“Yes.”
Barbara noticed tears rolling down Cooper’s face.
“Do you often hallucinate about that time?”
“Yes.”
Yamashita adjusted his glasses as he made notes, then returned to many of the same questions, repeating them.
“Have you ever been violent toward anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever wished to harm anyone?”
“Yes, during duty-”
“Yes or no, please,” Yamashita made a note. “Did you ever wear the tennis shoes shown to you in the crime- scene photograph?”
“No.”
“Are you angry that Sister Anne was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who killed her?”
Cooper hesitated for a moment.
“Do you know who killed her?”
“I think I know.”
“Answer yes or no, please. Did you ever kill a woman in combat?”
“Yes, but I-”
“Do you know the name of the person who killed Sister Anne?”
“No.”
“Do you hallucinate?”
“Yes.”
“Do you relive your combat action in which you kill those who killed your crew?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a danger to people?”
“I don’t know, please, I-”
“Did you ever threaten Sister Anne.”
“No.”
“Do you sometimes black out?”
“Yes.”
“Do you always remember your actions during a blackout?”
“No.”
“Did you kill Sister Anne?”
Cooper’s face was wet with tears.
“No. God, please no.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
D amn it. Damn this rain. Damn it.
Time was running out and Jason was losing it.
Seattle Police Headquarters took up half a block of downtown real estate at Cherry and Fifth. The twelve- story complex included the city’s municipal court building with its monolithic glass facade.
Tonight it was a fortress.
Jason was pacing in the pissing rain, desperate to talk to Grace Garner. He’d been shut down at every turn. No way were they going to let him inside and up to the Homicide Unit.
Not tonight.
He craned his neck to look up at the seventh-floor lights of the building. He knew Grace was up there with Perelli, likely working on Cooper.
But she wouldn’t answer her cell phone. Neither would Perelli, or Stan Boulder. He managed to squeeze a drip of information from Lynn Mann’s people at the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s Office.
“Lynn’s definitely in Homicide with Gracie and this street guy, Cooper. It all flows from your story but you didn’t get it from me, pal.”
Damn it. That made it worse.
Were they questioning Cooper? Was he going to lead them to the killer?
Was Cooper the killer?
Maybe they were charging him?
Damn it, had he dropped the ball on the biggest story to hit the city in months?
Jason glanced at the time. If he was going to get anything in the first edition, it would have to be now. All right. An idea struck him. He reached for his cell phone to call back his source in Lynn Mann’s office.
After Cooper’s polygraph test, Barbara North stared at herself in the mirror of a seventh-floor washroom.
Exhaustion rippled through her, making her entire body tremble. Garner and Lynn Mann had hit them hard. Their physical evidence was strong but there were holes in their case. The results from the foot impression and polygraph would play a key role.
The blackouts would hurt.
And he couldn’t account for his whereabouts the night of the crime.
Cooper’s arrest before WKKR’s camera, his physical appearance, his troubled history, his cryptic claim that a stranger killed Sister Anne, all served to make him look like a deranged nun-killer.
How could she counter that?
Seeing Cooper’s tears, hearing his responses, reading his file, in her heart she didn’t believe he was guilty. But public perception was difficult to overcome.
Barbara splashed water over her face. It felt good. As she descended the elevator at police headquarters, she decided that she was too tired to make herself dinner. She’d grab something on the way home.
Stepping into the lobby, she rummaged through her bag for her umbrella, then headed for the street, nearly bumping into somebody speaking her name.
“Excuse me, Barbara North? Would you be Barbara North?”
“Yes,” she tilted her umbrella up. “And you are?”
“Jason Wade, Seattle Mirror. Do you have a minute?”
“Not really, I’m late. How did you-?”
“I’ve been calling around since John Cooper was taken in earlier today. I understand you’re his lawyer, from the Public Defender’s Office, is that correct?”
Adjusting her grip on her umbrella, Barbara stared at Jason, contemplating his face, deciding whether or not he was worth her time.
“Let’s get out of the rain and go over there,” she nodded to a coffee shop down on the corner.
They found a booth and ordered coffee.
“Look, I truly am up against my deadline, right up on it, so forgive me in advance if I’m curt, rude, and rushed.”
“Sounds like the name of a law firm. What’re you after?”
“So, Cooper’s your client?”
“Yes.”
“Has he been charged with Sister Anne’s murder?”
“No.”
“Do you mind?” Jason set a small recorder between them.
“That’s fine. I won’t be telling you much.”
