Fatal Strike

by DiAnn Mills

  Mrs. James trembled. “Elena apparently doesn’t have additional information and chose to ignore you. I’ll have her contact you when she returns. Richard, I don’t like speaking to these people without our lawyer.”

  Jon faced Mr. James. “Sir, Agent Riesel and I are concerned about your daughter’s safety. Dylan Ortega is missing, and he is a person of interest in Judge Mendez’s murder.”

  “Are you insinuating our daughter is harboring a fugitive?”

  “We’d feel better if we had confirmation she’s all right.”

  Good one, Jon.

  Mrs. James gasped. “You think they’re together? Or he’s holding her against her will?”

  Another cue for Leah to soothe the woman’s emotions. “We have nothing to indicate either scenario. When I talked to her, she said they’d broken up.”

  Mr. James yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Elena, call home as soon as you get this.” He turned to his wife. “What time did she leave?”

  “Right after breakfast. She was getting her nails done, then meeting friends at Stewart Beach.”

  “Who is she with?” Richard’s voice rose.

  “She told me friends.” His wife lingered on each word. The fear in her body language didn’t match her words. “Maybe she has her phone off. I’m sure she’ll call or text us soon.”

  “Soon? The FBI suspects our daughter is keeping company with a criminal or is in harm’s way, and you want to wait until she feels like contacting us?” He stared at his wife. “You know where she is.”

  Her lips quivered and she peered into her husband’s face. “I’ll try from my phone.” She reached into her pocket for her phone.

  The silence ticked by.

  Mrs. James dialed. “Elena, this is an emergency. Please call me or your dad immediately.” She laid the phone in her lap and looked up at her husband. Tears filled her eyes. “Richard, I’m frightened. She always picks up. Elena is a good girl—she makes good choices.”

  He knelt beside her. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” He turned to Jon and Leah. “I want Ortega picked up now.”

  “We’re doing our best to locate him,” Jon said. “Are you members of St. Peter’s Catholic Church?”

  He frowned. “We’re not Catholic.” Mr. James reached for his wife’s hand, and she stood beside him. Both shared ashen faces. “Our daughter is missing. That’s what we care about. Are you finished with the questions?”

  Leah hated the desperation evident in these parents, and she wanted to help them find their daughter. “I think we’re done until she’s located,” she said, getting to her feet. “We regret the turmoil. Please understand our concern for Elena.”

  Mr. James faced his wife. “I’m heading to Stewart Beach. I realize it’s closed, but I can check the restaurants or businesses nearby.”

  Olivia dabbed beneath her right eye. “While you’re gone, I’ll contact some of her friends.”

  Mr. James wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist. “We’ll find her.”

  “We’d like to go with you.” Jon captured Leah’s attention, and she nodded.

  Richard James clenched his fist. “Thanks.”

  28

  SILVIA BELIEVED NOTHING GOOD happened after midnight. Her parents had instilled this in her as a teen when she wanted to stay out late. She’d repeated the same mantra to Dylan. When he turned thirteen, she’d worried he might follow a bad path, but he kept her rules. All went well until the year before the robbery. But that nightmare was over, and she didn’t want him to ever experience prison again.

  While a movie droned on and she snuggled next to Warren on the sofa, her thoughts hung like a huge question mark. As though feeling her distress, Warren squeezed her shoulders. Where was her son? What had happened tonight that stopped him from turning himself in? All she’d heard were news reports that a firefight had occurred. Had Dylan been hurt? Was he responsible?

  Please, God. No. Dylan couldn’t have broken the law again.

  The same worries repeated.

  The past crept in unbidden, like a cold chill. When Dylan had been arrested for armed robbery and spent those nightmarish months in jail, she’d lit a candle for him every day. She’d visited him every Sunday afternoon and written countless letters. And when he returned to her, she saw her boy had matured into a strong man. He apologized for putting her through the humiliation of having a son in prison. He loved her, and he’d learned his lesson.

  Silvia had believed him. Her heart sang with his change and growth. He’d enrolled in college and started classes and promised to always take care of her. That’s when she told him about his trust, the hundred thousand dollars due him when he was twenty-five.

  “Where did it come from?” he’d said. “My father?”

  She’d touched his face. “What’s important is the money is for your future.”

  “I’ll be finished with college then.” He didn’t ask any more questions about the origin of the trust.

  Warren stroked her shoulder and brought her back to the present. She attempted to concentrate on the TV. A heist/cop movie—Warren loved them.

  Her phone rang, and she stared at it. The number wasn’t familiar.

  “Honey, answer it.” Warren kissed her cheek. “It could be Dylan.”

  She obliged and heard her son’s familiar voice. Choking back the emotion, she forged ahead. “Where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Dylan said. “I wanted to let you know I’m staying low until the cops realize I’m not guilty of killing Judge Mendez.”

  “Who opened fire tonight?” Silvia begged for Dylan to be innocent.

  “Not me.”

  “Who then?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it. After tonight, I’m finished with the law. I’m a man with a record. I’ll do anything to make sure I’m never locked up again.”

  “All you need do is tell them where you were yesterday morning.”

  “I don’t have an alibi.”

  “No one can vouch for you?” If only she hadn’t already told the agents she hadn’t seen Dylan at the time of the judge’s murder.

  “No. Look, I need to get a lawyer, but I can’t afford a solid defense attorney.”

  A name entered her mind. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I don’t want you to put up your own money for a retainer.” His voice sounded choked. “Did you hear about Aaron and Landon?”

  A little bit of her died. “Yes. They were such nice young men.” An alarm sounded in Silvia’s head. “Did you know they were in a gang?”

  “I talked to them about leaving. I mean Aaron only had a year of college left, but Landon wanted to get rich.”

  Why did he continue with them as friends? “Have you heard from Elena?” She held her breath, begging God for a yes.

  “No. Why? Where is she?” He fired his words like a gun.

  “I haven’t been able to reach her.”

  “Never mind, Mom. I’ll find her.”

  “Don’t risk getting caught,” she said.

  “What if the gang has her? She might be hurt. Or worse. Elena means everything to me.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I need cash.”

  “How much?”

  “About five hundred.”

  She’d have to make a withdrawal from the bank. “Will you come to the house to get it?”

  “Too risky. I’m sure GPD and the FBI are watching the house and following you.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’ll send a friend by the dental office early tomorrow morning.”

  “I have a meeting at 7:30 and then back-to-back appointments. At lunch I can run by the bank.”

  “Okay, look for a pickup in the afternoon.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not giving you a name. That way you’re innocent. The person will say, ‘Dylan recommended you for a cleaning.’ Then he’ll ask to complete the paperwork. Wrap the money up in it.
”

  Silvia’s stomach soured. “This is hard, Dylan. You’ve been accused of murder. Police officers and the FBI won’t leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry. This will be over soon. Don’t tell Warren anything. I don’t like you seeing him.”

  “He’s good to me.” She refused to break down and cry. Too many tears had been shed and nothing resolved.

  “You’re too good for him. You can do a whole lot better than Warren Livingston.”

  He hung up, and she couldn’t stop shaking.

  “I assume you can’t tell me anything,” Warren said. “But I’m here for you. Always have been and always will be.”

  She buried her face in his chest. Dylan was jealous. Warren held her close, and she treasured his strong arms around her. “What would I do without you?”

  “Marry me and let me take care of you.”

  29

  JON HAD WALKED INTO TRAGEDIES in the past and hoped the search for Elena James didn’t add another victim to the list. The probable danger hung heavy in his mind.

  “This might not end well for the James family,” Leah said. “I don’t have a feel for Elena’s personality because we’ve been given contradictory descriptions of her.”

  “In my opinion, Elena is a little more street-smart than her parents believe. But if she’s naive and acting on emotion, we’re looking at a dangerous situation.” He started the engine and followed Richard James’s silver Mercedes. “Let’s just hope we find her or she shows up in the morning.” But his gut told him otherwise.

  They maneuvered through the soggy streets of Galveston to Stewart Beach, known for its family-friendly atmosphere. At 12:50 a.m., the area had been closed for hours. Richard James parked his car near the entrance and Jon pulled in behind him.

  Jon stepped from the rental into the continuing downpour. He and Leah shut their doors.

  Richard James panned the deserted beach. Even in the faint light, Jon saw his features were drawn. “Her red Nissan isn’t here. She told her mother about spending the night with a girlfriend. But we don’t know who.” His attention moved across the street. “She likes the vegetarian pizza at Mario’s. It’s walking distance from here. I’m going to check.”

  “We’ll come with you, sir,” Jon said.

  “Because you have questions for Elena?” He stepped closer to Jon, a challenge rooted in a father’s fear.

  “Our priority is your daughter’s safety.”

  He ran his hand through rain-soaked hair. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated, then stuck out his hand. “I appreciate your helping me find Elena.”

  Jon grasped it firmly. “Let’s see if your daughter is nearby.”

  The three fell into step and crossed the street.

  “Has this kind of disappearance occurred before?” Leah’s question was soft, caring.

  “No. We’ve always known where she was . . . until tonight. Even at college—she’ll be a junior this fall at A&M—she keeps us informed of everything. Texts and phone calls to tell us about her day and what she’s doing. She drives home most weekends. Says she misses us. Has never given us an ounce of trouble.” He gazed around them. “Earlier in the summer she worked as a counselor at our church’s youth camp.”

  Since the parents had been unaware of their daughter’s relationship with Dylan, chances were she’d hidden other things from them. Poor decisions always caught up with people.

  At the restaurant, several young people crowded around tables, but none were Elena. Richard didn’t recognize any of them to ask about his daughter, and none of the staff had seen her. He phoned his wife and learned she hadn’t heard from their daughter either.

  With no other immediate leads to follow, there was no reason to remain in Galveston any longer.

  “Richard—” Jon gave him his business card—“Leah and I need to drive back to Houston. Please contact one of us when you hear from your daughter. Never mind the hour. She may return home in the morning as she promised your wife.”

  They shook hands again, and Richard thanked them.

  It was nearing 1:30 a.m. when Jon drove back to the Houston office, where Leah could pick up her car. Although tired, his mind sped with the day.

  After twenty minutes of silence between them, he spoke up. “Can we make our list for tomorrow?”

  “Good idea. I’m about to fall asleep while trying to figure out what we’re missing.” She reached for her phone. “First on the agenda?”

  “Meet at the office at 8 a.m. Work through the mound of information and interviews on the drive to Galveston. What do you think? I’ll bring coffee.”

  “Wonderful.” She sounded like he’d given her a puppy.

  “Good. Should have reports and backgrounds by then. The only thing I see interrupting our plans is if Dylan or Elena are found.”

  30

  THURSDAY MORNING LEAH FOUND Jon outside Houston’s FBI offices, leaning against a black Dodge pickup with a supersize coffee in each hand. When had he picked up the truck? Dressed in a gray sports jacket, he looked almost as good as he had in his camo pants and T-shirt, not that she’d tell him.

  She grasped the offered cup, and their fingers brushed. Her heart flipped like a middle school girl’s, but she had no time or interest in a relationship.

  Get yourself focused on the murders in Galveston and off Jon.

  Jon toasted her with the cup in his left hand. “Still your fave agent?”

  “Today you outrank all the others.” Why was she flirting?

  He grinned, and she allowed a smile to meet his. “Got us a new ride. Picked it up a few minutes ago.”

  “What’s wrong with my Camaro?”

  “Consider what happened—”

  “Never mind.” She loved her car, and picturing it broken like Jon’s truck didn’t sit well, even if that meant he was going to drive. “How long until your truck is fixed?”

  He huffed. “A couple of weeks. Are you ready to hit the road?”

  She let the hot brew flow through her veins and fire up brain cells. “Ready to end this.”

  Within two minutes, they were driving south to Galveston.

  “Did you see the ME’s report about the blood on Judge Mendez’s knuckles being his own?” Jon said. “I was hoping for a lead.”

  “Neither were there any hits on the trace DNA from the cigarette butts found at the crime scene. Do we have any good news?”

  “Your coffee.”

  “You’re right. I saw the FBI had cleared those on Rachel Mendez’s list of any involvement in her husband’s death. As well as those who’d completed community service at St. Peter’s. Except Dylan Ortega.”

  “I requested an FBI follow-up for both lists. Hard to believe none of them were acquainted with Dylan.”

  She worked through reports on her laptop during the ride to Galveston. Nothing substantial to give an indication the case would unravel soon.

  On the island, Jon pulled through a Chick-fil-A for more coffee and breakfast biscuits. He drove to the far eastern tip of the island and parked. Sort of a breakfast picnic while working. Once she stepped from the truck, a light breeze bathed her face.

  “This is perfect.” She breathed in the salty air.

  “You mean being alone with me?”

  She tossed him her best frown. “I mean our temporary office.”

  He held up a blanket. “I brought this.”

  She helped him spread out the blanket and then laid her laptop case and shoulder bag down. “Do we have an update on Elena?”

  “Haven’t heard a thing.”

  They opened their laptops and each grabbed a biscuit. “Jon, if the Jameses receive a ransom notice, they’d most likely be warned not to contact law enforcement.”

  “The Venenos haven’t used kidnapping in the past. But if our theory is correct and we’re not actually dealing with the real Veneno gang . . . anything’s possible.” He took a generous bite of his breakfast.

  “I think we need another face-to-face with Olivia James.”<
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  He agreed and polished off one biscuit before she unwrapped hers.

  Within forty-five minutes, she and Jon were standing in front of the Jameses’ door. Olivia James answered the doorbell. At the sight of them, she paled. “Have you heard from Elena?”

  “No, ma’am,” Leah said. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

  “Yes. I’d hoped for better news. This isn’t like Elena.” Olivia motioned for them to come inside. Weariness etched lines at the corners of her eyes, and her face was puffy.

  “We won’t be long,” Leah said. “Have you received a ransom call or note?”

  Olivia startled. “No, not at all. Richard is filing a missing person report at the police station. Thank goodness Texas doesn’t have a twenty-four-hour waiting period.”

  That meant Elena’s name and photograph would be entered into the National Crime Information Center, available to all law enforcement.

  “Give Elena time. She’s of age and may be with friends.”

  “I keep telling myself that, but I’ve called every person I can think of.”

  A knot twisted in Leah’s stomach. The likelihood of finding the young girl alive dwindled by the hour. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Olivia nodded. “This is the most difficult trial of my life.”

  Jon’s phone chimed and he turned away to check it.

  Leah reached out to lay a sympathetic hand on Olivia. “We’ll stay in touch.”

  As Jon drove them back into Galveston, Leah downloaded the latest reports from the FIG. “We have Silvia Ortega’s phone records.”

  “Two mothers grieving over their kids. Sad situation.” Jon shook his head.

  She shivered. Focusing on the data would be a welcome diversion. She pulled up the report listing numbers, dates, times, and if the call had been inbound or outbound. The FIG had matched up numbers with names and indicated three were burner phones. “Father Gabriel is listed. Rachel Mendez, Elena James, Silvia’s work number, and a man by the name of Warren Livingston. His name is on the list of St. Peter’s members.”

  “What’s the point of sale for the burner phones?”