by DiAnn Mills
A concept so foreign to Leah that she refused to ask for clarification. “I’m sorry Dylan put you through this. Did he say where he was going?”
Silvia shook her head. “Where was he shot?”
“The left shoulder area.”
She stiffened her shoulders. “The water could cause an infection. Maybe he’ll decide the running’s over and choose to turn himself in at a medical facility.” While Silvia’s words carried a theme of hopefulness, her tone sounded flat.
“That would be wise, a positive step forward,” Leah said.
“Are you going to take me home?”
“First we’ll drive to the police department. Agent Colbert and Chief of Police Everson have some questions.”
“I hate the thought of it.”
“I’ll be with you. Do you want me to contact your dental office?”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t want to miss tomorrow and have Dr. Rios and Anna scrambling.”
The nurse entered the room with the injection. Too bad she didn’t have a vial to help Silvia discern the truth about Dylan.
If there was a God, Leah hoped He comforted Silvia.
65
JON HAD SUGGESTED fried rattlesnake for dinner at Leah’s apartment, but she nixed that idea. Her hand ached from the snakebite as she and Jon packed up the remains of their carry-out Greek food from dinner, but the reminder wasn’t a bad thing.
“What style do you call this?” He ran his fingers over the polished steel countertop and examined the brass beads at the edges.
“Steampunk.”
He stared at the table and settled on the chandelier. “I’ll need to read up on it. It’s different. All you.”
She laughed at his fumbling over her unusual tastes. “I’m not touching that.” She wiped off her dining room table and spoke her mind. “Have we been looking at this case all wrong?”
He snapped a lid on a huge plastic container of tzatziki sauce. “If we were sailing on the right waters, we’d have hit shore.”
She feigned a frown. “How long did it take you to come up with that metaphor?”
“Instantly. But I’m right there with you. Smart people with a lot of money seem to have devised a plan to send us in the wrong direction.”
She returned to the table and closed a Styrofoam container of pita bread. Her mind couldn’t wrap around what they were missing. “Since we haven’t heard from any local hospitals, Dylan’s in a lot of pain somewhere. Or dead. What are you thinking?”
Jon grabbed up the throwaways and carried them to the trash under the sink. “Remember The Godfather? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ What if we’ve met the kingpin, talked to him or her? Let’s run through the list: Rachel Mendez is afraid, and she’s not the type of woman who scares easily. Zachary Everson is led by vengeance. Father Gabriel would sacrifice his own life for a bad guy. Silvia Ortega would do anything for Dylan, and I put Elena James in that category too. Dylan nearly got himself killed during his getaway today, but he probably knows who’s running the show.”
A thought hit Leah. “We’re chasing Dylan. Could it be he’s the fall guy, and the boss man is banking on us killing him? The man I shot from the ferry was a known felon, bad all the way through but not a member of a gang. His background shows a steady stream of arrests from breaking and entering to assault.” Leah tapped her fingernail on the table. “Could our kingpin have stolen the drugs from Molston Pharmaceuticals and rigged up a Veneno gang with a fake battle cry to cover up the theft? Ian Greer, Marcia Trevelle, and Judge Mendez found the evidence?”
“Well, there is someone we’ve met we haven’t considered closely.”
Leah faced him. “Who?”
“Warren Livingston.”
She shook her head. “Jon, our desperation is showing through. Warren is one of the good guys. Remember he was threatened and—”
“Perfect cover.”
Her thoughts froze because Jon made sense. “Seems impossible.”
“While you were at the hospital with Silvia, I started digging into his background. Warren stocks his souvenir shop from Mexico. No big deal, right? Until I looked for his vendors. He doesn’t use any. He fills his shelves personally by making frequent trips to Mexico City. Why, when he can pick up the phone or order online?”
“Did you notify agents in Mexico City?”
“Sure.”
“Go on,” she said. “I know there’s more.”
“I gained access to the Galveston security cams around Warren’s properties. Want to guess who visited his shop three times in the last three months?”
“Dylan?”
“Good one, but wrong. Aaron Michaels. We have footage of him entering and leaving the shop, staying around ten minutes each time.”
Aaron?
Leah sank into a chair. “Dylan’s a low crawl, but he may have more than one legitimate reason for despising Warren. What’s the rest?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He scrolled on his phone and handed it to her.
She skimmed the notes he’d compiled. “Warren attended the University of Arizona for three years. College records show more than one infraction for assault, and that eventually led to his leaving school. Arrested twenty-two years ago in Phoenix for embezzlement, but charges were dropped. Possible overseas accounts. Has a home in Mexico City worth over two million dollars.” She’d thought his apartment building and home were a scale above a souvenir shop. “Have you requested agents in Phoenix investigate Warren’s family there?” The man’s parents and a sister still lived in Arizona.
“Yep.”
She handed Jon’s phone back to him. “Have you run this past anyone else?”
“Only you.”
Her thoughts spun. “Warren’s a good-looking man, dresses well. Silvia has a heart of gold, but she’s not . . . How do I say it? The woman I’d expect him to be with? What does she have that he needs to make his plan work? She’s a dental hygienist with an adopted son who’s bad news.”
Jon paced her small kitchen and dining room. “Link it to Dylan and prescription drugs.”
What would attract a striking and wealthy man with criminal connections to a modest woman? Jon’s comment played and replayed in Leah’s mind. “Silvia is in the medical field, which equates to prescription drugs. She’s taking stolen OxyContin that Dylan got for her.” She lifted her chin. “Have we researched the dentist she works for? His name’s Pablo Rios.”
He lifted his phone from his pocket and typed. “I’m requesting a background.”
“If Warren is involved, he has his bases covered.”
“I’m sure of it.” He finished and set his phone on the counter. “There’s always a weak spot. We keep digging.” He downed his iced tea. “It will take a while for Rios’s background check to be completed. I sure could use a kiss.”
Leah stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not sure it’s in your future.” The man had the most gorgeous brown eyes.
His lips lowered. “I’ll make up your mind for you.”
Jon’s kiss, warm and sweet, left her tingly. He backed up and gathered her hands into his. “Being alone with you is dangerous. I don’t want to mess us up.”
She trembled at his nearness, and she valued what he meant, what she felt. “Me either. I’m happy and scared at the same time.”
“I want this case wrapped up, but I don’t want to give up working with you.”
“Is it possible to have both?”
“We’ll figure it out. The future’s never certain, but I want to see if there’s an us in it.”
66
TUESDAY MORNING, Jon joined Leah at the FBI office, eager to see her again and to get back to work on the case. Rios’s background had come in late last night, and he’d spent several hours combing through the dentist’s information.
Pablo Rios, originally from Mexico, became a US citizen twenty-five years ago and purchased his dental practice a year later. Fifteen years ago, the DEA put hi
m under surveillance for suspected prescription drug trafficking, but nothing was proven. Rios’s practice was small: his wife served as the receptionist—from their visit to the office Jon remembered her as a taskmaster—and Silvia Ortega worked as the sole hygienist.
Jon was planning to file a search warrant for the dentist office later this morning and question both Rios and Warren Livingston. But first he and Leah had an 8 a.m. meeting with Amanda Barton, the woman who was taken hostage in her own home last week. Ms. Barton wanted to thank the SWAT team for saving her and her family’s lives.
The commander waved at Jon and Leah as they entered the conference room, then gestured for them to join him and Ms. Barton at the table. “Agents Riesel and Colbert, an appreciative lady would like to meet you.” He made introductions.
Ms. Barton graciously responded. “Thank you will never be enough to express my gratitude. When I think about what those men planned to do and how you saved my family, I shake all over again.” She tapped her heart. “One minute please.” When she regained her composure, she continued. “I would have given those men anything they wanted. But you ended our fears. Neither my sister nor I will ever forget how you saved our children. Someday I want to make it up to you.”
Leah stepped forward. “We are just a part of a powerful SWAT team. Everyone worked together. We’re glad to have helped.”
“My sister blames herself for the tragedy.”
Another case of survivor guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“Last night I learned her ex-boyfriend must have told those two about the money I keep at the house.”
An alarm sounded in Jon’s mind. “Did she mention this to the police?”
Amanda shook her head. “She was afraid for her child and herself—he or one of his no-good friends might hurt them. But he’s dead now.”
“What was his name?” Jon said.
“Aaron Michaels.”
Jon hid his reaction. He recalled the men who’d held the women and children captive. Neither of their names had surfaced in the three Galveston homicides or the FBI investigation.
“Where is your sister now?”
“Why?” Ms. Barton’s face paled.
Jon nodded at Leah, and he listened to her push concern into her words. “Ms. Barton, your sister may have important information that’s connected to another case we’re working on. Can we speak to her now?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Is she in danger? My phone’s in my car or I’d call her now.”
“You could use my phone,” Leah said.
Ms. Barton responded without hesitation. “Yes, I will.”
The other SWAT team members filed out of the room to give the woman some privacy.
Ms. Barton pressed in numbers. “Hey, Cecelia, it’s me. I’m at the FBI office. I know you were hesitant about saying anything, but I told them about Aaron. One of the agents wants to talk to you. Can you excuse yourself and go somewhere private?” She gave Leah the phone.
Jon remembered the young woman from the SWAT mission.
Leah thanked Cecelia for her time. “We’d appreciate any information about Aaron Michaels. I’d like to put my phone on speaker. Agent Colbert is with me, and we’d like to record our conversation.”
“No recording until you have the entire gang in jail.” The young woman’s voice weakened. “I don’t mind if the other agent is listening.”
“Okay. Tell me about Aaron.”
“I met him on the college campus. Hired him as an advanced algebra tutor. He was nice and extremely intelligent. We became friends and started dating. He was good with my two-year-old daughter, and everything went well for about three months. Then he changed.”
“How?”
“He showed up drunk at my sister’s house, where I live. Amanda had taken her kids to dinner. I asked Aaron to leave and told him we were finished. He grabbed me and smacked me in the face.” Cecelia’s voice cracked as she continued. “He said if I wanted my daughter to stay alive, I had to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. At times, he’d just show up. He must have watched for Amanda to leave, because my daughter and I were always alone. Sometimes he held a gun on us.” She sniffed. “The last time was a week before the break-in. He told me about some friends of his who needed money.”
“I’m sorry to put you through remembering the whole nightmare,” Leah said.
“It’s okay,” Cecelia said, though Leah could tell it really wasn’t. “It’s been a secret so long, it helps to finally talk about it.”
“Do you have someone you trust you can share these things with?” After enduring Aaron’s abuse for so long, to have also experienced the trauma of being held hostage . . .
“I’ve started talking to a priest.”
“Who?”
Jon guessed the name before Leah asked.
“Father Xavier Gabriel. A friend recommended him. My sister went with me to the first session.”
“Can you give us the name of the friend who recommended Father Gabriel?”
“Rachel Mendez. She and Amanda have been good friends for years.”
67
RACHEL MENDEZ? Was she a friend or foe? After watching Amanda Barton leave the FBI offices, Leah slipped into the chair at her desk.
“So we’re adding Rachel Mendez to the list of those we need to talk to this morning,” Jon said. “Warren Livingston still has my attention.”
“Why didn’t she tell us Aaron Michaels had abused Cecelia or that she’d recommended Father Gabriel for counseling? Rachel is not stupid. She had to suspect the men who broke into the Barton home were linked to Aaron and possibly the death of Judge Mendez. That falls under withholding information, and she can’t plead ignorant when she’s a lawyer.”
“I think she’s protecting Dylan any way she can,” he said.
Leah checked the status of search warrants they’d filed this morning for Livingston’s properties and Rios’s dental practice. No go yet. “Silvia Ortega is linked to all three parties. Do you think she’s been inadvertently aiding this drug trafficking effort?”
“Why don’t you give her a call, try to probe her for more information? I’ll ask agents to bring in Rachel, Warren, and Pablo Rios.”
“Good idea.” She grabbed her phone and pressed in the woman’s number. “Hi, Silvia, how are you feeling?”
“I appreciate your asking. I’m sore. Advil is helping.”
“Are you alone or do you have someone looking after you?”
“You actually caught me on the way to the office. But Warren came over last night. Like a couple of kids, we watched some movies. He was trying to keep my mind off Dylan.”
Leah seized the opening. “Warren’s a good friend. I imagine it’s hard to find time to get together when he’s so busy with his store.”
“We manage. At least once a week, he stops by the office.”
“Wonderful. You’re lucky Dr. Rios doesn’t mind.”
“They’re friends, so it’s an opportunity for them to talk. Warren does mission work in Mexico City, and Dr. Rios sends toothbrushes, toothpaste, and floss.”
A means to smuggle drugs? “How generous.”
“Yes, I’m blessed with a great boss and Warren.”
“I won’t keep you any longer. I’m glad you’re feeling better today.” Leah waited for the line to disconnect before relaying the conversation and her suspicions to Jon.
He rubbed his chin. “She’s as much a victim as those grieving the loss of a loved one.”
“We’re used to working our own division or staring down a rifle scope, using technology, stats, wind calculations, not dealing with people we care about.”
Jon nodded, then excused himself to take care of some things at his desk.
Sitting back in her chair, Leah lifted the mug of lukewarm coffee to her lips. If their theory proved correct, Warren’s relationship with Silvia was in place to launder money and drugs through Dr. Rios’s dental practice. But they needed evidence to make arrests.
Leah si
ghed. She had a few minutes to get caught up on paperwork, though she’d rather clean toilets than shuffle papers. No way around it but to dive into the least favorite part of her job.
Ten minutes later, she received a call from the reception area—a welcome diversion. “Agent Riesel? There’s an older gentleman here to see you. Says it’s important.”
Edgar Whitson? “Who is he?”
“Roy Riesel.”
Leah’s pulse sped. Dad? In Houston? Had something happened to Mom or one of her siblings? “I’ll be right there.” She rose from her chair on wobbly legs, then sat again.
She reached for her phone and texted Jon.
My dad’s in the reception area. Wants to see me.
You can do this. I’m praying.
With no time to deliberate what prayer meant for her, she placed her phone in her jacket pocket and walked to the reception area. She felt like a soldier heading to the front lines. Was this meeting a good thing or a not-so-good thing? She pushed through the double doors to where Dad stood staring out the window facing Highway 290. His hands were stuck in his pockets, a trait she remembered when he had many things on his mind. His thick hair had turned white, but his shoulders were still erect.
She drew in a deep breath. “Dad.”
He turned and took long strides to her. His nut-brown eyes moistened. Three feet in front of her, he stopped as though an invisible wall separated them, a wall of miscommunication, one she wanted to demolish. She needed courage outside herself to make the step.
Leah opened her arms. “Dad, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry for the problems I caused.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she fell into his embrace, the same firm hands that had comforted and strengthened her when she was a little girl. His soft sobs brought on her own remorse. Her tears flowed with his, a river of regret. After several long moments, he put her at arm’s length. “You’re grown up and incredibly beautiful.”