by DiAnn Mills
“I’ve been bitten by a rattlesnake,” she said between shoots of pain. After reciting her address, she fought nausea and stumbled to unlock the door in case she fainted.
Her mind ran through first aid training. Remain calm so as not to increase blood circulation and risk the spread of poison.
Few people died from rattler bites.
Wash the area. She stepped over snake parts and ran warm water in the sink. After pumping soap onto her hands, she gingerly washed her swollen hand and used handfuls of water to rinse. Thank goodness she seldom wore rings or bracelets. She tossed a glance back at the snake’s severed head, fangs still ready to unleash venom.
Acid rose in her throat. She craved water and reached into the cabinet for a glass. Dizziness attacked her. Thirst and low blood pressure were some of the symptoms. After she downed the water, her stomach revolted and the contents came back up with a vengeance.
She lifted her injured hand and immediately dropped it back into the sink. Must keep the injury below the heart level. No ice.
What had she forgotten?
Where were the paramedics?
What if the hospital had depleted their supply of antivenom?
She struggled to keep her eyes open and slid to the floor. The snake’s open mouth seemed to move forward.
54
JON HEARD HIS PHONE RING while hot water from the shower flowed over his tired body. After Leah had left, he’d spent two more hours outside cleaning up around his home. Time to take more interest in his home. He’d walked an area behind his back porch for a potential pool location.
His phone rang a second and third time. Reaching for the towel, he dried his hands and grabbed the device. “Jon Colbert.”
“Jon, this is SAC Thomas. Leah’s at Houston Methodist Hospital, the Fannin location. Rattlesnake bite.”
Chills swept over him. The Venenos. “What happened?”
“Not sure. She called 911 for help from her home. When the paramedics arrived, she’d passed out. She’s regained conscious—”
“Was she bitten or injected with venom?”
“Bitten.”
“How did a rattler get inside her apartment? Never mind. I’m on my way.” He held the phone between his chin and shoulder while using the towel to finish drying his body. Leah’s fear of snakes had risen a hundred notches.
“She’s in a private room with agent protection. The hospital and the agents guarding her room are expecting you. Contact me after you see her,” SAC Thomas said. “I’m sending a team to sweep her apartment and find the snake. I’ve checked and her complex has security cameras.”
Jon laid the phone on the bathroom counter. Who found out where Leah lived and put a rattler inside her apartment?
Within five minutes, Jon was backing his truck out of his garage and heading into town. Sunday evening traffic had dwindled, and he’d make good time to the medical center.
She’d told him this week, “I’d rather face a dozen armed bad guys than one snake.”
Poisonous snakebites were dangerous, but most people recovered if antivenom was administered within two hours. How long had she lain there before the paramedics arrived? How many times had she been bitten?
Slow down. Doctors were handling her care. There was nothing he could do now anyway. Hanson’s words whispered in his mind—“No need to feel helpless when God is guiding your way.”
God, I haven’t felt this scared since the fire. Take care of Leah, okay?
At the hospital, he approached the nurses’ station, and a pleasant young woman led him to Leah’s room, where two plainclothes agents guarded her door. Jon presented his ID to the agents and they verified his information. Jon shook hands with each man and thanked them for protecting his partner. Jon turned to the nurse.
“She’s going to be fine,” the nurse said. “But the side effects of the antivenom have made her nauseous.”
“Will she be released soon?”
“The doctor wants to watch her for the next few hours to make sure the vomiting stops and there are no allergic reactions to the medication.”
Relief flooded his veins. He’d sit with her until the doctor gave the all clear and offer his rental truck as taxi service. Given her snake phobia, she might prefer a hotel rather than returning to her apartment. Jon opened the door and stepped inside the room. Leah’s bluish lips startled him.
“Hey, partner.” He stared into her pale face. Thank God, she was alive. And he told Him so.
“Who gave up my hideaway?”
Weak but alert. Good. “SAC Thomas.” An IV trickled into a vein.
She nodded with half-mast eyes. “He’s listed as an ER contact.”
“I’m supposed to phone him after I hear your story.” He wrapped his hand around hers.
“Why did you send flowers with a cheesy note?”
Had they drugged her? “I didn’t send you anything.”
“I know.” She opened her copper-colored eyes. “Found out too late.”
He shook his head. “Back up. What do flowers have to do with a rattler in your apartment?”
She closed her eyes.
“Are you going to be sick?” He slid a look at the metal emesis basin.
“I hope not. How disgusting.” She frowned. “The snake was in the flower box.” She told him about the delivery and what happened after she was bitten. “I didn’t get a name from the deliveryman. About your height, young, blond hair.”
“Your apartment complex has security cameras. We’ll get him.”
She reached for a cup of ice, and he helped her.
His thoughts raced over her story. “You killed the snake with a knife?”
“It’s in pieces on my kitchen floor. I imagine my apartment looks gruesome.” She paused. “I’ll never be afraid of snakes again. Respect and caution but not fear.”
He wanted to shout if not for the hospital. “You destroyed your phobia.” He bent and brushed a kiss across her lips. “This is a congratulations kiss.”
“Nice.” Her face softened, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. “I suppose SAC Thomas has agents on this,” she said.
“As we speak, they’re sweeping your apartment.”
“It’s gruesome. But what about your place? A lot more areas to stick a rattler.”
“Those guys don’t want to mess with me.”
She bit her lip but a smile still escaped. “Those guys have no idea what a snakebit sniper can do.” She breathed in deeply. “I’m miserable company. Why don’t you head on home? Once this IV finishes, the doctor will release me.”
“Nope.” He drew up a chair to her bedside. “I’m staying until the doctor says you can go home.”
“It’ll be a while.”
“I sleep best in a chair.” He studied her. “What did the note with the flower box say?”
She huffed. “It wasn’t worth a rattler’s bite.” She glanced at the dripping IV. “If you’re going to stay, then I guess it’s my turn to spill my guts.”
“Slicing up a rattler has given you courage.”
“Or paralyzed my mind.” She breathed deeply in and out. “I’ll do my best.”
He squeezed her hand lightly and held it.
“I’m the oldest of seven siblings, six adopted brothers and sisters.”
“Impressive. Are the adopted siblings related?”
“Some.”
“Your parents must have big hearts,” he said.
“They’re great people.”
Her dry comment hinted at family issues. “Are you close?”
“They live in Brooklyn.”
“I bet holidays and family get-togethers are loud and fun.”
“Yes to the loud part, but it’s been years since I’ve been home.” She tilted her head. “My fault. I think because I never understood the adoptions or many of their actions.”
“Families have their problems, Leah. I’m listening.”
She told him how her parents had chosen to adopt hard-to-pl
ace children, their expectations for her, and how she’d resented and rebelled against them when life seemed unfair. “Looking back, I can see my faults more clearly . . . and have a better understanding of what they were thinking.” She glanced away, then back to him. “But the night I graduated from high school, I packed my suitcase and made sure my parents knew I hated them for adopting my siblings. I left and never returned. Worked hard to do well in college, applied to Quantico, and here I am, a loner filled with regret.”
“Ever try to contact them?”
“Many times, but I always hung up instead of talking. Except the day of Judge Mendez’s prayer service. I talked to my dad. Apologized.” She sighed. “It ended badly.”
“That took guts.” His new faith mere hours old, Jon had experienced only a small taste of the power of prayer. He didn’t have the credentials to speak about God until he had a little more experience. But a nudging pushed him forward anyway. “God helps.”
“If I thought so, I’d have a room full of preachers.”
His phone summoned him with an incoming call, an unfamiliar number. “Jon Colbert.”
“This is Ross Kempler. We need to talk.”
55
JON SENSED LEAH STUDYING HIM. “Sure, Mr. Kempler. We can talk now.” He tossed his attention to Leah, who’d obviously picked up on the name by her focus.
“I would prefer a face-to-face meeting.”
“I’ll be in Galveston in the morning.”
“Is it possible to meet tonight? At your office?”
“I’m at Houston Methodist with Agent Riesel.” Jon kept his eyes on Leah. At her go-ahead, he explained the situation. “She’s receiving treatment for a rattler bite.”
“Veneno attack?” His voice rose.
Jon touched her cheek. His partner’s encounter with a rattler had scared him. “Something like that. But they underestimated her.”
Kempler blew out air. “Agent Colbert, I’m able to provide insight into this case. This is about my relationship with Judge Mendez.”
“Let me know when you arrive. Agent Riesel is here under an assumed name.”
“Look for me in about an hour.” Kempler clicked off.
Jon moved to the window and gazed at the lit parking lot.
“What’s going on?” Leah said.
“The tides are turning.” He turned to her. “Kempler’s driving here to talk about Judge Mendez.”
“To the hospital?” She appeared to roll the thought around in her head. “Interesting. His conscience must be bothering him.”
He studied her as she seemed to grimace in pain.
“Don’t frown, Agent Colbert. I’m okay. I remembered I was supposed to call a social worker about Will Rawlyns’s son. Would you hand me my phone?”
“Is that necessary?”
She glared, and he reached for her device. The call lasted all of two minutes. The social worker would do all she could to expedite the situation with Will Rawlyns Jr.
An hour and ten minutes later, Ross Kempler arrived at the hospital. Jon met him in the foyer and escorted him to Leah’s room. Once inside, Jon closed the door.
“I’m grateful you were willing to see me tonight.” Kempler walked to Leah’s bedside. “I’m sorry to hear about your unfortunate encounter with a rattler.”
“Let’s just say this case got a whole lot more personal now.”
Kempler nodded, then got quickly to the point of his visit. “As you two remember, I claimed ignorance of information about Judge Mendez’s death. I’ve discussed things with my family, and we’ve decided I should share what I know about the private investigation that Judge Mendez, Ian Greer, and Marcia Trevelle were conducting. Since the judge’s funeral, I’ve wrestled with bringing criminals to justice and gut-wrenching fear for my family. This morning in church I was convicted to help you.”
Jon pointed to a lone chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
“I’m a lawyer. Do my best work on my feet.”
Jon chuckled to rid the room of stress. “Can I record our conversation?”
“No. This information is a means to run with the investigation. When it comes to a court of law, I’ll be the first witness.” He rubbed his face, lined with wisdom and experience. “If the Venenos have any indication of what I’m about to say, I’ll be the next victim.”
“Your family’s safety is a priority. Should you require protection, don’t hesitate to inform either of us,” Jon said.
“Appreciate it. Last month, Officer Ian Greer stopped a man for running a red light. He discovered a stash of OxyContin, Percocet, and Ambien in the front seat. Real stupid. The man confessed to dealing but didn’t know the name of the guy who supplied the drugs. Communication went through texts on a burner phone that he didn’t have with him. Greer arrested the man. Next day he paid bail and a day later, he was found dead. By the time Greer gained access to the man’s apartment, it had been ransacked. But Greer was able to trace the drugs he confiscated to a warehouse near Dallas. They’d been stolen nine months before the arrest.”
“Molston Pharmaceuticals in Beyero, Texas?”
“The same.”
“We have a man in custody under similar charges, only we weren’t able to confiscate any drugs, and none were found in his apartment. He claims to be a Veneno.”
“The one you arrested at Judge Mendez’s funeral?” When Jon nodded in confirmation, Kempler sighed. “He didn’t look familiar to me. Anyway, Greer discussed the situation with Judge Mendez and Marcia Trevelle. Both men were determined to get to the bottom of the murder. Trust me, the judge received his reputation honestly. When he chased a criminal or a situation, he stayed on the path until he resolved it. And Trevelle had the same dogged personality as Greer and the judge. But they came up essentially empty. The three learned Galveston was the second place the confiscated drugs had shown up, and a lot more were missing—to the tune of several million dollars on the street.”
That lined up with what Jon had learned.
Kempler paced the floor. “After Officer Greer’s body was found, the judge got worried. He told me Chief Everson had contacted the FBI for assistance, and the judge supported the decision. He said he had evidence in a safe place but not enough for law enforcement to make arrests.”
“Do you have the evidence? Know where it is?”
He shook his head. “I’ve looked.”
The FBI had swept Judge Mendez’s home and office. “Was Judge Mendez a paper kind of guy or flash drive?”
“Both.”
“If you haven’t found the proof, it’s unlikely the killers have either.”
“Whatever those three discovered went to their graves.”
Jon needed to think through this. “Why keep the details between the three of them? The stolen drugs had been reported to law enforcement. Everson would have known about them.”
Kempler maintained an impassive look.
A thought punched Jon in the gut. “There’s a dirty cop on the force.”
Kempler held up his hand as if to forestall the question he knew was coming next. “All I’ve heard is a rumor.”
Jon wrapped his arms around his chest. “Is Everson protecting one of his guys?” He yanked his phone from his pocket and pressed in Everson’s number. The police chief answered on the first ring. “Jon Colbert here. I need information.”
“Depends on what you’re asking.”
The response didn’t ease Jon’s mind about Everson’s withholding information. “Do you have any reason to suspect that one of your officers might be behind the murders?”
“What?”
“You heard me. We think someone in your department might be involved with these gang hits.”
Everson swore, and Jon could practically hear the man’s blood boiling. “You can’t believe everything you hear, Colbert, and especially not the lies of a junkie like Kantore.”
“Are you certain? Do you know more about the off-the-books case than you’ve shared with the FBI?”
“Yes, I’m certain. Those three had no proof of anything or they’d have brought it to me.”
Jon lowered his voice. “Then why were they killed?”
“Listen,” Everson said, fury evident in his tone, “I’m going to find who killed Marcia. And it won’t be one of my guys.”
“You’re not a one-man army.”
“Watch me.” Everson disconnected.
Jon slid his phone back inside his pocket and relayed the conversation.
Leah spoke up. “It’s probably a long shot, but Mrs. Greer might have insight.”
Jon searched through his contacts and soon had Mrs. Greer on the line.
“No, Ian never confided in me about his job,” Mrs. Greer said. “He wouldn’t have told me if he suspected a fellow officer.”
“Do you think Chief Everson might be protecting someone on the force?”
“Absolutely not. If what you’re saying is true, and a GPD officer is involved in my husband’s death, Zachary would be the first in line to take him down.”
“Thanks for the information.” Once again, Jon pocketed his phone and told Leah and Kempler the conversation.
“So it all comes down to this evidence the judge had.” Leah attempted to sit up, but Jon was instantly at her side.
“You can talk and rest at the same time.”
“My partner’s a helicopter.” She gave him what he would classify as an irritated glare, but he ignored it. She spoke to Kempler. “You’re still looking for it, right?”
He nodded. “Somewhere there’s documentation, or he wouldn’t have said so.”
Jon deliberated the info. “The number of people Judge Mendez might trust is small, but I imagine it would probably include his wife and Father Gabriel. But if he refused to confide in you, then he certainly wouldn’t risk their lives.”
“I agree. We need to search where we least expect.” Kempler drew in a breath. “The Venenos will be after the next person who might have the evidence. Maybe even me.”
“Rachel Mendez,” Leah said. “Everson already has officers assigned 24-7. Can we replace them with agents until this is settled? I’m not suggesting any of GPD are crooked, but I’d like to insist she take more precautions.”
