Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,31

her dress. “Let’s get started,” she said, sucking in as hard as she could.

“I really do apologize about before. Coffee?”

The only time Jordan ever drank coffee was when she ordered a blended mocha with extra whipped cream, and she guessed that wasn’t what was being offered. “No, thank you.”

She watched impatiently as Scott poured himself a cup from a pot on the back table. She was desperate to start the interview. Mostly because she was desperate to go home and unzip this dress so she could breathe again.

“So,” he said, “how’s your Saturday?”

Jordan shifted. “I’d love to get started.” It came out curt and she tried to recover. “Since I have that luncheon later.”

“Sure,” he said. He seemed nervous. She hoped he was. It would mean that they had really uncovered something worthwhile. A nefarious plot to support a developer. Maybe her article would win an award. It might even get so much attention that the admissions people at Northwestern would see it. She leaned over to dig her phone out of her bag—it was already in airplane mode this time—and set it between them.

“Okay,” Jordan said. “The question I was asking was about timing. Councilman Lonner introduced an ordinance that limited the hours at Memorial Park just two weeks after the developer first submitted her proposal. How does he explain that?”

“I spoke with the councilman about it,” he said. “The reason he introduced that ordinance was because of neighbor complaints.” Jordan waited for Scott to go on. “You know how part of my job is to log constituent complaints? The people who live along the park, one household in particular, became very vocal about their frustration with the drug dealing that was going on there. They felt that it was becoming unsafe. The councilman met with them and agreed that their concerns were valid, so he introduced the initiative to limit park hours.”

“And that happened right after the developer met with him? Seems a little coincidental.” Jordan leaned forward, waiting for him to crumble.

He didn’t.

“No. The constituent meeting was before, actually. It always takes a few weeks to draft an ordinance. I guess that does seem pretty coincidental, though.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I could see how that looks weird. But no. It really was a coincidence. Are you sure you don’t want coffee? Or some water?”

Jordan shook her head. She jotted down some notes to give herself a second to regain her composure. She had one more question, and she wanted to make sure it came out with strength. “How does the councilman justify the developer’s donation to his campaign?”

She knew the exact amount. It was written on her whiteboard. The developer had given the maximum legal limit.

Scott sipped his coffee. He seemed genuinely confused. “Justify it?”

“The developer contributed the maximum possible donation. Now the councilman is supporting her project.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see where this is going. The councilman takes donations from a lot of people. With a lot of opposing viewpoints. I can assure you that they in no way sway his decision-making.”

Jordan watched him carefully. She noted that he didn’t show any signs that he was lying. There was no change in his voice or body language, and he maintained eye contact. His calmness bothered her. She’d hoped to nail him with this question. She would have to press harder. She wasn’t willing to entertain the other possible option: that he was telling the truth.

CJ barely left her house that weekend. Her friends sent her constant updates, so she knew that Jordan’s interview hadn’t gone the way they’d all hoped it would. CJ felt guilty for not being with them as she sat at her desk and studied her cards and took SAT practice test after SAT practice test. On Sunday night, her dad cracked her bedroom door open and peeked in. “Mom wants to know if you’re coming to dinner or if we should just slide a tray under the door prison-style.”

CJ turned without smiling. “I think I’m done for the night. I was just taking a break.”

“Sitting in front of your computer isn’t a break. Come on. Let’s shoot some hoops.”

CJ grabbed her shoes and met him in the driveway. They both stretched for a minute without saying much, and then he tossed her the ball.

CJ dribbled a couple of times. Her dad faked her out and easily stole the ball. She was rusty. He dribbled and she got low, ready to move. Her three older sisters were girly girls. They liked clothes and