A neighbor who’d heard the shots called the Bremerton Police Department and police descended on The Crow’s Nest. They first encountered Tracy, who’d stepped outside of the building holding up her badge. She spoke calmly, deliberately explaining what had happened, and told them that the weapons had been secured. Inside the apartment, the police found Detective John Owens seated on the carpet, hands cuffed behind his back. After another half hour of explanation, Owens was removed from the apartment, and Tracy and Battles were allowed to leave the apartment and go outside while forensics did its work. They were each told not to go far.
The sky remained a frothing mix of clouds, but, for the moment at least, the rain had stopped. The parking lot had filled with Bremerton and Kitsap County police vehicles and enough officers to take down the army of a small country. Fire trucks, ambulances, and the Kitsap County coroner’s van had also arrived. There was no rush. Rebecca Stanley had died from the two gunshot wounds to her chest. Along the street, behind a police line, several news vehicles and apartment residents stood waiting and watching.
Battles talked on her cell phone. Tracy had requested that she call the security officer, David Bakhtiari. Tracy wanted to be certain nobody destroyed the DSO security tape for March 18.
Battles disconnected and stepped toward Tracy. “He’d already tagged the tape before he left for the day. It wasn’t going to get destroyed anytime soon. I also spoke to our CO. He’s sending out NCIS.”
“When they get here, tell them to take a number.”
Tracy and Battles stood silent, watching the officers. In time they both would have to give statements.
“What will you do?” Tracy asked Battles.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean in the future, when this is resolved; what are you going to do?”
Battles shook her head. “I don’t know, Detective. That all seems a long way off right now. And things are going to be pretty screwed up around the base for a while. I imagine they’ll undertake a full-blown investigation of Trejo, whether he had assistance and for how long. It could take some time. I doubt they’ll get anything out of Owens except a request for a lawyer.”
Tracy nodded. Battles was likely right. After a beat, she asked, “How much longer are you enlisted?”
“How long is my commission? Four years on active duty followed by four years inactive status. I’ll be done with my active duty in less than a year.”
“Then what?”
Battles shrugged. “I don’t know. At the moment I’m just trying to process what went on here and how the hell I got in the middle of it.”
“You defended Trejo,” she said. “You rode your bike down to the jail and asked to see him.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Battles said.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Just some good motherly advice.”
“You think you’ll stay here?”
“Bremerton?” She shook her head. “No.”
“Seattle?” Tracy said.
Battles shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on the job opportunities, and the men.”
“My husband’s a lawyer.”
Tracy liked Battles. She was a strong personality, but so was Tracy. Maybe the two of them would be too much for Dan to handle, but it sounded as if Battles had plenty of experience and could hit the ground running.
Battles raised an eyebrow. “I assume you’re happily married, so . . . what type of law?”
“Mostly plaintiffs’ personal injury, but also some criminal defense work.”
“Is he any good?”
“He’s had to turn down cases because he doesn’t have the time to work them. He’s thinking about slowing down and taking on help.”
“Slowing down? What are you, forty?”
Tracy smiled. “He’s done pretty well.”
“He must have.” Battles seemed to ponder the idea for a moment. “I like the sound of that,” she said.
“Plaintiffs’ work?”
“Retiring at forty.”
Tracy smiled. “Slowing down, not retiring; I don’t want him around the house that much.”
“Lieutenant?” A detective approached Battles. “We’d like to take a statement.”
Battles nodded and stepped toward him. She stopped and looked back at Tracy. “Tell your husband I’m interested. But also tell him I don’t come cheap.”
CHAPTER 47
The following morning, Tracy knocked on the door in Rainier Beach. She was under orders from Clarridge to speak to the family in person, though she hadn’t needed an order to do so. This was a conversation she wanted to have. She took a deep breath and the door pulled open. Shaniqua Miller’s mother gave Tracy an inquisitive glare.
“Good morning,” Tracy said. “Is Shaniqua home?”
The mother grimaced. Tracy thought she might close the door. “Hang on a moment, please.”
Tracy heard voices inside the house. She also smelled coffee and perhaps something baking in the oven.
Moments later, Shaniqua Miller appeared in the doorway and gave Tracy the same inquisitive glare as her mother. Behind her, down the hall, her two young boys stood watching, dressed in their pajamas.
“Good morning,” Tracy said.
“It’s awful early for a house call, Detective.”
“I apologize, but it got too late last night to bring you the news, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone or have you find out from the news media.”
Shaniqua Miller’s brow furrowed. She turned back to the interior. “Mom, can you take the boys into the kitchen, please?” After the mother had ushered the boys from the hallway, Shaniqua said to Tracy, “What kind of news?”
“We know what happened to your son and we know why. And the people responsible are going to be tried. I know you’ve heard this before, but I’m confident this time they’ll go to jail.”
Shaniqua Miller pressed her lips tight but did not cry. Her mother, who had reappeared at the door, reached for and gripped her daughter’s hand. “Are you sure?” Shaniqua said, her voice rough with emotion.
“Yes,” she said. “We’re sure.”
The two women turned and hugged, crying without reservation. The two little boys, ignoring their grandmother’s instructions, came down the hall and buried their faces in their mother’s clothes. Tracy didn’t try to interrupt them. She didn’t try to say anything. She just let them cry.
After several minutes, Shaniqua recovered her composure and wiped at her tears, taking deep breaths. “Thank you,” she said.
Tracy nodded. “I can tell you more later, when it’s a little better time. I just wanted you to know that we never forgot about your son.” She handed Shaniqua a business card. “Call me when you get a chance and we’ll set up a time to talk.” She started down the steps to the concrete path.
“Detective?”
Tracy stopped and turned at the foot of the steps.