by Diane Capri
Instinctively, she clicked to answer, and immediately felt her nose wrinkle and a frown settle over it.
“Sorry I was a jerk last night,” he said. “I was excited that you were calling so I made a joke. It was disrespectful. I’m sorry.”
Whatever. Paul was a smart guy and the whole thing was totally a case of him playing her. She was pretty sure he’d made her mad on purpose just so he could look like the good guy the next day when he called to apologize. That was the kind of game he played regularly when they were engaged. Reason number fifty-zillion to be glad that was over.
“I’m calling about Ted Garfield. He’s missing. What do you remember about him? Was he a good soccer coach? A good person?” She left out the part about the floating body. She didn’t want to imply any connections. She’d see if Paul led the conversation that way on his own.
“Garfield’s missing? Damn. I was a freshman when he was the coach so it’s been like eight years since I’ve seen him. But he was just a normal coach, ya know? Nothing weird, nothing special, except that he got us to State. Which was probably more because we had this senior on the team, Sal, who was incredible.”
Jordan’s pulse quickened. A little breathlessly, she said, “Sal?”
“Short for Salvador.”
It couldn’t be a coincidence, but she had to check. “What was his last name?”
“Caster. Salvador Caster.”
Claire’s Sal went to James for high school? Made sense. It was one of the best private schools around. His parents could afford it.
“So did you ever, like, see Ted Garfield without his shirt on?” Jordan asked.
“What?!” Paul laughed. “Where are you going with this? Is there something I need to know?”
“Can you just answer the question?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you there. If I saw him topless, it made absolutely no impression on me. I like girls, remember?”
She could almost feel his flirtatious eyes burning her the way they’d done so many times before. She resisted enjoying it.
The call had already resulted in Jordan learning something possibly even more important than tattoos or creepy behavior or lack thereof: Salvador Caster knew Ted Garfield. If that was Ted’s body in the tank, which was a big ‘if’, but if it was Ted, it might explain why Sal was behaving so oddly.
The call went on longer than expected. Jordan asked about Garfield and Salvador, trying to wring every memory out of Paul as she walked up the stairs to the second floor, as she logged in at a computer at the assignment desk, and as the nightside crew straggled in. Some of what he said was worth following up. She took notes as he spoke, then happened to catch a glimpse of her watch. The hour was 2, and the second hand was ticking toward the 12. But what minute was it? She’d lost track of time. Again.
Two forty-seven. Two minutes after the start of the Afternoon Meeting. “Damn! Gotta go thanks for your help, bye!”
Jordan speed-walked across the newsroom and slid into a chair. She felt all eyes on her. She bit her lip and made cautious eye contact with Richard. He said nothing. But he noticed she was late. Dammit, what was her problem? Hopefully they wouldn’t chop her right away. Surely not. She was practically free labor for the station at this point. Except that so far, she was in the red. She had cost them money. Jordan bit the cap of her pen, then caught herself and stopped the bad habit she’d once worked so hard to quit.
Patricia asked, “Jordan? What are you pitching today?”
Jordan had gotten so caught up in her phone call, she almost forgot she’d have to pitch something. She started piecing together her pitch aloud, incorporating her new findings from Paul. “I know the top story is still the casino incident and the second is the missing Ted Garfield. I’m working on a lead to identify the body. I found out that the guy who was being honored at that reception in the Aquarium Room, Salvador Caster, actually played on Ted Garfield’s soccer team at James. So, could it be a huge coincidence that Caster has ties to both of our top stories? Sure. But it may be worth investigating.”
“That’s one option.” Richard jotted down a couple notes. “Not a promising one…it’s a little out there…but if we can find a way to confirm it, it might be a way to link the top two stories together. Not that we need to link them. We’re still following the search for Garfield either way.”
“No, I didn’t mean that we only care about Garfield if he was decapitated. I meant—” She had dug herself into a hole. Her cheeks warmed. The chuckles from yesterday resumed. Her life was a disaster.
Tampa was a small town in many ways. There were probably three degrees of separation, max, between any two people. So it could be a total coincidence that Sal had connections to both stories. But what if there was a connection? She had to find out before Drew and stop her downward spiral into career oblivion.
CHAPTER 8
The meeting wrapped up with the decision for Jordan to be on standby. Which was a somewhat polite way of saying, sit at the assignment desk until somebody thinks of something to do with you.
Drew, on the other hand, would be going with Antonio to cover a sinkhole in central Florida. Exciting? Check. Guaranteed good video? Check. Chance to use expensive equipment? Check. The good news for Jordan was that it sent Drew far enough away that he probably wouldn’t make it to other local breaking news if something better came up.
The shrill ring of the phone shook Jordan out of her head. She picked up. “News Channel 12. Can I help you?”
A woman’s voice, maybe middle-aged, and friendly. “I was watching your news about the body in the aquarium and I just wanted to let you all know, because Channel 12 is my favorite station, and we’ve been watching religiously for years, I wanted to inform you all that I do have video of the event.”
Had to be a hoax. Either that or a crazy lady looking for attention. Even Jordan didn’t have video of the event. Plus, Jordan didn’t recall anyone being there with a camera. Then again, she didn’t recall that creeper staring at her from the corner, either.
“Could you repeat that?” Jordan asked. “Are you saying you have video of the body?”
“Yes. I took video of the body. I had my camera with me.”
“You shot cell phone video?”
“It’s video but it’s from a real camera. I always carry one with me.”
Jordan felt her eyebrows shoot up. Nobody carried a real camera anymore. Especially not a woman at a semi-formal event. Most women carried small clutch bags to those types of functions. No room in a small bag for a real camera.
Jordan tried to test her. “I thought they made everybody leave the room immediately.”
“I already had my camera out to capture the moment when young Salvador was going to take the podium. I was recording before the body even appeared.”
She had the timing right, Jordan would give her that.
“If you don’t believe me,” the woman continued, “I’ll send it to you and you can see for yourself. If you want it, I will give it to Channel 12 for free.”
“Exclusively?” Jordan asked.
“Yes. Any other station, and I’ll try to sell it. Unless you guys want it. Then I’ll give you exclusive rights.”
The offer was tempting. Even if it was a hoax, Jordan didn’t have anything to lose. It was free video.
“We’ll take it.”
Jordan hoped she’d chosen the right answer. She didn’t feel like taking another field trip to Richard’s office today.
And, of course, if this woman came through, and actually had footage of the murder victim, it would highlight, again, that she’d failed to take video herself.
Jordan took her chances. She hoped her bosses would be so happy about the video, they wouldn’t focus on the fact that Jordan didn’t shoot it.
Besides, she really wanted to see this alleged video for herself.
Five minutes later, the clip was in her inbox. Jordan forwarded it to the web team so they could review it and post it online at their discretion.
Then Jordan clicked it open for herself to see Salvador and the presenter at the podium with the aquarium wall behind them. This was the real deal. Then, the screams Jordan remembered so clearly. The camera quickly panned left and zoomed in to the floating body. There were a few shots of the crowd as the woman apparently tried to move closer. Then the camera shut off.
Jordan let out an audible groan and frowned. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see. A bloody killer running around with a weapon?
She watched the video a second time, and a third time, and this time, at the end, when the camera showed the crowd, she spotted a guy she had forgotten about. The tall man who had been next to her in the moments after the body appeared. She paused the video, zoomed in, and looked closely. She caught a glimpse of her royal blue shirt.
She advanced the video forward a few frames and hit play, watching in slow motion. The crowd around her tightened. That must have been the moment when her phone fell and got crushed.
Jordan rewound and watched that part again. As the crowd moved in around her, the man with the faded polo—the creepy guy from her picture—was part of the swarm of people. He looked almost like he was charging toward her, his face consumed with rage.
She backed up the video and focused in on him. He was making a stomping motion—like he was marching in place, while the rest of the crowd tried to push through. He seemed to deliberately jerk his knee upward and push his leg downward, looking at the floor. Near Jordan’s feet. Exactly where her phone would have been. She couldn’t see the floor in the video, but everything seemed to line up.
She shivered. Why was he deliberately smashing her phone? Jordan knew from the website photo that showed him staring at her that he’d seen her take a picture of him. So was he trying to destroy that picture? What was he hiding?
CHAPTER 9
“Jordan, you up for an assignment?” A young reporter’s voice grabbed her attention.
Something that would actually allow her to leave the building? Uhh, yes please. “I’d love to.” Jordan signed out of her computer and gathered her things.
She recognized the woman from the Afternoon Meetings, though they’d only been introduced once, and briefly. Theresa Parma was a nightside reporter, late 20s, and gorgeous. She had an exotic look, complete with long, flowing caramel hair. She could easily star in a shampoo commercial.
Theresa gave a couple quick waves of her hand, gesturing Jordan to hurry up. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
It was five minutes past four. Were they trying to make it somewhere in time to be live for five?
Jordan jogged to catch up with Theresa as she led the way to the back stairwell.
“Wait,” Jordan said. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to go out on a story. They put me on the assignment desk.”
“You’re an intern. Your job is to learn by helping. And I could use your help,” Theresa said. “We’re going to cover the casino death and do a live update for five. You were at the scene. I want you with me.” Theresa spoke quickly as they charged down the back stairwell to the news vehicle parking garage. “I can’t believe they didn’t keep you on that story all day yesterday.” Theresa shook her head. “What’s wrong with people?”
Jordan didn’t realize anyone else had questioned that decision. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who thought it was a bad call. Theresa was on her side, and Jordan wanted to keep it that way. Nice to have a friend.
Jordan pulled open the front passenger’s side door to the Jeep and made the mistake of inhaling. It smelled like they’d stepped in to a giant can of hairspray. Unfortunately, it tasted that way, too. Jordan clamped her mouth shut.
“Anyway,” Theresa hopped into the Jeep, “the latest in the case is that they ran the DNA of the decapitated man through law enforcement databases. Nothing. No trace of the guy. Which means he’s never been in serious trouble with the law and wasn’t fingerprinted for a job. At least not in the United States.”
“And Garfield has no criminal record either, right?” Jordan asked.
“Correct. So, the body could be Ted. Or not.”
Jordan wanted to do whatever it took to keep Theresa on her side. “I told Antonio last night, but I haven’t brought this up at any of the meetings yet. The guy who was getting the award? Salvador Caster? That’s my best friend’s boyfriend.”
“Really!” Theresa raised her eyebrows and nodded while turning out of the news center complex and on to the main road. “Will he talk on camera?”
“Um, no. He won’t even talk to me.” Jordan stopped there. She didn’t want to explain her theory about Sal possibly knowing something about the case. She made up an excuse. “His lawyer said it’s best to stay out of the spotlight on this one, you know? Could be bad for his business. Even though it’s unrelated.”
“Makes sense.”
Theresa whipped the Jeep around the corner to the street that led to downtown. Jordan gripped the door handle for dear life. As Theresa completed the turn, a phone rang from the ginormous purse plopped at Jordan’s feet.
“Can you grab that?” Theresa asked.
“Sure.” Jordan handed Theresa the phone and she glanced at it. “It’s the desk.” Theresa pressed the screen to answer and put it on speaker phone. A courtesy to Jordan, most likely. “Jordan and Theresa here.”
“We’re gonna switch you to some breaking news,” Patricia said. “There’s been a fatal hit-and-run.”
Theresa motioned for Jordan to write down the address as Patricia read it to her.
“We’re on it.” Theresa tossed the phone into her lap and pulled a sharp U-turn.
“Breaking news?” Jordan said. “Nice!”
Theresa laughed. “I know. You’re glad Drew didn’t get to go, right?”
Jordan’s face heated up. Had she made it that obvious? “It’s more that I’m excited to go. Breaking news is what we all live for, right?”
“It’s okay.” Theresa grinned and tossed a quick glance Jordan’s way. “The whole newsroom knows you guys are competing with each other.”
Everyone must have found out about what happened in the meeting with Linda yesterday. The demotion. The pay cut. “They do?”
“Trust me. Word gets around fast. Plus, it’s pretty obvious. When Drew got assigned to a story directly from the afternoon meeting today, even a blind man would have seen your reaction. And I don’t think it’s because you wish you’d been sent to a sinkhole. You were disappointed he was assigned before you. Don’t take it personally. He’s just latched onto Antonio and you need to not to get lost in the hustle.”
“Is that a bad thing? It mean, it’s good to show that you’re competitive, right?”
“Yes, but, you aren’t exactly winning here.”
Jordan could tell what Theresa was doing. She was challenging her. She was trying to make her pull herself up by the bootstraps and put her best foot forward. As if that wasn’t what she’d been trying to do all along. “Hey, I got the front page story, didn’t I?”
“You were in the right place at the right time. Total coincidence.” Theresa glanced at Jordan again and this time her voice was stern. “Don’t mistake our bosses for fools. Their priorities may be a little mixed up sometimes, but they’re paying attention.” Theresa shrugged. “If you want to guarantee more success, you’ve gotta start making stuff happen. Don’t let them force you onto the assignment desk. If they put you there, you stand up, you make phone calls….”
“I didn’t want to come off as overbearing.”
Theresa guffawed. “Trust me. That’s not possible in our newsroom.”
They drove on for a bit in silence, giving Jordan time to let Theresa’s point sink in. She was walking a fine line here. She didn’t want to become a problem instead of an asset. But maybe she had been a little too meek, too accepting. “Thanks,” Jordan said.
“For?”
“For taking me along today.”
“I’m happy to stand up for you, Jordan. You’re a smart girl. And yo
u’ve got the motivation of a Spanish bull.” Theresa smiled as she bounced the Jeep along a dirt parking lot and pulled into a makeshift parking spot. “But don’t prove me wrong, okay? You’ve got my reputation in your hands as well as your own.”
CHAPTER 10
Theresa parked all the way at the end of the line of news trucks. It looked like all the other stations were already there.
“Damn, the ambulance is already leaving.” Theresa pointed out the window. “Hope we didn’t miss everything.”
Theresa slid out of the Jeep more gracefully than she should have been able to in a pencil skirt. She’d clearly been at this reporting thing for a while.
News crews were gathered across the street from the parking lot. Theresa set a quick pace, stiletto heels clicking rapidly. Jordan jogged a couple paces to catch up.
They crossed the street near the spot that was blocked off by patrol cars and walked down a dirt path that led to a gravel lot, set back from the road a few feet.
Reporters worked on their phones while photographers shot video.
“Fatal confirmed, right?” Theresa asked as she passed a photog she knew.
He nodded. Down the way, Theresa exchanged a glance with a Channel 17 reporter Jordan recognized—Naomi Willis. Naomi clicked at her phone as Theresa and Jordan approached.
“Hey girl,” Naomi said, looking up.
Theresa stood beside her so they were both facing the police action in the street. “What’s the scoop?”
News stations in the Tampa market were generally friendly with each other. Especially compared to news stations in other markets. Jordan had heard horror stories of the competition within the Orlando market. Out there, it wasn’t uncommon for one crew to literally push another crew out of the way. Yet another reason Jordan needed to make it in Tampa. She wanted to be able to meet her own gaze in the mirror every day, and sabotaging other reporters didn’t fit with that.