False Truth 3 (Jordan Fox Mysteries)

by Diane Capri

  She ran through her mental contact list until she remembered a guy from high school. Clayton Vaughn. He worked in the Tampa Police Department now. They were never close, but they had run into each other a couple times during college and were friendly enough. He was a good place to start.

  She checked her phone. She still had his number. Like journalists, police officers were accustomed to being available around the clock, right? It was two-fifty. Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

  She texted him: Hi Clayton, it’s Jordan Fox. I hear you work at TPD now. Can we chat? I’m okay, but I was the victim of a crime tonight. Call when convenient? Thanks –J Fox.

  Sending the text relaxed her a bit. She’d done something proactive. She felt better. She closed her eyes and dozed off with her phone next to her on the bed. Her uneasy dreams were all about explosions and fires and soot.

  Sunlight seeped through the cracks between heavy window curtains when she opened her eyes because her phone rang. It was Salvador. She’d asked him to call a few hours ago, but after his enemy destroyed her home, she didn’t want to talk to him. She closed her eyes again. The phone rang twice more before she gave up and answered.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m hiring the captains. That’s it. He blew up my girlfriend’s best friend’s house. What will he do next? They win. I’m gonna call him and tell him I’m hiring the captains he wants.”

  Jordan didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing.

  “It’s Salvador, by the way,” he said.

  Jordan frowned, still sleepy, not ready to deal with him yet. “Dammit Sal. There’s a simple answer here. Go to the police. If you hire those captains you become a drug dealer. Is that what you want? You think Claire will stay with a drug dealer? You think I’m gonna protect you? Instead of protecting my dad and my best friend? You’re putting all of us at risk. Suck it up and do the right thing.”

  The silence lasted almost long enough for Jordan to doze off again.

  “I’m so, so sorry about what happened last night.” She heard sincerity and pain in Sal’s voice, but she was too tired to care. “I can’t even begin to apologize enough.”

  “I don’t need your apologies, Sal. Call the police. That’s what I need.”

  “Can I put you and your dad up at my pool house? It’s detached from my house, two bedrooms, two bathrooms and completely empty right now.”

  Was he even thinking this through or just grasping at the first thing that came to his mind? “Your pool house is more dangerous than our own home was. Besides, the SoftSuites Hotel gave us a free room.” Which was half true. “Call the police. Tell them what’s going on. They’ll pick up Flynn. Problem solved.”

  “We’ll talk about that later. Let me move you to the Marriott and pay for your stay until the house is fixed. You know what? Let me pay for your house. I’ll fix everything plus any home improvement projects you’ve ever dreamed of.” He hesitated, waiting. She said nothing. “Come on, Jordan. I want to do something for you. I can afford it and it’s the least I can do. Okay?”

  “You can discuss that with my dad. But we have to fix the Flynn problem. Now,” she replied, punched her pillow back into shape, and settled her head again with her eyes closed.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Dad saw him deliver the package that freaking blew up the house, Sal. You could be talking to a corpse right now,” she said.

  “Well, not really. I mean, you can’t actually talk to a corpse, right?” he teased.

  Jordan snapped. Her eyes flew open and she shoved up off the mattress onto one forearm. “You think this is funny?”

  “No! No, of course not—”

  “Because it’s not the least bit funny, Sal. I’ve already lost one parent. I’m not going to lose another one. And I’m certainly not going to lose him because you’re too stubborn or stupid or whatever your problem is to go to the police.”

  She heard a text come through. “Hang on.”

  It was Clayton. Great to hear from you. Glad ur ok. Meet u at Cambridge Exchange at noon?

  She quickly typed back: Perfect.

  She put the phone back to her ear. “Look, Sal, I’d like to help you. But this has now impacted my job and our lives. I’m meeting with the police this morning. I’m telling them everything I know. So please, if you want to stay out of jail, for Claire’s sake if nothing else, come with me. And don’t hire those captains.”

  “I wish I could, but they’ll do worse. I told you. There’s just no way…” He sounded desperate.

  “You’ve already crossed that line, Sal. They’ve killed two people and tried to kill two more,” Jordan said. “Don’t you see? They’ll keep going until they’re stopped.”

  She waited through a long silence.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan. If you come up with a way I can actually help, call me.” He hung up.

  Jordan suddenly felt sorry for Sal. He was in an impossible situation. But he wasn’t being smart about how to deal with it and now her situation was impossible, too. This was a problem the police could handle. She’d give them a shove in the right direction just to be sure they wasted no time. After that, Jordan planned to let them handle it. She had her own problems to deal with.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jordan met Clayton Vaughn at the Cambridge Exchange at noon. She noticed his firm muscles as she gave him a quick hug, the way southerners do instead of a handshake, which seemed too formal somehow. “Long time no see!”

  Perhaps by contrast to the historic building that housed her favorite hangout, but Clayton looked as cherubic as he had in high school, even though he filled out his uniform better than any high school kid she’d ever seen. Maybe she’d acted too quickly. He might be the wrong guy for the job.

  Brown hair swept across his forehead and fell into his eyes. He pushed it back with his fingers, but it flopped forward again. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. I was off duty last night, but I heard what happened. How can I help you?”

  Jordan felt tears spring to her eyes. The kindness offered by near strangers had been doing that to her since her mother’s murder. She looked down and blinked to clear the glaze from her eyes. “Let’s grab a table and order a coffee. I’ll tell you all about it and then you tell me.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She led the way to a table in the back where she hoped they would be ignored by the welcoming college crowd and hordes of friends that were always there. The Cambridge Exchange was part coffee shop, part bookstore, part cafe and all around cool place for Jordan and her friends. The place held too many memories of her ex, but she wanted to get over that bitterness. From the eclectic furnishings to the art on the walls, she felt more at home here than anywhere else right at the moment. She wouldn’t give that up. The hell with Paul if he thought otherwise.

  While they ordered, she considered her companion and made small talk until the coffee and her light breakfast arrived.

  Clayton was a new hire at TPD. He was a hard-working guy, but he had no clout there. Still, she knew and trusted him. If he couldn’t help her, he might at least be able to send her to someone who could. Someone who wouldn’t be bought off or intimidated by Flynn. She hoped.

  “Here’s the deal,” Jordan plunged right in once they were alone and Clayton had pulled out his notebook. “It’s pretty obvious to me who exploded my home. A guy named Chester Flynn. He planted the bomb by posing as a package delivery man.”

  “Hold on.” Clayton wrote furiously quick notes she tried to read upside down. He glanced up. “You know this guy? How?”

  “I’m working at Channel 12, now. I can’t tell you everything yet, but I can give you three hard facts.” Jordan raised one finger at a time as she counted them off. “Number One: He was in the Aquarium Room when that dead body floated in. I have a photo to prove it. Number Two: Channel 12 has video that appears to show Chester Flynn stomping on and destroying my phone after he saw me taking a picture where he happened to be in the background. He had to know it contained evidence
. Number Three, my dad’s description of the guy who dropped off the bomb-package matches Flynn, down to his neck tattoo.”

  She waited a moment for Clayton to get everything written down. When he caught up, she continued. “When your teams check DNA on the bomb fragments, they should be able to match it to Flynn.”

  At this point, Clayton had stopped taking notes and simply stared at her.

  “Oh and one more thing: You know the Kelly Barnes hit-and-run case? You should find out where Flynn was at the time it happened.”

  Clayton had picked up his pen again. “You’re saying the Casino case, the Kelly Barnes hit-and-run, and the explosion at your house are all connected? What does this guy have against you?”

  This was the tricky part. She wouldn’t implicate Sal. Not yet. “I’m not a mind reader. Flynn must think Ted Garfield, Kelly Barnes and I have something in common.”

  Clayton’s gaze searched Jordan’s face as if he was looking for something he couldn’t find. He sipped his coffee, probably thinking about what she’d said. Finally, he nodded, some decision made, perhaps.

  “Why are you telling me all of this instead of telling the investigating officer, Jordan?”

  She leaned toward him, putting every ounce of earnestness she felt into her words. “Because I know you. I know I can rely on you not to get too busy on other things and let this one slide.”

  Clayton tilted his head slightly. His eyes narrowed. He seemed a little offended. “No police officer would do that, Jordan.”

  She sat back for a bit of distance, inhaled deeply and then and exhaled for composure before she said, “Well, maybe not. But the police never solved my mother’s murder. I was too young to have any say in that investigation. I’m not helpless anymore.”

  He didn’t argue, although Jordan figured he’d like to.

  “I’m really worried about this, Clayton. He tried to kill me. And my dad. I absolutely believe that and I hope you’ll find some hard evidence to prove it.” Jordan hung her purse on her shoulder and pushed her chair out. “Will you do it? And can you let me know if you get enough to bring him in for questioning?”

  He stood, replaced his notebook, and picked up his hat off the table. “I’ll do everything I can. But it’s gonna be in your best interest, and the police department’s, if you refrain from accusing him on television. I assume you know that.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t run Channel 12. I just work there. Thanks again for helping me. I feel better knowing you’re on top of this.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze and felt those biceps again as they parted at the front door.

  Jordan might have chosen the wrong guy, but she believed Clayton would do everything he could to solve the case. Some of his motivation would be self-interest, but that was okay with her. He needed a big score to succeed at work, just like she did. That alone should be enough to keep him on track.

  But when Flynn found out she’d sent police sniffing in his direction—she stopped the thought cold. She’d make sure Clayton came through first. She had to. And until then, she had other problems to solve.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jordan headed straight to work. She’d be early, but she wanted time to talk with Richard about last night. He’d already called and she’d sent him to voice mail. Refusing calls from the boss. Probably another black mark on her record. She felt like a school kid with a report card full of demerits reporting to the principal’s office.

  Jordan reported a self-censored account of the bombing. She didn’t mention Flynn or Clayton because it felt safer not to trust anyone else with the information. She’d give Clayton a chance to follow up on her Intel and once Flynn was named a police suspect, she’d have plenty of time to let Richard know before it became news.

  Meanwhile, she was still hoping Sal would go to the police himself. She’d feel a lot more comfortable reporting the story instead of being the story. But she couldn’t wait forever.

  Jordan left Richard’s office feeling she’d done what she could. The police were on her case, she’d informed her boss and, as far as she knew, she was on good terms with Claire again. Maybe today would be better than yesterday. She hoped.

  But then she saw a gaggle of coworkers disperse when she closed Richard’s office door behind her. They’d been huddled a few feet away. Before they scattered, Jordan overheard the words “intern” and “first week on the job.”

  She flinched. From the snippets she didn’t know if they were laughing, complaining, angry or something else. Regardless, it was bad for coworkers to be gossiping behind her back. The newsroom wasn’t a place for privacy. Open and transparent were the watchwords they lived by. If they had a beef with her, they should say so. Clear things up. Like adults instead of school kids.

  Maybe they were jealous. Even if they didn’t know all the details of the last twenty-four hours, they knew Jordan was creating waves and making national news.

  If Flynn did end up getting arrested, her coworkers would undoubtedly be jealous she’d played a role in such a major arrest. Her relationships with them could end up even worse.

  Somehow, the overheard gossip felt threatening now. Her dad would say forewarned is forearmed. Watch your back.

  Was there anyone she could trust here? Not Drew, certainly. Patricia hadn’t been all that supportive, for sure. Did Theresa have her back all the time, or just when the two of them were alone?

  She squared her shoulders and moved on. Nothing she could do but stay aware. Office politics were a pain in the ass.

  At the Afternoon Meeting, Theresa was assigned to cover the explosion at Jordan’s house.

  “Is it okay if I sit this one out?” Jordan asked. “Seems like a conflict of interest for me to go with you. I’d rather work on the assignment desk today.”

  “You’re a smart woman.” Theresa nodded and walked toward the exit, gear in tow.

  “Wait,” Jordan yelled after her. “Please don’t interview my dad. He’s having a rough day, okay?”

  “Understood. Anything else?”

  Jordan figured Flynn would be monitoring the news and she had something she wanted him to hear. “I could make a statement on camera. Would that be conflict of interest?”

  Theresa waved her over. “No, that’s totally cool. You’re the victim. You get a voice. We can shoot it right now if you know what you want to say, and then I can work it into my package.”

  Jordan nodded. “That’s perfect. It’s brief.”

  Theresa led her to a hallway painted with a plain blue background suitable for filming and set up her camera. “K. Ready when you are.”

  “Ask me if I know who did it so my answer sounds more natural, alright?”

  “Sure.” Theresa spoke into a microphone. “Do you think this was, God forbid, a personal, intentional attack on you?”

  Theresa held the microphone to Jordan’s mouth. Jordan looked at Theresa with what she hoped was an innocent expression. “It was definitely personal, but I have no idea who would have done this. My biggest fear is that this is an attack coming from the same people who killed my mother five years ago. Brenda Fox.” Jordan let her eyes swell with tears. “A motive was never discovered in that case, either. At least, not yet.”

  Jordan hoped the on-camera appeal would convince Flynn she was keeping her mouth shut. Some added publicity for her mother’s case could help, too. Hopefully that bit wouldn’t end up on the editing room floor.

  She wondered what else Theresa had planned for her package, which was her pre-taped news story of the day. If she found out about Salvador’s connection to the three crimes on her own, Jordan wasn’t sure whether that was good news or bad news.

  CHAPTER 9

  A few minutes after Jordan returned to her desk, Clayton called. “Hi, Clayton.”

  “Quick update. I talked to my department head. I showed him the video of the scene from that viewer, and I showed him your picture of the Aquarium Room, and we talked to your dad. We got his description of the package delivery guy,” Clayton seeme
d upbeat. Excited, even. “Here’s the good news. My boss is convinced Flynn is the guy and we figured out what you have in common with the other two victims.”

  Uh oh. “What’s that?”

  “Salvador Caster.”

  Quicker than she’d expected them to make the connection. She only hoped Sal had been the one to provide the information. Otherwise, he could find himself in a cell right next to Flynn. She shuddered and immediately began to worry about Claire. How would she get through all of that? And what would she feel about Jordan when she found out Jordan had all but turned Sal over to them?

  “Jordan? Did you hear me?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. Sorry. He’s my best friend’s boyfriend. Is he in trouble?”

  “Let’s focus on Flynn right now. My boss wants to grab him. Bad news is, we don’t know where he is. Worse news is, we have no hard evidence. Like you said, what we need is a sample of his DNA so we can match it up with the mysterious parcel, and it’s a done deal. But we can’t collect his DNA until we have a reason to arrest him.”

  “Where is this headed?” Jordan asked, thinking furiously about how to reach Claire before Clayton did.

  “Would you be willing to help our undercover officer set up a sting?” Clayton sounded excited, like a kid playing cops and robbers instead of a serious cop asking a very dangerous question.

  Maybe because he sounded excited, she found herself more excited about the idea than she should have. “Help how, exactly?”

  “Flynn knows what you look like. He saw you that day at the Aquarium when you took his picture. We want him to agree to meet with you face-to-face. Somewhere safe. On our turf.”