[Jordan Fox 01.0 - 04.0] False Truth

by Diane Capri

  Maybe they had already decided she couldn’t cut it in the newsroom.

  “Okay.” Richard stood and turned toward the door. “Let’s get to work. We’re counting on you, Jordan.” He left the conference room and Patricia picked up her files and walked out after him without another word.

  Jordan followed her nose straight to the break room next door, where the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee saturated the air. Caffeine was magical in so many ways. Maybe it held a magical solution to this massive problem. Or at least maybe it would fix her massive headache.

  How could she possibly get out of this assignment?

  Jordan didn’t have the seniority or status to persuade Richard the assignment wasn’t worthy. She could pretend to get the flu. Too risky. She could say she had to go to a relative’s funeral, but that would be a flat out lie and too easy an alibi to break.

  Nothing else popped into her head. She might just have to suck it up and do the Instant Pop Star assignment. Her head pounded as if it might literally explode.

  Jordan poured coffee into a Styrofoam cup, added sweetener and Hazelnut flavored cream. She was convinced that the act of making coffee alone was therapeutic. She raised the cup to her nose and inhaled. Aroma therapy. Coffee with sugar and hazelnut cream had been her mother’s favorite. Whenever Jordan needed calming comfort, this coffee recipe was her choice.

  She closed her eyes and sipped to calm her headache. She heard music in the distance. Probably Instant Pop Star auditions playing in one of the edit bays. After a few moments, she recognized a very odd version of John Lennon’s “Imagine.”

  She stirred the coffee for a good long while, at first thinking about how many dreadful renditions of Lennon’s song she’d hear in Jacksonville. It was a popular song. There were thousands of hopefuls auditioning. The odds were, she’d hear it way too many times.

  When she stopped obsessing over the Instant Pop Star assignment, the solution snuck up on her from the distance, like the music had.

  All she needed to do was come up with a better story to pitch. Something Richard couldn’t possibly reject. A simple but perfect plan.

  Yes! Jordan stirred her coffee too hard, splashing it all over her hand. “Ow!” She jerked her hand back and a glob of coffee landed on her foot. “Dammit!”

  Drew walked in just in time to witness it. “Hey fumble fingers, you spilled your coffee.” He was so charming, comments that would’ve sounded like an insult from anyone else sounded downright complimentary and nearly flirtatious from him. He was no chore to look at, either. Which was probably why Patricia had such a crush on him.

  Jordan sighed and shook her head at his sheer perfection. She put a bit of sarcasm in her tone, though. “I just can’t keep my cool around you, Drew.”

  He chuckled and swung open the refrigerator and grabbed a protein shake. He probably had already been to the gym today, too. Twice.

  Jordan pulled a wad of paper towels from the rod and knelt to clean her shoe and wipe sticky coffee off the floor.

  “Congratulations on scoring the awesome shark assignment.” She rose from her task and tossed the paper towel into the trash. She pulled another wad from the roll and dampened it. “That’ll look great on your reel.”

  “It’s such a Friday story, isn’t it?” He gave her a little wink. “Everyone’s lookin’ for something a little wacky.” He even accepted compliments well. Was there nothing the guy was less than stellar at? There’d better be or she was toast around here. With the recent budget slashes it wouldn’t take long to kick her out, either.

  He strutted off and Jordan knelt to wipe the floor with the wet paper towel. She finished the task and stood for a moment leaning against the sink holding what was left of her coffee.

  Commence mission: Find a great new assignment.

  There would be that pesky detail of talking her bosses into it…but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. If the pitch was good enough, persuading Richard wouldn’t be a problem. Big if.

  Meanwhile, she’d get to work on the assignment she’d been given. If that didn’t motivate her to find a better one, nothing would.

  CHAPTER 3

  Three hours and a half dozen files into her afternoon of Instant Pop Star research, Nick the photographer poked his head into Jordan’s edit bay. “You leaving for a dinner break?”

  Jordan was huddled in the freezing cold darkness wearing the gray fleece jacket she’d stashed for just such situations. When the bright lights were off, the News Center was like a meat locker.

  She liked Nick just fine. But she had other plans for her dinner break. “I brought a sandwich,” she said. “I think I’ll power through these audition tapes while I’ve still got the energy.” She met his eyes and flashed a half smile.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and walked off.

  When the heavy metal door to the stairwell slammed behind him, Jordan closed the audition files and pulled her knees into her chest, pushing all the air and tension out of her lungs. She was alone now. This was her chance.

  She’d spent years preparing to breach the News Channel 12 archives for evidence that would solve her mother’s murder. Channel 12’s reporters were the best in the business. They would have left no stone unturned back then and the creepy things they’d found under the rocks were what she needed to know. This was what she’d been working for and now was the time to make it happen. Now was her chance to begin the real work she’d taken this job to do.

  Yet, she didn’t rise to her feet.

  Jordan swiveled her chair to gaze into the dark abyss that concealed the hallways where archive tapes were stored. The answers were there, practically knocking on the sliding glass door that separated her from the keys to the cold case. All she had to do was look.

  Still, she didn’t move.

  Jordan knew the precise spot to find the tape she needed in the dark back hallway’s vault of miniature tapes. Actually grasping the tape would be a separate challenge. Her palms were already moist just thinking about the first time she’d tried to review the newscast during her first few days at Channel 12. She’d located the tape and confirmed that it was still viewable.

  But that’s as far as she got. She couldn’t make herself watch that day. She wasn’t ready then. Patricia had been watching her like a hawk since she won the first week of the intern competition with Drew, so Jordan hadn’t been able to try watching the tape again. Right now was the first chance she’d had. Right now was the time.

  She slid both open palms down her sides to dry the cold sweat that popped right back. Her breathing was too shallow. At this rate, she’d hyperventilate. Jordan inhaled as deeply as possible and held the breath to a count of three and then exhaled long and slow. After a few of these, she felt a little bit stronger.

  Was she ready now? For months after the murder, she couldn’t sleep because she couldn’t turn the images off. She could still see the most horrific parts too easily by simply closing her eyes, even now, after five years of trying to subdue them.

  She didn’t want to see video of her old house, even from the outside, because she remembered too well how the kitchen was streaked with her mother’s blood when she came home from school that day. Crime scene tape in the front yard had failed to prevent countless pairs of boots from trampling her mother’s beautiful flower gardens. She could hear again as if it happened right here, right now, reporters referring to her mother as a body and the devastating Breaking News and the Developing Story that simply stopped but never really ended.

  Jordan had promised herself for five long years now that she would find the end of the story. She’d find out what happened. She’d find out who was responsible and make sure they didn’t get away with murdering her mother. And she would never, ever stop until she did.

  Which meant she had no choice. She had to watch all of the tapes. Find some place to start.

  The only thing she had to fear was the truth. She could handle that. She hoped.

  Jordan closed her eyes, gr
asped the handles of her chair, and pushed herself onto her feet. Jordan Fox on Two Capable Legs, right? She walked toward the tapes, taking each step deliberately to keep her balance on legs that seemed suddenly not so capable.

  You’ve grabbed the tape before. You know you can do at least that much. Get to the shelf and grab the tape. Don’t be such a ninny.

  Jordan’s slow march led her to the endless rows of miniature archive tapes. She remembered which shelf to go to—how could she forget?—and, without overthinking it, she reached up quickly and grabbed the tape with the proper code. 2009-12-4/19:00:00-23:59:00. The portion that included the longest four minutes ever for Jordan. The top of the 11:00 p.m. newscast on December 4, 2009.

  She continued to wipe cold moisture from her palms, but they didn’t stay dry very long. She held the cassette with two fingers. Couldn’t risk ruining it.

  So far, so good. Now take it back to the edit bay and play it. One step at a time, Jordan. You don’t have to solve the case tonight. You don’t even have to listen to the audio the first time around. Just let your eyes absorb the 11 p.m. newscast. Then, if you’re ready, you can watch the newscast again with audio.

  A fluorescent hall light flicked on, nearly blinding her. Patricia.

  “Hey, kid.” Her voice came out as a perma-grumble. “Been looking all over for you.”

  Jordan nearly lost her balance, but pressed a sweaty palm against the wall to stabilize herself just in time. Instinctively, she held the tape behind her back. Patricia wouldn’t be okay with Jordan’s snooping. Not at all.

  “You know one of the Pop Star contestants is singing at the Plant University soccer game tomorrow, right?” Patricia asked.

  Jordan’s mind returned sluggishly to the present. Plant University was just across the street. She could run over tomorrow, interview the person, and get a jumpstart on this awful assignment. Get it out of the way. Shortcut the whole thing, somehow. Maybe even avoid going to Jacksonville altogether.

  She felt some of the heavy dread she’d been carrying slip off her shoulders.

  “Thanks for the tip.” Jordan put a smile on her face and in her voice. “What’s the name?”

  Patricia paused and looked at her strangely. Like she might ask why Jordan was standing here in the dark when she was supposed to be in the editing booth. “Dominique Wren. Haitian originally. Local now. Could be good.”

  Jordan breathed a little bit easier, for now. “I’ll get right to work on her audition tape.”

  Patricia said nothing more before she turned and went back the way she’d come. Not that she’d forget what she’d seen.

  Jordan felt deep in her bones that Patricia’s finding her in the vault was a bad sign. The woman had a mind like a sinkhole, sucking up every bit of info she came into contact with and storing it for god knows what sort of blackmail.

  Patricia might very well turn around and come right back. If she found Jordan watching the archive tape, it wouldn’t go down well. The last thing she needed was Patricia on her case even more than she already was.

  Jordan carefully replaced the tape, and then rushed back to her edit bay to get to work on Dominique Wren’s audition before Patricia did something else to make sure she was doing precisely what Patricia told her to do.

  Brenda Fox’s killers would have to wait.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Morning, Dad,” Jordan said when she entered their newly renovated kitchen the next morning. They’d only returned to their home a couple of days ago and she was still getting used to the changes. The bomb in her kitchen hadn’t destroyed the entire house, thankfully. And now that they’d moved back, Jordan hoped they’d both appreciate the improvements without too many memories of the night that made the changes necessary.

  She stopped by her dad’s wheelchair and gave him a hug on her way to the coffee.

  He’d wheeled up to the new table to have breakfast and read the paper. He looked at her over the readers resting at the end of his nose. “Morning, Freckles. You’re up early. Got a big day before work?”

  They seldom had a chance to see each other anymore. He’d been supervising the renovations to their house for the past few weeks and it seemed to be helping him become more mobile lately. She worked so much, and kept odd hours, a passing coffee in the morning was about the extent of their relationship lately.

  She plopped a bagel in the toaster. “I’m meeting Claire and Sal at the Plant soccer game at noon.”

  He frowned briefly when she mentioned Sal. He blamed Sal for the bomb that had destroyed their kitchen, which was fair. Her dad didn’t appreciate Sal’s business associates’ persuasive tactics. At all. But Sal took responsibility for the damage. He’d paid for the renovations. He even provided an all-expense-paid place for them to live while the work was being done.

  Jordan was about to chide him for being unforgiving, but then he lightened up. He grinned at her and teased. “When did you develop an interest in soccer?”

  She’d slathered jam on the bagel and joined him at the breakfast table.

  “Since never,” she answered around the hot bagel in her mouth. “It’s work for me. Fun for them.”

  “What’s the work part?” her dad asked. He enjoyed hearing about her job, partly because he’d been home since his stroke and he missed working. He was hoping to return to the high school as principal again, and she wanted that for him, too.

  Jordan had spent every spare minute on her assignment problem, but had come up with nothing good enough to avoid Instant Pop Star. Everything she’d thought of was too short. Her proposed assignment had to consume the same number of days as IPS. More importantly, she needed an idea that Richard would not only be content with, but thrilled about. Otherwise her pitch would seem like what it was, a cheap attempt to get out of Instant Pop Star.

  Richard wasn’t an idiot. Not even close. He’d see through something like that in a hot second.

  And even if he didn’t, Patricia was there to shoot holes in anything Jordan pitched. She’d never get past the pitch unless the new assignment was exponentially better than IPS in every way.

  “I’ve got to meet this woman who could be a potential human interest story. She’s singing at the game,” Jordan said. “So when Claire called and invited me to go, I figured I might see her for a while and meet the woman, too. Multi-tasking, right?”

  Jordan had to intentionally make time for friends—unlike Drew, who was a friend magnet. Jordan could be such a loner if left to her own devices, mainly because she really preferred work to play. Or maybe she’d been so focused on her mission for so many years that she couldn’t let go long enough to play. Either way, she hadn’t seen much of Claire since everything happened with the drug cartel and Sal’s business. Jordan was feeling guilty about that, too.

  The game was at noon, and Plant University sat across the street from Channel l2. The soccer match should wrap up just in time for Jordan to dash across the street and get to work.

  Besides, Claire’s vehemently free spirit encouraged Jordan to let loose and think way outside the box. Too far outside, sometimes. Might help with her pitch idea today, she hoped.

  “What’s her name?” her dad asked, jolting Jordan from her thoughts. “The singer?”

  She met his gaze. He actually looked happy right now. When was the last time she’d seen him content? “Dominique Wren.”

  “I’ve heard of her.” He smiled. “You’re in for a treat.”

  “You have?”

  “She’s been performing around town. One of my therapists mentioned her the other day. He said she was really good. I guess she’s auditioning for that Instant Pop Star show. He says she’s good enough to win the whole deal. Let me know what you think of her. If she makes it, I might just watch the show.”

  Jordan shook her head, drained her coffee and stood. “Well, aren’t you in the know? I’m glad you’re not an intern at Channel 12. I’d never keep up with you.”

  He laughed and held up his coffee cup so she could refill i
t. “Hard to outrun Nelson Fox on Wheels.”

  “You bet it is.” She laughed, too, feeling better about him than she had since their home was destroyed. Being back in his own home was helping him, too. No nightmares. No walking on eggshells to avoid the bad memories. They wouldn’t have to move after their peace was destroyed by violence, as they’d done after her mother was killed. They were going to be okay here.

  She refilled his coffee, put breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and hugged him again before she left him, still reading his paper.

  Everything in South Tampa was close to everything else so it didn’t take Jordan long to reach Plant University’s soccer field. On the short drive, she thought about the mess Claire was in with her boyfriend, Salvador. The contentment she felt about her dad didn’t extend to Claire’s situation. Not even a little bit.

  CHAPTER 5

  Jordan was an only child, but she was so close to Claire that she considered Claire the sister she’d never had. She was as protective of Claire as a sister would be, for sure. When Jordan’s mother died and her dad’s disabling stroke dealt her a double blow, Jordan had learned who her real friends were. The ones she could count on. The ones who didn’t believe Nelson Fox had killed his wife. There weren’t many keepers. She’d thought, once upon a time, that her ex-fiancé was one. A keeper. She’d been wrong. Nelson Fox and Claire Stone were the only two who had never let Jordan down. She would never, ever do less for Claire.

  Claire had been dating Salvador Caster for about four months now. She’d seemed so happy that, at first, Jordan had simply felt happy for her friend. They’d spent most of their first few months alone together, as new couples tend to do.