“The ferries have video cameras at the terminals. They film the cars getting on and off the boat. If he took a ferry yesterday, the Subaru should be on the footage.” She sipped her drink and folded her arms across her stomach.
“He might not have taken the ferry,” Kins said. “He might have driven around to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and come up through Tacoma.”
“Well, if he did, that could also be telling us something,” she said.
“He wanted to stay off the ferry camera?”
“Maybe.”
“That bridge also has cameras,” Kins said. “I got a ticket once for not paying the toll. I didn’t realize I was in a carpool lane. A couple days later, they mailed me a snapshot of my license plate and the ticket.”
Tracy wiped down the table with her napkin. “Those are traffic cameras,” she said.
Kins set down his coffee. “Washington State Patrol has access to that video system.”
“What would it show—a license plate? Maybe the car?” Tracy asked, thinking out loud. “Would it even show the driver? Trejo says the car was stolen; he’d just say the video proves it.”
“Maybe, but we should have the video guys contact Washington State Patrol and see if they can come up with anything, maybe find the car on tape. Trejo said he worked that day and got off at five o’clock,” Kins said. “So we can narrow the time he would have either been parked here at the terminal or driving across the bridge.”
She removed her coat. “Go for it, but keep in mind, even if you find the car, all that is going to give you is his car. We need to put him behind the wheel.”
“We can do that with the DNA.”
“His DNA will be all over that car. He owned it. The crucial evidence is if his DNA is on the air bag,” she said.
“Or if there’s blood inside his car,” Kins said. “He has a much harder time explaining how it got there if he really did cut his head on a kitchen cabinet like he said.” After a beat, Kins asked, “Don’t you have to give your DNA when you enter the military?”
“Only for purposes of identification—and it can only be used to identify you if you’re killed in action,” she said. “It can’t be used in a criminal case.”
“You know this, or think you know it?” Kins asked.
“I went through it with NCIS in that other case I told you about. It can’t be used to prove liability for a crime. If you want to confirm DNA, you have to get another DNA test.”
“Which Trejo won’t agree to do.”
“He might not get that choice,” she said. “As I remember it, the Navy has a permissive procedure and a nonpermissive procedure. If we have enough evidence, I think the Navy can force him to provide a sample.” Tracy checked the clock on her phone. They still had another half hour before the ferry sailed. She could feel another hot flash coming on. “We should also have Jensen check the back bumper and see if he can find a hide-a-key.”
“It might never have been there,” Kins said.
She sipped her drink. “I doubt it was. But if he was driving, how did he get back to Bremerton without his car?”
“Or hide the car by himself,” Kins said. “It’s not exactly a public place, and he said he’s from San Diego. We should find out where the wife is from. Maybe she knows the area and helped him hide it.”
“So how’d they get home?” Tracy asked. “They only have one car.”
“She could have borrowed someone’s car.”
“Maybe, but that puts another witness and another car in play.” She checked the time on her phone again.
“We should at least ask.”
“I agree.” Tracy’s cell rang and she checked caller ID. “It’s Jensen,” she said, then spoke into the phone. “You’re calling with good news, right?” She listened for a beat. “Okay. We’ll be there.” She disconnected. “We’ll know soon enough about the DNA. They got a warrant to get into the car first thing tomorrow morning.”
CHAPTER 10
Del grabbed a cup of coffee from the dispenser and brought it back to his chair inside the King County Medical Examiner’s waiting room on Jefferson Street.
“How late were you up?” Faz asked.
This Wednesday morning, Del felt the effects of another night of too little sleep. After leaving work, he’d returned to his sister’s, arriving there at a little after 12:30 a.m. and not getting to sleep until after 1:45 a.m., which is when he last saw the digital clock on his phone. He got up at 6:00 a.m., got the boys ready for school, and drove them in. Then he rushed downtown. The Medical Examiner’s Office had called the night before; they had the toxicology report on Allie.
His thoughts were foggy from too little sleep. He felt like he had when, as a younger man, he’d climbed Mount Rainier and suffered altitude sickness—light-headed and slightly off balance. Now the fatigue had settled into his joints and seemed determined to stay there.
“Too late and too early,” he said.
He shook his wrist to free the gold chain his ex had given him during happier days in their marriage. With the rise in gold prices, he often had more money on his wrist than in his bank account. “I fed the boys and got them off to school, but the place looks like a bomb went off, and there isn’t any food in the house. My sister’s in bad shape.” He sighed. “I’m not sure what to do about it.”
“You gave her the name of that counselor?”
“I called and set up an appointment for her, but getting her to go is another thing altogether. We both know I can’t force her.”
“How are the boys handling it?”
Del shrugged. “They’re coming home from school and sitting on the couch eating chips and salsa and watching TV. Their homework isn’t getting done.”
“Are they even going to school?”
“I’m getting their butts there, but after three in the afternoon, I don’t know who’s keeping an eye on them. Little League will be starting soon. I have to get them signed up and take them to tryouts next weekend.”
“You should coach them.”
Del scoffed at the suggestion. “Yeah, right, that would be a sight, me in baseball pants.”
“You were a good ballplayer. God knows you’d be better than the twenty-something-year-old dads who think their nine-year-old is destined for the major leagues.”
Del had been a good ballplayer, a catcher with a rifle for an arm, and he’d never have his own son to coach. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” He sipped his coffee, which was tart. “I’m thinking of moving in. I can continue to sleep on the couch.”
“You on a couch? That’s more ridiculous than you in baseball pants.”
“Just for a couple weeks. Until my sister gets back on her feet.”
“Why don’t you take some time off, Del? You’re burning the candle at both ends. Get your sister into counseling and get everything square. I’ll handle this.”
Del stood. “I’m at my best when I’m working, you know that. I got to be doing something or I’ll go stir-crazy.”
“You’re not even supposed to be working this case. I am. You’re just along for the ride, remember? That was the deal.”
“I’m fine, okay? I understand the rules.” Del sipped his coffee. “I convinced her to let me into Allie’s bedroom last night.”