Fatal Strike Page 8

  The conversation stepped close to mirroring yesterday’s, but Jon understood distancing himself from the priest wasn’t wise. “If you’re made aware of a name or a possible dangerous situation outside your vows, will you help us?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Jon filed the conversation in his memory bank. Would be interesting to see how the chief of police viewed the priest’s style of cooperation.

  17

  JON AND LEAH SAID THEIR GOOD-BYES to Father Gabriel and left the Sunflower Cafe to talk in his truck. Their discussion needed to be in private.

  “Glad we had an opportunity to talk to Father Gabriel,” she said.

  “Thoughts?” Now that they didn’t have an audience, Jon was eager to get Leah’s take on the man.

  “I’m weighing his words and attempting to balance them with my lack of understanding of Catholicism. Regardless of how we feel about him or his odd means of stopping crime, he has agreed to help.”

  “Which makes his position dangerous,” Jon said. “He’s walking too close to the middle of the road where neither law enforcement nor the gang can fully trust him. He’ll assist us while wanting to talk down a killer first.”

  “Solo takedowns normally have bad results. And I doubt he carries a weapon.”

  “I don’t want him dead. He’s a shepherd to his community.” Jon tapped the steering wheel. “If he follows the gang’s instructions, he’s not supposed to talk to cops. If they’re keeping tabs on him, they’re aware of where he was this morning. I should have considered that my invitation to join us exposed him to danger. Not my intention. I hate to think he has a confirmed death sentence—all for a venture of spreading love like a sixties flower child and helping us at the same time. Bet a steak dinner he’s trying to locate Dylan on his own.”

  “GPD hasn’t put a surveillance team on him, but we can,” she said. “Might keep him alive or lead us in the right direction.”

  “I’ll request surveillance if you’ll check for updates,” he said.

  They had plenty of time before meeting Chief of Police Everson at 11:00. Until then, they needed to clarify a few things with Rachel Mendez. Leah called her and paved the way for a second interview.

  Jon backed out of the parking spot at the café. “I’m beginning to wonder what the Venenos are all about. The lack of gang markings and online activity bothered me right from the start.”

  “Are you thinking more about my idea that the reconquista mantra is a cover-up?”

  “Strong possibility. Worth digging deeper and keeping our eyes open. The men watching us at Silvia Ortega’s stood where I couldn’t identify them.”

  “I didn’t see all of them clearly either. I assumed.”

  “We might have profiled the Venenos without evidence,” he said. “As a man who’s proud of his heritage, I don’t want to be guilty of shoving others into a hole because of ethnicity.”

  “I see where you’re going.” She paused. “The call to Father Gabriel was in English.”

  His gut told him he was on to something. Investigators hadn’t made any arrests that led to intel on the gang. The noise came from the gang, and law enforcement and media were swallowing it. He needed to look for the obscure, the ultimate moneymaker.

  Jon whipped his truck behind a GPD cruiser parked in the Mendez driveway.

  “Rachel likes you, and you made a good impression with her little girl. Why don’t you ask the questions?” he said. “If it looks like she’d rather talk to me, I’ll step in.”

  Leah stepped from the passenger side of Jon’s truck and walked with him to the front of the home. The same officer from the previous day checked with Rachel before letting them inside.

  Rachel stood in the foyer—red eyes and no makeup. “Come in.” She led the way to the sunlit living area, where they’d spoken the previous day. She sat on a huge chair that swallowed her. Maybe it had been Judge Mendez’s. An envelope was in her hand.

  “We appreciate your seeing us this morning.” Leah noted the children and grandmother were nowhere in sight.

  She leaned forward and gave Leah the envelope. “The list I should have given you yesterday. There are only six criminals who vehemently threatened my husband over the past five years. These people were angry with his rulings. Four are currently incarcerated. If any of them are involved in my husband’s death, they’re working from inside a cell. Although my husband assured me he kept no secrets, I can’t verify this is complete.”

  Leah scanned the list but didn’t recognize any of the names. She handed it to Jon, but he obviously didn’t have questions and returned the folded piece of paper. She tucked it into her shoulder bag. “Do you want to discuss the names?”

  “There’s nothing more for me to say. Have you found evidence for an arrest?”

  “No more than what you’ve already heard from the media. Were you able to sleep last night?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Thanks for asking. Even when my husband was only out of town, I rarely slept. Before my daughter went to bed, I told her Daddy was with the angels in heaven. She didn’t take it well and crawled into bed with me. We comforted each other.”

  “I’m sincerely sorry. Agent Colbert and I won’t take long. Please tell Ella I said hello.”

  “I will. How can I help you other than to give you my list?” Rachel’s ragged voice hinted of a breakdown.

  No one should experience lawless tragedy.

  “You told us yesterday that your husband was acquainted with Officer Ian Greer, but it seems like they’d known each other since school days.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “My mind wasn’t functioning well yesterday. Still isn’t. Ian and Nicolás had been good friends for years. His death devastated both of us.”

  To Leah, this confirmed the judge, Officer Greer, and Attorney Trevelle were killed for the same reason.

  At Leah’s nod, Jon switched the direction of the interview. “One of our leads is a young man who spent time in prison—Dylan Ortega. We understand he once worked for your husband as part of his community service. What can you tell us about him?”

  Rachel swallowed hard. “I saw the FBI and police are looking for him. I’ve been thinking about Dylan—polite, kind. He did odd jobs, minor repair and landscaping needs around our property and at the judge’s office. I remember he was shy and mannerly. My daughter talked to him sometimes, and whatever she said always made him laugh. We had no problems with his work. I never suspected him of misleading or deceptive conduct. While my husband believed in maximum sentencing, he wanted to see lives changed. Since Dylan belonged to our church, the judge gave him another chance by reducing his sentence and assigning community service work. His mother and I attend the same Mass, but I don’t recall seeing Dylan with her often.”

  “Are you and Silvia Ortega friends?”

  “Acquaintances. I think her son is innocent, but where is he? Please, find Dylan. He might have information about who killed my husband.”

  Compassion laced Jon’s words. “We’re doing our best, Mrs. Mendez.”

  “I know investigations take time.”

  “Father Gabriel spoke about his friendship with your husband, their golf outings and the community service link. Did your husband ever have reservations about Father Gabriel’s position of forgiveness and second chances?”

  Rachel hesitated. “While they chose not to discuss matters affecting their friendship, the judge was often frustrated with Father Gabriel’s position regarding the various gangs and his desire to bring them to God. My husband preferred the spiritual aspect occur after the arrest.”

  “Did the difference of opinion create a wedge in their friendship?”

  “Neither man would back down from his convictions.”

  “Judge Mendez still used St. Peter’s for community service,” Leah said.

  “My husband believed in rehabilitation, and he was a man of faith. If the friendship looks complicated to you, note both men wanted the same thing. It was their
methods of achieving it that caused disagreements but not at the cost of their friendship.”

  Leah thanked the woman for her candid response before switching gears. “Have you decided on a day and time for the funeral service?”

  “Father Gabriel and I made arrangements last evening. The viewing will be on Friday evening with a prayer service, and the funeral Mass is scheduled for Saturday at 10 a.m. The wake will be at the parish.”

  Jon glanced at Leah. “Agent Riesel and I will be at both services.”

  Leah nodded.

  Mrs. Mendez peered at them. “If I were you, I’d be looking for who’s in attendance.”

  “We will,” Leah said. Sometimes criminals returned to the scene of the crime—to gloat, satisfy some morbid curiosity, or make themselves look innocent.

  Jon continued. “I have a question for you, a theory, but you may be able to confirm it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Did Judge Mendez ever indicate the Veneno gang and the reconquista cry might be a facade for something else?”

  Rachel fisted her hands. “I know he was determined to find out their means of making money, but he didn’t tell me if he learned anything. He claimed the cartels from Mexico would not take over Galveston. But that’s all.”

  18

  SILVIA GREETED HER first dental cleaning of the day with a fake smile and kind words. Her heart ached, and her stomach rolled as though she’d be ill. Dylan must have lost his phone again because he still hadn’t contacted her. She’d lain awake for two nights, thinking and praying while listening for the phone to ring.

  Richard James asked her not to bother him or his wife again—Silvia was mistaken about his daughter and Dylan dating. Silvia wanted to scream at him. Mr. James thought Dylan wasn’t good enough for his daughter, but Elena didn’t look at Dylan’s troubled past. She cared about his gentle heart, and she inspired him to be a better man.

  Had Dylan and Elena run off together? They were in love, a sweet relationship made in heaven. Would they have gotten married? Dylan deserved happiness after all he’d been through. Although Elena wasn’t Catholic, that mattered little at the moment.

  But Dylan had been accused of a horrible crime. Where was he? What was stopping her son from contacting his mother, the woman who’d nurtured and loved him?

  Silvia returned her attention to the dental patient and bade him good-bye. She had nearly twenty minutes until her next cleaning. Warren knew Dylan, and he didn’t need to be at his store until 9:30. He’d pray with her, help her cope with the unknown. Sometimes he helped her understand the male side of life, totally foreign to her.

  Warren answered on the first ring. “Silvia, has Dylan come home?”

  “Not yet. I was hoping you might have heard from him.”

  “Not a thing. You and I have had our differences about Dylan’s behavior, but I never saw any of this coming.”

  Such a dear man. “We can’t expect to agree on everything.”

  “Have you contacted Elena?”

  “She’s not picking up, and her father doesn’t appreciate my calls. He denies Elena even knows Dylan. Father Gabriel told me to pray, and I have. But I feel so helpless. I want to do something.”

  “Do you work all day?”

  “Yes.” And that was a good thing since her mind was consumed with the whole nightmare. “I did request Saturday off for Judge Mendez’s funeral. Let’s pray this will be straightened out by then.”

  “We can go to the funeral Mass together. I’ll get someone to run the store for the day.” He breathed in deeply, and she closed her eyes to envision his blue eyes and long lashes. “Honey, Dylan is a smart young man. No matter what’s going on with him, he’s resourceful and has a good head on his shoulders.”

  She treasured how Warren subtly kept her attention away from the police and FBI. “If he contacts you, will you persuade him to go to the police? I think it’s the only way to prove his innocence.”

  “I’ll do my best. How about dinner tonight? You don’t need to be alone.”

  “I should stay home in case Dylan shows up.” What if he was hurt or upset?

  “Let me pick up dinner, and we can eat there. If Dylan arrives, I’ll leave.”

  How thoughtful. “Then, yes, I’d love to share dinner with you.”

  “Be thinking about what you’d like. I’ll search for some ideas, although no one can cook as well as you do,” Warren said. “I’ll text later. Keep praying for good to come of this. I love you, and I’m here for you.”

  Her heart warmed. “I love you, too.” She ended the call and sank into a chair in the break room. Her phone rang, but the number was unfamiliar. Her pulse sped and she answered.

  “Ms. Ortega, this is Agent Leah Riesel.”

  Silvia stiffened. “I’m at work.”

  “I won’t take but a minute of your time. Honestly, I’m checking on you. You were right when we talked—I’m ignorant of how you feel. But I did cause my mother some heartache, and I regret my past actions. My fear is something will happen to Dylan before we find him. If you have any way to contact him, please let him know that Agent Colbert and I will do all we can to learn the truth. You have my number now. Let me be your friend and help you with your son.”

  Silvia’s spirit crushed. She hadn’t expected kindness from an agent who wanted Dylan in custody. “How can I trust you?”

  “I give you my word.”

  19

  JON STEERED HIS TRUCK TOWARD the Galveston County Justice Center. Leah sat beside him, navigating her phone. The county courthouse, post office, law enforcement facility, and an assortment of BBBs—bail bond businesses—covered Fifty-Fourth through Fifty-Ninth Streets, reminding him of a mall. It seemed like he and Leah were conducting busywork, and while necessary, Jon wanted to latch on to something.

  Leah contacted Aaron Michaels and arranged an interview after their meeting with Chief Everson. She pulled Rachel’s list from her purse and began typing the names into her phone. “I don’t recognize the names Mrs. Mendez gave us. Shame on me.”

  “Maybe they appeared in his court before you arrived in H-town. What were the charges?”

  “Drug dealers, assault and robbery, murder for hire . . . the typical. All swore to get even. Two are women.” She touched her finger to her lips as though something had just occurred to her. “I’ve been thinking about the gang using women to carry messages. The girlfriends and wives of those who share the reconquista mantra could pass info at the grocery, Laundromat, nail salon, church. Anywhere.”

  Jon was impressed. He was the one who normally turned over every rock in an investigation. “We’d need specific women to tail. Our leads will keep us busy for a few days. I see tangible things for us to nail down first.”

  “Such as?” she said.

  “A rattlesnake farm. The gang has to get their supply of venom somewhere.”

  “You mentioned wranglers before.”

  He swung a look her way, but Leah stared out the passenger side window. “You put me off before about this. Do I detect a problem with snakes?”

  She kept her attention outside the truck. “I’d rather have a dog.”

  Was she admitting to a phobia or a dislike? “How bad?”

  She turned his way. “I’m fine, and I agree it’s a significant aspect of the case. I’ll send a request for snake wrangler info.”

  Jon pulled into a parking area designated for the police department. Snakes sort of appealed to his wild nature, but Leah’s fear could be a hindrance to working the case.

  They exited his truck and walked to the law enforcement facility.

  “Do you know Zachary Everson?” Leah said. “Because I don’t.”

  “No. What are you thinking?”

  “When we talked to Rachel Mendez, her body language hinted at a dislike for him. Maybe some history there, or I misread her. So I’ll let you lead.”

  “All right. The judge openly criticized gang activities, and he could have tried a case involving
a Veneno and not known the person was gang-related. And if Ian Greer made the arrest and Marcia Trevelle was prosecuting, then we have a solid link. I’ve requested the FIG to get us the data.”

  Chief of Police Zachary Everson, a wiry man with a military haircut, escorted Jon and Leah to his square office. A window faced the parking lot, allowing him to see those coming and going from the rear of the building.

  Everson closed the door and sat behind his desk. Dark circles pitted beneath reddened eyes. “If we could drink, I’d pour us a double.” He uttered an expletive.

  “Not usually a drinking man myself,” Jon said. “But I might change my mind when we’ve tossed the Venenos into jail.”

  “A Fed I like. First time for everything. When the time comes, I’ll buy the bottle.” He paused. “I did request your assistance for these murders, and together we can bring justice to grieving family and friends. What’s new on your end?”

  “Agent Riesel and I have conducted interviews since yesterday morning.”

  Leah gave her take on Silvia Ortega and Rachel Mendez. Then he relayed the pertinent info regarding Father Gabriel.

  “We’re on the same page,” Everson said. “Father Gabriel is either a candidate for the next pope or looking for martyrdom. He’s risking his life trying to reach gang members. Just hope his boldness for the faith doesn’t get him killed.”

  “We’ve requested surveillance—for more than one reason.” Jon wasn’t ready to debate Father Gabriel further. “Whoever told the media we had a person of interest tossed a wrench into things.”

  Everson appeared taken aback. “Why?”

  “I’d have liked an hour at least to run Ortega down before the media warned him.” Jon studied him for a response.

  “I contacted the media.” He squeezed his fist. “I’m not backing down from any trail to find Ortega.”

  “Okay. I understand.” Jon shoved aside his irritation. Three people who represented law and order had been killed on his watch. “Ortega’s girlfriend claims she hasn’t seen him.”