Fatal Strike Page 5

  “Peer pressure and not having the right man in his life,” Jon said. “Hits all income brackets.”

  She despised seeing people destroy their lives. “Dylan’s record makes him a repeat offender, and I’m sure his mother knows the stats. If he’s guilty, he has to accept responsibility for his own actions.”

  “We all do. Sounds like your parents instilled strong values.”

  “They did.” Too bad she didn’t understand their actions at the time. She needed to get past this subject before he asked another question. “I’d like to dig deeper into Dylan’s background, talk to those who know him.” Behavior analysts at Quantico had been assigned to develop the Veneno profile, but despite the urgency of this case, their evaluation and recommendations could take weeks.

  “Why don’t you try the girlfriend first?”

  Leah pressed in the number Silvia had given her for Elena James. A young woman answered on the second ring with a perky response. “Elena, this is FBI Special Agent Leah Riesel. We’re looking for Dylan Ortega.”

  “The FBI? Seriously?”

  “Yes. Do you know where Dylan is?”

  “I haven’t seen him for over a week. We broke up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Elena said.

  “What happened?”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re done.”

  Had she broken up with Dylan or lied for him? “Do you know any of his friends or where he hangs out?”

  “You’d have to ask his mother.”

  “We talked to her. She gave us your number.”

  Elena sighed. “Dylan and I met secretly. My parents wouldn’t have approved.”

  “It’s urgent that we talk to him,” Leah said. “Can you think of any place he might be now?”

  The girl drew in an audible breath. “Even if I could tell you where he was, I wouldn’t. I know why you want to talk to him, but he would never do anything to harm someone else.” She hung up.

  “How did it go?” Jon kept his eyes on the road.

  “Not good. We need an interview. I’ll add a subpoena for her phone records and run a background. Once word gets around that Dylan is wanted as a person of interest, he’ll be smart enough not to use his cell phone to contact Elena or his mother. But he might pick up another phone.”

  9

  GALVESTON POLICE AND an unmarked car blocked the rear parking lot of St. Peter’s. Jon studied the church building, gray stones that had weathered hurricanes and dissension. A cross pointed up to a dreary sky. Crime scene tape at the back door marked where the body of Judge Mendez had been found with a dead rattler poised across his chest and an injection of most likely venom to his heart. The gang had branding down to a deadly template.

  Jon and Leah exited the truck and presented their IDs to a police officer, a rail-thin man in his midthirties. While he ran a report on their creds, Jon recognized Rex, an agent from the Houston office, who came up to the officer.

  “These two are ours. Ignore how they’re dressed.” Rex wiped the sweat dripping down his square face. “Both can be a pain.”

  Jon shook his hand. “I resemble that, but Leah’s a crack shot, and I don’t want to cross her.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t forget it.”

  “You both are scary with a sniper rifle.” Rex introduced Jon and Leah to the officer. “We’re covering every inch of the steps and landing, including where we believe the car was parked.” The agent pointed to two other officers and a second agent sweeping the area.

  The officer returned Leah’s and Jon’s IDs. “Saw the news report identifying Dylan Ortega as a person of interest in this case.” He shook his head. “Too bad the witness didn’t get a license plate number.”

  “The witness thinks they were driving a Mustang. And we have a BOLO out for Ortega now.” Jon fumed over the leak to the media. “Would you know how the news got wind of the suspect’s name?”

  The officer held up his palm. “Not me. Whoever tipped off the media was an idiot.”

  Jon believed the officer. Too late anyway. The damage had been done.

  The officer’s radio alerted him to a call, and he took it, moving to a secluded corner of the church’s parking lot.

  Jon glanced over the bottlebrush bushes to the Whitson home, then back to Rex. “Have you found anything?”

  “Hard to say,” the agent said. “Is the witness reliable?”

  “No reason to doubt him.”

  Leah walked to the tape line and bent to the pavement where the car most likely had been parked. She snapped a pic and looked up at Rex. “I’m sure you and these officers have plenty of tread mark images, but one more won’t hurt. We could get lucky and find a match among hundreds of other vehicles.” She straightened. “Paint chips would be a gift. But all I see is sand, which sticks to every vehicle in Galveston.”

  Jon stood approximately where the trunk would have been. The judge was muscular, would have required more than one man to lift him from the trunk. Jon searched the concrete. A button, clothing fibers, blood, anything with DNA to help find the killers.

  Rex lifted a bottle of water to his lips. “We have a few things to bag: a beer can, potato chip and gum wrappers, and several cigarette butts. Must be the disposal spot before entering the church.”

  “Get everything you can find,” Jon said. Half of a Marlboro cigarette wrapper lay at the edge of the concrete. Someone who’d been in the Ortega home smoked the same brand. And their DNA might be in the system. “Would you expedite an analysis on the cigarettes?”

  “Sure.” Rex pointed to the side of the church. “There’s Father Gabriel. I imagine you two need to talk to him. Good luck. I have work to do.”

  A man in black pants and a shirt with a white tab collar approached Jon and Leah. “Father Xavier Gabriel.” The priest extended his hand. “Are you police or FBI?”

  Jon and Leah displayed their IDs, and Jon got right to the point. “We’d like to talk in private.”

  The priest frowned. “Nothing’s changed since I talked to GPD’s Chief of Police Everson. Can’t we eliminate a second statement?”

  “I’m sorry. We need a separate interview. The suspect is a member of this church.”

  “I heard the news.” Father Gabriel’s forehead beaded in the blistering sun. “Come inside.”

  Jon and Leah followed the priest to the sidewalk and around the church. Jon looked for debris, anything leading back to the killers. The priest gestured them through richly carved wooden doors.

  “First, let me show you our sanctuary,” he said.

  Jon hadn’t been in a Catholic church, only a nondenominational one with his old friend Hanson. Eerily quiet. Not a single sound met his ears. Reverent. Hanson would have taken a front pew and studied the altar.

  A statue of Jesus on the cross and another of the Virgin Mary in lifelike form caught his attention. Both left no doubt in his mind of the holiness penetrating and swirling throughout the massive area, and Jon wasn’t a man who focused on beauty and art—only facts. He expected the organ to break into an ancient hymn. “Beautiful, Father Gabriel.” In different circumstances, he’d opt for sitting awhile in the sanctuary.

  “God’s presence, even in the midst of tragedy. I encourage both of you to return for prayer and worship.” He led them down a wood-paneled hallway to a well-lit office. Huge corner windows allowed natural light to spill in.

  Jon and Leah sat in dark-brown leather chairs facing his desk. A wide-screen monitor sat on the left side of the oak desk, and a Bible lay open with a pen and a highlighter in the fold. To the right of the Bible was a photo of a smiling young man, the only item indicative of the priest’s personal life. A crucifix was centered on the wall behind his desk, and below it was a bookshelf filled with volumes of books. Uncluttered. Largely impersonal.

  “May we record our conversation?” Jon said.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not in my best interest or those within my church who seek me for confession.” />
  10

  SEATED IN FATHER GABRIEL’S OFFICE, Leah observed Jon’s face tighten with the priest’s refusal to record their interview. She wasn’t pleased either, but he had a right to say no—unless an interview took place at the FBI office. And that had her vote. A twinge of misgivings about the priest swirled through her mind. She understood confidentiality of information. Did the priest harbor information and claim his religious convictions to cover it?

  Father Gabriel folded his hands on the desk, giving him an authoritative demeanor. Leah didn’t fault him. This church and office were his domain. The priest continued. “Normally my duties here take precedence over everything else, but not in the matter of a murder. I want to help.”

  Jon moved toward the purpose of the interview. “What happened this morning?”

  Father Gabriel rubbed his palms together. “I received a call on the church’s landline shortly before 8 a.m. from a man who claimed to be a Veneno. I’m here most mornings before five for prayer, and today was no exception. The man told me to check outside the church’s rear doors. He said I’d find a Veneno enemy, and the people of Texas needed to pay attention to the future of their state. He also said the gang was watching me. His final word was reconquista. When I looked, I found Judge Mendez. His eyes were open, and he had no pulse. I contacted 911 on my cell phone.”

  “Your details will help law enforcement put together the case. What language did the caller use?”

  “English.”

  “Why would they be watching you?”

  “I don’t know, unless they think I know who’s responsible.”

  “Do you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What did you do while you waited for an ambulance?”

  “I prayed for Judge Mendez and his family.”

  “Rachel Mendez told us she received a call from you. Did you contact his wife?”

  He nodded. “I told her the judge was with me. I didn’t tell her he’d already passed or the police were on their way. She wanted to drive to the church, but I suggested she meet me at John Sealy Hospital. The ambulance and the police arrived before we ended the conversation. I told the police I planned to meet Mrs. Mendez at the hospital. They allowed me to drive and interviewed me there and here again.”

  “Did anyone at the hospital look suspicious?”

  “My attention was on Mrs. Mendez.”

  “When did you return to church?” Jon said.

  “Shortly after Mrs. Mendez’s mother arrived and took her and the children to the Mendez home. I’ll meet with Mrs. Mendez later to discuss the services.” He paused. “Silvia Ortega contacted me. She expressed concern about a warrant issued for Dylan’s arrest and your disbelief in his innocence in the murder of Judge Mendez.”

  “As we told Ms. Ortega, her son is wanted for questioning as a person of interest. We have a BOLO out, but there’s no warrant for his arrest. We just need to talk to him.” Jon’s words settled before he spoke again. “If she knows where her son is, then she needs to inform us or persuade him to contact law enforcement.”

  “The news reported Dylan was seen outside the church’s rear doors early this morning,” Father Gabriel said.

  “Correct.”

  “She believes he was here to pray.”

  “Did you see or hear him?” Jon said.

  Father Gabriel shook his head. “Prayer is of the heart, not necessarily audible.”

  Jon nodded. “The front door creaked when we came in. Do the back doors?”

  “I can’t recall. I’ve been here many years, and noises are commonplace.”

  Was the priest avoiding Jon’s question or responding candidly?

  Father Gabriel eased back in his chair. “Dylan needs someone to champion him. But I agree he should talk to law enforcement about this morning.”

  “Do you think his mother knows his whereabouts?”

  Father Gabriel studied them before answering. “Maybe. I’ll talk to her, encourage her to cooperate with you.”

  “What can you tell us about Dylan?” Jon said.

  “In the years I’ve been at St. Peter’s, we’ve talked twice privately.”

  “Do those times include confession?”

  “My vows preclude me from answering your question.”

  “So he’s attended confession?”

  “I’ve spoken with him at his mother’s home and here in my office.”

  A clever evasion, Leah noted.

  “What were the discussions about?”

  “Sports, church activities, and part-time employment for Judge Mendez.”

  “Ms. Ortega told us you helped Dylan by recommending him for the job.”

  “I did. And I’ve thought about it all day.” His mouth drooped as though emotion might overtake him.

  “How long were the talks?” Jon said.

  “Ten minutes at the most.”

  “So after a total of twenty minutes’ conversation with Dylan, you went to Judge Mendez and recommended a man who’d done eleven months for armed robbery? Or was this a favor to Ms. Ortega?”

  Leah scrutinized the priest in hopes of discerning the mixed emotional messages she was getting from him. Would Dylan kill a man who gave him a job?

  “Yes, to both questions. Like God, I believe in second, third, and as many chances as it takes to help a person find the way to righteousness. It was the judge’s decision to hire Dylan.”

  “I believe in helping others,” Jon said. “But Dylan has been identified by a credible witness, and Judge Mendez is the third victim of violence this week.”

  “Eyewitnesses can be mistaken.”

  Jon moved ahead. “If the witness made an error, where is Dylan?”

  “If I knew, I’d be persuading him to talk to you.”

  Silence swirled around the room, and Leah picked up the conversation. “Unfortunately, we’re unable to work the case effectively until we find Dylan Ortega. These killers who call themselves the Venenos must be apprehended.”

  “Stopped. Rehabilitated. Shown God’s love and forgiveness,” Father Gabriel added. “Agent Riesel, I’m not sure Dylan is guilty.”

  “Why?” Leah said.

  “If he was here early this morning in a possible criminal capacity, he may have been compelled by the killers.”

  11

  JON WAITED FOR LEAH’S RESPONSE to Father Gabriel.

  “What makes you think the gang might have forced him?” Leah maintained an impassive look on her face.

  “Rumors. And I have no verification either way.”

  “Where did you hear about the coercion?”

  Father Gabriel hesitated. “My responsibilities take me to many areas,” he said. “God’s work doesn’t keep one away from dangerous places. I’ve heard the gang forces young men to join by threatening family and loved ones. Unfortunately, most gangs require the initiation of blood in, and the member’s blood to get out. I want to avoid any more deaths. And to the best of my knowledge, I don’t know any Venenos.”

  “Unless the information was revealed in confession,” Leah said, her tone beginning to show her frustration.

  He held up his hand. “Then I’d encourage the person to turn himself in.”

  That made Jon feel slightly better.

  “Why do you think the gang singled you and your church out in the death of Judge Mendez?” Leah said.

  “I wish I had an answer. I understand churches and priests in other cities are also faced with Veneno crimes.”

  “Were you acquainted with the other two victims—Ian Greer and Marcia Trevelle?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Tell us about your relationship with Judge Mendez,” she said.

  “We played golf once a week.” Father Gabriel sighed. “I lost a good friend today.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jon wondered if her sympathy would cause the priest to reveal more than he was willing to share or if he would see it as an insincere gesture.

  “I can only forgive the kil
ler, not only for the judge but the other two who died as well,” Father Gabriel continued. “I neither condone murder nor excuse breaking the law, but the church stands for mercy and embraces the sinner.”

  “Murder is not a slap-your-hand offense.”

  “The church is in the business of saving souls by bringing all men into communion with God through Jesus Christ.”

  Jon stepped in before the steadily rising tension between Father Gabriel and Leah could boil over.

  “Regarding the Veneno presence in the other cities,” Jon said, “what have the priests of these churches involved relayed to you? The—”

  “Before you go any further, I haven’t talked to those priests,” Father Gabriel said. “I recognize their names, but I haven’t been to those churches. We don’t belong to a club.”

  Jon was getting frustrated himself. “The church helps people draw the line between right and wrong,” he said. “‘You shall not murder’ is one of the Ten Commandments as well as ‘You shall not bear false witness.’”

  Father Gabriel’s face reddened. “Agent Colbert, you’re speaking to a man who has the commandments memorized. I live them, breathe them, pray them, and teach them.”

  Jon reached for civility and spoke calmness into his words. “My apologies. When was the last time you saw or spoke to Dylan?”

  “About a month ago from a distance. No words were exchanged.” Father Gabriel sat back in his chair. “Other than reviewing questions for the Galveston Police Department and avoiding media, my day’s been a juggle of one crisis after another. Rachel Mendez is grieving the loss of her husband and the father to their children. Silvia Ortega is heartbroken because of one person’s accusation. A prayer service and a funeral need to be planned.”

  Leah spoke up, noticeably calmer. “We understand your stress and the overwhelming burdens. I can’t imagine how you are dealing with this.”

  “My God supplies all my needs.” He shook his head as if regretting the automatic response. “God’s provision doesn’t mean my job or yours is easy.”

  “Then you must see how Agent Colbert and I have a job to do, to end the rising fear regarding the deaths of three highly respected people.”