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

  Faz and Del looked to have been plucked straight from central casting as bodyguards in a mafia movie like The Godfather. At the moment, they sat at their cubicles but with their chairs swiveled to face Kins, who was at his desk across the center workstation.

  “Hey, Professor, check out our boy Joe Friday,” Faz said when Tracy entered the bull pen, referring to the suit-wearing detective from the TV series Dragnet.

  Kins stood up from his chair holding his coffee mug. “If I had known wearing a suit was going to make the news, I would have dressed like a bum like you two.” Kins nodded to Tracy to follow him. “Brother of Tim Collins called. Wants to talk. I got a lot to fill you in on.”

  Tracy turned to follow.

  “Hey, Professor,” Faz called out. “I got a gas mask you could borrow for the elevator ride.”

  Kins brought Tracy up to date on what had transpired over the weekend, including Angela Collins and Atticus Berkshire coming in and giving a statement. Tracy was as surprised as Kins that Berkshire had allowed it.

  “There must be a reason,” she said. “Berkshire doesn’t do anything unless it helps his client or stirs the pot.”

  Mark Collins lived in an upper-class section of Madrona, a neighborhood fifteen minutes east of downtown Seattle that extended from the top of the hill to the shores of Lake Washington. Collins’s stately Georgian-style red brick home was likely worth a couple million dollars in the current hot market. He answered the door in khakis and a button-down. He looked like his younger brother, though taller and thinner, and while his brother was blond, Mark had red hair.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, sounding and looking grim. He led them into a den with an impressive flat-screen TV that nearly took up an entire wall. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee? Water?”

  “We’re good,” Kins said. “Our condolences to you and your family.”

  Kins and Faz had spoken to the other members of Tim Collins’s family the night he was shot and the following day, but Mark had been traveling. Kins got the impression that, as the oldest, Mark was the patriarch, and the others were waiting for his guidance.

  Mark Collins nodded. “I heard her father is arguing self-defense.”

  “That appears likely,” Kins said.

  Collins shook his head. “If anyone needed some self-defense, it was Timmy.”

  Other members of the family had made similar statements. “How so?” Kins asked. He’d made the contact. Tracy sat taking notes.

  “Angela is incredibly manipulative when she wants something. Over the years she wore Timmy down. She wore us all down.”

  “How’d she do that?”

  “She picked fights with each of us until none of us could stand being around her. One time, she’d start something with me; at another, it’d be my sister or my wife or my brother-in-law. Pretty soon, Timmy would say he couldn’t come for Sunday dinners because Angela didn’t feel comfortable. What we didn’t realize is she had done the same thing with all his friends. It was her way of isolating him.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To manipulate him, get him to do what she wanted. Tim became very codependent.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  Collins didn’t hesitate. He’d either thought about this, or he’d told others what he was about to tell them. “Tim made a good living, Detectives. He was an engineer at Boeing, but he nearly had to file for bankruptcy because of Angela’s spending. Either he bought her a new car or a boat, or the house she wanted, or the vacation they couldn’t afford, or she’d divorce him. Tim wouldn’t say no.”

  “But she filed for divorce anyway?” Tracy said.

  “And we were happy she did. We’d been working on Tim to leave her for years, but he wouldn’t because of Connor. Have you met him?”

  “Briefly,” Kins said.

  “So you know the kid is a bit fragile. Anyway, we finally got Tim to understand that the relationship wasn’t healthy. But he made the mistake of telling Angela he intended to file for divorce, and the next afternoon she served him with papers, including all the bullshit allegations.”

  “Do you think she’d already consulted a lawyer, or was this done totally in reaction to your brother telling her he wanted a divorce?” Tracy asked.

  “Definitely the latter. She was angry, and when Angela gets angry, she gets vindictive. Once Tim wanted a divorce and she realized she couldn’t use him anymore, she was hell-bent on destroying him.”

  Mark picked up a sheet of paper from the coffee table and handed it to Kins. “Those are people who can confirm what I’m telling you—relatives and friends of Timmy’s.”

  Kins took a moment to scan the multiple names and phone numbers before handing it to Tracy. “Did your brother ever mention any physical altercations with Angela?” he asked.

  “Complete bullshit,” Mark said, anger creeping into his tone. “Total, complete bullshit. Timmy never laid a hand on her and never would. He also never cheated on her. I told his attorney to ask for names. Of course Angela couldn’t produce any. The first time she accused him of abuse was after they’d separated. Timmy went to the house to pick up Connor, and Angela confronted him, angry that he wasn’t giving her enough money, even though he was complying with the court order. Tim tried to get out the door, and Angela blocked his path. He nudged her as he stepped past. Next thing he knows, the police are at his apartment and take him away in handcuffs. Angela claimed he shoved her into the door and over a table.” Collins leaned forward as if to make a point. “And here’s the scariest part about Angela—she went to the hospital to be treated for bruises.”

  Kins glanced at Tracy to gauge her reaction, but she remained poker-faced. “How do you think she got the injuries?” he asked.

  Collins shook his head again. “Self-inflicted. I know it sounds crazy, but she had to have done it to herself.”

  “Why?”

  “To set Timmy up. She staged the whole thing. I had to get Timmy a criminal defense lawyer. When the attorney started pressing for additional facts, Angela didn’t pursue it. She couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she had no facts. It didn’t happen the way she said. Besides, she needed Tim to continue working so she could get the spousal support. It was just her way of letting Tim know she still had control over him, and that she would do anything to destroy him if he crossed her.”

  “You say she isolated your brother from you and the rest of the family.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So you didn’t spend much time around them.”

  Mark Collins cleared his throat. “No. But I know my brother, and I know he wouldn’t hit her or cheat on her. When she filed the divorce papers, he was really upset about the allegations. He was trying to keep things civil for Connor, but that wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Connor signed an affidavit that his father pushed his mother.”

  Mark shrugged. “Did he? I’d bet that was Angela who signed Connor’s name. She’s done things like that before. She’d get Connor’s cell phone and send Tim these horrible e-mails and texts, to make it look like they were coming from Connor. And even if Connor did sign the affidavit, what else could he do? He had to live with her, and he’s afraid of her. Angela has isolated him also. Have you met him? The kid is seventeen, and I swear he can’t boil water, never goes out with friends, never had a job or made his own money, and doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s totally dependent on her.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Far as anyone knows, goes to school and goes home to his room to play video games.”

  “What do you think happened to your brother?” Kins asked. “Why was he at the house that night?”

  “He went to pick up Connor. He had him for the weekend starting Thursday night. I don’t know why he went inside. But I’ll bet Angela had something to do with it.”

  “What was his relationship like with his son after his son’s affidavit?”

  “Tim knew
Connor loved him, and he knew what Angela was capable of. If anything, the affidavit only confirmed that he had to find a way to protect Connor from her.” Collins picked up a multipage document from the table and handed it to Tracy and Kins. “Timmy was in the process of redoing his will to leave everything in a trust for Connor, and he named me as the trustee. It wasn’t a fortune, not the way Angela spent money, but it wasn’t inconsiderable when you factor in Timmy’s share of the Greenwood house, a rental unit he bought before they married, and his Boeing 401K and life insurance, as well as what he stood to inherit.”

  “You think she killed your brother for the money?”

  “Since the divorce isn’t final and the new will isn’t executed, she gets everything as the surviving widow and has full control over his assets. How crazy is that? They were separated. They were getting divorced, she professed all kinds of vile things about Tim, but now she gets all the money as his widow? Why is there no law against that?”

  “I don’t know,” Kins said.

  “I have Tim’s iPad. I went to the apartment and took it. I don’t care if I wasn’t supposed to. Timmy had an appointment scheduled with his attorney for the Saturday after Angela shot him. I’m betting that meeting was to finalize his new will and the trust, and that’s why Angela shot him on Thursday night.”

  “How would she have known your brother was redoing his will?” Tracy asked.

  “Or about the appointment?” Kins said.

  “Connor,” Mark Collins said softly. He motioned to the papers on the coffee table. “I found much of this right out in the open on my brother’s desk.”

  “You’re saying Connor saw it and told his mother?”

  “No,” Mark said. “Knowing Angela, she probably had Connor deliberately snooping for her.”

  “Mr. Collins,” Tracy said, “what if I told you I have a suspicion that Angela confessed because she’s protecting Connor, that I think it might have been Connor who shot your brother?”

  “Is there any evidence of that?”

  “Nothing specific.”

  Mark Collins seemed to give it some consideration. “Angela convincing Connor to commit the crime—yeah, I can see that,” he said. “But confessing? No. I’ve never known Angela to do anything that didn’t immediately benefit her. So if that turns out to be the case, you can be damn sure there was something in it for her.”

  Kins looked to Tracy. She shook her head to indicate that she had no further questions. They stood. “Thank you, Mr. Collins,” Kins said. “We’ll keep you advised on our investigation.”

  “Why isn’t she in jail?” Collins asked. “Why isn’t she in jail if she admitted she shot him?”

  “The judge didn’t deem her a flight risk,” Kins said, “and she has no prior criminal record. She’s out on bail. That doesn’t mean she’s out of the woods. It’s not uncommon for the prosecutor to wait until all the evidence is gathered to charge someone.”

  “But you indicated she came in and reconfirmed what happened.”

  “She did,” Kins said. “But we have reason to doubt she’s telling us the truth.”

  Collins exhaled, clearly exasperated. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s lied. Far from it.”

  “Sometimes these things take time, Mr. Collins,” Tracy said, “but in the end, the system usually delivers justice.”

  Mark Collins looked somber. “Maybe so, Detectives, but the judicial system doesn’t ordinarily deal with the likes of Angela.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Kins dropped Tracy back at the Justice Center, telling her he had an appointment to talk with his son Eric’s high school counselor. Tracy set her purse in her cubicle, scanned the documents Mark Collins had provided, then e-mailed them to Cerrabone with a note for him to call her.

  She’d no sooner hit “Send” when Faz materialized. “You have lunch plans?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, sensing that he was interested in cashing in on his free lunch. “What did you have in mind, Faz?”

  “I took the liberty of booking us a reservation at Tulio,” he said. “Best clams in the city.”

  “Very considerate of you. My Visa card thanks you. It has cobwebs on it, but I can use the air miles.”

  “Wait till you get the bill,” Del said, pushing back his chair. “You’ll have enough miles for a trip to Europe.”

  Tulio was within walking distance, north on Fifth Avenue. The nice weather was holding, midfifties with clear skies. As they walked, Tracy filled Faz in on the interview with Mark Collins.

  “So what did you think?” Faz asked.

  “I think he sounded like someone trying to protect his brother. I’ve never bought the ‘she threw herself down a staircase’ theory.”

  Faz held the door for her, and they stepped inside. The dining area consisted of half a dozen tables draped with white cloths, and booths along the walls. The kitchen was at the back, and diners could watch the two chefs at work.

  “I can taste the clams already,” Faz said.

  “While you salivate, I’m going to wash my hands.” Tracy spotted the sign for the restrooms and started for the back of the restaurant.

  Halfway there, she thought she heard a familiar voice and glanced to her left, into the dining area. Kins sat in a booth near a window, leaning forward, engaged in conversation. Opposite him sat Amanda Santos, the FBI profiler who’d worked the Cowboy investigation, and a dead ringer for Halle Berry.

  Del was waiting when Tracy and Faz returned. “All right, Fazio, get it over with. Tell me how the clams were the best you’ve ever had.”

  “Garlic and onions, a little salt and pepper.” Faz kissed his fingers and let them bloom. “Magnifico.”

  It was a worthy performance. Maybe Faz could have been in the movies. He didn’t have the clams. They didn’t eat at Tulio. Tracy had done a one-eighty when she’d spotted Kins and returned quickly to the front of the restaurant. She’d had no idea what excuse she’d use to convince Faz they had to leave, so she was glad when she didn’t need one.

  “I saw him,” Faz had said, already opening the door for her and stepping outside. “I figured something was up. I’ve heard him on the phone a couple times keeping his voice low. Then the suit. Who wears a suit anymore if you don’t have to?”

  “I knew things weren’t great at home,” Tracy said, now wondering if Santos was the reason she’d beaten Kins to the Collins crime scene. “But he said he and Shannah were working things through.”

  “Hey, we don’t know he’s done anything.”

  “No,” she said. “But he lied and said he was meeting his son’s high school counselor.”

  “Not our place to judge,” Faz said. “Nobody knows what goes on between a man and a woman in the privacy of their own home.”

  “Agreed, but I’m not his wife. I’m his partner.”

  When Tracy made Homicide, her first partner quit, not willing to work with a woman. The second asked to be reassigned when his wife complained. Kins had readily accepted her, and for the eight years they had worked together, they’d agreed to a policy of total honesty.

  Back at her desk, still upset, Tracy busied herself going through the Collins file and trying to catch up on all the reports. The neighbors said they all knew the couple had separated, though they didn’t know the reason. No one had ever heard or seen anything to confirm Angela Collins’s accusation of physical or emotional cruelty.

  Nearly two hours later, Tracy turned from her computer when Kins returned. She watched him hang his coat on a hanger and hook it to the top of his cubicle.

  “How was the meeting?” she asked, drawing a glance from Faz.

  Kins shrugged. “You know, same BS. Took a bit long, but Eric’s doing better. He’s got his algebra grade back up to a B.”

  “That’s got to be a relief.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is. You got that list of names from the brother? I’ll start making calls.”

  Tracy handed Kins the list without further comment, and he went to work.
So did Tracy. She made good progress talking to Tim Collins’s friends and other relatives. Each confirmed, to varying degrees, what Mark Collins had told them—that Angela isolated Tim, seemed to pick unnecessary fights, and could be particularly “difficult” when she didn’t get her way. That, however, was a double-edged sword, since it also confirmed the couple’s relationship could be volatile.

  The emergency room doctor had also returned Kins’s call, and Kins relayed the substance of their conversation. The doctor didn’t specifically remember Angela Collins, but he’d pulled her chart, which confirmed that Angela had minor bruising along the right side of her torso and near her ribs. Angela had told the doctor that her estranged husband had shoved her into the door frame and she fell over a table, but X-rays didn’t reveal any fractures. He’d sent her home and told her to take an anti-inflammatory for the pain. He said he’d never questioned whether or not Angela was telling the truth about how she’d been injured, or if her injuries were consistent with her explanation.

  Early evening, Kins grabbed his suit coat, draping it over his shoulder. “I’m going to hit it. Will has a soccer game.”

  “You don’t want to miss that,” Tracy said.

  “Shannah will have my head.”

  “Before you go, there’s something I need to talk with you about,” Tracy said. “My friend, Jenny Almond—”

  “The one who became sheriff?”

  “Right. She’s asked me to take a look at a 1976 case her father worked.”

  “Cold case?”

  “Not exactly. The facts are complicated. I don’t want to keep you from the soccer game. Just wanted you to know I’m going to ask Nolasco to let me work it, and I wanted to make sure you’re all right with it.”

  “You want my help?”

  She shook her head. “Nolasco would never allow both of us to work it. He may not even allow me to.”

  “He’s been pretty quiet around here with OPA on his ass,” Kins said. “You want to do it, go for it. Collins isn’t going anywhere fast, and Faz is itching to stay involved.”

  “I just didn’t want you to think I was doing something behind your back.”