“Yeah? Does he have a friend?”
Battles picked up her coffee and headed to one of the tables. Halfway across the shop she stopped to consider a dictionary open on a stand near the door. She scanned the words with her finger. “‘Intriguing,’” she read out loud. “‘Arousing one’s curiosity or interest. Fascinating.’” She looked at Crosswhite. “Prophetic.”
They took their coffees to an isolated table near a brick wall. Overhead, a white sculpture depicting clouds hung from an unfinished ceiling of beams, ductwork, and cables. Tracy removed her jacket and the two women sat in chairs across the table from each other. “You were out for a ride?”
“No,” Battles said. “The bike is a means to an end. I train on the north end of the city, and a car in this town is too expensive.”
“What are you training for?”
“Nothing in particular. I take a class called Krav Maga. Have you heard of it?”
“Not in any detail. Isn’t it Israeli commando fighting?”
Battles explained the development of the training and Tracy could sense her pride discussing it.
“Sounds practical,” Tracy said.
“In theory.” Battles sipped her drink. “But executed the right way, it’s disabling.” Battles set her cup on the table and leaned back in her chair. “Your meeting. Your agenda.”
“I don’t think you took the video.”
Battles gave a thin-lipped smile. “Unfortunately, you’d be in the minority.”
“There’s nothing in it for you to gain.”
“My client walks free and I’m the big winner.”
“And you’re prosecuted.”
“Potentially.”
“Potentially,” Tracy agreed. “I don’t see that as a fair trade—at least not one that benefits you.”
“I don’t know. I lose my law license, I’m dismissed, and I lose my pay—which is to say, I lose pretty much all the reasons I joined the Navy.”
“And you’re too smart to do something that stupid.”
Battles sat forward. “You sure this isn’t a date? You’re a lot nicer than some of the men I’ve gone out with.”
Tracy smiled. She was glad to see Battles hadn’t lost her edge. “So, will you talk to me?”
“I can’t talk about my client. Former client.”
“Understood.”
“Let me ask you a question first.” Battles sat up. “You don’t have jurisdiction and I’m sensing Seattle PD won’t be anxious to get back a dead-bang loser with the potential to incite the masses.”
“You may be right.”
“So why are you here? Why do you care?”
Tracy gave the question some thought. She’d made a ride out to Shaniqua Miller’s home after the meeting with Cerrabone, Dunleavy, and Clarridge. Miller had been polite, but clearly wasn’t interested in discussing the matter in detail with Tracy, whom she viewed as part of the justice system—which she now distrusted more than ever—and therefore part of the problem.
“I care about that boy,” Tracy said. “I care about a mother who may have to live the rest of her life without any answers.”
Battles sipped her coffee. Her gaze drifted out the plate-glass windows at the fading daylight and the streetlights illuminating the trunks and leaves of the trees in the sidewalk. An old-fashioned trolley car rumbled past the coffee shop, clanging as it went. She reconsidered Tracy. “Defending the wretched isn’t always the most popular position,” she said. Then, more subdued, she said, “Go ahead and ask your questions.”
Tracy gathered her thoughts, though she’d known where she’d start if Battles consented. She had snippets of what had happened from being present at the hearing and from her meeting that afternoon. She wanted to see how Battles reacted to being accused. “You were looking at the evidence the night before the hearing?”
“I was reviewing some of the evidence, but not the tape. I didn’t take it out of—Actually, I don’t even know if it was in the box at that point. But I do know that I didn’t look at it then. Why would I? I’d already looked at it. I won’t say what was on it or what I thought of it, but I pretty much knew it wasn’t going to change by looking at it again. Besides, I didn’t have a television to play it.”
It sounded plausible to Tracy. “Fair enough. What did you do with the box of evidence when you’d finished with it?”
“I took it back to the court reporter and left it on his chair. Ordinarily he signs it back in, but he’s a civilian and he was long gone by then. I’ve done it before. We operate on the honor system.” She raised her fingers in a Girl Scout’s salute.
“Is his office in the same building?”
“It is. He’s located on the second floor across from the courtroom.”
“Where’s Cho’s office?”
Battles smiled. “Second floor, just down the hall from the court reporter.”
“What time did you return the box?”
“After Cho left my office, if that’s where you’re headed, between ten forty-five and eleven p.m.”
“Cho came to your office?”
“On his way out the door to go home.”
“And you still had the box of evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him leave?”
“The building? Only on the security tape.”
“Your building has a security camera?”
“Inside the door, positioned to view the lobby.”
Tracy hadn’t thought of security for the building. She made a mental note to get that video. “How do you get in? Is the door secure?”
“Always. You punch in the last four digits of your Social Security number. If it recognizes your digits, you get in. If it doesn’t, you don’t.”
“Where is that record kept, the record of acceptable Social Security numbers?”
“There’s a security office on the first floor, just down the hall from me. I assume they have it. They also keep all the surveillance videos.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Never been an issue before.”
“Is that where the tape for that night is kept?”
“Yes, but my OIC has a copy.”
“Your OIC?”
“Officer in charge. Rebecca Stanley.”
“And you’ve seen that tape.”
“I have.”
Tracy looked for some tell from Battles as she spoke. “What time did you leave that night?”
“The building? Shortly after Cho. The last ferry departs at eleven forty. It takes me about ten minutes to ride my bike from the office to the Bremerton Ferry Terminal. So I returned the evidence to the court reporter’s office and left the building right after that.”
“You should have just slept at the office.”
Battles held up a bare left hand. “Did I mention that I’m still single and not looking to die alone?”
“Did anyone see you return the box?”
“No one else was in the building, at least not that I’m aware of.”
“Okay,” Tracy said. “And to your knowledge, no one came into the building after you?”
“Just the janitor. He’s on the tape.”
“Is the company military or civilian?”
“Civilian.”
“Anyone talk to him?”
“I assume NCIS. They’re talking to everyone, including me.”