by Diane Capri
She understood his offer as a bit of an apology, too. He’d come down pretty hard on her yesterday. Some of his anger had been well deserved. She’d admit that.
A grin stole its way onto her lips. Neither Drew’s face nor voice had been on TV yet at Channel 12. So beating Drew to those milestones would be a big win. A huge win. And probably tick Patricia off, which would be a bonus.
Bottom line? This was a great opportunity to attach her name to a good story. But she’d have to leave her dad again, after being gone all last week. Nope. Final answer. Being asked was enough to satisfy her.
“You know what? I’d better stay home with my dad today.”
“No problem,” he said. “It will air again tonight at six, and then you can track your follow-up piece when it’s ready. Congratulations on a job well done.”
Jordan grinned after he hung up.
Just think how great you’d have done if you’d had more time.
“Good thing you didn’t say that out loud.”
When Jordan awoke from an accidental hammock-induced nap, she found Nelson still lifting weights. “Maybe you need to get out of the house, Dad. Wanna go see a movie?”
He set down the weights and rolled towards her. “You know what would be the perfect night for me? To watch your story air on the news tonight. And maybe after that, we could go for a nice evening stroll.”
Jordan flashed a dazzling smile, complete with sparkles in her eyes. “That sounds pretty perfect to me, too. Mind if I call Claire first?”
She’d tried to call Claire several times earlier, but never connected. This time, Claire did pick up. She sounded a little breathless. Rhythmically so. “J. Fox. What’s up?”
“Checking to see how you’re doing.” Jordan’s brow creased. “What are you doing?”
Puff. Puff. “Working out. At the gym.” Gasp. Gasp. “Everything okay?”
Jordan’s heart felt lighter about her friend than it had in weeks. “You bet. We can meet for coffee tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Works for me.” Gasp. Gasp. Click.
At six, Jordan and her dad watched her story air. When it ended, he beamed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m very, very proud of you, honey.”
The sweetness of the evening continued as Jordan and her dad strolled and rolled outside, as he called it. Amid the night sky, he pointed out bird calls and told her about his doctor visit while she was in Haiti. “The docs say I’m improving more quickly than they expected.”
“For real? Dad, that’s great news.”
“It is, isn’t it?” His chest puffed up a little. “And this week, I’m supposed to start walking. Yes, for real.”
Jordan clapped her hands and laughed. “That’s huge!”
She turned her face up to the sky, gazing at the stars that reminded her of her mother. They sparkled even brighter tonight than in the dark night skies of Haiti.
This was a good Tuesday in Tampa Bay.
Later, after Nelson had gone to bed, Evan Groves crossed Jordan’s mind again. What a weirdo. Who was that guy?
Jordan pulled a chair up to her dad’s office computer and looked Evan up online. The top hits were all about his job as assistant soccer coach to the Plant University soccer team.
Below that, a small biography said he’d attended Tampa Heights High School. Her face puckered as if she’d tasted something tart.
Brenda Fox had been a middle school guidance counselor at Riverside Middle School. Most of the students from Riverside were funneled to Tampa Heights High School.
Jordan did the math. Calculated the year Evan would have been in middle school. It overlapped with the time Brenda worked there. Meaning, almost for certain, Brenda Fox knew Evan Groves. Meaning, almost for certain, Brenda Fox knew a kid who grew up to be a drug dealer and soon, maybe a confessed murderer.
Jordan’s phone rang. Clayton Vaughn. Wasn’t it a little late for him to be calling her? Either it was an emergency, or he was attempting to enter “good friends” territory…bordering on “intimate friends” territory at this hour.
“Hey, so, guess what?” He sounded a little excited.
No apology for calling late. Jordan’s “wannabe intimate friends” theory looked to be the dominant one.
Clayton continued, sounding like a kid who’d just received a great birthday present. “Groves was charged with felony murder in the death of Ruby Quinn today. Still waiting on forensics. The charges could be increased once we get them. He’s being held without bond because he’s a flight risk. Rumor is, he’s gonna plead guilty to get a plea deal.”
That didn’t sound like the best idea she’d heard lately. “Clayton Vaughn, don’t you dare give that jerk a plea deal. Lock him away.”
“Not up to me. But don’t worry. He won’t be going anywhere for a long time.” Jordan imagined Clayton sitting back with his puffed-up chest. “So, Madam Sherlock, since you can’t seem to stay away from dudes with guns, why don’t we go to the shooting range next week? I think I should teach you to shoot back.”
Men were hardwired to try to protect women. Once in a while Jordan let them do it to be polite. But she didn’t need protecting. And she hadn’t been kidding when she told Theresa she didn’t have time or energy for dating right now, either. Even if Clayton was super hot and might have helped save her life. More than once.
On the other hand, the way her life as a wannabe reporter with wannabe cop tendencies was going, learning to shoot a gun was probably a very good idea. There would come a day when she stood face to face with Brenda Fox’s killers. When that day came, she’d be ready.
* * *
Keep Reading! Jordan’s thrilling adventures continue in
FALSE TRUTH 7
A Jordan Fox Mystery
CLICK HERE TO READ NOW
Excerpt from
CHAPTER 1
Dennis Raine died six minutes after the wheels of his Cessna 172 lifted off the pavement of runway seven in St. Petersburg, Florida.
From liftoff until minute five, his last flight was perfectly glorious.
The low cloud ceiling presented a stunning canvas for the setting sun to cast streaks of flame and electric cobalt across the horizon.
He was flying lower than usual because of the ceiling, too, which improved his view.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, although only God could hear him. He stretched to relieve the tension in his neck and shoulders. He’d been working hard. Too hard. But he’d be home soon.
He made a right turn, then heard the message he expected from Franklin Pierce Airport’s control tower in his ear.
“Okay, November 47 Juliet Whiskey 3, switch to Tampa departure 119 point 65.”
“Roger tower, switching departure 119 65, talk to you later.” Dennis manipulated a button the dashboard to the new frequency above twelve-hundred feet.
“Tampa departure, this is November 47 Juliet Whiskey 3. Passing one-thousand for five-thousand, five-hundred. Over.” Dennis relaxed into the familiar precise routine, an elaborate waltz between pilot and controller.
“Roger Juliet Whiskey 3. Radar contact. Five miles southeast of Franklin Pierce at one-thousand. You’re clear to climb to five-thousand, five-hundred.”
He nodded. Situation normal. Good. He’d been flying for decades, first trained in the Navy, but he wasn’t complacent about any of it. He’d seen how quickly things could go south.
“Roger. Clear to five-thousand, five-hundred.”
From fifteen-hundred feet above Tampa Bay, the view was incredible. Dennis inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh air flowing through the vents into his four-seater Cessna 172. He was in no rush to get to fifty-five-hundred feet, but he climbed steadily, as instructed.
Cloud cover over Tampa Bay and the late hour darkened the waves below him even as the Sunshine Skyway Bridge’s peaks glistened not far to the west. Florida. Nature. He loved it all. The pilot seat. Best place in the world.
Dennis took another deep breath and glanced across Tampa Bay. He cheri
shed his flight time alone but he was looking forward to being home in Miami. He’d been gone too long. A few days with his wife and stepdaughter before he flew back to Tampa for work should relax and recharge his enthusiasm, he hoped.
DEA Agents like Dennis were swamped right now. He’d participated in a bust about eight weeks ago that captured a couple of heavyweight drug runners and the CEO of a local shrimp empire. He’d thought the problem was local, too. But it wasn’t. El Pulpo, a worldwide crime cartel aptly named for the octopus’s many arms and legs, had moved into Tampa in a big way.
Dennis wasn’t through working this case yet.
These big cartels, he knew, had endless supplies of drugs and minions to distribute them and were adding more all the time. What he really wanted was to capture The Boss. Cut the head off the snake and the body would die, at least for a while.
And he was getting closer to the snake. He could feel it.
A few days off and then he’d be back. Better than before.
He scanned his gauges again. Full tank of fuel. Cruising just below two-thousand feet at the moment, climbing slowly higher. Perfect.
Scanned for traffic again, too. All clear.
Checked his GPS. Right on track. He’d be home in less than two hours.
Dennis gazed through the windscreen. The moon hung low over the beach below. A lone shrimp boat moved along steadily on the west side of the Skyway Bridge. Headed out a little early, maybe, given the bright moon. Shrimpers usually wanted to be out on the Gulf in total darkness, he’d learned.
In another direction, he saw red and green lights on a passenger jet descending at Tampa International Airport. For them, the best part was over.
Enjoy the ride. He stressed it to himself again as he watched the twilight-filled horizon that would soon disappear with the final bits of daylight. He stole a look over his right shoulder at the bright setting sun well off to the side.
Turning back, a large bird in the west. Airport rangers kept birds off the runways, but up in the air, all planes were fair game. The bird was far enough west though. The scary ones were the flocks headed straight toward him.
He was just over two-thousand feet, continuing to climb. A moving speck caught his peripheral vision. The bird.
But it wasn’t a bird at all. It hovered. Closer now. But what was it?
Nothing from nature. A small aircraft? But it had no lights.
He radioed the control center.
“Hey departure, you got any traffic in the area?”
“I’m not painting anybody in your area at the moment.”
Control would know about any traffic in the area. Dennis shrugged. Must be a bird. Unless it was one of those idiotic amateur—
The object overwhelmed his peripheral vision space now. Close, and getting closer. He banked hard to the left, dipping his left wing.
He blinked hard to clear his vision. Once, twice. Then he looked again.
Something felt very wrong.
Sweat dotted his brow as he radioed Control.
“Departure? It’s a big white…machine.” He heard the panic in his own voice, which he hadn’t heard since his very first Navy mission all those years ago. “White possible UAV with a purple and green pattern.” Dennis squinted, his breath catching as he tried to spit out a description.
He swallowed and blinked hard again, holding his eyes closed a fraction of a second longer than before. When he opened, the drone was mere feet in front of him.
Big as the windshield almost, and coming straight toward his face, faster than he could register.
His thumb pushed the red transmission button. Hard. “Holy shit—”
BAM!
It happened fast.
A deafening noise.
The hovering, unmanned aircraft hit the propeller and then pierced through the windshield.
Rapidly spinning blades slashed his face and neck.
The weight of the machine knocked his head back with the force of a small missile, exploding his head like a watermelon.
Blood and brain and bone and skin splattered the cockpit.
The left wing banked too deep.
The plane corkscrewed down, down, down.
Twenty seconds later, the Cessna 172 hit the surface.
Both wings ripped off.
The plane dropped into the water’s perfect silence.
Down, down, until it rested on the bottom of the bay.
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For a complete list of Diane Capri Books visit:
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(Click each title to buy or download a sample)
The Heir Hunter Series:
Blood Trails
The Jess Kimball Thrillers:
Fatal Game
Fatal Edge
Fatal Fall
Fatal Error
Fatal Demand
Fatal Distraction
Fatal Enemy
The Hunt for Jack Reacher Series:
Deep Cover Jack
Jack and Joe
Jack in the Green
Get Back Jack
Don’t Know Jack
Jack in a Box
Jack and Kill
The Hunt for Justice Series:
True Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Fair Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
False Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Cold Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Wasted Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Secret Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Twisted Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Due Justice (Judge Willa Carson)
Mistaken Justice
Raw Justice
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the continuing Jordan Fox Mysteries, starring tenacious multimedia journalist Jordan Fox. An ambitious newcomer with a difficult past, we’re thrilled that readers have fallen in love our feisty new heroine!
I’m also excited to continue working with my colleague, Beth Dexter. Beth brings realism to Jordan Fox the way only an insider can because she’s a journalist who worked as a producer in a TV newsroom. Like Jordan, Beth began her TV career after college, at age 22. If you want to know what being on the inside of the news is really like, look no further!
We’re joining Jordan Fox almost in real time. We’re living her career and the developing stories she’s reporting, right along with her. Jordan is an MMJ (Multimedia Journalist) in one of the largest media markets in the country and very quickly finds that journalists don’t simply report the news—sometimes, they’re right in the middle of it all!
The series of Jordan Fox Mysteries intertwines with my other work, but is designed to be read independently. Jordan lives and works in Tampa and her adventures are loaded with Florida atmosphere. You’ll also find some of the characters from my other books that you already love—such as Judge Willa Carson and Attorney Jenny Lane. You can join in the discussion via Facebook here: http://www
.facebook.com/bethdexterbooks. For a complete listing of all Diane Capri books look here: http://dianecapri.com/books/
And be sure to sign up for our email list so we can let you know when the next book is released! Do that here: http://dianecapri.com/get-involved/get-my-newsletter/
Thank you and happy reading!
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Diane Capri is a New York Times, USA Today, and worldwide bestselling author. She’s a recovering lawyer and snowbird who divides her time between Florida and Michigan. An active member of Mystery Writers of America, Author’s Guild, International Thriller Writers, Alliance of Independent Authors, and Sisters in Crime, she loves to hear from readers and is hard at work on her next novel.
Please connect with Diane online:
http://www.DianeCapri.com
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Beth Dexter is a New Adult author. She is a seventh generation Floridian who took a detour to North Carolina to receive her B.A. in English at Davidson College. She went on to pursue a career in journalism, working as a TV News Producer. She loves photography, traveling, swimming, and her family.
Please connect with Beth online:
http://www.BethDexter.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BethDexter
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/bethdexterbooks
