“Maybe he knew it was there,” Nolasco said.
“Maybe. But then how did he get back to Bremerton without his car? He didn’t take a cab and he didn’t swim.” Before Nolasco could protest, she said, “Look, if someone took that tape it makes these other factors, the vacant lot, Trejo getting back to base, a lot more relevant. It would mean that someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure Trejo would get off. And if they did, the question is, Why? Either Trejo was important to someone, or he had some leverage over them.”
“A lot of ifs,” Dunleavy said.
“I don’t disagree, but I think we owe it to that mother and to that boy not to just walk away.”
“So what are you proposing?” Clarridge asked.
“We still technically have jurisdiction, if the Navy punts, right?” She looked at Dunleavy. “There’s no double jeopardy here. We could still try him for the same offenses.”
“Didn’t we just all agree that’s the one thing we don’t want to do?” Nolasco said.
“I agree with your captain, Detective. I’m not sure we want to dive back in without the evidence to support the charges,” Clarridge said.
“I’m not saying we prosecute him. I’m saying we make it look like we’re going to prosecute him.” She looked to Dunleavy.
“You’re saying, if others helped Trejo, we make it appear that we are going to prosecute him and hope that when he’s out of the brig, he makes contact with whoever it is that helped him?”
“Trejo is getting out this afternoon,” Cerrabone said. “We could call a press conference for the same time and put out the word that we are seriously considering prosecuting him. Make him think he isn’t out of the woods and see what he does. See if he runs to anyone.”
“You want to put a tail on him?” Clarridge said.
“We could alert the Bremerton Police Department,” Nolasco said. “Have them tail him.”
“I’d prefer to tail him myself,” Tracy said. “I know where he lives and I know where he works. I’ve been to his apartment, and I know the layout of the complex, the type of car he drives, and where he parks. This way we can also keep it internal.”
“We got enough on our plates,” Nolasco said again.
“We keep Bremerton out of it,” she said, “and nobody knows we never intended to prosecute him.”
Clarridge looked to Dunleavy. “Do you see any problems?”
Dunleavy shook his head. “No.” He looked at Tracy. “Other than that you could be in for some long nights.”
“Kins is already out of commission,” Nolasco emphasized. “We’re shorthanded.”
“I don’t need anyone else,” Tracy said. “I can spend the night over there, and in the morning I can use the time to talk to the janitorial service and get a copy of the security tape for the DSO building for that night.”
Dunleavy looked around the table at the others. “I don’t think it could hurt.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Cerrabone said.
They looked to Clarridge. After a moment of thought he said, “Then let’s get started on a statement to the public that might make Trejo react.”
CHAPTER 32
Tracy took one of the pool cars and crossed Elliott Bay on the ferry. The winter chill had given way to spring rains—but not the traditional on-again, off-again Seattle sprinkles; these rains swept in like East Coast storms, releasing a downpour, subsiding, then hitting again with another fury. Exiting the ferry, Tracy drove to Jackson Park, arriving at the apartment complex after dark. She knew from her prior trip that Trejo lived in an apartment building located on a street corner. If she parked on the street perpendicular to Trejo’s complex, a sloped lawn provided some protection from nosy neighbors. So would the heavy rains.
Once situated, she saw no late-night dog walkers or joggers, and no athletes played on the basketball or tennis courts. The location afforded her a view of Trejo’s walkway, which descended a couple steps to his front door. The Subaru was parked in its designated parking stall, the front fender still dented, though the windshield had been fixed. If Trejo left the apartment Tracy would see him. And there were only two ways to exit the complex by car, neither of which would be difficult to follow—if Trejo went anywhere.
Dunleavy had issued his statement at just after 5:30 p.m., timing it with Trejo’s release. He made it emphatic, without promising anything, saying that SPD would review all of the evidence with an eye toward charging Trejo. Tracy thought the wording was strong enough that, if Trejo was going to act, he would do so. She hoped she was right about someone providing Trejo assistance after the accident. If she was, she suspected that person or persons would not want to have discussions with Trejo over the telephone, but rather would choose to meet in person. She’d find out one way or another soon enough.
She sat eating a protein bar and listening to the rain beat on the roof of the pool car. At just after 9:00 p.m., the porch light over Trejo’s front door illuminated. It could have been a timer. Tracy sat up, watching through a sheet of rain. The door to the apartment opened, light spilling from the apartment onto the front walk, and Trejo, she assumed, hurried out and down the walkway. He was the right height, but the person had a hood over his head to protect him from the rain, and he was jogging away from her, toward the Subaru. She had little choice but to assume it was Trejo and follow.
She pulled down the bill of the Mariners baseball cap she’d taken from Kins’s cubicle and started the car. She kept the lights off and made a U-turn, then a left at the corner, driving on the street parallel with the back of Trejo’s apartment complex. Up the hill, through the rain, she saw the lights of the Subaru brighten. The car backed out from the carport and drove toward the first of the two exits. Trejo, if it was him, turned left. One street below, she followed.
Trejo wound his way through the complex toward the exit and turned north onto State Route 3, a four-lane road with a grass-and-dirt center divider. Moments later, Tracy reached the intersection, turned on the car’s lights, and followed. SR3 was not heavily populated, especially on a miserable night. The persistent rains and darkness would help to conceal Tracy’s car, but she kept her distance and tried to blend in with the few cars on the road.