In the Clearing (Tracy Crosswhite #3)(11)

“Appears to be.”

“You get a chance to look at it?”

“Some.”

“What do you think?”

“I was born shortly after Kimi disappeared,” Jenny said. “We didn’t live in Stoneridge then. We moved there when my dad became sheriff. I don’t recall my father ever really talking about it. Yet, I knew about Kimi Kanasket. Everyone did. I can remember people saying things like ‘Don’t walk the road alone late at night. You’ll end up like Kimi Kanasket.’”

“You want me to take a look?”

“Forensics are better now, and it just feels like the cancer robbed my dad of the chance to finish this. I feel like I owe it to him to at least take a closer look, but I’m his daughter. I’m not sure I can be objective. I’m also an elected official, and I may have to reopen the file. If that’s the case, I’d like an independent assessment to justify my decision. If there’s nothing to it, so be it. If there is . . .” Jenny shrugged.

Another squeal, but this one sounded more urgent. When they looked out the window, they saw Trey on the ground crying, Neil trying to console him.

“Is he hurt?”

“That’s his ‘We lost’ cry,” Jenny said. “He’s competitive, like his father.”

“And his mother,” Tracy said.

Jenny smiled. “I get it from my father.”

“So do I,” Tracy said, picking up the file.





CHAPTER 5


Emily Rodriguez, fifty-seven, lived one house to the north of Tim and Angela Collins’s home. The first thing Kins noticed when he and Faz entered her home was the large picture window that faced Greenwood Avenue.

“Thank you for speaking to us again,” Kins said. Faz and Del had interviewed the woman the night before.

Rodriguez looked uncomfortable. “It’s so sad,” she said. “So sad.”

“Did you know the family?”

“Not really. I’d wave in passing, say hello, that sort of thing.”

Kins nodded, letting the woman catch her breath. “Ever hear any arguing, yelling, anything to indicate they were having problems?”

“No.”

“Any neighbors ever indicate they’d heard there were problems in the home?”

“I don’t talk much with my neighbors. I’m not unfriendly or anything, I just don’t know them very well. A lot of people I knew have moved. But I never heard anything.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Me? Thirty years.”

“Do you know when the Collinses moved in?”

“About five years ago, I’d say.”

“What about the son? Did you ever speak with him?”

Rodriguez shook her head. “Again, maybe in passing, but nothing I can recall. I’d see him getting on and off the bus in the morning.” She pointed out the window. “He waited right there at that bus stop.”

Kins stepped to the window. “I noticed in your witness statement you said you thought you heard a car backfire and looked out the window. I’m assuming it was this window?”

“That’s right. It was a bang, the way an engine will sometimes do that.”

“And you said that when you looked out the window, you saw a city bus?”

Rodriguez joined Kins and Faz at the window. “At that bus stop. Route Five.”

Kins smiled. “You’re familiar with it.”

“I rode that bus downtown and back for more than twenty years.”

“What did you do?”

“I was a paralegal at a law firm.”

“Do you recall what time it was when you heard the bang?”

“I didn’t look at my watch or anything,” she said.

In her witness statement, Rodriguez didn’t provide an exact time, but Kins hoped he could narrow it down using the city bus schedule, which he’d checked on the Metro Transit website that morning. “According to the schedule, that bus makes a stop at that location at 5:18 and then again at 5:34.” Angela Collins had called 911 at 5:39, so he guessed Rodriguez heard the shot at 5:34.

“That’s right. I would catch the 4:35 at Third and Pine downtown, and it would drop me here at 5:18.”

“Do you know if the bus you saw was the 5:18 or the 5:34?”

“I’m not sure. This was pretty upsetting.” Rodriguez massaged her temple.

“Take your time,” Kins said.

She closed her eyes, grimacing. Kins looked to Faz, who frowned and shrugged. He’d gotten the same answer.

“I’m sorry,” Rodriguez said. “I don’t . . .” She opened her eyes.

“What were you doing before you heard the noise?” Kins said, trying to ground Rodriguez in a task that might refresh her recollection.

“I was . . .” She looked to the window, then turned to a flat-screen in the corner of the room. “I was watching TV.”

“Do you recall what you were watching?”

“KIRO 7,” she said.

“Local news.”

“That’s right.” Kins could almost see the wheels starting to spin in her head. “I watch it from five to five thirty, then switch to World News Tonight on ABC. I was watching a story about housing prices rising on the Eastside. The noise startled me, and I went to the window to see what it was.”