Page 49 of Fatal Strike
“The church is where lost and hurting souls can find peace. People need easy entry to God’s house. I’m not worried—God’s looking after me.”
It was pointless to insist on offering aid where it was so clearly being declined. Jon and Leah stood. “Be safe. Do not hesitate to contact GPD or us. God works through other people.”
Father Gabriel smiled. “I get the message.”
If the priest wasn’t more careful, he’d be the next victim.
Jon chose to remain in St. Peter’s parking lot for their temporary office.
“Father Gabriel’s a fool,” he said.
“Be that as it may, we can’t force the man into protection.” Leah peered at her phone. “The FIG dug up another connection between our three victims.”
It was a case in which Greer had made the arrest, Trevelle prosecuted, and Judge Mendez ruled in favor of the prosecution.
Jon read over her shoulder. Will Rawlyns had been arrested for manslaughter at a local bar and was now serving time at the Wayne Scott Unit near Angleton. No gang affiliation, at least when he entered the system, but prison guards contended he’d joined the Texan Warlords. Recently he was diagnosed with stage4 lung cancer. “He was sentenced to the same facility asDylan.”
“We need to talk to him today,” Leah said. “He’s definitely tangled with a few snakes, the two-legged kind.”
“He could toss us a bone. What does he have to lose with cancer counting off his days?”
His phone alerted him to a call. He didn’t recognize the number. “Colbert.”
“FBI Agent Jon Colbert?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My name’s Warren Livingston. I own a souvenir shop along Seawall Boulevard in Galveston and a six-unit apartment building. Chief of Police Everson suggested contacting you and gave me your name and number. He said the FBI was working with them regarding the Venenos’ crimes.”
“How can I help?” Livingston had been on Silvia’s cell phone records.
“I received a call from a man who said he was a Veneno. Told me I’d refused to rent an apartment to a gang member. The man accused me of working for the cops against the Venenos. Threatened to torch my apartment building, my shop, and my home unless I agreed to a $100,000 payoff.” Livingston talked faster with each word.
This new crime diverged from past Veneno activity.
Livingston continued. “I told this guy I didn’t cower to threats, and he told me I’d regret it. Now I realize I could be the next victim in this rage of murders.”
Why pressure a landlord? “Mr. Livingston, where are you?”
“My store.”
“Agent Riesel and I are in Galveston. We can be there within the hour. Can you give me an address?”
Livingston offered the addresses of the souvenir shop, apartment building, and his home, along with his cell phone number.
Jon touched End and explained the call. “The Venenos are expanding their crimes. I want to drive by his home and apartment building before stopping by his store.”
“Why would they care about getting an apartment at that complex versus another place?”
He shook his head. “Looks like an excuse to extort money.”
32
LEAH ADMIRED THE LIGHT-BLUE,white-shuttered, coastal-style apartment building belonging to Warren Livingston. Pink oleanders, Galveston’s trademark blooming bush, lined both sides of the building. His home across the street was of similar style trimmed in darker-blue shutters, built to withstand the worst of winds and high enough to avoid flooding.
They exited the truck and walked around the apartment building and then Livingston’s home. Quiet. No activity. Not even kids playing. They headed to Livingston’s shop.
While Jon drove, Leah scrolled through her phone. “Livingston’s a prominent businessman. No arrests. Community supporter. A member of St. Peter’s—another link.”
