Page 104 of Fatal Strike
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 him 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 8a.m. meeting withAmanda 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.”
