Chapter 2

Six months earlier ~

Deadlines loomed, but Lela Cabelo was up to the task. In her role as one of the paralegals in the law office of Ortiz and Associates, she was trusted with high-profile cases. All morning, she’d methodically prepped for an upcoming meeting with the staff. Her desk was piled with paper and files, but she had each categorized. What might look like a mess was really organized documentation. Computers only went so far; sometimes hard copies were required.

Senator Raimundo M. Ortiz had dedicated his career to bringing about needed changes to the adult and juvenile criminal justice system in the state of Texas. Stronger enforcement and penalties for violent crime offenders was called for, while the constitutional rights of the individual should be protected.

That had been his campaign message, and his constituents had agreed with fervor. It had been the reason Lela had sought employment in the senator’s law office. After college, she’d aspired to becoming an FBI field agent, but her eyesight hadn’t been good enough. A childhood virus had compromised her vision enough to disqualify her.

Her ten-year marriage to Tomás had derailed her career, but she’d gotten back on track and had devoted four years to getting her degree before the split with him. Her husband hadn’t been keen on his wife working outside the home, which was one of the reasons for their breakup. With her degree, she’d had no trouble finding employment in her field.

If she couldn’t work for the FBI to catch the criminals, then she’d support legislation to protect the city from them. The violent crime rate in Houston was higher than for the rest of the state. It wasn’t hard to understand why. The Houston area was a major distribution hub for illegal drugs. Its major highways, access to waterways, and strong international trade made it a magnet for trafficking.

His role in the Texas legislature gave Senator Ortiz power to influence the drug problem for the better. Lela was inspired to support him, as well as to seek employment in his law office.

The senator’s devotion to constitutional law was another mark in his favor. As one of his paralegals, Lela had the opportunity to assist in causes she cared deeply about. It was a way that she could make a difference, and she needed that on many levels.

Currently, the crime issues garnered attention from key sectors. It was encouraging that federal, state, and local law enforcement collaborated to proactively fight violent crime across the greater Houston area. The goal was to reduce the amount of violent crime and improve the quality of life for the citizens.

It had been an intense morning. Lela was valued for her attention to detail, and she didn’t intend to disappoint the team. When it came to constitutional law, the little things mattered. And she was good at putting it all together in a clear picture.

The preparation was complete, except for making a few copies to hand out, so she took a coffee break. The office brew left much to be desired. No matter what blend was selected, or what new equipment was purchased, the coffee from the lunchroom tasted bitter.

Lela took the elevator to the lobby and ordered an Americano. She took a sip, relishing the fresh-roasted taste. Then her phone vibrated, so she checked the screen. It was her mother. Anyone else would have texted, but her mom wasn’t into that. She preferred to actually talk, claiming that she needed to hear her daughter’s voice, not stare at text on a screen.

She did have a point. Mariana Cabelo was in her early sixties, so it wasn’t likely she was going to change anyway. “Good morning, Mamá.”

“Good morning, mi hija. I’m sorry to interrupt your work.”

“I was just having a cup of coffee. What’s up?”

“You’re still coming this weekend, right?” Her mother’s tone indicated that saying no wasn’t an option.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lela really was. It was Cinco de Mayo, and each year her family had a big bash at her mother’s home. The day was a reason to have a party, something her family did well.

Her heart warmed at thoughts of her family. Lela had two older brothers, Mateo and Elias, and one younger brother, Ivan. They would be there with their wives and children. But that didn’t begin to account for the number of relatives who would be in attendance. Her mother’s sisters and their families were invited. Then there were countless cousins, nieces, and nephews.

“Bring a few extra bottles of wine,” her mother said. “You know better what the young people like to drink.”

“I’ll bring several bottles.”

“Your aunts and I have all the food taken care of.”

Lela was sure of that. Her mouth watered as she contemplated the vast array of festive dishes. There would be carnitas topped with queso fresco, pickled onions, and her mom’s homemade salsa. The ingredients would be wrapped in a homemade corn tortilla, lightly heated on a comal.

But Lela’s favorite, the treat she craved, was the lamb barbacoa that had been smoked underground in banana leaves. It was a tradition, and her family’s parties were the only occasions where she could get it made the right way.

“I should get back to work. I love you, Mamá…mucho.” After ending the call, Lela took her coffee up to the office, with a few minutes left to make copies for the meeting.

With time to spare, she entered the conference room and distributed the packets of data on the table. But her mind was someplace else. The verve she’d had for her job with the senator had fizzled. It had happened gradually, but recent discoveries had wiped out the admiration she’d had for her employer.

Her coworkers filed in, and the meeting lasted an hour or so. It was good that one of the associates directed the proceedings, leaving Lela to her thoughts. When it ended, she smiled and grabbed her stack of papers, wanting to return to the privacy of her office.

On the way, Lela bumped into her boss. He was by himself, going somewhere important, she was sure. Senator Ortiz was average height, medium build, and dressed the part of a prominent lawyer. The expensive suit and tie were a notch above what the rest of the associates wore, flaunting the senator’s status.

His dark hair was nicely groomed. The receding hairline and dusting of gray at the temples added a touch of sophistication. It was odd that when Lela had met him, she’d considered him handsome. She’d missed the perpetual smirk pasted on his face, and the left eyebrow that was raised, as though he was questioning.

But the goatee set off the image. The dark beard on his chin was closely trimmed, then a line of hair circled his mouth. The thin trail of hair went to his upper lip, across and down, to reconnect with the chin hair. It lent him a haughty air, though he needed little help with that.

“Ms. Cabelo,” the senator said as he strode by.

“Senator.” Lela kept her voice cordial, despite her distaste for the man.

Behind the closed door of her office, Lela dumped the paperwork on her desk and sagged into her chair. She looked at the various photos of her family, arranged in one corner, and reached out to touch one of the frames. It was a picture of her parents, taken before her father’s death.

Franco Cabelo had been a good cop, and had been in line for chief of police. The Houston PD was his life, his passion. All of Lela’s young life, she’d thought of her father as indestructible. He’d protect her and fight for what was right. She hadn’t doubted that.

Then her father had been gunned down in an alley. It was broad daylight, and he’d been making an arrest. He’d been known and respected for doing his part to reduce drug-related crime in the city. A thug had taken him out, and although the criminal had been prosecuted, that hadn’t brought her father back.

Lela ran her fingertip over the top of the gilded frame. “I love you, Papá. I miss you so much.” She’d blamed the drug cartel for her father’s murder, and rightfully so. It was so unjust that such a good man had been killed in his prime, leaving his loving family behind.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away. She’d lost her father when she’d been in high school, just after her sweet sixteen birthday party. The event had crushed her and the rest of the family. She’d been especially close to her father.

Lela had been his only daughter. Her father adored his sons, but his hija preciosa, precious daughter, was the apple of his eye. He did special things with her, took her on outings, and when she was old enough, he taught her how to fight.

That might seem a strange thing to teach a girl, but not for a cop. Her father knew the dangers that were ever-present, and it was his aim to keep her safe. Yet knowing he couldn’t be with her every second of every day, he’d made sure that his precious girl could take care of herself.

Although Lela hadn’t stopped missing her father, she’d grown up and had a life of her own. The job with the senator had provided immense satisfaction, because she could finally do something about violent crime. She was actively working to reduce the threat of the drug cartels.

Looking at the photograph, her heart fell. “I’m sorry, Papá,” she said. “I won’t let him get away with it.”

In recent months, Lela had discovered that Senator Ortiz wasn’t what he claimed to be. It began with a suspicion, based on observations of his behavior. While touting all the right messages, he was doing the opposite. He’d allied with the cartel for profit. That discovery had sickened her. In the public eye, the man presented the image he wanted others to see, and even forwarded causes that raised his popularity.

Meanwhile, the senator lined his pockets with ill-gotten funds. He helped launder money, yet kept a portion of it. He used his influence to protect ruthless criminals. And as appalling as it was, he dealt drugs on the side. His greed knew no limit.

But he wouldn’t get away with it.

It had taken Lela months, but she’d put together evidence against him. Familiar with police methods, she’d discreetly followed Ortiz and obtained photos of key meetings. She’d managed to get copies of accounting records that were incriminating. Yet there was one more vital piece of the puzzle.

Lela needed the data from her boss’s computer, and was certain that he was arrogant enough to believe that no one would dare crack into it. On that score, he was wrong. The senator’s private office was locked unless he was using it. But locks could be opened if one knew how.

Now Lela was the one after her prey, and she’d been patient, watching for the right moment. Such an opportunity was coming up very soon. And she couldn’t wait.

A knock brought her back to the present. Her friend Ashlee Vidal peeked inside and, seeing that Lela was alone, walked in. In the looks department, her friend was the exact opposite of her. Lela had dark, wavy hair, while Ash’s hair was long, blond, and straight as a board.

Lela had her father’s deep brown eyes, while Ash’s were as blue as the sky. And Lela had curves to spare, but her friend was as tall and willowy as a runway model. Yet they had much in common, and tended to see issues in the same light.

Ash glided up to the desk in her leather heels. Her pastel designer suit and silk blouse were without a wrinkle, as was her lovely, flawless skin. “I’m starved,” she said. “Aren’t we going to lunch?” She glanced at the photos on Lela’s desk, then furrowed her brow. “What are you doing in here?”

That was the thing about Ash: she was perceptive—a bit too much sometimes. It wouldn’t do for Lela to falsify her feelings, since her expression must have already revealed her emotion. “I just miss my dad, that’s all. Some days are like that.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’m up for Fusion Taco. My mother called earlier about the party this weekend, and has me drooling for Mexican food.”

Ash smiled, showing perfect teeth. “I’m in.” She made a sweeping motion toward the door. “Let’s get going, then. I have to be back on time for this new project I’ve been assigned.”

Lela followed her friend out and caught the elevator before it closed. The restaurant was right around the corner, so they should be back in plenty of time.

The place was busy, but Ash found a table. Lela sat across from her, and they ordered iced teas. Having been there so many times before, there was no need for a menu. The waiter took their orders for fish tacos and sped off to the next table.

While Lela sipped her tea and waited for the food, Ash launched into her favorite topic: men. It seemed that beauty alone couldn’t guarantee an enviable love life. She had no shortage of dates, but finding the right man had eluded her.

“So, we go on the date, and he immediately thinks he’s invited to my bed.” Ash pouted. “Isn’t there a man out there who wants to get to know me? At least have a real conversation before we get intimate?”

Lela stirred more sugar into her tea. “You haven’t found the right guy, that’s all.”

“Any suggestions?”

“I’m the last woman to give advice. You know my track record. Ten years of misery,” Lela said. “No, that’s an exaggeration. The first couple of years were good. It just all went to hell after that.”

“I’m surprised you made it as long as you did. I know you, Lela girl, and you aren’t one to play second fiddle to a man. It has to be an equal partnership or nothing for you.”

Lela smiled.

“Of course, you do present a challenge.” Ash grinned. “I love you…you know that. But, I mean, there aren’t many men who can handle an independent woman, especially one who can fight like you can.”

“I thought we were talking about you.”

Ash shrugged. “So what was up in your office? I caught you deep in thought. Is there something I should know?”

Lela took a gulp of tea, stalling. Her friend had her own suspicions about their boss. The senator had odd habits, unaccounted for meetings, and his lifestyle exceeded his income. Constitutional attorneys didn’t earn that much, and a senator’s salary for attending the legislative session every other year was paltry. Although Lela happened to know the position’s benefits made up for it, even for the honest senators.

Ash leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You’re onto something, aren’t you?”

“There are some things it’s best if you don’t know about.”

Ash narrowed her eyes. “Just be careful,” she said. “And I could help. I’m not useless, you know.”

Lela laughed, and then the waiter came by with the food, giving her a reprieve from continuing the discussion. What she had planned was best done alone. Involving her closest friend would put both of them in a dicey situation, so she’d chosen not to share the juicy details.

*****

After work, Lela took the short walk to her apartment. When she’d divorced four years before, she’d moved close to the law office. Plus, she enjoyed the downtown area. Since she lived alone, there was no need to take on the expense and upkeep of a house in the suburbs. The loft with a view of the city suited her well.

At home, Lela turned on some music, then shed her business attire and put on her workout clothes. She had a training session later. In bare feet, she walked across the hardwood floors to the kitchen, and rummaged in the refrigerator for a snack. A carton of vanilla yogurt and a banana should fuel her enough for now. She’d eat a light dinner afterward.

She sat at the dark wood table and peeled open the container. Before moving in, she’d had the interior redone. The bright red and yellow colors were cheerful. The plush furniture was comfortable. And most of all, the place was secure. Security personnel were posted downstairs every hour of the day.

Lela had changed the lock, and added a deadbolt she closed from the inside. Living in a big city had its risks. But she’d become more safety conscious now that she’d delved into the senator’s criminal life. And she’d had a safe installed, so she could securely store all the evidence she’d acquired.

A safe deposit box might have worked, but Lela was familiar with the law. With a court order, a box could be opened, and she didn’t want that. As it was, no one knew about her hidden safe. And she’d had it installed in an inconspicuous place. A search of the apartment wouldn’t reveal it. And the safe was encased in rubber, so a metal detector would be of no use.

Lela finished the yogurt and started on the banana. She tapped her foot to the rock tune that was playing, and enjoyed looking at the artwork on her wall. Over the desk, there were photos of her family, and some of her goofing off with Ashlee. Her eyes went to a family portrait.

When Lela had married, she’d kept her maiden name. That had been another bone of contention with Tomás. But she was proud of her family and her heritage. Her grandparents on her father’s side were from Barcelona, but had moved to Houston before starting a family.

Her father had lived in Houston all his life, and so had she. It wasn’t just a city; it was home.

After polishing off the fruit, Lela grabbed a bottle of mineral water and headed for class. It was Krav Maga training, and she paid for private lessons. Classes didn’t work for her, because her ability with the method was advanced—twenty years of perfecting a skill would do that.

She’d started at the basic level right after her father’s death. Like most martial arts, the military combat method encouraged students to avoid physical confrontation. So it wasn’t like she went out looking for fights.

But if avoiding an encounter was impossible or unsafe, then the next best alternative was finishing a fight as quickly and aggressively as possible. Her training taught her to aim attacks at the most vulnerable parts of the body that could result in severe injury, or permanently injure or kill the opponent.

Lela was five feet, six inches tall, and not overly muscled. She didn’t need to be. The training had taught her how to defend herself, even against a ruthless aggressor. One of her father’s hopes for her had been made a reality. He’d preferred not to worry over his daughter’s safety, so had encouraged her to learn self-defense. She’d achieved that for her own peace of mind, as well as for her father.

Besides, she didn’t have a man in her life to look after her. Tomás had been a good financial provider, but not a fighter. Her two older brothers were in the oil industry, and her youngest brother was in aerospace. As much as they loved her, her male siblings weren’t prone to physical violence, even to defend her—which was just as well.

Lela’s thoughts drifted to the web of evidence she’d constructed against the senator so far. There was no reason to think that she’d need to physically defend herself. But having the confidence that she could made her feel much better about poking a stick anywhere near the cartel.

*****

Tonight was the night. All the waiting was about to pay off. Ortiz was on his way to catch a flight to Austin. The legislature was not in session this year, but he had an appointment with a litigator. Lela had checked it out, and it was a legitimate meeting, not some clandestine affair with a shady drug lord.

The senator’s absence provided the opportunity that Lela sought. During the day, she saw to her normal tasks, careful not to reveal any change in her attitude. Ash was the most difficult to avoid, but she was in meetings with clients all day, so there was no chance for conversation.

At the day’s end, Ash rushed off. “I have a date, a new guy. I’ll tell you all about it.” With a grin, she disappeared. Gradually, the other paralegals and staff filtered out. The associates had finally left, too.

The receptionist stuck her head into Lela’s office. “I’m off for the day. The answering service will pick up.” She paused. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, you go ahead. I’m just finishing up a report. I shouldn’t be long.” Lela smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

After a couple of minutes, Lela stepped into the hall. The place was empty, and only the sound of the ventilation fan pierced the silence. Once in a while, she’d stayed late to get some work done. Then the tomblike quiet had been welcomed, as a chance to think through some legal question without interruption.

But this was different.

Lela moved down the hallway and took the stairs up one level to the floor that housed the senator’s office. Ceiling lights illuminated the way, and she spotted his door. There were security cameras, but she’d inserted a view of the empty hallway, which would play on a continuous loop. That had been the most difficult to figure out, yet she’d seen it done in movies.

She was no whiz with technology. But she had gotten some tips on how to achieve the block on the cameras, and prayed that it worked as she hoped.

Quickly, Lela picked the lock to the senator’s office. That was the easier part. She’d been picking locks since she was a teen, just for fun. It had been a game. This wasn’t.

The door eased open, and she stepped inside, closing it behind her. The late-day light cast the office in a soft glow. She’d been in there before, but only in the senator’s company. His massive mahogany desk gleamed from its daily polish.

The carpet was thick, so her feet sank into it. Plenty of padded leather chairs, glass and chrome tables, plus an entire wall of built-in bookcases rounded out the décor. But Lela wasn’t here to admire the senator’s good taste.

She was here on a mission, and the sooner she got what she needed then got out, the better. His computer was set up at a separate station, so she went over and pushed the power button. It booted fast, but then blinked, asking for a password.

Having expected this, Lela had a list of ideas in mind. Now she’d have to test a few of them. She went through the most obvious ones first, but with no success. Her pulse quickened as the minutes ticked by.

She couldn’t have come this far only to fail.

A noise in the hall alarmed her, and she held her breath. If she was found in here, there would be no way to explain her way out of it. She’d accounted for every staff member and watched them leave. Could someone have returned, forgotten something?

She listened closely, but didn’t hear anything else. Buildings made noises, just like houses did. The best thing was to keep going. Wasting precious seconds wasn’t helping.

With her hands trembling, Lela tapped on the keyboard again. She wasn’t cut out for this. Then it came to her. The senator would use a password that meant something to him. After all, he was scooping funds from illegal activities, and likely prided himself on how smart he was.

He wouldn’t use the name of his favorite pet, or his ex-wife’s name. That was too pedestrian for a man like Ortiz. But his ego was his downfall. So Lela typed in: au fait.

And sure enough, entry was granted. She smiled. Arrogant bastard. The term au fait was one of the senator’s favorites. He liked to think he had the quality in abundance. Lela had looked it up, and it was a French term that meant having detailed knowledge of something.

Clicking around on the computer, Lela muttered, “Well, asshole, I’m about to have detailed knowledge of something. Au fait indeed.”

She couldn’t afford the luxury of reading any documents, but some memos flashed by. Snippets of sentences flitted over the screen: contributions to your campaign, what we expect in return. The name of the contributor wasn’t stated, but the message was clear. The senator had taken illegal campaign contributions funded by drug money, combined with everything else he’d done.

“You are so busted.” Lela took the flash drive from her pocket and fumbled with it before plugging it in. Then she copied the hard drive. Whatever there was to find, she’d be able to read through at her leisure.

She hadn’t been certain how much the senator kept on his computer. But going by what she’d seen already, there was plenty. It seemed to take forever to copy all the data. Hurry…hurry.

Finally, the copying finished and she slipped the drive into her pocket. She turned off the computer and pulled a rag from her other pocket. Then she wiped her prints off the keyboard and, as she exited, cleaned the door.

As an employee, she’d been in his office before. But not since it had been cleaned, which was often. It was smarter to get rid of any evidence that she’d recently visited. Any information she obtained from his hard drive would need to be documented from another source. Yet she had a lot more to follow up on now.

The hallway was empty, so she went back down the stairs to her office. She didn’t bother with the security loop. It was on a timer, and would roll past in another hour or so. It would blend in with the regular footage, and she doubted anyone would discover the tampering.

She picked up her purse and headed toward the elevator. The flash drive was secure in her pocket. In the lobby, the security guard nodded at her. He looked bored, and didn’t make any attempt to engage her in chitchat.

Lela had walked by that guard hundreds of times, on too many days to count. When she lifted her hand and said, “See you,” he didn’t bat an eyelash. The guy was already back to studying something on the computer screen, probably a sports show to pass the long hours of the night.

The automatic doors opened and Lela strode out, then turned toward her apartment. Her heart beat in a rapid staccato and her legs were a little wobbly. She put her hand inside her pocket to feel the tiny flash drive. She was anxious to get home, bolt the door, and examine her treasure.