“So your initial impression was the same as Detective Jensen’s?” Cho asked. He glanced at Battles, tweaking her for not moving to exclude Crosswhite from the courtroom during Jensen’s testimony, and perhaps pimping her to object. She ignored him.
“It appeared to have been a hit and run,” Crosswhite said.
Crosswhite then testified about the meeting the following morning at Police Headquarters with Detective Jensen at which he’d advised them of the Department of Transportation video of the Subaru and how they’d been able to get the information out to the officers on morning roll call.
Cho moved forward quickly.
“Can you tell us what you did next?”
“I was in the office later in the day and received a call from Detective Jensen. He said that a woman had reported a car in her backyard that fit the description of the car we were looking for.”
“Can you tell us about your trip to that site?”
Crosswhite did.
Cho went through the car part matching the damage to the car, and how Jensen had linked it to Trejo, who had reported the car stolen that morning. Then he asked, “Did you have any initial reaction to that news?”
“Well, given what had transpired, I wondered if the report that the car had been stolen was legitimate. It seemed too convenient. I thought it was worth exploring further.”
Battles made a note to attack Crosswhite on cross-examination at the court-martial and to insinuate that her and Jensen’s investigation had been colored by the fact that both believed Trejo had lied before ever speaking with him.
Cho methodically went through the meeting between Trejo and Crosswhite and her partner, Kinsington Rowe. “What did he tell you happened to his car?”
“He reconfirmed that his car had been stolen and said he had reported it to the Bremerton Police Department.”
“Anything else of significance that you noted during that conversation?”
“Mr. Trejo was drinking from a can of Red Bull, an energy drink. He also had a cut on his forehead, which he’d bandaged.”
Crosswhite testified as to what Trejo had told her and Kins about how he had hurt himself on the corner of a kitchen cabinet. She said that, later, when confronted with the evidence of blood inside the car, Trejo said he’d thought he’d stopped the bleeding, but that he’d gotten blood on the seat and tried to clean it.
Which would be logical, Battles noted for cross-examination. She also noted that head wounds bleed a lot. She was practically sitting on her hands to avoid objecting.
Crosswhite was clearly a seasoned witness, testifying to questions from Cho about TCI finding a receipt from a convenience store in Renton for the purchase of two energy drinks within a half hour of the accident. It was all foundational, laying the groundwork to introduce the evidence most damaging to Trejo: the convenience store security tape.
As Cho spoke, Battles noticed Lindsay Clark looking through the box of evidence on the courtroom floor and searching counsel’s table.
“Your Honor—” Cho paused when he noticed Clark gesturing to him. “Excuse me, Your Honor, if I may have a moment to confer with co-counsel.” Cho walked to Clark and turned his head to engage in a whispered conversation. He looked perplexed then began digging through the evidence box. A moment later he approached the court reporter, Bob Grassilli, who Battles knew well. Cho said something inaudible. Grassilli began to look around his desk.
Cho said, “Your Honor, I wonder if we may have a brief recess to secure a piece of evidence.”
Rivas looked at the clock on the wall. “This hearing will be in recess. How long do you need?”
Cho said, “Just a few minutes, Your Honor.”
The murmur in the crowd increased as the court reporter quickly left the room followed by Cho and Clark. Battles stood to stretch her legs and turned to Trejo, but her client remained seated, facing forward. She was about to talk to him when she noticed Detective Crosswhite looking from her chair to the gallery, to where Joe Jensen sat. Crosswhite gave him a curious shrug.
CHAPTER 23
After picking up Allie’s computer and phone records, Del dropped off Faz at the office but didn’t stay. He knew he couldn’t get anything done with the information in his briefcase. He drove home.
Following his divorce, Del had rented a home on Capitol Hill from a friend who’d been relocated to Portland for her job but intended to move back to Seattle after she retired. At least that’s what she’d said. The neighboring homes had all been remodeled, some more than once, but little had been done to the 1930s Craftsman, which meant it had a lot of charm and needed a lot of upkeep. In exchange for reduced rent, Del took care of the property, fixing what broke and performing needed maintenance. He even tended to the yard, though it wasn’t much. He could mow the front and back lawn in under a half hour.
A reduced rent was the only way Del could afford a home in what was one of Seattle’s more desired neighborhoods. Atop a steep hill just east of downtown, the home had sweeping western views across the I-5 freeway to Seattle’s skyscrapers, Elliott Bay, and across that body of water to Seattle’s islands and the distant Olympic Mountains.
Del parked the Impala on the dirt-and-gravel drive he’d made along the side of the house; he wasn’t about to park his baby in the street. As soon as Del reached the top step, his Shih Tzu, Santino, leapt onto the back of the couch, as he did each night when Del got home from work. “You’re nothing if not consistent,” Del said, looking through the window. “But you can’t tell time for shit.”
Santino’s body wagged furiously as he alternately bolted onto the top of the couch, standing on his hind legs to tap at the window, and ran to the front door. Del had bought Santino, or “Sonny,” for his wife, thinking a dog would keep her company during the nights Del was on call, but in the end, she liked the dog almost as much as she liked Del. Sonny knew it too, which was why he preferred Del. Shih Tzus were apparently an extremely smart breed.
“Okay, okay,” Del said, opening the door. Sonny jumped and spun on his hind legs like a top. Brown and white, his hair was short and curly, unless Del gave him a bath. Then he looked like an exploded cotton ball. Del had named him after the high-strung brother played by James Caan in the Godfather movies—the greatest movies ever made.
Del picked up Sonny from the ground, scratching him under the chin and letting him lick his face. “I’ve barely been gone an hour. I hope you didn’t drop any bombs in here.”
Santino didn’t always make it out the dog door Del had installed at the back of the house, especially on days like today, when it rained. Del did a quick survey of the kitchen linoleum and determined the coast was clear. “Good boy.” He grabbed a dog treat from a box on a shelf in the kitchen and put Sonny down. “You ready?” Del pointed his finger at Sonny, like a gun. “Bam!”