by DiAnn Mills
“Can you explain the circumstances around Dylan learning the truth?”
“He’d drifted into a bad crowd. Needed money and was looking through Silvia’s things for a few dollars. Found a whole lot more. When Silvia got home from work one afternoon, he had the adoption papers in his hand. After the confrontation, Silvia contacted Rachel.”
“Did Rachel and Dylan connect?”
“A couple of times. Dylan came to me, angry at both women. One woman had lied to him, and the other abandoned him. He no longer cared about either of them or himself. Soon after, he was arrested and served time. Dylan learned a lot about himself and life there. He was determined to be a better man. He reconciled with Silvia. Not sure if he ever had a meaningful conversation with Rachel.”
“Did Judge Mendez know about Dylan?”
“No idea. You’d have to ask Rachel, but then she’d know where you learned about the adoption.”
“Does it matter?” Leah said.
“I’m on Dylan’s side. Always have been. Silvia and Rachel are fine women who love God. Silvia believes in Dylan, loves him unconditionally. I do too. He’s the son I never had. With Rachel . . . she built a life without him, but experience is a wonderful teacher. Rachel serves the community, often guiding women to counseling and contributing to charities that help single mothers and their children.” She rose to her feet. “I’m finished. I hope my information helps.”
Adoption came full circle when Leah considered her parents, Terri, and now Silvia. She saw the struggles from all three scenarios. Why had these adoptions rolled into her life now? Dad used to say people grew to become productive members of society when they made mistakes, recovered, and moved forward.
Leah watched the Serranos walk away. She pulled up the Mendezes’ phone records and turned to Jon. “We need to talk to Rachel.”
“Now,” he said, his tone flat in a way Leah had come to recognize as no more games. “You stand a better chance of making headway.”
Rachel stood with her mother and children talking to Ross Kempler. Jon and Leah approached her.
“Can we talk privately?” Leah said.
Rachel’s cheeks were stained with tears. “Tonight?”
“Yes, please.” Leah gestured to the front pew.
Rachel made arrangements for her mother to take the children to the nursery area. She joined Leah and Jon at the front of the church. She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is incredibly difficult for me. Did you encounter any suspicious people tonight?”
“We learned new information that impacts the case.”
“What kind of information?”
“Dylan Ortega’s relationship to you.” Leah offered compassion in her words.
“I see,” Rachel said. “Lucinda must have told you. I suspected as much when I saw you talking to her. For the record, my husband knew the truth.”
“Was he told before your marriage?”
“No. We had a discussion Sunday afternoon.”
Why had Rachel waited so long? “How did he take the news?”
“Surprisingly well. He wanted to bring Dylan into our lives. We invited him to our house that evening and told him we were interested in being part of his life. Neither Nicolás nor I wanted to exclude Silvia. She was his mother.”
“How did Dylan respond?”
“He wanted time to think about it and discuss things with Silvia. He’d never hurt her. She has his heart, gave him what he needed when I was too selfish.”
“Then you talked to Dylan at 8:05 on Monday night.”
“I was checking on him after Sunday’s discussion, to find out if he’d made any decisions.”
“Rachel, did Dylan in any way indicate he was angry with you or the judge? Would he have retaliated against your family for hurting him?”
“I can’t imagine Dylan betraying our family in that way. My husband wouldn’t have initiated a relationship with Dylan if he believed my son was a criminal.” Rachel paused. “Neither my husband nor I would be foolish enough to risk our children’s lives.”
“I know Dylan is your son. I’ve seen your grief, and I understand you’re confused and shaken about him and the tragedies this week. But if you know where he is, we need that information.”
Rachel broke into a sob. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”
44
ALONE WITH FATHER GABRIEL in the huge sanctuary, the atmosphere felt spooky, as though the three of them were sharing the space with a paranormal being. Leah stifled the urge to shudder.
“The prayer service would have pleased the judge.” Father Gabriel broke the spell and glanced at Jon. “Is there something you needed? I have preparations to make for tomorrow’s funeral Mass and that list of names to finish compiling for you.”
“We’ll keep this brief,” Jon said. He got straight to the heart of the matter. “Mrs. Serrano shared a bit of history with us tonight.”
Father Gabriel gazed up at the statue of the suffering Jesus. “What kind of history?”
“Before Rachel left tonight, she confirmed Silvia Ortega’s adoption of Dylan.”
“His adoption has nothing to do with his alleged involvement with the judge’s murder.”
Jon frowned. “He was seen carrying the body of a man who’s married to his biological mother!”
“Look,” Father Gabriel said, “neither Rachel nor Silvia asked me to keep the adoption secret. I believe they assumed I would, but I kept the matter confidential for Dylan’s sake.”
Leah recalled his words at their first meeting. “Dylan needs someone to champion him.”
“What concerns me are a few important issues. Did he despise the judge because he was a father to Dylan’s half brother and sister? Did he loathe Rachel and want to destroy what she loved? Either of those scenarios implicate him in murder.”
“Agent Colbert, I’m finished discussing Dylan Ortega tonight.”
“Are you covering for him?”
“No. Emphatically. My desire is for all to come to love Jesus Christ. No sacrifice is too great. None.”
Leah could practically feel the heat of Jon’s simmering anger. She wasn’t going to rescue him. If he lost his temper with the priest, she’d stand by and listen.
“Are you sure? When you’re saying tonight’s prayers, ask God if you’re obeying His commands or nursing your pride.”
Jon drove toward Houston with Leah while his mind focused on a stubborn priest. Trying to get information out of Father Gabriel was like stumbling through a cornfield blindfolded. Once the funeral was over in the morning, he’d talk to the priest again and attempt to be civil. God might have shaken Father Gabriel into cooperating with law enforcement.
Calm down.
A statement from Hanson rolled through Jon’s mind. “Let God have His way with us. Choose to surrender.”
Father Gabriel said he was willing to sacrifice everything to bring others to Jesus Christ. Jon appreciated the priest’s commitment and passion, but not his foolhardiness. The priest shoved caution aside, putting his life in danger so others might find faith. But Jon saw the similarities in his own life in how he felt about keeping people safe from crime. As strange as it sounded, watching Father Gabriel respond to the turmoil around him was inching Jon closer to allowing God to rule his life—the sovereignty thing, as Hanson called it. Jon wanted a God who knew everything—the good, the bad, the ugly . . . and all the secret stuff in between.
“Are you okay?” Leah said.
“Will be. Analyzing Father Gabriel’s beliefs with my own. Respecting his faith in God is not the same as agreeing with him.”
“Do you think a lot about God?”
He thought more about Hanson and why his friend believed right up to his last breath. “I want to find out where I fit in the universe.”
“I grew up with morals, not about God but about the value of contributing positively to society. My grandmother took me to the Brooklyn Tabernacle, a church in New York, a few times, but it never really to
ok for me. When I think about Silvia’s faith and what Father Gabriel hasn’t told us, I have to wonder if these people just like to think they’re good.”
“People aren’t perfect. Just because they have faith doesn’t mean they don’t make mistakes.” He shrugged. “But since I’m not sure about the God thing either, I’m only quoting an old friend.”
“Let’s talk again when we’re finished with this case. I sound like I’m putting you off, but honestly Rachel has me analyzing everything she’s said. Do you suppose something happened between the judge and his wife after she revealed this information?”
“That would definitely be a motive if Judge Mendez refused to allow him to be a part of his own children’s lives. Was Rachel forced to choose between her son and her husband, and Dylan just cleaned up his mother’s mess?” He considered the complexity of the relationships involved. “What about Silvia Ortega? She never indicated friendship with Rachel Mendez. Would she be angry enough to retaliate against the judge for violating the adoption agreement?”
“Find Dylan and we can fill in the blanks.”
In the darkness, he shook his head. “You make this sound easy.”
“I’m doing the encourage-my-partner thing. We keep bumping against those who offer half-truths, those who value their feelings and priorities above solving three murder cases.”
Jon needed a break to clear his head. “Want to stop for dinner? I’m hungry.”
“If it’s quick. I’m exhausted with no resolution in sight.”
“What will it be? Burger and fries? Pizza?”
“Not pizza unless it’s authentic New York style. I’m terribly picky about hometown foods. But a grilled cheese from Sonic with tater tots is pure comfort food.”
“Good choice. There’s one at the next exit. Who’s buying?”
“Depends on how much you order.”
“I need a huge milk shake, two chicken sandwiches, and a cheeseburger. Large fries.”
“We’ll go dutch.”
He enjoyed their bantering, but would it last? “Before we do a date thing in the future, I need to discuss a few issues from my past.”
“If you knew mine, you’d run.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Back at home, as the clock neared 11 p.m., Jon’s mind couldn’t stop churning over how he’d lost his temper with Father Gabriel. He grabbed his Bible from the kitchen counter and turned to read more in the Gospel of John. He read the account of Jesus’ betrayal and arrest and the magnitude of love demonstrated at the cross. Sacrifice that knew no boundaries.
Jon’s gut burned, and not because he’d eaten so much. I messed up tonight. He snatched his phone and contacted Father Gabriel. The priest answered on the first ring. “This is Jon Colbert. I owe you an apology for tonight’s outburst. I was way out of line.”
“You were forgiven the moment you unleashed your feelings.”
Jon closed his eyes and bit his tongue. “Then we’re good.”
“You’re the better man. I should have taken the initiative since I’m guilty of the same offense. I should have told you about Dylan’s adoption. Kindly accept my apology.”
“Sure.”
“A few minutes ago, I read a quote from Mother Teresa about putting our foot in our mouth. ‘Follow the path of serenity. Why lose your temper if by losing it you offend God, trouble your neighbor, give yourself a bad time, and in the end have to set things aright anyway?’”
Jon smiled. “Truth.”
As he wrapped up the call, Peter’s denial of Jesus wouldn’t leave him alone. Jon reread the text, concentrating on how Peter had sworn allegiance, then lied through his teeth. Peter lived. Jesus died. Good old Peter must have faced a heavy dose of survivor guilt. Too bad the two of them couldn’t sit down and talk about sending good people to their deaths.
If Jon believed the Bible, Jesus came back to life and forgave Peter. Hanson and Chip weren’t afforded that kind of miracle. Would his friends have held a grudge against him for leading them to their deaths? How many times had Jon gone over the past and how he’d failed his friends? Hanson claimed Jon could have a new identity in Christ.
Jon scooted back the chair and walked outside onto the front porch. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and looked up at the millions of stars. Somebody designed the universe and put them into place, a Being much smarter than Jon.
“Truth,” Jon said again, coming to a point of surrender in himself.
He would have to email Claire and tell her the good news. Hanson now had a brother-partner in faith.
45
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Leah crawled into Jon’s rental truck. She moaned the hour. “We’re consistently in the dark, either going to Galveston or coming home. And today’s a funeral.”
“Someone needs her coffee.” Jon pointed to the large cups in the console, the smell of the brew wafting her way.
“Don’t placate me.” She scowled, but a smile crept through.
“But I’m right.”
“This time. Thanks for the coffee. It’s exactly what I need this morning to get my mind in gear. Any updates other than Elena and Dylan haven’t been found?”
“One, but it’s personal and has nothing to do with the case.”
“Don’t turn all Father Gabriel on me. Will it help make arrests?”
He patted the steering wheel. “Only in the eternal perspective.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I’m in a weird mood. First off this morning, we need to fuel up for the day.”
After a quick breakfast at the Sunflower Cafe, Jon and Leah made their way to the church. As the hour for Judge Mendez’s service approached, several FBI agents and GPD officers stationed themselves as part of a security perimeter around St. Peter’s. Only a fool would attempt a violent crime here today. And with three of the perpetrators dead, how many were left?
By 9:30, the sanctuary was at capacity, standing room only. While Leah devoted her attention to her assigned location, the same corner as the previous night, the number of people made her nervous. The heat index outside soared in the midnineties, and all the people inside the church caused the AC to work harder.
Father Gabriel emerged from a side room with Mrs. Mendez and her family. The children had changed from one black outfit to another. Poor kids. Losing their daddy and enduring the hours in church.
Isn’t this the best place for children?
Where did the random thought come from?
She kept her stance, earbud in place, with Jon and the other FBI agents in strategic locations. Beneath her jacket was her Glock. Leah scrutinized the people, all ages and races. The sermon seemed short, Father Gabriel talking about the death and resurrection of Jesus and how His death meant Judge Mendez would live forever in heaven.
Leah was puzzled when the priest performed some bread and wine rites. Had no idea what it meant, but she’d ask Jon later or look it up.
But her attention was immediately seized when a young man seated on an aisle stood and waved both arms. “This isn’t over. More people will die.”
46
WITH ONE HAND WRAPPED around his Glock, Jon rushed up the aisle from the rear of the church. Innocent people shoved together in pews on both sides of the aisle, their sobs of grief shifting to fear.
“Hey, man, is there a problem?” Jon said, noting the man had a recent bruise to the left side of his face and the wild light of a drug high emanating from his eyes. No visible weapon. “I can help.”
Agents and officers quickly moved to avoid panic and lead people out of the church.
“No one can help me. It’s gone too far.”
“I’d like to try.” He poured sincerity into his words. “Let’s talk outside where we can have privacy.”
“Who are you?” His crazed gaze darted about. “Why the gun?”
“FBI.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong. Just warning people. But I’m afraid.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Jo
n said. “Are you packing?”
“I’m not the one these people need to be afraid of.”
“I get it. What’s your name?”
“Henry Kantore.”
“I’m Jon.” He pointed to the aisle on his left. “Walk with me to the front, and we’ll talk in Father Gabriel’s office. No one is going to hurt you.”
The young man wrapped his arms around his chest. “Okay.”
Jon escorted him to the front of the church and cuffed him. No resistance. He caught Everson’s attention and silently let him know the situation was handled. Jon and Henry exited the sanctuary and walked down the hall to Father Gabriel’s office. The man smelled of days-old sweat. Jon heard the service continue with Father Gabriel’s booming voice and organ music. He assumed people were allowed to file back into the pews.
Inside the office, Jon seated himself across from Henry and opened the conversation. “You said you’re afraid. What’s going on?”
“The Venenos are after me.”
“Why?”
Henry sniffled and stared at the floor. “I refused to kill someone. Can’t do it.”
“Who?”
“Father Gabriel.”
“So then why are you here?”
“To warn people about what happens when they get in the Venenos’ way.”
“I see. Where did you meet up with the Venenos?”
“Four guys showed up at the body-repair garage where I work.”
“When was this?”
Henry scratched the back of his neck. “About a year ago.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“Nope.”
“They showed up at your work. Then what happened?”
“One of them asked if I’d look at his car. The battery wouldn’t keep a charge, and he thought it needed to be replaced.”
“What kind of car?”
“Mustang. Black. Newer model.”
“Do you remember the plates?”
“Never looked at ’em. If he’d left the car, then I’d have written it down.”
