Fatal Strike

by DiAnn Mills

  “What’s her name?”

  “Elena James.”

  Everson wrote her name on a pad of paper. “He’ll turn up—sooner than later. Silvia Ortega is one woman I don’t trust.”

  “Why’s that?” Jon replayed the phone conversation Leah had with Silvia.

  “Seems odd she doesn’t know where to find him.”

  “Unless he doesn’t tell her everything. Do you have anyone watching the house?”

  “Short on officers at the moment. Can you arrange it on your end?”

  Jon studied Everson. His drawn facial muscles indicated more than one emotion. Definitely grief. Nervousness. Anger because three law enforcement officials were murdered on his watch. “Consider it done. Anything we should know about Rachel Mendez?”

  “She’ll not rest until the judge’s killer is arrested, and she’ll be on our tails until then.”

  Did Everson share the same dislike? “I understand you have the judge’s phone. Any prints or leads?”

  “Zero.” Everson’s features hardened. “I’ll send you his phone records.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Last call was at 9 p.m. to his mother in Tampa. Judge Mendez was an icon around here. Good man. Respected the law and didn’t mess around with offenders.”

  “Do you have intel on who’s at the helm of the local Veneno gang?”

  “Not yet. We have bad guys on the island, but none to my knowledge of this caliber. They’ve been questioned, and of course they have alibis. I suppose you want names?”

  “We do. Have you heard anything about the gang enlisting members through coercion?”

  “Coercion is an invention to commit violent crime. Too many kids are out there looking for ways to buck the system. Kids don’t get the death penalty.”

  Leah jumped in. “What about the Venenos using women for communication?”

  “Nothing’s confirmed,” Everson said. “Did Rachel Mendez give you a list of those who’d threatened the judge?” When Jon nodded, Everson continued. “How soon will you have backgrounds?”

  “A couple of hours on basic info. Depends on what we learn. We’ll make sure you receive the findings.”

  Everson settled back in his chair and took a long breath. He dragged his hand over his face. “The deaths have hit me and my officers real personal.”

  Leah nodded with obvious sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. Ian Greer was a good officer, a notch above the rest. A friend.” Everson hesitated. “Might as well tell you. I dated Marcia Trevelle.” He stared down at his desk before speaking. “More than dating. We were engaged. Supposed to be married in October.”

  The source of Everson’s bad attitude surfaced. The unsolved murders were personal and professional, a mix of pride and emotions. “I’m sorry. You have a huge stake here, and I get it. We’re all after the same thing.”

  Everson swallowed hard. “My officers are working on the other murders. I’ll send you those reports. We’re questioning and probing. Using our informants. It’s obvious to me that when we find the judge’s killer, we’ll find Ian’s and Marcia’s.”

  “Any similarities noted?” Jon hadn’t found anything other than the kill method and the staging of the bodies and dead rattlers, but maybe Everson had some insight. “Were the three victims working on the same case or cases? Greer made an arrest, Trevelle prosecuted, and Judge Mendez sentenced?”

  Everson gazed out the window. A patrol car pulled in. “In theory, you make sense, and there are a couple cases with those parameters.”

  “Have you investigated them?”

  “No connections to Venenos. Dead ends. We interviewed Judge Mendez’s staff yesterday. I’ll send you our initial report.” He turned back. “Let me tell you what was going on leading up to the three murders. Last month, I started meeting with Ian, Marcia, and the judge. Ian believed the Venenos had moved into our area and were trafficking drugs, but he didn’t have proof. At the second meeting, I insisted we form a task force with the FBI. I didn’t want anyone killed. The others didn’t agree. We had words, and I was booted out. They continued to meet, and when Ian was killed, I contacted the FBI, but it was too late to save Marcia and the judge. To my knowledge, nothing was documented, and trust me, I’ve looked.”

  Leah spoke up. “When was the last time you spoke to any of them?”

  “Last Friday afternoon, Ian told me to have a great weekend. Monday, I phoned Marcia after Ian’s body was found and told her about my call to the FBI. She agreed. The Venenos took credit for the murder, and the FBI needed to be involved. I then contacted the judge, and he confirmed my decision. I was supposed to get back with him and Marcia after meeting with the FBI on Tuesday.”

  Instead of getting help, though, the police chief had seen wheels of justice move too slowly to protect these prominent Galveston citizens.

  Everson took a glimpse of his watch. “I understand you’re questioning Aaron Michaels here. Ready for me to show you where to conduct the interview?”

  “Sure. Are you sitting in?”

  “I’d rather watch. See if he changes his story. Appears lily-white.” He handed Jon a file. “I want the gang stopped. Whatever it takes. I will not give up until arrests are made.”

  Revenge was not a police officer’s best trait. Everson could be a problem if he was out to handle this himself.

  20

  LEAH SUGGESTED FLIPPING A QUARTER with Jon to see who’d question Aaron Michaels, and she won the toss.

  The young man entered a small interview area provided by Everson. After Leah went through introductions, she invited Aaron to sit at a small table. Trembling, he eased onto a chair. Leah attempted to relax him, a narrow-shouldered, round-faced man, who questioned why the FBI wanted to see him after he’d previously spoken to the police.

  “We’re going over similar questions to see if you forgot to mention anything to Chief Everson.” Leah spoke kindness into her words. “First, let me thank you for meeting with us.”

  “Okay.” He gripped his hands on the tabletop. “But I don’t think I left out anything.”

  “Aaron, your grades at the University of Houston are exemplary. Congratulations. Is this your senior year?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Looking forward to my student teaching.”

  “A teacher? I thought about a career in education at one time. What’s your major?”

  “History. I plan to teach high school and coach track.” He breathed in and out. “I’m ready to be a real adult. My parents will be glad to get me off their credit card debt.”

  Leah met his smile. “I’m sure they will. Any brothers or sisters?”

  “Sister in high school. She’ll be ready for college in two years.”

  “Your parents will have a break before she enters college. Dylan Ortega’s mother, Silvia, gave us your name as one of her son’s longtime friends. Yesterday you told police you hadn’t seen Dylan for months. Was there a problem in the friendship?”

  Aaron’s knuckles bleached white. “We went different ways. Me with school and Dylan with his life.”

  “Had you attempted to contact him?” Leah said.

  “A couple of times last Christmas and then once in February. He was busy.”

  “Work? School?”

  Aaron rubbed his hands together. “He has a girlfriend. Wanted to spend time with her. He said she was good for him. I quit trying.”

  Leah looked to Jon for input.

  “Sometimes we guys can’t compete with a girl,” Jon said. “Do you know her name?”

  “I think Elena.” Aaron paused. “Can’t remember her last name. Saw her a couple of times. Hot. Dylan has good taste.”

  Jon turned to her, Leah’s cue to jump back in. “Before February, what did you and Dylan do?”

  “Grabbed a few beers. Hung out. We’d been friends since middle school.”

  “You’re a member of St. Peter’s?”

  “Used to be. Don’t go anymore. Not my thing.”

/>   Interesting link. “Do your parents and sister?”

  “Yes. Like clockwork.”

  “Did Dylan change much after his conviction?”

  “Dylan wanted to go straight. Get back into college and be successful, like start his own business.”

  “What interested him?”

  “Owning a Mexican restaurant. His mom’s a great cook, and she’d often told him that she’d like to own her own restaurant.”

  A point for Dylan’s side. “Commendable.”

  Leah turned to Jon. “Had Dylan mentioned any new friends?” he said.

  “No, sir. He and I were always the nerds—me with grades and him because he was shy and not interested in sports. We stuck together for years, and I’m still there for him.”

  “What happened for him to attempt a robbery?”

  “Dylan was going through a rough time then.” Aaron pressed his lips together. “I don’t know what he was thinking. But he swore he’d never break the law again. I believed him. Still do. He’s always been there for me. Even if I had a problem now, he’d find a way to help me. I’m giving him space so he can figure out this thing with Elena.”

  Leah filed Aaron’s last response. “Thanks. You’ve given us much to think about,” she said. “We all need good friends. I hope Dylan is aware of your loyalty.”

  Aaron scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, I’ve told you all I know about him. I have no clue how his name got mixed up with the Venenos or Judge Mendez’s murder. He’s a great guy.”

  “If he does reach out, would you let me know?” Leah handed him her business card. “We need to ask him a few questions.”

  Aaron nodded. “I promise you, Dylan wouldn’t do anything to mess up his life. He’s on the right road.”

  21

  LEAH AND JON WALKED the covered corridor from GPD to the county court building, where Judge Mendez maintained his office. They had a 1:45 appointment. Leah’s thoughts focused on their discussion with Aaron Michaels.

  “What Aaron implied bothers me,” she said. “Wondering if he left the police department and immediately contacted Dylan.”

  “The ones who believe in Dylan will take the most risks.”

  Leah debated Dylan’s personality . . . Was he a leader or a weak man whom others tried to protect?

  Jon turned to her. “But if Aaron is as smart as his grades indicate, he wouldn’t lead us to Dylan.”

  Leah’s thoughts turned to their earlier interview with Everson. “Is Everson capable of working the case?”

  Jon stopped until a young woman passed. “Everson is grieving and angry, a volatile meld.”

  “I can’t imagine his loss of a fiancée and friends. In his line of work, personal stakes often create blind spots.”

  “His relationship with the victims combined with law enforcement skills is a plus—if he keeps his head. Hard for me to believe the three victims didn’t document their findings. We’re talking about professional people whose jobs required detailed notes.”

  “And they wouldn’t have continued to meet if they hadn’t found evidence. Neither, in my opinion, would they have been killed.”

  “Well, we’re about to find out if Everson botched the interviews with the judge’s staff or not.” A text signaled her attention. A quick look showed the message was from Terri.

  It’s time we talked.

  Leah’s mind drifted to her best friend, an agent who worked the civil rights division in Houston. The last time she and Terri had talked, their friendship crumbled. Leah’s fault, and she’d done nothing to rebuild the wall.

  “Do we have new information?” Jon stood outside the entrance hallway to Judge Mendez’s office.

  “No.” Leah struggled with ignoring or responding. Strange she had the courage to go after bad guys and risk her life but floundered when it came to interpersonal messes. “Give me a moment to answer this text.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll check for updates.”

  She typed to Terri. I agree. I’m in Galveston with Jon Colbert.

  Terri responded immediately. Working on the Venenos case?

  Yes. Will call when I can.

  Thanks. Miss us.

  Me too.

  Shoving aside her inner turmoil, she concentrated on the upcoming interview.

  Jon opened the door. “The warrant came through for Judge Mendez’s office, and a team will conduct the search late this afternoon. And the security footage for both his home and office is being analyzed.”

  Inside Judge Mendez’s office, the receptionist, a young woman with large expressive green eyes, led them into a conference room. Leah sized up the four people who were well-acquainted with the judge’s work habits, convictions, and cases. The receptionist had been friendly, but the iciness in the room had nothing to do with the air-conditioning’s setting. The paralegal was in her midthirties, attractive, and used her French-manicured nails to address matters on her phone. She looked up from her device and cordially acknowledged Leah and Jon.

  The law clerks had their impassive facade down to a science. Must be a course in law school.

  The receptionist offered Leah and Jon beverages. Once they’d been served, she brought legal pads and pens and sat near the other woman.

  How would Leah feel if her SWAT commander or SAC were killed? She’d be hit with paralyzing numbness and a brisk attitude. Angry and scared.

  Jon thanked them for their time and introduced Leah and himself. “The FBI is assisting Galveston police in the investigation of not only the murder of Judge Mendez, but also of the deaths of Ian Greer and Marcia Trevelle. All three are suspected of being killed by a lethal injection of venom to the heart. The gang known as the Venenos have claimed responsibility.”

  One of the clerks, a distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a matching mustache, cleared his throat. “My name’s Ross Kempler. Judge Mendez and I worked closely together for over twenty-seven years on various levels. I can safely say I knew him better than anyone in this office. I called the judge a friend, and to say I’m angry is an understatement.”

  “Thank you,” Jon said. “Agent Riesel and I appreciate any information you can provide. We will be interviewing each of you privately.”

  The two women had nothing substantial to say. The paralegal expressed a great deal of nervousness and said she feared for her life. The receptionist promised to keep her eyes and ears open.

  Ross Kempler was the third interview. Leah believed his long-term friendship with Judge Mendez might offer work and personal habits.

  “Mr. Kempler, what can you tell us about the judge?” Jon said.

  “Loyal friend. Man of faith. Loved his family. He was a private person. What I can say is the judge had not disclosed any threats to me. If you were around him very long, then you understood he held a high regard for enforcing law. When he ruled on a case, he never backed down.”

  Kempler added that he knew Marcia Trevelle and had met Ian Greer a few times. “We all want those responsible to be arrested and tried in a court of law.”

  The younger clerk concluded the interview process. He avoided any pleasantries. “I have a family to protect, and I have nothing to add to your investigation.”

  “Have you been threatened?” Jon said.

  He sat back in the plush leather chair. “I don’t have to give a reason to exercise my rights.”

  As Jon and Leah walked to Jon’s truck, Leah questioned the unwillingness of the judge’s staff to offer much information. “I know they’re frightened, but I wanted more.”

  “Maybe they’re protecting their families and are simply being cautious,” Jon said. “Or maybe they really don’t know anything.”

  “Let’s find out what Judge Mendez was working on and his ruling on cases during the last three years. Everson was vague about connection points between the three, but he could have assumed we’d be investigating that aspect with our resources.”

  “He’s grieving and wanting to solve this himself, but he could be held for obs
tructing justice if he’s concealing evidence.”

  “I’ll make the request.” Leah typed into her phone, then scrolled through emails. She saw intel on Father Gabriel. “We’re on a roll. We have the background on Father Gabriel’s nephew. Xavier Sanchez—must be a namesake—was his sister’s son. In and out of juvie. Later convicted of selling drugs to a DEA agent. A member of the Texas mafia. Killed in a gang fight.”

  “Every gang member is his nephew, his weak spot,” Jon said.

  “A priest who failed at saving a member of his family. Big-time guilt.” She stared up at the blue sky, her thoughts on Father Gabriel. “He sees his nephew in every face that breaks the law.”

  22

  LEAH NEEDED THINK-TIME. Her stomach growled, but she wanted to talk through her and Jon’s day before making inquiries at the Hotel Galvez about Dylan. She asked Jon to stop for cold drinks before driving to the eastern side of the island. She shed her professional jacket and left it in the truck, then kicked off her sensible shoes and rolled up the legs of her navy-blue slacks. The breeze off the ocean cooled their faces in the ninety-plus-degree temps.

  “Too bad we’re processing a murder.” Jon slipped out of his shoes and socks. “If I have to take out after a bad guy in my bare feet, you’re going with me.” He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the truck seat.

  “Yes, sir. But I’d outrun you.”

  “Fat chance. If you’re lucky, you might taste my dust.” He tossed his shoes and socks into the truck alongside hers before shutting the door.

  His words swirled through her. Made her sorta tingly. Watch it, girl. Partners are hands off. “I inherited fast-running genes. Did the whole track and basketball thing. You’d better hope I don’t have to show you up.”

  “Check my stats.” He adjusted his sunglasses.

  The light bantering helped to unlock the tightness in her shoulders. With no one else around, she breathed in the salty air and listened to crying seagulls. Frothy waves gently lifted and fell. For a precious few moments, she let the hypnotizing rhythm flood her spirit before diving into a discussion about the investigation. She and Jon strolled along where the sea met the shore and lapped water onto their feet and ankles.