Page 25 of Fatal Strike
He removed the tea bag from his cup. Looked like coffee. “In her early fifties. Married. Grown daughters. Lucinda never forgets a face.”
“Did she know Greer or Trevelle?” Leah said.
Their breakfast was set before them, and Father Gabrielasked God to bless their food and their time together. He crossed himself. “You asked if Lucinda was acquainted with the other victims, and I’m not sure.”
While the three ate breakfast, Jon’s thoughts centered on how to stop a string of deaths ... and where Father Gabriel’s new information would take them.
The priest laid down his fork. “Agent Colbert, you’re honest and to the point. I’m a man of God above all things. My vow of obedience means the church comes before anything else in my life. Serving my members and the community is my priority. I’m responsible to spiritually guide those within my flock, and I will denounce this violence from the pulpit. I’ll contact the local newspaper and a Houston TV station with a plea for anyone who has information to step forward. I want people to know all are welcome at St. Peter’s, Catholic or otherwise, to have absolution of their sins through the sacrament of confession.”
“Thank you.” Jon toyed with the handle of his coffee cup. “I commend you for your devotion. I understand forgiveness, but have you forgotten the threat on your life?”
“I’m offering God’s grace. I encourage forgiveness, mercy, and an opportunity to secure lasting peace with our heavenly Father. I’m a priest, not a member of law enforcement or the judicial community. God will render His justice to those responsible.”
The conversation stepped close to mirroring yesterday’s, but Jon understood distancing himself from the priest wasn’t wise. “If you’re made aware of a name or a possible dangerous situation outside your vows, will you help us?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Jon filed the conversation in his memory bank. Would be interesting to see how the chief of police viewed the priest’s style of cooperation.
17
JON AND LEAH SAID THEIR GOOD-BYESto Father Gabriel and left the Sunflower Cafe to talk in his truck. Their discussion needed to be in private.
“Glad we had an opportunity to talk to Father Gabriel,” she said.
“Thoughts?” Now that they didn’t have an audience, Jon was eager to get Leah’s take on the man.
“I’m weighing his words and attempting to balance them with my lack of understanding of Catholicism. Regardless of how we feel about him or his odd means of stopping crime, he has agreed to help.”
“Which makes his position dangerous,” Jon said. “He’s walking too close to the middle of the road where neither law enforcement nor the gang can fully trust him. He’ll assist us while wanting to talk down a killer first.”
“Solo takedowns normally have bad results. And I doubt he carries a weapon.”
“I don’t want him dead. He’s a shepherd to his community.” Jon tapped the steering wheel. “If he follows the gang’s instructions, he’s not supposed to talk to cops. If they’re keeping tabs on him, they’re aware of where he was this morning. I should have considered that my invitation to join us exposed him to danger. Not my intention. I hate to think he has a confirmed death sentence—all for a venture of spreading love like a sixties flower child and helping us at the same time. Bet a steak dinner he’s trying to locate Dylan on his own.”
“GPD hasn’t put a surveillance team on him, but we can,” she said. “Might keep him alive or lead us in the right direction.”
“I’ll request surveillance if you’ll check for updates,” he said.
They had plenty of time before meeting Chief of Police Everson at 11:00. Until then, they needed to clarify a few things with Rachel Mendez. Leah called her and paved the way for a second interview.
Jon backed out of the parking spot at the café. “I’m beginning to wonder what the Venenos are all about. The lack of gang markings and online activity bothered me right from the start.”
“Are you thinking more about my idea that thereconquistamantra is a cover-up?”
“Strong possibility. Worth digging deeper and keeping our eyes open. The men watching us at Silvia Ortega’s stood where I couldn’t identify them.”
“I didn’t see all of them clearly either. I assumed.”
“We might have profiled the Venenos without evidence,” he said. “As a man who’s proud of his heritage, I don’t want to be guilty of shoving others into a hole because of ethnicity.”
“I see where you’re going.” She paused. “The call to Father Gabriel was in English.”
His gut told him he was on to something. Investigators hadn’t made any arrests that led to intel on the gang. The noise came from the gang, and law enforcement and media were swallowing it. He needed to look for the obscure, the ultimate moneymaker.
Jon whipped his truck behind a GPD cruiser parked in the Mendez driveway.
“Rachel likes you, and you made a good impression with her little girl. Why don’t you ask the questions?” he said. “If it looks like she’d rather talk to me, I’ll step in.”
