by Diane Capri
But once Jordan started to know him, several things about Salvador Caster had come to light that she didn’t like. At all. Such as the ongoing investigation into his company’s ties with a drug cartel, which was probably going to result in criminal charges against Sal. He was being questioned about exactly what he knew and when he knew it. He’d hired a top-notch lawyer. But Jordan’s gut said he wouldn’t be a free man much longer.
Claire would never be able to deal with that.
Judging from the look on her dad’s face every time Sal’s name came up, he was feeling concerns, too, and he didn’t know the half of it.
The problem was how to deal with Sal and not ruin her friendship with Claire. Like the alternative assignment, this was a problem Jordan hadn’t yet managed to solve.
She shrugged, parked in the Plant U lot, locked Hermes and rushed to find them.
Claire waved and Jordan saw them in the stands. She covered her mouth to avoid laughing out loud. One of the most successful business owners in Tampa was decked out garishly in black and gold from head to toe. Black socks, gold soccer shorts, a black jersey, and a hat with black and gold stripes. He looked ridiculous. Still drop dead gorgeous, of course. Jordan had no problem understanding what attracted Claire to the guy.
“Wow.” Jordan dropped down next to Claire. “I can’t imagine which team you’re rooting for. No black and gold pompoms?”
“My alma mater, baby! Woo!” Sal cheered. And the game hadn’t even started yet.
Sal’s enthusiasm seemed especially inappropriate after what happened to his former high school soccer coach and everything that followed.
“Guess he’s gotten over the whole cartel thing,” Jordan whispered to Claire.
Before Claire could respond, Sal leaned over and scowled at Jordan.
“Sorry,” Jordan said. “Guess we are still touchy on that subject.”
Sal retreated back in his seat. The whistle blew and the game started.
“You’re a little confrontational today,” Claire said gently to Jordan. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Jordan realized repressed anger toward Sal was probably surfacing. He’d already apologized to her a hundred times. And he’d paid to renovate her house. But she was worried about Claire, too. She’d try to chill out, although she hadn’t been successful at that lately, either.
Jordan crinkled her brow and leaned back toward Sal. “But seriously,” she lowered her voice, “you know all of that isn’t settled, right? You’re still being watched. You need to be careful.”
Sal leaned forward again. “This is a college soccer match, Jordan,” he said, cold anger coming through in every quiet word. “Lay off.”
Jordan felt he’d just proved her point, but she didn’t say so. She squinted at Sal. What was with his amped up emotions? As long as she’d known him, he’d always held a cool demeanor. The agitation could be nothing. Or it could be a cover for something more.
Jordan turned to Claire who raised her eyebrows and shrugged, as if to acknowledge she didn’t understand Sal, either.
“I saw that,” Sal said, without looking away from the field.
Jordan should just sit back and enjoy the game. She was restless and confrontational and her behavior wasn’t helping anyone. She should shut up and respect Salvador’s love of the game. She’d already done as much as she could to help him. She’d done too much, her dad and others had warned her.
The Plant University goalie missed a shot and the Winter Park Whitecaps scored. Sal shot up onto his feet and screamed at the field. “Get your head in the game! Come on, man! Get your freakin’ act together!” He let out a big huff and sat down.
Jordan really shouldn’t say anything. But she felt the words coming. And she couldn’t stop them. “Hey Sal, give him a break. He gave it a good effort.”
He turned to her, his face bright red. “He didn’t give it a ‘good effort’, Jordan! He’s playing half-heartedly out there. You have to play with attention. You have to play with initiative and own the field.”
Jordan flinched, like he’d slapped her, hard. What was wrong with him? “I’m worried about you. I know sometimes when people are this intense, it’s a result of something other than being passionate about soccer. I wonder if you’re telling the goalie to play with attention because you wished you’d played recent events that way yourself.”
Sal gritted his teeth and balled his fists. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve always been this passionate about soccer. Don’t play junior psychologist with me, Jordan. You’re the one with dead mother issues, not me.”
She sat up on the edge of her seat. “Don’t ever talk about my mom’s death. You have no idea what happened or what it was like. My mother was murdered.”
Sal moved to the edge of his seat, too. Jordan thought he might actually come straight at her. Claire grabbed Sal’s forearm with both hands and restrained him in a gesture so automatic that Jordan felt sure she’d done it many times before.
Sal dropped his arm and leaned toward Jordan. He spoke at normal volume. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Go do your own thing, Jordan. My debt to you is paid in full. I owe you nothing.”
Paid in full? Seriously? If not for Jordan, Salvador Caster would be dead or in prison right this minute. She had solved two murders and brought down a blackmailing drug dealer, simply because she loved Claire and Sal was too weak to protect her. Both Jordan and her dad were almost blown to smithereens for her efforts. And Sal owed her nothing?
“That’s the difference between you and me, Sal,” Jordan said. “You’re a trust-fund baby. You think everybody owes you. Everything’s been handed to you your whole life. But everything I want, I have to work for. Even justice.” Jordan kicked the bleacher in front of her with the toe of her sneaker, and it hurt.
Claire put her arm around Salvador and leaned into him.
Jordan grabbed her sling bag and stormed off.
She paced behind the bleachers. Who did that guy think he was, anyway? She’d saved his ass less than a month ago and he talked to her like that?
After a few minutes of pacing and fuming, she ran out of fuel for her outrage. She stopped pacing and leaned against the bleacher frame. Just admit it. You’re crushed.
Not because Sal hurt her feelings. If she were that sensitive, she’d never survive as a reporter.
Because Claire took Salvador’s side. Claire had always, always been Jordan’s solid supporter, through some very bad times. But just now, Claire chose her boyfriend. Sal had taken Jordan’s place. She never saw that coming and it hurt.
Her phone rang. It was Claire.
“Yeah,” Jordan answered, all the heat gone and the hurt right on the surface.
There was a slight hesitation on the other end. “You know, you were kind of egging him on.” Her voice was soft.
Jordan kicked the dirt and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know. I know. I said some mean things and I might be sorry. I haven’t decided. But to be fair, so did he.”
“Well, come back and apologize and maybe he’ll do the same,” Claire’d been a peacemaker as long as they’d known each other. “We can’t fix it without you, Junior Psychologist.”
Jordan could hear Claire’s smile and a bit more tension deflated. She hated fighting with Claire. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
But she paced a while longer first, to wear out the rest of her disquiet. Something was going on with Sal and it was spilling over onto Claire. Jordan could spend a few hours guessing, or she could just do what good reporters do and find out for herself. She was pretty sure the problem would turn out to be related to the drug cartel.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Jordan. Find out what it is first. Then deal with it.”
When she returned to the bleachers, she and Sal exchanged almost-pleasant expressions. Not quite smiles on either end, but civility. Jordan watched his behavior, which didn’t improve toward the players on the field, though.
The rest of the first half passed with decency, and even friendliness between them. Looking for a safer subject, Jordan told Claire about her Instant Pop Star dilemma.
“Oh but that show is the best.” Claire clapped her hands like a delighted child. “You should totally do it. I’d go to Jacksonville with you. We’d have a blast.”
Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe she’d been wrong about what was bothering Sal. Claire hadn’t offered to go anywhere with Jordan in quite a while, but it wasn’t like her to desert Sal when he needed her. “What about Sal? Would he want you to go with me?”
Claire smiled. “Oh, he’s going out of town on business, too. He won’t even know I’m gone.”
That explained Claire’s offer. She didn’t already have plans with Sal and she knew he’d be busy. Jordan felt a little deflated. She shook her head. “Tempting. But I can’t do it. You know I can’t handle that IPS ridiculousness,” Jordan said.
“Oh, Jordan. You can be so stubborn.” Claire wrinkled her nose. “None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. Have a little fun, why don’t you? You’re allowed, you know.”
An announcer interrupted their conversation to begin introducing the halftime entertainment. Jordan had seen in the program that Dominique Wren would perform a bit later. She tuned the rest out.
“Hey,” Claire whispered, putting her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “We’re gonna sneak off to the concession stand. Want anything?”
“No, I’m good.” They walked away and Jordan found herself sitting there alone. Perhaps she’d been relying on Claire too much. She needed to make more of an effort to hang out with other friends, too. Not to replace Claire, but to give her more space and to be less dependent. Because while Jordan and her dad were far from enamored with Sal, Claire remained enthralled. It might be years before she emerged from that cloud, if she ever did.
Whether Claire saw it or not, something was definitely wrong with her boyfriend. Sure, he was handsome and wealthy, but Jordan’s gut said Claire was investing too much time in him. Sal was thirty. Eight years older. Yet, during their argument today and at other times, too, he didn’t act like a mature man at all. He seemed unstable and had a hot temper. He also had a lot of legal problems following the murder of his soccer coach. Jordan hadn’t been following up on that situation, but it couldn’t be good news or Claire would have already told her everything.
Something not right was going on with Salvador Caster. As soon as she had the time, Jordan meant to find out what, exactly, that something was. She just hoped the problem didn’t blow up before she could deal with it.
CHAPTER 6
Jordan watched the student standing in the middle of the field in a gold dress, looking like a younger Beyoncé. Gold tassels adorned her dark black hair. She held the microphone, waiting while the announcer introduced her.
“Dominique Wren is a sophomore at Plant University. Her father, Dr. Peter Wren, is a physician for the Plant University Soccer team. He’s also a doctor at the Plant University Health Clinic on campus. Dominique is pursuing her undergraduate degree in Musical Composition and Performance. Please welcome Dominique Wren, singing her own original composition, The World Awaits.”
The crowd quieted and Dominique centered up. She was now the only person on the field. She lifted the microphone, closed her eyes, and began to sing, a capella.
In every life there comes a time
When things must begin to change.
On the third line, the recorded orchestra accompaniment came in.
It may catch one by surprise
But the message is still the same.
It was a simple song, but Dominique sang it with such passion and clarity that the whole rowdy crowd fell completely silent.
Thanks to the simple beauty of the song and its uplifting message, any lingering anger Jordan still harbored against Sal for the argument had almost evaporated by the time he and Claire returned with their concessions. What must this song mean to Dominique that gave her performance such conviction?
As the second half started up, Jordan examined Dominique’s formal biography in the program. Plant University journalism club. Enjoyed running in her free time. Her mother died when she was a child, the biography stated, and when she was nine years old, her father brought her to Florida. The short personal statement Dominique had written included a note about being grateful for the opportunity to attend school in America because her father attended medical school here.
Intriguing history, and Dominique’s interests were similar to Jordan’s. Dominique had entered the Instant Pop Star auditions, which would give Jordan a chance to find out more about her. Dominique might be the perfect subject for the human interest story. She seemed full of spirit as well as talent.
Jordan spotted Dominique sitting in the current students section. She told Claire, “I’ll be right back.”
Jordan ascended the steps intending to introduce herself. But as she got closer, she saw that Dominique was at the center of a group of friends. Too many people. Jordan wouldn’t be able to make her way through the crowd without drawing too much attention. She’d do something else.
Back in her seat, Jordan sent Dominique a text message to the cell number she’d included in her Instant Pop Star application:
Outstanding performance at the game today. I’m a reporter at Channel 12. I’d be interested in coming to your next performance. Maybe we can feature you in a news story with a human interest angle.
Jordan couldn’t promise that feature, but her offer wasn’t completely out of the question.
Jordan, partially bored with the soccer match and partially following her natural curiosity, searched on her phone for Dr. Peter Wren—Dominique’s father. She found a few items about him along with a couple of old photos. He was living in Haiti when Dominique was born. Dr. Wren continued to take frequent mission trips to a clinic that treats impoverished Haitians in Sabatier. The clinic was supported year-round by several American doctors, including Dr. Chelsey Ross, a name that triggered memories, some of which Jordan preferred to forget.
Dr. Chelsey Ross had been one of Brenda Fox’s good friends, and she’d helped care for Nelson after his stroke. Before Jordan’s mother died, Dr. Ross had been a frequent dinner guest, too. She often told them about her medical mission trips to Sabatier. As a teen, Jordan had found the stories equally fascinating and frightening.
Jordon followed a link to a news article about Dr. Wren in Sabatier. The article mentioned a nurse, a Haitian woman named Estelle Marcon, who was kidnapped in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, ten years ago and hadn’t been seen or heard from again. The article didn’t explain her relationship to Dr. Wren.
Dominique was currently a sophomore in college. The math worked. Dominique would have been about nine years old, and still living in Haiti at the right time. The kidnapped nurse could have been Dominique’s mother. That tragic history, if true, would add the level of poignancy to Dominique’s story that Instant Pop Star viewers craved.
If Dominique’s mother wasn’t Estelle Marcon, maybe Dominique knew something about the nurse’s story anyway. At a minimum, Dominique or her father more than likely knew something, or knew someone who did. Especially since Estelle Marcon had also worked in the medical field. That and Dominique’s local Tampa connections and her father’s humanitarian efforts should be enough to get Richard and Patricia on board for featuring Dominique.
Banishment to Jacksonville with a constant headache from those auditions might be avoidable after all if she’d already found the best human interest story right here in town. Jordan was feeling proud of herself about it, too. She grinned.
But her grin vanished as fast as it appeared and Jordan shuddered. Jordan had admired Dr. Chelsey Ross’s selfless work in Haiti. If Dr. Ross had been there when the nurse was kidnapped—Stop that! Dr. Ross wasn’t taken and she’d been back to Haiti many times since then.
Still, she’d like to ask Dr. Ross about the kidnapping case, which fascinated Jordan the mo
re her imagination ran away with it. She’d ask Dr. Ross about Dominique Wren, too, if Dominique panned out for the Instant Pop Star story.
Something big must have happened on the soccer field because Sal jumped up and cheered and the entire student section did, too. The noise was enough to bring Jordan back to the present. She missed whatever the excitement was, but noticed she’d received a response from Dominique.
Thank you. I’m singing at the University production of RENT starting Tuesday at the Straz Center downtown. ill be playing Mimi. any publicity you can provide is a big help. i hope you can make it! id be happy to meet with you.
And just like that, her plan might actually work.
CHAPTER 7
“Earth to Jordan?” Claire gave Jordan a little push on her shoulder. “Did you come here with us or are you on a date with your phone?”
Jordan grinned. That was the kind of thing Claire used to say. Maybe things were getting back to normal after all. “Sorry. Work. But I’m back now.” Which was at least partially true.
As the remaining minutes ticked by, Sal continued to perch on the edge of his seat. Some incredible play happened and Sal and the entire fan section jumped to their feet.
“Did you guys see that?” he said still standing, looking down where Claire and Jordan sat. His face had almost returned to its normal color, but he still looked a little flushed. “We actually scored.”
“Is that unheard of?” Jordan asked, a bit more sarcastically than she’d meant to be.
Sal didn’t rise to the bait this time, though. “The team’s best forward, they call him Power Paxton. He almost couldn’t play today. He’s been sick. So to score that goal? By Power Paxton? At a time like this? That’s huge.”
“Power Paxton?” Jordan scanned the field until she found the player in question. “Sounds like a comic book super hero.”
“He is a super hero. He’s the team’s best forward and he’s the best player we’ve got. Straight A student, too. On the Dean’s List all three years so far. All-around top performer,” Sal said, sounding like some sort of proud papa instead of just a fan. “So everyone was freaking out when he was sick. Plus, we’ve already been on edge because so many Plant U Soccer players have been getting sick this season.”
