Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,27

If you are being kidnapped, drop us a pin.

Jordan snatched her phone off the table. She turned it to airplane mode and set it back down. “Okay,” she said. “How about I dive right in?”

“Great.”

She took a breath and reminded herself of her strategy. Start off on a friendly tone. Get him to establish facts. Picture Hermione Granger if you get nervous. (That was CJ’s advice.) Then go for the kill.

“I want to start by getting a sense of the councilman’s attitude about parks in his district.”

“Of course,” he said. “Parks are an incredibly vital part of a community and something he prioritizes.”

Jordan made a note. “I see. Then talk me through the ordinance he introduced last year to limit hours in Memorial Park. I’m particularly interested in the timing—”

Scott’s desk phone rang, and he put up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He answered, “Office of Councilman Kenneth Lonner. Scott Mercer speaking.” He nodded as someone spoke. “I understand. And what is the location of this pothole?”

Jordan’s eyes squinted. Pothole? He had cut off her question to take a call about a pothole? She watched him write down an address and a couple of other details. When he hung up, he turned to her. “Sorry about that. You were asking about timing?”

She felt like her rhythm was off now. “Actually, let’s back up. I noticed that the ordinance only impacted Memorial Park. None of the other six parks in the district had their hours cut.”

“That’s correct.”

“Why was that?”

“Well, I’m not sure how familiar you are with the location of Memorial Park.”

Jordan had been riding her bike there since she was five. “I’ve done my research.”

“Then you know it’s in an area with a lot of crime. A lot of drug deals were happening after dark. That’s why the hours were limited.”

This was perfect. This is the answer she expected him to give. It was the answer she wanted him to give. Now she could corner him.

“Yes. I do see that. But according to my research, crime was at an all-time high five years ago. And it’s actually been in a slight decline for the past several years.”

“Right. Only slightly, though.”

“Yes. That matches what I found. I’m curious”—Jordan kept her voice as even as possible—“about the timing. The councilman introduced the city ordinance two weeks after he first met with the developer hoping to build an office building on that property.”

She leaned back and waited for him to squirm. His phone rang again. “Sorry,” he said. “I have to get that.” Jordan felt robbed as he picked up the receiver. “Office of Councilman Kenneth Lonner. Scott Mercer speaking. Oh, hello, Mrs. Montgomery.” Scott hit mute on the phone. “This one might be a minute. She calls every single week about a sober-living facility that’s being built on her street. She’s not happy about it. And not brief.”

Jordan couldn’t believe this. Was he taking these calls on purpose? To break her rhythm? To eat up all her time? What would a real journalist do? She wouldn’t tolerate this, would she? “If I only have twenty minutes—”

Scott put his finger up as if to say, Hang on.

“I understand, Mrs. Montgomery. I assure you that I am passing your complaints on to the councilman. I understand your concerns but… Okay… Uh-huh.” He muted the phone again. “I really am sorry. But I can’t ignore these calls. During city business hours I have to be available for constituent complaints. Part of my job is to log them for the councilman.” He unmuted the call. Mrs. Montgomery’s voice was loud enough that Jordan could hear it. As she watched Scott get reamed out by an old lady, it occurred to her that maybe his title wasn’t as fancy as she’d thought it was. The woman finally exhausted herself, and Scott hung up.

“Sorry,” he said. “So you were asking about the restricted park hours?”

“Actually, I was asking about the timing. The developer met with the councilman. Then he shortened the park hours. Are you telling me that was a”—his phone rang again—“coincidence?” she said under her breath.

“Office of Councilman Kenneth Lonner,” he said as he picked up. “Oh, hello, Councilman. Yes. Of course. Right away.”

He hung up the phone and stood in one solitary motion. “I’m afraid I have to cut this short. I’m getting pulled into a meeting now.”

Was he serious? She met his eye. “But you haven’t answered any of my questions.”

“I really am sorry.”

Jordan was too angry to be intimidated by him anymore. “You