False Truth 8-10: 3 Action-Packed Romantic Detective Mystery Thrillers To Keep You Up All Night (Jordan Fox Mysteries Series) Read online

  FALSE TRUTH 8-10

  THREE JORDAN FOX MYSTERIES

  BY

  DIANE CAPRI

  WITH

  BETH DEXTER

  Presented by:

  AugustBooks

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  Praise for

  New York Times and USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  Diane Capri

  “Full of thrills and tension, but smart and human, too.

  Kim Otto is a great, great character. I love her.”

  Lee Child, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of Jack Reacher Thrillers

  “[A] welcome surprise… [W]orks from the first page to ‘The End’.”

  Larry King

  “Swift pacing and ongoing suspense are always present… [L]ikable protagonist who uses her political connections for a good cause… Readers should eagerly anticipate the next [book].”

  Top Pick, Romantic Times

  “…offers tense legal drama with courtroom overtones, twisty plot, and loads of Florida atmosphere. Recommended.”

  Library Journal

  “[A] fast-paced legal thriller…energetic prose…an appealing heroine…clever and capable supporting cast…[that will] keep readers waiting for the next [book].”

  Publishers Weekly

  “Expertise shines on every page.”

  Margaret Maron, Edgar, Anthony, Agatha and Macavity Award Winning MWA Grand Master and Past President

  Also by DIANE CAPRI

  (Click each title to buy or download a sample)

  CLICK HERE for a complete list of Diane Capri Books on Amazon

  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

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  Have you read all of Diane Capri’s books? Maybe it’s time to give them a try!

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  False Truth 8-10 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Diane Capri, LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by: AugustBooks

  Visit the author websites:

  DianeCapri.com

  BethDexter.com

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Publisher’s Note:

  The publisher and author do not have any control over and do not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  eISBN: 978-1-940768-90-8

  Original Cover Design: Cory Clubb

  Digital Formatting: Author E.M.S.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Reviews

  Books by Diane Capri

  Copyright

  Cast of Primary Characters

  FALSE TRUTH 8

  FALSE TRUTH 9

  FALSE TRUTH 10

  Excerpt from FALSE TRUTH 11

  More from Diane Capri

  Dear Reader

  About the Authors

  CAST OF PRIMARY CHARACTERS

  Jordan Fox

  Nelson Fox

  Brenda Fox

  Claire Stone

  Clayton Vaughn

  Tom Clark

  Terry Ryser

  Drew Hodges

  Richard Grady

  Patricia Neil

  Theresa Parma

  Antonio Vega

  Jenny Lane

  Evan Groves/Aaron Robinson

  Hugo Diaz

  Alden Walker

  FALSE TRUTH 8

  A JORDAN FOX MYSTERY

  BY DIANE CAPRI

  WITH BETH DEXTER

  CHAPTER 1

  Moments before his Cessna 172 plunged to the bottom of Tampa Bay, the pilot’s final words radioed to Tampa Control. Jordan Fox stood behind the assignment desk in the newsroom at Channel 12, head bowed, eyes squeezed tight, exhaling deeply again and again and again while the short clip replayed on a competing Tampa news station.

  She wrapped her tan cardigan tighter and held it there, as if she could squeeze the icy chill from her body.

  Pilot: Hey departure, you got any traffic in the area?

  Control: I’m not painting anybody in your area at the moment.

  Pilot: Departure? It’s a big white…machine. White possible UAV with a purple and green pattern—Holy shit!

  Next came the sickening impact, splintering the acrylic windshield. Then, screaming, too brief. All combined in a visceral instant as if the space between Jordan’s ears had actually splintered with the windshield and the pilot’s final screams.

  The next thing she heard from the audio was unnatural silence.

  In the few hours since the crash, Jordan already knew the plane was registered to and could be operated by Dennis Raine, although his identity wouldn’t be officially confirmed until his wife and daughter were notified.

  Jordan shuddered. His wife was pretty and his daughter looked about fifteen in the pictures Jordan had found on his Facebook page, too close to the age Jordan had been when her mother was murdered.

  At least Jordan wasn’t working at a local Miami news station. She wouldn’t be assigned to knock on his do
or and ask surviving family any questions.

  All the tiny hairs standing straight up on her neck meant she knew what caused the crash. Knew in her gut the pilot was right.

  Jordan had been working on a drone story. She’d discovered things other journalists didn’t know. Yet.

  The object that downed Raine’s Cessna was an Unmanned Arial Vehicle, just like he said. But authorities didn’t suspect it right away.

  No official UAV was purple and green. There were standards that governed drones. Purple and green were not authorized. This UAV was highly unusual.

  Which meant this one that downed Raine’s aircraft was a handmade drone. Designed and crafted by some sort of flying fanatic.

  It had to be.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  Jordan’s News Nose insisted that those drones were dangerous when they’d almost decapitated her yesterday. The same News Nose Drew Hodges had teased her about.

  But he’d been wrong and she’d been right.

  And now a man was dead.

  Which didn’t please her at all.

  Patricia Neil, the assignment editor, had sent her favorite reporter, Antonio Vega and Drew to the crash site to compete with all the other news stations in town. Drew got the assignments that would make him visible and give him a chance to shine. Patricia stuck Jordan at the assignment desk. Again.

  If Patricia had her way, Jordan would never get any good stories or air time.

  Slowly, Jordan controlled her feelings about the pilot and realized Drew was gaining ground every minute in the competition that would determine which one of them got the next real job that opened up at Channel 12.

  Which was precisely what Patricia intended. She wanted Drew to win. She’d made that plain enough.

  Life is unfair. Deal with it.

  There was nothing Jordan could do now for the pilot. But she could help his family, and beat Drew in the process, if she discovered exactly what went wrong and who was responsible.

  When Raine’s Cessna was recovered from Tampa Bay, probably early tomorrow if the weather held, divers would find the drone and everyone would know what caused the crash. Everyone would see the purple and green.

  Until then, Jordan had a slim chance to get a package ready to air before Drew scooped her. If she pushed hard enough.

  She knew the best place to start. Keith Simpson.

  She watched the clock, willing it to click over to 11:33 p.m.

  Keith had left the building five minutes before her. She could catch him.

  Jordan sprang into action. She grabbed her stuff and hustled down the cement stairs, through the deserted lobby, and to the exit. She jogged along the sidewalk that led to Page Street and across to the parking garage.

  Keith Simpson was a Channel 12 engineer, geeky and loveable like an overgrown kid. He was always running around in faded blue jeans fixing mechanical and software issues for her and everybody else.

  Jordan was sure he’d be able to confirm her suspicion that the possible UAV was a drone before divers brought it out of Tampa Bay.

  But Jordan’s feeling was that Raine’s Cessna had been deliberately attacked. Call it a hunch or intuition or her News Nose.

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what you call it. What matters is you know it. Know. Not feel.”

  If she was right, she’d scoop Drew for sure. She grinned.

  “Patricia will be so pissed. Yes!” She fist pumped the air and hopped a little off the ground at the same time.

  The cool October night breeze chilled her skin. She held the cold phone to her ear and jogged faster across Page Street.

  Keith picked up on the first ring. “J-Fox. What’s up?”

  She knew he was big into computers and technology because he had a whole stash of spare parts and wires in his little shop at the back end of the newsroom. He’d be interested in the Boden High School drone club and the plane crash and all things geeky.

  “So, you know that Cessna crash a couple hours ago?”

  Keith could help her figure out if a drone did the damage, with zero risk that he’d steal her scoop.

  “How could I miss it?”

  Jordan jogged up the parking garage stairwell, two steps at a time, to the third floor.

  Maybe she’d sound like an idiot, but Keith would say so if her theory was preposterous. “Could the green and purple paint pattern the pilot reported on a white UAV have been a drone? Er, amateur multirotor?”

  “What altitude was the plane at?” In the background, gear clanked and Keith grunted as if lifting the weight of a heavy object.

  Jordan pressed the keyless entry button on the key fob and rushed into Hermes’ driver’s seat. She buckled her seatbelt and started the car and backed out. “About two thousand feet, give or take, is what I heard.”

  “Possible.” A trunk lid slammed closed. Keith must have arrived at home faster than she’d expected. “Nothing else would be flying that low except birds. I mean, it was either a drone or an alien space vehicle.” He snorted twice. “But why don’t you come over? We’ll talk.”

  Precisely the invitation Jordan had hoped for, so she pulled out of the garage and headed in that direction. It was a Saturday night, and most of her friends were at the bars. Theresa had invited her to Infidel Brewery because Tom Clark would be there.

  But that was hours ago, before the crash. Theresa would be working past midnight to follow up on the plane story until she could hand it off to the morning producers and reporters. Infidel and Tom Clark would have to wait.

  Jordan’s GPS signaled the way to Keith’s address. Turn by turn, Hermes traveled away from the parts of town she knew well. Each dark, deserted street led farther from home. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and flipped the automatic door locks open and closed, to be sure.

  She was just a couple blocks from Prostitute Row, considering turning back, when the Australian voice inside the GPS announced that she’d reached her destination.

  She braked and looked around. She had stopped in something like a back alley—not a normal residential neighborhood.

  Jordan peered out of her windows, left and right. Nothing but bushes and piles of leaves and the eyes of a stray cat visible in the dark. She backed up and shined her headlights to the left. A driveway was revealed.

  CHAPTER 2

  She reversed a bit farther, maneuvering the headlights. No house number, but she spotted Keith’s little red sedan in the few shadows cast by moonlight. Beyond the sedan, she made out a flight of wooden stairs.

  Why hadn’t he told her he lived in a garage apartment? Because he was Keith Simpson, that’s why. He was focused on hidden details, not on obvious facts.

  Which was exactly why he’d be helpful tonight. She grinned. She might actually beat Drew this time after all.

  Jordan pulled in behind Keith’s red sedan and shifted Hermes into park. She opened her door, and the stray cat bounded off the leaf pile, stirring up the scent of decomposing oak.

  Her feet touched down on the makeshift dirt driveway, and at that moment a deep-throated dog barked wildly. Her heart leapt and pounded hard. The barking continued, deep and fast, like a vicious tattletale.

  Jordan eyed the dog. Medium sized with brown shabby hair. “It’s true what they say about dogs resembling their owners.”

  The dog continued barking.

  A wire fence marked BEWARE OF DOG contained him. She held her breath and loosened her grip and closed Hermes’ door as softly as possible.

  The wire fence was probably good for safety, but not welcoming to guests. The wooden stairs leading to Keith’s door were also behind the fence.

  Jordan pulled her phone from her sling bag and called Keith. Two rings. She stepped close to the fence, craning to get a look inside the apartment windows. The night air weighed more heavily around her and the smell of oak compost settled into her pores. She sneezed.

  Two more rings. No answer. Ugh. Keith was probably distracted with his electronic gadgets alre
ady. He could be a bit absentminded.

  Okay, very absentminded.

  Jordan approached the closed gate and fondled the metal latch. The dog snarled and growled and barked until she snatched her hand away. “All right, all right. Calm down. What are you, some kind of hellhound?”

  She crouched down at the edge of the fence. Dirt dusted the tops of her black flats. She waited. Slowly, his growl faded away and his stance relaxed.

  “There, see?” The dog paced closer to the fence. She could smell him now. Her nose wrinkled. She gagged. He must have rolled in a skunk or something. “It’s okay.” She fingered the medallion on his collar. “It’s okay, Smithers. It’s just me, Jordan. See? Nice to meet you. Friends?”

  She considered putting her fingers through the metal lattice to let Smithers sniff. As if he read her mind, he bared his teeth and growled in her face. She jerked her hand back. “All right!” Option B?

  Jordan cupped her hands. “Keith?” She called loudly enough that he might hear if he had an open window, but softly enough to not disturb any neighbors.