In the Clearing (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 3) Read online

  “That’s right. I am.”

  “Kimi killed herself,” Devoe said. “Jumped in the river.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I read.”

  Devoe looked past Tracy to the river, and he seemed to realize why she’d come here. “This is where they found her body.”

  “I know. I thought I’d take a look.”

  “Why?”

  “I just like to see things for myself.”

  “So what’s your interest in Kimi Kanasket?”

  “Sheriff asked me to take a look at the file and see if there might be anything there.”

  “The file?” Devoe sounded more surprised than curious, like someone who’d maybe gone looking for the file and thought it had been destroyed.

  “That’s right. Buzz Almond kept a file.”

  “So what do you expect to find?”

  “I have no expectations. I like to go into these things with an open mind.”

  “Well, I think you’ll find that Kimi jumped in the river. Or fell. It was pretty open-and-shut, as I recall.”

  “You recall it?”

  “Not really, no. Just a general recollection. Talk. You know.”

  “I’m assuming you weren’t a police officer back then?”

  “No, not back then.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Why are you asking, Detective?”

  “Just trying to get a handle on the town back then, what people recall it was like. Were you around?”

  Devoe smiled again, but now his expression had the unease of a man trying to get out of a conversation. “Like I said, when a fellow law-enforcement officer comes to town, I appreciate a courtesy call.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “You on your way out?”

  “I am.”

  “Will you be coming back?”

  “I don’t know yet. I guess that depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “What the forensics tell me.” Tracy made a show of checking the time. “I got a bit of a drive ahead of me. Thanks for stopping and introducing yourself, Chief.”

  She walked past him to her truck. When she backed out, Devoe remained where she’d left him at the water’s edge.

  When Tracy reached State Route 141, she called Sam Goldman again. Adele answered, but Sam was quick to get on the line. “That was fast.”

  “I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but I have another question.”

  “No bother. Fire away, hero.”

  “What can you tell me about Lionel Devoe?”

  “He’s been chief of police in Stoneridge going on thirty years now.”

  “What did he do before he became a police officer?”

  “What all the Hastey boys did—worked for his father.”

  “How many brothers were there?”

  “Three, but the oldest, Nathaniel, died in a hunting accident.”

  Tracy considered the information. “Any idea why Lionel left the family business to join the police force?”

  “Nothing you could quote in the paper, but I can speculate.”

  “Please do.”

  “Like I said, the oldest of the three was Nathaniel. He was the most like his father, a hard worker with a good business head on his shoulders. I think Hastey Senior intended to leave him the business, but then Nathaniel died. Hastey Junior and Lionel weren’t like their old man, or their brother—neither had the work ethic or the brains. It caused a lot of friction.”

  “They didn’t get along with their dad?”

  “Hastey, the father, tried giving the business to Lionel after Nathaniel died, but Lionel nearly ran it into the ground, and the old man took it back. I imagine getting away from his father and the enticement of the police department’s benefits package were more motivation to join the force than any desire to serve the good citizens of Stoneridge. Down here, it’s mostly small stuff. We don’t get a lot of excitement unless one of the meth-heads blows up his lab. Basically, if you don’t screw up, it’s a job for life.”

  “So it’s an elected position?”

  “You could say that, but it’s really a matter of default. There’s never been a lot of competition for the job,” Goldman said. “And Lionel is tight with Eric Reynolds. That name goes a long way here in Stoneridge.”

  “Eric Reynolds the contractor?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Doesn’t Hastey Devoe work for him also?”

  “He does.”

  “Did Hastey ever take over the family business?”

  “Young Hastey isn’t like his old man. Maybe he had one too many concussions. Only chance that boy had of getting a college education was football, but he drank his way out of school and had to move back home.”

  Tracy thought it all very incestuous, but having lived in a small town, she knew that friends helping friends wasn’t uncommon, and it could be nothing more than that. That didn’t explain why Lionel Devoe had been so guarded, however, and she didn’t for a minute believe he had his panties in a bunch just because Tracy didn’t drive to his office and curtsy.

  “What else can I tell you?” Goldman asked.

  “I think that’s it for now,” she said, though she had more questions now than when she’d started the day.

  CHAPTER 17

  Tracy arrived back at the Justice Center late in the afternoon, but she didn’t stay long. Kins had set up a meeting with Tim Collins’s divorce attorney in the University District. Faz had gone home early to celebrate a family birthday. As they drove, Kins filled Tracy in on conversations he and Faz had with two of Tim Collins’s coworkers and his supervisor at Boeing, names not on the list provided by Mark Collins. They’d also spent time talking with a person from Boeing’s IT department who had been tasked with downloading Tim’s e-mails and compiling a history of his recent Internet searches.

  “They all said he was a good guy and a hard worker. Never saw him lose his temper and never had a bad thing to say about his wife. They said he’d seemed depressed the past several months and attributed it to the breakup of his marriage, but he wasn’t the kind to air his dirty laundry.”

  “What about his relationship with Connor?”

  “They said he was a proud father who talked about his son often. He kept photographs in his cubicle of the three of them, like it was still one big, happy family.”

  “Maybe he was having trouble letting her go.”

  “Maybe. The brother did say he’d become very codependent.”

  “What about the kid? You talk to his classmates?”

  “No real friends to speak of, according to his counselor and two of his teachers. They all described him as quiet and reserved. Said he doesn’t participate much in class or show much interest in any extracurricular activities.”

  “Any indication he lies?”

  “Nothing. I got the impression he’s one of the many faceless high school students who show up for class, do enough to get by, and leave.”

  “So no problems?”

  Kins shook his head. “None.”

  “Anything on social media?”

  “A few photos. Nothing alarming. We got the phone records. The father sent a text at 5:10 that evening saying traffic was bad, and he’d be a few minutes late.”

  “Any response?”

  “One letter. K. Overall, it’s been slowgoing.”

  “Well, at least it gives you a little more time to spend at home,” she said, fishing.

  “Yeah, there’s that,” Kins said, not sounding excited.

  “Things not going well?”

  Kins shrugged. “About the same.”

  “I thought things were better after Mexico?”

  Kins and Shannah’s relationship had hit a rough patch when Kins and Tracy were working late nights and early mornings on the Cowboy investigation; the case had taken a physical and emotional toll on everyone on the task force. When the investigation ended, Kins took Shannah to Mexico, without kids, and said it helped them remember why they’d ma
rried each other in the first place.

  “It was, for a while. You’d think me being around more would be a good thing, but it seems like we just get on each other’s nerves.”

  “What about?”

  “Name it,” he said, offering a sad laugh. “It feels like she’s paying me back for being gone so much. She leaves to play tennis or go to her book club. And she’s at the gym all the time.”

  “You could join her.”

  He gave her a look, one eyebrow arched. “Tennis? With my hip? And her book club, as far as I can tell, is just an excuse for the wives to drink wine and rag on husbands. I don’t think I’d fit in.”

  “You can’t fault her for having a life, Kins. We’re gone so much.”

  “I know.”

  “What about counseling?”

  “Been there.”

  “What about more counseling?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Anthony Holt’s office was on the second floor of a building not far from the University of Washington. He specialized in family law, and his partner specialized in wills and estates. Holt met Kins and Tracy in a modest lobby, and they walked across the hall to a conference room he shared with other lawyers on the floor. Tracy estimated Holt to be in his midforties, though prematurely gray, which gave him an authoritative appearance. He was marathon-runner thin.

  “You were Mr. Collins’s divorce attorney,” Kins said after they’d settled into chairs.

  “I was. I was sorry to hear about what happened to him.”

  “How did you hear?”

  “Angela’s divorce attorney called and advised me.”

  “When was that?”

  “It was the day after the shooting.”

  “What time?”

  “It was in the afternoon. I could get you a specific time, if it’s important.”

  “What did the attorney tell you?”

  “She said Angela had called her and told her what had happened. She wanted to file the paperwork to dismiss the divorce and begin probating the estate.”

  Kins shot Tracy a glance. Angela must have called first thing after leaving jail. “Do you know when that paperwork got filed?”

  Holt smiled. “I do. Bright and early Monday morning.”

  “That surprised you.”

  “Surprised?” He smiled again. “Nothing surprises me in this area of the law. Just . . .” He paused to choose his words. “Just seemed quick, given the circumstances.”

  “Like the fact that she was in jail until Friday afternoon?”

  “That thought crossed my mind, yes.”

  “And she was facing a murder charge and the prospect of a long sentence?”

  “That also.”

  “Any thoughts why she’d be in a hurry to file the paperwork?”

  “The sooner the divorce proceeding is dismissed, the sooner the estate can be probated and the sooner she gets the money. But I tend to be cynical about these things.”

  “How contentious was the divorce?”

  “Scale of one to ten, this was a six, but only because Tim did a lot to not escalate things.”

  “Can you explain what you mean?” Kins asked.

  “Angela was pushing for fifty-eight percent of the assets. In the interim she was blowing through a lot of the money. She kept asking Tim for more and chiding him when he refused.”

  “Do you know how she was spending the money?”

  “No. That was the problem. She claimed it was everyday living expenses, but in three months she’d spent close to forty-five thousand dollars, and every time we asked for receipts we got the runaround. Her attorney couldn’t explain it either. Tim suspected she was squirreling it away or using it to fix up the house.”

  “How close were you to getting a resolution?”

  “Not close. We went to mediation, but it didn’t last long. I didn’t see it resolving without a trial.”

  “Most cases settle, don’t they?” Kins asked.

  “Ninety-five percent or more.”

  “So why not this one?”

  “Again, I’m probably biased, but from my perspective Angela had dug in her heels and wasn’t going to budge. I’m also not sure she wanted to settle.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “As long as the divorce continued, she had something to hold over Tim’s head.”

  “But I’d imagine going to trial would be expensive for both parties,” Kins said.

  “It already was expensive, but, yes, once you step foot in court, the price escalates quickly. Since the fees come from the estate, though, Tim would bear much of that burden.”

  “How big was the estate they were fighting over?”

  “Not all that much in the scheme of things. Roughly a few million dollars. Tim owned a rental property before they got married and never put Angela on the deed of trust, but Angela was alleging they’d used community funds to fix it up and that she was entitled to a percentage. She also accused Tim of hiding money.”

  “Was he?”

  Holt smiled again. “No. Tim wanted to get this resolved. He was reaching a breaking point emotionally. I was the one telling him to hang on.”

  “What do you mean, ‘reaching a breaking point emotionally’?”

  “Angela had worn him down pretty good. Tim was ready to just throw in the towel, give Angela what she wanted, and move on with his life. It isn’t uncommon in divorce proceedings, but often the person who caves ends up regretting it. I kept telling him not to rush, that it would play out, that he’d already given Angela the house.”

  Tracy had been taking notes. Upon hearing the latter comment, she sat up. “What do you mean, he gave her the house?”

  “Tim had agreed to let Angela keep the house so Connor wouldn’t be displaced from his home until after graduating. He was worried about Connor’s emotional well-being.”

  “He was just giving her the house?” Tracy said.

  “No, not exactly. We were proposing a settlement in which Tim would get the rental unit outright and be compensated for his share of ownership in the house with other assets. Basically, it’s just a matter of how you balance the assets in each spouse’s column.”

  “The home wasn’t being sold?” Tracy asked, remembering that the night she’d arrived she’d gotten that distinct impression from the condition of the yard and the interior.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Holt said. “That would have gone directly against Tim’s wishes and the interim agreement we’d reached pending final resolution.”

  “What agreement?”

  “Angela had to get Tim’s consent to sell, and anything obtained over the appraised value at the time of separation would be split at the time of sale.”

  “You have a copy of that agreement?”

  “I do, and I can get a copy to you.”

  Tracy nodded to Kins to let him know she was through. He said, “We understand that Mr. Collins was also redoing his will.”

  Holt slid documents across the table. “My partner was creating a trust for Connor. It isn’t uncommon in a divorce. Tim was also changing his personal representative from Angela to his brother, Mark, and appointing Mark as the trustee of his estate.”

  “Practically, that means that if anything happened to Tim, his estate would go to Connor, with the brother keeping a watch on it, not Angela,” Kins said.

  “Correct.”

  “Angela wouldn’t have any right to any portion of that trust or control over how the assets were distributed?”

  “None. The brother would serve as a trustee until Connor reached the age of thirty-one, or he deemed the trust was no longer necessary.”

  “Thirty-one?” Kins said. “That seems really old.”

  “Tim didn’t want Angela to have any ability to get at the money, if anything were to happen to him. Connor isn’t the strongest personality. Tim wanted his brother to remain involved to ensure the money went to Connor—for his school, a down payment on a house, whatever. Tim wanted restrictions.
By thirty-one, most of the estate would have been distributed.”

  “But that new will and trust were never finalized?” Kins asked.

  “No. Tim was coming in that Friday to sign everything and have it witnessed.”

  “The day after he got shot?”

  Holt nodded. “Yes.”

  “So what happens now?”

  Holt shrugged. “Everything goes to Angela as the surviving spouse, and she remains the personal representative.”

  “Even though they were separated?”

  “Even though they were separated.”

  “And it is against Tim Collins’s express wishes.”

  “His express wishes don’t matter without a signed and witnessed new will.”

  Kins was quiet on the drive back to the Justice Center, appearing to be deep in thought.

  “We should call local real estate agents,” Tracy said. “To find out if Angela spoke to any of them and when. When are we supposed to get her cell phone and computer files?”

  “Cerrabone said Berkshire promised them any day now.” Kins looked at her. “You think that’s where the forty-five thousand dollars went?”

  “Sure looked like the property was being fixed up to sell,” Tracy said.

  “She was depleting the estate to fix up her asset.”

  “One way to get more money out of him, and if she turned around and sold that asset, she’d get the full benefit.”

  “Except that would have been in violation of the agreement they’d reached,” Kins said.

  “Not if Tim was dead,” Tracy said.

  CHAPTER 18

  Kins left the office right away after their meeting with Tim Collins’s divorce attorney. Tracy planned to stay a little later, playing catch-up after being away two days. When her cell phone rang, she smiled at the caller ID.

  “I was hoping it would be you,” she said.

  “We finished early,” Dan said. “It was a miracle on par with Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. I’m on an earlier flight.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week. When do you get in?”

  “If there aren’t any delays, I should arrive right around nine.”

  “And will you be spending the night?” she asked, teasing. West Seattle was only about twenty minutes from the airport. They’d already discussed Dan spending the night before he drove to Cedar Grove to care for his two dogs, Rex and Sherlock. Knowing he’d be exhausted after a long and trying week, Tracy wanted to surprise him by cooking him a late dinner.