jordan marched across the street where the witness stood alone, at least for the moment. “Sir, I understand you saw what happened.”

  “Yes ma’am, but I ain’t talkin’ to media right now.” He seemed polite, but firm instead of angry. Good.

  “Just one question.” Her prodding flashed a warning in her head. The disastrous conversation with Claire. This could blow up, too, but she had to get something usable. “Are you able to describe the driver at all?”

  “No ma’am. I didn’t get a good look.” This time, his tone was angry. He raised his hand, palm out. “Please. No more questions.”

  It was a no, but at least it was a solid answer. And it felt like the best she was going to do.

  Jordan waved to Naomi as the Channel 17 news truck pulled away and re-crossed the street to report back to Theresa. “Witness says he didn’t get a good look at the driver. That’s all I got out of him.”

  Theresa nodded. “Nice effort on a sucky story. We won’t know the victim’s name til they inform next-of-kin, which could take anywhere from two to twenty-four hours.” Theresa paused and scanned the scene again. “Let’s knock on a couple neighbors’ doors, try for some sound bites, and then we’ll head back. Ask about speeding, other accidents, whatever you can think of. You go left, I’ll go right.”

  Theresa and Jordan split up and covered the waterfront. The answer to every question Jordan asked was unanimous: No. Theresa said later that her efforts fared no better.

  They hauled their gear back to the Jeep and rolled off.

  Theresa’s live shot, originally planned for 5 o’clock in front of the Florida Casino, would now be at 6 o’clock from the newsroom. She’d front the hit-and-run story, using the generic street video she’d shot.

  “What are you going to say?” Jordan asked.

  She shrugged. “Not much. But we need to cover any kind of developing story to show the station is on it. We can’t be the station that never shows up, right?”

  Back at the newsroom, Jordan logged in to a computer on the assignment desk again while Theresa headed to the restroom, giant makeup bag in tow. Five minutes later, she was in place in front of the newsroom camera. Jordan watched Theresa check her phone while she stood still, mic’ed up, waiting for her live shot.


  “Hey! Jordan!” She aimed her voice up to the assignment desk a few feet away.

  Jordan raised her eyebrows responsively, then stood so she could see Theresa over the railing. “Yes?”

  “They released the hit-and-run victim’s name. It’s in our email. Wanna see what you can dig up? Pictures of the person or anything?”

  “Sure.”

  Jordan checked the email. Kelly Barnes. Age thirty-nine. Jordan found her social media profile by matching up her age and birthdate to the one issued by police. City? Tampa. Marital Status? Single. Job? Administrative Assistant at Caster Shrimp Company.

  Jordan blinked twice and stared at the screen. The words didn’t change. Caster Shrimp. Salvador’s company. Unreal. The facts were stacking up and pointing in one direction. Sal knew the missing man Ted Garfield. And it was Sal’s event where the dead body was found. Now, a random hit-and-run had a connection to Sal, too.

  Suddenly, the odds in favor of coincidence became miniscule and Jordan’s options shrunk right along with them. Sal was probably involved. But involved in what? Something shady at the very least.

  It was time for Salvador to start talking before everyone else discovered what Jordan already knew.

  * * *

  Keep Reading! Jordan’s thrilling adventures continue in

  FALSE TRUTH 3

  A Jordan Fox Mystery

  CLICK HERE TO READ NOW

  Excerpt from

  CHAPTER 1

  Jordan’s efforts to reach Sal and Claire over the rest of her shift and until she went to bed failed. She’d called, texted, even tried email. Nothing. On the way home, she drove past Sal’s waterfront estate where they were living most of the time now and the place was totally dark.

  Saturday morning, after a fitful night’s sleep, Jordan checked her phone the second her eyes opened. Still nothing from either of them. She didn’t know Sal very well, so his behavior might be understandable. But Claire normally responded to everything Jordan sent her immediately. Radio silence from Claire was usually a bad sign and Jordan knew it. The only thing she could think of to do was keep trying and get back to work.