Page 14 of Fatal Strike
Elena sighed. “Dylan and I met secretly. My parents wouldn’t have approved.”
“It’s urgent that we talk to him,” Leah said. “Can you think of any place he might be now?”
The girl drew in an audible breath. “Even if I could tell you where he was, I wouldn’t. I know why you want to talk to him, but he would never do anything to harm someone else.” She hung up.
“How did it go?” Jon kept his eyes on the road.
“Not good. We need an interview. I’ll add a subpoena for her phone records and run a background. Once word gets around that Dylan is wanted as a person of interest, he’ll be smart enough not to use his cell phone to contact Elena or his mother. But he might pick up another phone.”
9
GALVESTON POLICE ANDan unmarked car blocked the rear parking lot of St. Peter’s. Jon studied the church building, gray stones that had weathered hurricanes and dissension. A cross pointed up to a dreary sky. Crime scene tape at the back door marked where the body of Judge Mendez had been found with a dead rattler poised across his chest and an injection of most likely venom to his heart. The gang had branding down to a deadly template.
Jon and Leah exited the truck and presented their IDs to a police officer, a rail-thin man in his midthirties. While he ran a report on their creds, Jon recognized Rex, an agent from the Houston office, who came up to the officer.
“These two are ours. Ignore how they’re dressed.” Rex wiped the sweat dripping down his square face. “Both can be a pain.”
Jon shook his hand. “I resemble that, but Leah’s a crack shot, and I don’t want to cross her.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t forget it.”
“You both are scary with a sniper rifle.” Rex introduced Jon and Leah to the officer. “We’re covering every inch of the steps and landing, including where we believe the car was parked.” The agent pointed to two other officers and a second agent sweeping the area.
The officer returned Leah’s and Jon’s IDs. “Saw the news report identifying Dylan Ortega as a person of interest in this case.” He shook his head. “Too bad the witness didn’t get a license plate number.”
“The witness thinks they were driving a Mustang. And we have a BOLO out for Ortega now.” Jon fumed over the leak to the media. “Would you know how the news got wind of the suspect’s name?”
The officer held up his palm. “Not me. Whoever tipped off the media was an idiot.”
Jon believed the officer. Too late anyway. The damage had been done.
The officer’s radio alerted him to a call, and he took it, moving to a secluded corner of the church’s parking lot.
Jon glanced over the bottlebrush bushes to the Whitson home, then back to Rex. “Have you found anything?”
“Hard to say,” the agent said. “Is the witness reliable?”
“No reason to doubt him.”
Leah walked to the tape line and bent to the pavement where the car most likely had been parked. She snapped a pic and looked up at Rex. “I’m sure you and these officers have plenty of tread mark images, but one more won’t hurt. We could get lucky and find a match among hundreds of other vehicles.” Shestraightened. “Paint chips would be a gift. But all I see is sand, which sticks to every vehicle in Galveston.”
Jon stood approximately where the trunk would have been. The judge was muscular, would have required more than one man to lift him from the trunk. Jon searched the concrete. Abutton, clothing fibers, blood, anything with DNA to help find the killers.
Rex lifted a bottle of water to his lips. “We have a few things to bag: a beer can, potato chip and gum wrappers, and several cigarette butts. Must be the disposal spot before entering the church.”
“Get everything you can find,” Jon said. Half of a Marlboro cigarette wrapper lay at the edge of the concrete. Someone who’d been in the Ortega home smoked the same brand. And their DNA might be in the system. “Would you expedite an analysis on the cigarettes?”
“Sure.” Rex pointed to the side of the church. “There’s Father Gabriel. I imagine you two need to talk to him. Good luck. I have work to do.”
A man in black pants and a shirt with a white tab collar approached Jon and Leah. “Father Xavier Gabriel.” The priest extended his hand. “Are you police or FBI?”
Jon and Leah displayed their IDs, and Jon got right to the point. “We’d like to talk in private.”
The priest frowned. “Nothing’s changed since I talked to GPD’s Chief of Police Everson. Can’t we eliminate a second statement?”
“I’m sorry. We need a separate interview. The suspect is a member of this church.”
“I heard the news.” Father Gabriel’s forehead beaded in the blistering sun. “Come inside.”
