Tracy and Owens exited Bakhtiari’s office, hurrying down the hall to Leah Battles’s office on the same floor. Battles wasn’t there.
Tracy moved quickly to the woman at the reception desk. “I’m looking for Leah Battles,” she said, holding out her shield and ID.
“Can I ask what this is about?” the woman said.
“Make it happen, Petty Officer,” Owens’s friend ordered.
“She left,” the woman said. “She left with the OIC.”
“Rebecca Stanley?” Tracy asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Where’s her office?” Owens asked.
“The OIC? She’s down the hall, first floor.”
Tracy followed Owens and his friend down the hall. Stanley was not in her office. They started back to reception.
“Detective Crosswhite?” Brian Cho stood above them on the stairs, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Leah Battles or Rebecca Stanley. Have you seen either of them?”
Cho nodded. “Earlier today, but they left together about half an hour ago.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“I do,” another woman said. She came out from behind a desk in the hall. “They were going to The Bulkhead, for a drink to celebrate.”
“To celebrate?” Cho sounded skeptical. “More likely to drown their sorrows.”
“Why do you say that?” Tracy asked.
“Because the ethics committee came back with its decision today. They’re recommending a court-martial against Lieutenant Battles.”
CHAPTER 44
Leah Battles stared at the gun in Rebecca Stanley’s hand, though it had not come as a surprise. The gun in Battles’s hand, however, had clearly surprised Stanley. Now they were at what some referred to as a Mexican standoff.
Anticipate your opponent’s moves and be prepared to counter. One of the first rules of competitive chess.
Battles had started to put things together after Stanley indicated that the detective, Tracy Crosswhite, was still involved and seeking the original security tape, despite having the copy from Stanley. Based on Crosswhite’s questions the night the two of them went for coffee, the detective was either pursuing a theory, or had evidence that Trejo had been dealing drugs the night he ran over the kid in Seattle. The logical conclusion, if Crosswhite was seeking the original tape, was that she had reason to believe the copy had been edited. If it had, Stanley, who supplied the tape, was the most likely suspect. Stanley also had access to the building and to the court reporter’s office. She also knew, from her discussions with Battles, the significance of the convenience store video and the likely outcome if that tape went missing. Finally, the invitation to get a drink was out of character.
“You stole the tape that night,” Battles said. She circled to her left as Stanley circled to her right and came farther into the room.
“I had no choice. Like you said, the tape was damning. Trejo would have been convicted.”
“And you edited the DSO security tape so that you wouldn’t be on it. That’s why Crosswhite wanted the original. You’re on the tape?” She stepped again to her left.
“I always said you were a good attorney, Leah.” Battles stepped right.
“You should see me play chess.” Battles continued circling. “So you took the tape to get Trejo off, and then you killed him because you couldn’t trust that he’d keep quiet about the heroin.”
Outside the apartment, thunder clapped. Stanley flinched, but Battles resisted the urge to pull the trigger.
“Easy, Captain,” Battles said. Despite outward appearances, Stanley was clearly on edge.
The thunder became a distant rumble but the rain intensified, pecking on the roof and the deck furniture—not rain but pellet-size hail pinging off the table and chairs.
“So why are we here?” Battles asked, trying to keep Stanley talking, looking for any opening to strike and take her gun. She had to get closer. “Trejo’s dead. You have the tape. The ethics investigation isn’t going to be pursued. Why bring me here?”
“Yeah, well—I lied.”
“They intend to pursue it? I figured they would. I didn’t expect anything less of those coneheads.”
“They’ve recommended a court-martial. I told you, chain of command wants someone’s ass.”
“Too bad they’re not going to get it.”
“It isn’t personal, Lee. But we both know the first thing your defense attorney will request is the security tape for the building.”
“And they’d find you on that tape?” Battles said.
“I doubt they could positively identify me. I knew where the camera was located. But . . .”
“You couldn’t take that chance. So if I’m dead, there’s no reason for the hearing. No hearing, no reason for anyone to seek the tape.”
“Simple, really,” Stanley said.
“So what’s in this for you? The drugs?”
Stanley didn’t answer.
“Your back,” Battles said, nearly smiling at the simplicity of it. “You started using after you hurt your back.”
“Heroin was easier to get in Afghanistan than pain medications, and some days it’s the only way I can cope,” Stanley said. “So, you’re an unfortunate problem.”
Battles stepped again to her left. “This isn’t going to be as simple as making Trejo look like he committed suicide.”
Stanley smiled. “Maybe not, but that’s not going to be what happens.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What is going to happen?”
“This time, I’m pretty sure a police detective is going to kill you.”
Tracy followed Owens out the door. She covered her head with her jacket against the hail. The balls were large enough to sting when they hit skin. The windshield was covered with accumulating ice and, inside the car, the glass had again fogged over. Owens turned on the engine and the defroster kicked into high, but it had little impact on the glass. The wiper blades scraped away the balls of ice as Tracy and Owens furiously swiped at the windshield to open a viewing hole.
Owens couldn’t wait. He backed out and drove toward the Charleston Gate. “How do you know it was Stanley?”
“The earrings,” Tracy said. “Stanley wore the same gold stud earrings when we met in her office.”
“I’m betting a lot of women on base wear those earrings,” he said. “And I’m betting regulations are fairly stringent.”
“Battles doesn’t,” Tracy said. “And she and Stanley are the two women with the means and opportunity to get that tape. And, they’re going to court-martial Battles. What do you think would be the first thing Battles’s defense attorney would demand for her defense?”
“The security video,” Owens said.
“And Stanley knows she’s on it.”
“So how do we find them?” Owens asked.
“She’s not going to kill her in a bar,” Tracy said.
“The secretary said The Bulkhead is near Stanley’s apartment across the Manette Bridge. I’d say that’s our first stop.”