False Truth 8-10: 3 Action-Packed Romantic Detective Mystery Thrillers To Keep You Up All Night (Jordan Fox Mysteries Series)

by Diane Capri

  “Habit,” she said, now that she could talk aloud again without being overheard. Maybe she would pitch a sexual harassment story in the afternoon meeting next week. This guy could be the poster boy for a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I wish Maria could get a better job.”

  Both girls stowed their buckets in the back and climbed in and Felix drove away. Jordan watched the van until it disappeared around the first corner. “You should call the gate and ask the guard to make sure Felix actually leaves.”

  She lifted up her phone and began to dial before she punched the clear button. “Knock it off, Jordan. Linda’s cleaning service is none of your business. You’ve got plenty to handle already. Richard’s waiting. Get a move on.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Jordan parked Hermes in the Channel 12 garage and hurried toward the newsroom. She was excited to be back. Her pulse raced right along with her quick footsteps and she covered the distance in record time. She didn’t bother with the elevator, but dashed up the stairs.

  She stopped at the entrance for a moment. The open newsroom seemed as chaotic as ever. Light poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hills River. The assignment desk held the same prominent place right in the center of everything. Phones rang constantly, producers typed furiously on keyboards at their desks, and people moved through the spaces with purpose.

  Jordan inhaled deeply. The place actually smelled like pure excitement. So good to be back. Don’t screw it up.

  Richard waited for her in his glass-walled office, seated in his black leather chair behind his big desk. The oversized digital newsroom clock read 1:55 p.m., five minutes early for their meeting. Plenty of time to spare.

  She waved to Theresa, who was dashing off to somewhere, laden with her usual three or four bags of various shapes. A couple of producers smiled at her when she passed them on her way to Richard’s office.

  She knocked lightly on the door frame. He glanced toward her and held up an index finger. He was on the phone. She stepped back into the corridor to wait.

  Three minutes later, Richard finished his call and looked up. “Jordan, come on in and close the door.”

  A sense of foreboding coursed through her and her stomach twisted. A closed-door meeting with the big boss was rarely good news. She held her smile in place as she followed directions.

  “Take a seat,” Richard turned a palm toward one of the black and chrome chairs in front of his desk. “How are you feeling?”

  She swallowed. “I’m fine. The kidnappers didn’t do permanent damage.”

  “Thank God for that.” Richard glanced down at an open folder on his desk. “I’ve received the doctor’s report and he’s cleared you to return to work. Nothing broken or damaged beyond a few bruises, he said. That right?”

  He looked directly into Jordan’s eyes and watched carefully as she spoke. His demeanor was setting off alarm bells in her chest.

  “Right. I’m ready to get back to work.” But her voice sounded weak in her own ears.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He clasped his hands together on the desktop.

  Her stomach was in full on revolt now. She tried to look calm, but she couldn’t possibly speak. She nodded.

  “You’ve been working with us about sixty days now. This seems like a good time to give you a little progress report. Let you know how we think you’re doing here.”

  She nodded again. If she was getting fired, she’d damn well be dignified about it.

  “You’re a natural investigator, Jordan. You absolutely have an amazingly good nose for news. You’re good at recognizing a story when you see one, even when others don’t see it. And you’re fearless in pursuit of your stories. You have everything it takes to develop into an excellent MMJ.” Richard reached for his coffee cup and sipped.

  His praise reduced Jordan’s nervousness a bit, but she could feel the hammer coming. “Thank you. I really love this place. Nothing would make me happier than to have the MMJ position.”

  “Is that true?” Richard cocked his head and watched her for a moment. “Because it seems to us that you’re not as set on that path as you say you are.”

  Her heartbeat galloped like stampeding horses. “What do you mean?”

  He sat back in his chair and his demeanor relaxed slightly. “Jordan, even though he’s not as talented as you are, Drew is doing a better job. You’ve no doubt figured that out for yourself already.”

  She said nothing. She knew because Theresa had already told her. And because she could see it for herself in the way Patricia and the others treated Drew.

  “Do you know why Drew’s excelling? Because he does the job we ask him to do. He never lets us down. He’s always there when we need him. He never ignores his assignments or goes off on a tangent that can lead to liability or complaints against Channel 12, which we can’t afford and definitely don’t want to deal with.” Richard inhaled a deep breath. “Drew hasn’t been in trouble even once since he started here. He is always an asset to the team, Jordan. Can you honestly say that about yourself?”

  She blinked. Hard. Her throat was parched. She wasn’t sure she could utter a word. But Richard was clearly waiting for her response.

  “Well,” her voice cracked. She swallowed. “I’ve turned in some great work. Breaking stories Channel 12 wouldn’t have had at all otherwise. I’ve worked on my own a lot more than Drew has because I’m interested in being an MMJ, not just a reporter or a photographer. I want to do it all.”

  He shook his head, as if she’d missed his point entirely. “I’ve given you chances to showcase your work. You’ve turned me down. Twice. Drew never does that.”

  Richard ran a hand through his hair. He blew out a stream of exasperated air through pursed lips. “Jordan, do you think I’m an idiot? Or that Patricia is incompetent? Do you think everyone who works here, Theresa, Anthony, everybody is less qualified than you are?”

  “Of course, not!” What a preposterous thing to accuse!

  “Then give us some credit for knowing our jobs. Knowing how to run a news organization. Knowing how to train an intern. Trust me, we’ve done it hundreds of times before. When we give you an assignment, we have a reason. We have a plan here, every day. It affects all of us, not just you.” Richard leaned in and spoke softly. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by making an enemy of Patricia, either. She can help you or hurt you. You’re making it very easy for her to choose which path to take. Hell, half the newsroom is on her side in this and you know she’s not exactly beloved around here.”

  Jordan sat back in her chair like she’d been sucker punched. Patricia was always on her case, not the other way around. Patricia had a crush on Drew and she took every opportunity to show it while she tried to keep Jordan under her thumb. Surely Richard could see that.

  “Look, Jordan, I like you. I think you’ve got more raw talent than I’ve seen in a young person in years. I fought to keep you here when the budget said we couldn’t even bring you on board. I’ve even managed to get some insurance coverage to pay for that phone you destroyed on your first day. Didn’t you wonder why we haven’t been deducting any payments from your paycheck? I want you to succeed.” He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly as he searched her face for some indication of something. “But it’s not up to me. You need to decide whether you want to investigate crime or report the news. You can’t do both. Not here. We’re a news team.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing north. “The cop shop is across the river.”

  Jordan could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t make matters worse.

  “It’s time for the afternoon meeting.” He stood and grabbed a pad and pen. “Think about what I said, Jordan.”

  “I will.” She stood and managed to maintain her balance on wobbly legs. “But you have to know I want to stay here. This is the best job in the world for me. I will do well here. You’ll see.”

  “I hope that’s true.” Richard nodded and turned a palm out, directing her
toward the exit.

  CHAPTER 10

  The last thing Jordan felt like doing was attending the afternoon meeting or the confab with Clayton afterward. She had more important things to figure out, like how to keep her job. But everything was in place and the wheels were already grinding. She had no choice.

  She flagged Drew down and pulled him aside on the way. “Hey, come here.”

  “Sure. What’s up?” Hands in his pockets, he sauntered behind her into the break room.

  “My friend Clayton with the Tampa Police Department is coming to the station to give me an update on the Ruby Quinn case. He said something about an Evan Groves update, too. Would you mind being a second pair of ears?”

  Jordan would have been suspicious if he’d made the offer to her. Given their competition, access to an inside source on a story like the Ruby Quinn murder? Too good to be given away.

  “Of course.” One side of Drew’s mouth lifted when he smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Drew was the most happy-go-lucky reporter she’d ever met. He didn’t have a suspicious bone in his body. Why would he? He was winning the competition and he had to know that. Nothing had ever gone wrong for the guy in his life, as far as she knew.

  “Excellent.” Jordan shrugged. She already had a big lead on this story. Drew shouldn’t pose a threat to her. “Three o’clock.”

  “Works for me.” He smiled again and sauntered into the conference room. He plopped into the chair next to Antonio Vega, Channel 12’s star reporter. Those two were bonded like peanut butter and jelly.

  Jordan squared her shoulders, held her head high, and followed Drew. Theresa Parma, her best friend at work, waved from where she stood in the corner. Jordan smiled and sat across from Patricia, the assignment editor who was clearly not on Jordan’s side.

  For the next half-hour, she tried to follow Richard’s advice and be a member of the Channel 12 team with Patricia as the captain. She bit her tongue three times in the process.

  The afternoon meeting left Jordan with the easy assignment of writing an update on the flu season, and Drew was assigned to cover a bedbug outbreak at a local hotel. Neither story would be a big challenge or a big win. The day should end in a tie.

  But first, the meeting with Clayton.

  He was waiting for Jordan and Drew right on time, outside the main lobby. Jordan led them down a sidewalk toward the Hills River at the back of the building. She introduced them quickly along the way. They reached a couple of benches. A good meeting spot near the building, but out of earshot of eavesdroppers.

  Jordan’s shoes sunk into the soft soil under the grass. Sunlight glistened off the water and the area was strangely quiet. She pulled her shoes free and sat. “Thanks for meeting us here, Clayton. I wanted to bring Drew in on this because I need a coworker who can help me brainstorm some theories.”

  The excuse sounded lame, even to her. But it was the only thing she could think of to say. Jordan wanted to be an MMJ. That meant she needed to work alone. Bringing along a co-worker was the last thing she ever wanted to do. But cops usually work in pairs, so maybe Clayton wouldn’t notice that Jordan had sabotaged herself to avoid being alone with him.

  Clayton eyed Drew, sizing him up. Then he settled into his seat next to Jordan on the bench, turned to face her and puffed up his chest. “Okay, we got the results from the backpack you found. But since then, something major happened.”

  “First the backpack results,” Jordan said.

  Clayton looked at Jordan, ignoring Drew. “Evan Groves’ DNA is on the backpack, so it probably does belong to him. Or at least, he’s used it at some point. We can tie him solidly to it.”

  “But?” Jordan asked.

  Clayton didn’t hesitate. “There’s male DNA on the syringes you found inside, but that DNA doesn’t belong to Evan Groves. It’s DNA from Peter Wren. Groves was probably supposed to dump the whole backpack in the river or something, but he didn’t. Who knows why?”

  “So Groves wore gloves when the two of them killed Ruby Quinn.” Drew had remained standing, hands resting in his pockets, back to the river. He seemed relaxed, like he always was.

  “Good if we could prove it, but we can’t.” Clayton shrugged and clasped his hands together loosely. “Prosecution isn’t sure they can win the death penalty without his DNA on the syringes or, like I told Jordan before, something else that ties Groves directly to the Ruby Quinn murder. They are considering a plea deal.”

  Jordan didn’t like the news, but most criminal cases were resolved by a deal of some sort. She’d been expecting this. “What kind of deal are they thinking?”

  “The best one they can get, given the evidence,” Clayton said. “They’d take the death penalty off the table. He’d get life, which means he spends the rest of his life in prison in Florida. No chance of early release. And he’d testify against the cartel.”

  “The cartel?” Drew’s eyes narrowed and his head cocked.

  Clayton kept his gaze on Jordan. “El Pulpo came looking for the backpack after you took it. Evan Groves was working with Dr. Peter Wren and both of them distributed Super Adderall for the cartel. We figure Groves has evidence on the cartel, and DEA wants it. So prosecutors will offer him a deal if he testifies.”

  “Right,” Jordan said, to stop Drew’s questions.

  Clayton had already told Jordan most of this after she handed over the backpack to him. Only the DNA results were new information and Clayton could have told her that on the phone.

  “He still says he didn’t kill Ruby Quinn?” Jordan asked. “He’s claiming Wren did that alone?”

  Clayton nodded and tapped his hand on his knee. “Lots of circumstantial evidence incriminating for Groves, though. His fingerprints are all over the clinic, including the room where Ruby Quinn died.”

  “Wren’s fingerprints are there, too,” Drew said. “Along with a hundred other people. It’s a college health clinic. People are in and out all the time.”

  “Our case would have been worse if no Evan Groves prints had been found.” Clayton shrugged. “Groves has been using a fake identity and counterfeit documents, like his passport and driver’s license. Oh and the liquid in the syringes, it matches the Super Adderall drug that Ruby Quinn overdosed on. It definitely caused her death and it definitely came from the Medicine Factory in Haiti. So yeah. Not looking good for Evan Groves.”

  “But if he goes to trial, the evidence doesn’t tie him to the actual murder. He’d maybe be convicted of something else. Like accessory or something. But not Ruby’s murder. That’s what you’re saying?” Jordan wanted a clear answer.

  Clayton nodded. “Not likely that he’d get off free. So yeah.”

  “When is all of this going to happen?” Jordan had only begun chasing down the new facts she’d learned about Evan/Aaron’s connection to her mom. She’d thought she’d have plenty of time.

  “Hard to say. Soon, they hope.”

  Drew leaned in. “What’s the other big news?”

  Clayton ran his fingers through his hair with both hands and exhaled. “Okay.”

  Jordan hoped she hadn’t made a mistake bringing Drew now. She hadn’t expected Clayton might share Big Breaking News.

  “Basically, after they started talking about a plea deal that included his testimony against the cartel,” Clayton paused. “Someone tried to kill Evan Groves.”

  Jordan dropped her notepad and gripped both hands to the bench. “So Evan Groves is definitely involved in the cartel?”

  “The timing could be coincidental, but it happened after that other guy died. The one they arrested for kidnapping you,” Clayton crossed his arms over his chest.

  Drew said, “Looks like Evan Groves knows too much, doesn’t it? Somebody doesn’t want him to testify.”

  “Wait a minute. After what other guy died?” Jordan felt all the color drain from her face. Her mouth dried up. “What happened to Hugo Diaz?”

  Clayton shook his head. “Not him. The other one. The big dude.”

&
nbsp; “Gordo? I mean, Pipo?” Jordan had dubbed him Gordo in her head before she’d learned his real name.

  “Right. Pipo Sanchez. Suicide. Where’ve you been?” Clayton narrowed his eyes as if she was playing dumb and he didn’t like it.

  On forced leave for the past week, that’s where she’d been. Not keeping up with the news because every time she tried, her dad or Claire or the doctor or someone turned it off and jumped all over her.

  Besides, a dead Hills County Jail inmate wouldn’t be big news to anyone who didn’t already know Pipo Sanchez. It would have been a small story, quickly over. She might have missed it anyway.

  “How could he commit suicide while he was in jail? Don’t they watch the inmates better than that?” Jordan couldn’t wrap her head around it. Pipo killed himself?

  Clayton squirmed. “It happens. It shouldn’t. But it does.”

  “What was the attempt against Groves?” Drew asked.

  “Somebody tried to strangle him and make it look like suicide. Same as Pipo. Good news is that this time, he screwed up.” He paused again, looked down and then gazed straight at Jordan.

  “Groves fought back?” A hundred faces flashed through Jordan’s mind, then she zeroed in on one. “Hugo Diaz is in the same jail now. Arrested with Pipo. Think he’ll be next?”

  “It’s possible.” Clayton nodded. “We’ve doubled security. But the point is that someone is reaching out to silence these guys. Probably El Pulpo or a rival. And it’s likely they’ll keep trying until they succeed.”

  Drew said something, but Jordan barely heard.

  Her face warmed and her heartbeat thrashed in her ears.

  “They’re killing everyone. They don’t want anyone to testify. That means they really do want me dead, too.” She said it in a whisper, inaudible above the thumping of her heart. Sparks of terror climbed from her stomach up her chest and into her neck. Her lips began to quiver. “I’ve been involved in all of these El Pulpo cases, one way or another. I even went to the Medicine Factory in Haiti and connected Dr. Wren to the Super Adderall that killed Ruby. They won’t stop until they’ve made sure I’m unable to testify, too.”