Kins turned from his computer the moment Tracy stepped into the bull pen, stood, and handed her two sheets of paper.
“Bingo,” he said, pointing to the first of two e-mails. “Angela Collins was talking to a real estate agent about selling the house. He e-mailed her appraisals.”
“When was this?” Tracy asked, searching for the date of the e-mail.
“The same week she bought a gun.”
“Did you talk to this guy?”
“Just got off the phone with him; he says she asked for an appraisal and said she was thinking of selling first thing after the holidays. That would have been within days of the trial date,” Kins said.
“Maybe before the divorce was even final,” Tracy said. “I knew she was fixing it up to sell.”
“Which would have violated the agreement.”
“But only if Tim Collins was still alive. This could show premeditation.”
“Maybe,” Kins said. “I’m going to take a drive over there. I want to lock this guy down. You want to go with me?”
Tracy’s cell phone rang. “Hang on.” She fished through her purse and retrieved her phone. Caller ID indicated Jenny Almond.
“You’re probably calling for an update,” Tracy said.
“Actually, to give you some news,” Jenny said. “I just heard through the grapevine that Earl Kanasket is in the hospital.”
Jenny wouldn’t be calling to tell her Earl had a stomachache. “What happened?”
“I heard he had a seizure. The son took him in, but apparently against Earl’s wishes.”
“How do you know that?”
“I called the hospital and spoke with his doctors.”
“How bad is he?”
“He’s breathing on his own now, but he’s refusing any extraordinary lifesaving measures. Doctor said Earl told them he’s prepared to leave this world and be with his wife and daughter.”
Tracy thought of élan Kanasket saying that his mother had gone to her grave not knowing what had happened to Kimi, and his prediction that his father would do so as well. She didn’t much care about proving élan wrong; she cared more about putting Kimi to rest for Earl while he was still breathing. The window to do that had just narrowed significantly.
“Reunion activities start this week, don’t they?” Tracy said.
“They do.”
“I have something to take care of this afternoon, then I’m going to come back down. Is your mother’s house still available?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t get back until next week. You want to get together and talk about what you’ve found?”
“I’ll likely be late tonight. Why don’t I fill you in tomorrow?”
CHAPTER 23
The following morning, despite getting to the Almond farmhouse late and having a difficult time falling asleep, Tracy was out of bed before the rooster started crowing. She’d been unable to quiet the swirling thoughts she’d taken to bed with her, and when she awoke, they started again.
Running often helped clear her mind. When she stepped outside in her winter running gear, it was 5:15, dark, and according to the thermometer mounted near the front door, a brisk thirty-seven degrees. She set out on what had become her regular path, along the ridge of the foothills, intending to complete what she estimated to be a six-mile loop. It was disorienting running in the dark, but she had a headlamp, and the footing was solid.
When she reached the top of the ridge, she stopped to get her bearings. The state route was to the west, Stoneridge to the south. Her usual course was to follow the foothills east, then loop back north and west to the farmhouse. But a thought came to her, and instead she ran due south, following a less worn path and keeping 141, her point of reference, on her left. The foliage grew denser as she continued, and several times she considered stopping and turning back, but she pushed on, sensing she was heading in the right direction. She ran down an incline, feeling the impact on her knees and shins, continued on flat ground for another half a mile or so, and came to another grade, this one steeper. She powered up it, her breathing labored, arms and legs pumping. When she reached the top, she intertwined her fingers behind her head, pacing as she struggled to catch her breath. Below her was the clearing.
She always did have a strong sense of direction.
She walked down the hill, each breath marking the air. The first signs of dawn, a pink sky, inched just above the foothills, shedding shadowy light on the clearing and the surrounding trees.
Tracy walked to the spot where Kaylee Wright said Kimi had fallen, the spot where someone had planted a bush—the tips of the leaves already looked to be turning brown. She took a moment there, saying a silent prayer for Kimi, for her sister, Sarah, and for other young women like them. When she’d finished, a thought came to her, and she turned to consider the location where she’d seen the man the night she’d first come to the clearing. She crossed to the tree line and entered. In the daylight it was easier to pick her steps.
Farther in, she noted what looked to be a dead plant on the forest floor, its root ball still intact. She bent to pick it up and noticed several more similarly discarded, each also with a root ball. She followed the trail and found a pile—dozens of different kinds of plants in various stages of decomposition.
Nothing grows in the clearing.
That hadn’t stopped someone from trying.
She continued through the forest until she emerged onto the easement beneath the electrical lines. Her curiosity now piqued, she walked up the hill in the same direction as the tire tracks to the ridge of the foothills. From there she surveyed her surroundings but didn’t see anything that stood out. She ran along the ridgeline for another mile and was about to turn back when she found herself looking down upon a sprawling plot of land with a large redwood storefront, multiple glass hothouses the size of warehouses, and what appeared to be acres of rows of potted plants, vines, shrubs, and juvenile trees.
A nursery.
She looked at her watch and started quickly back to the house.
At the farmhouse, Tracy called the Central Point Nursery and confirmed that Archibald Coe worked there, though the woman she spoke with said Coe wouldn’t be in until eleven. Coe had to be the man Tracy saw the night she’d visited the clearing, which meant he must be the person planting different plants and shrubs in the place where Kimi Kanasket had been run over, and judging by the pile of plants Tracy had found, he’d been doing so for years.