In the Clearing (6 page)

Kins was in no real position to negotiate, but he also wasn’t about to accept Berkshire’s terms on video. He was still trying to figure out why Berkshire would allow his daughter to give a statement. He and Kins had speculated that whatever Angela Collins had to say, it would have been carefully rehearsed, and intended to further her anticipated self-defense argument.

“You’re willing to talk to us today with your lawyer present?” Kins asked Angela Collins.

She nodded.

“You have to answer audibly,” Berkshire said.

“Yes,” she said, touching her lip as if it hurt to talk.

“And you understand that this conversation is being videotaped and recorded?” Kins asked.

“Yes.”

“And, again, you agree to us recording what is said?”

“Yes.”

Kins was being cautious, even more surprised Berkshire would allow them to record the interview.

“All right,” Kins said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Angela Collins took a deep breath, grimaced, and exhaled. “Tim came to the house to pick up Connor. He was upset.”

“Tim was upset, or Connor was upset?” Kins was pretty sure she meant Tim, but he wanted to get her in the routine of answering his questions and prevent her from providing a soliloquy.

“Tim was upset, but Connor was also upset.”

“Why was Connor upset?”

“He didn’t like going to his father’s apartment.”

“Why not?”

“Tim was hard on Connor. He was always on him about something.”

Kins made a mental note to pursue that line of inquiry. Could the kid have snapped from persistent abuse? “What was your husband upset about when he came to the house?”

“He was upset that my attorney had asked for an increase in support.” She slurred the last word and again paused to touch her lip. “He said he didn’t have any more money to give me. He said I was already taking more than seventy percent of what he was clearing after taxes. He accused me of hoarding money.”

“According to the terms of a negotiated restraining order, your husband wasn’t supposed to go into the house,” Kins said, expecting Berkshire to object that Angela was there only to provide a statement. Berkshire, however, had his head down, taking notes on a pad.

“That’s right.”

“You let him in anyway?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Connor opened the door, and Tim forced his way in.”

“Did Tim hit Connor?”

“Yes, but not then.”

“What happened next?”

“Tim became verbally abusive. He said I was spending money on worthless things. That’s when he picked up the sculpture and began shaking it. He said it was a waste of money. I told him to put it down.”

“Where was Connor when this was going on?”

“I’d sent him to his room at the back of the house and told him to shut the door.”

“Then what?”

“The argument escalated. Tim got more and more worked up. I told him I was calling 911. That’s when he hit me with the sculpture.”

She said it matter-of-factly, like someone reciting lines but showing no real emotion. “Where did he hit you?”

Angela Collins touched the wound on the left side of her head.

“How many times did he hit you with the sculpture?”

“Just once. That’s all it took to knock me down.”

“Then what happened?”

“He kicked me in the stomach and started yelling at me.”

“How many times did he kick you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what?”

“He dropped the sculpture and shouted for Connor that they were leaving, but Connor wouldn’t come out of his room. He’d locked himself in. Tim went back there and started pounding on the door, telling Connor if he didn’t open it, he’d break it down.”

Kins was wondering how Collins could recollect such details if she’d been hit in the head hard enough to cause a wound that would require three stitches. “And Connor opened the door?” he asked.

Angela Collins nodded. “Tim told him to get his stuff, that they were leaving, but by now Connor didn’t want to go with him. He told him no, and that’s when Tim hit him.”

“You saw it?”

“No, but I heard it. Tim has hit Connor before. He slapped him hard across the face. It sounded like a bullwhip.”

Angela Collins started to shake, and Atticus Berkshire placed a comforting hand on her back. Kins slid a box of tissues closer, taking note of the lack of tears. Angela blew her nose, then sipped from a glass of water before continuing. “I’d gotten to my feet, and I got the gun from the box in the closet.”

“You got the gun first, then went down the hall?”

“That’s right. I just wanted to scare him, to make him leave us alone, but when I went down the hall I saw Tim grab Connor.”

“Grabbed him where?”

“He grabbed Connor by the shirt.”

“Where was your son in the room?”

“He’d retreated to the corner. His face was red where Tim had hit him. Connor resisted when Tim tried to get him to go with him.”

“How did he resist?”

“I don’t know. He just did. And that’s when Tim raised his hand again . . . and I pulled the trigger and shot him.”

Again, Kins noted the absence of tears. He’d had friends go through some brutal divorces, but he couldn’t imagine any of them having so little feeling for an ex-spouse that they couldn’t muster any tears—especially one they’d shot. He tried not to look at Berkshire as he asked his next question, certain it would draw an objection. “Your husband had his back to you?”

“Yes,” she said.

Berkshire never looked up.

“How far were you from him?”

“Just a few feet.”

“He didn’t turn around, didn’t hear you?”

“She can’t speculate about what he heard,” Berkshire said, still without raising his head. He flipped his notepad to a clean page and resumed scribbling.

“He gave no indication he heard you?” Kins asked.

“I don’t think he expected that I would get up,” Collins said. “I don’t think he expected me to be there.”

“He didn’t expect you to be behind him?”

“No.”

“You don’t recall him turning his head, shoulders, nothing?” According to the ME’s initial report, the trajectory of the bullet wound was consistent for someone with his back to the gun.

“No.”

“Did you say anything to him to try to get him to stop before shooting him?”

She shook her head. “I was afraid he’d attack me and take the gun. That’s what they taught us in the class, that if you take the gun out you have to be prepared to use it, because if they get it they’ll use it on you.”

“So you intended to shoot him?”

This time Berkshire intervened. “That’s not what she said.”

“I don’t know what I intended. It all happened so fast, and I was afraid for me and for Connor.”

“What happened next?” Kins asked.

“I told Connor to wait in the living room, and I called my father. And he told me—”

“Don’t discuss what I told you,” Berkshire said, still scribbling.

“You called your father before you called 911?”

Angela Collins looked to her father. Berkshire raised his head and nodded. “Yes,” she said.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What did you do with the gun?”

“I dropped it on the bed.”

“Did Connor touch it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Has Connor ever touched that gun?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep it locked in a box in the closet?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t take shooting lessons with you?”

“No.”

“Did you do anything between the time you shot your husband and when you called your father?” This was the answer Kins was most anxious to hear, how Angela would account for the nearly twenty-one minutes between the time she fired the gun and the time she called 911.

Collins shook her head. “No. I just dropped the gun on the bed. I had to find my cell phone. I couldn’t recall what I’d done with it. I was pretty shaken up. So was Connor.”

“How much time passed between when you shot your husband and when you called your father?”

“If you know,” Berkshire said, perhaps picking up that Kins had information they did not.

“I don’t know.”

“How much time passed before you called 911?”

“I don’t know.”

“An hour?” Kins said, baiting her.

“Oh, no. It was minutes. I called within minutes.”

“By minutes, you mean one or two minutes?” he asked, trying to lock her in.

“One or two. No more than five.”

“So definitely within five,” he said, certain Berkshire would jump in and object, and again surprised when he didn’t.

“Definitely,” she said.

“And other than dropping the gun on the bed and getting your cell phone, you don’t recall doing anything else.”

“No.”

“Did you touch Tim’s body?”

“No.”

“Did Connor?”

“I don’t believe so. No. No, he wouldn’t have.”

“The sculpture remained on the floor where your husband dropped it—is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you or Connor touch it?”

“No. We left it there.”

Kins went back over some of the details of Collins’s story to be certain he’d pinned her down. After forty-five minutes, Atticus Berkshire said Angela was still emotionally distraught and tired, and put an end to the proceedings. Kins thanked them for coming in and walked them back to the elevators.

After Collins and Berkshire had departed, Kins found Faz in the bull pen. “What do you think?” Kins asked.

“I think Tracy was right,” Faz said rocking in his chair. “I think Berkshire coached her on what to say and how to say it.”

“But he didn’t know about the neighbor and the bus.”

“What time did she call her father?” Faz asked.

“At 5:39.”

“And we know she called 911 after she called her father. So what was she doing for twenty-one minutes after she shot him?”

“According to her, not a damn thing.” Kins smiled.

“She’s locked in now. You pinned her good,” Faz said.

“Yeah, but it still doesn’t answer the bigger question,” Kins said.

“Why the hell would Berkshire allow her to give a statement in the first place?”

“Exactly.”

After Berkshire and Collins had departed, Kins and Faz turned their attention to the restraining order, specifically to Angela Collins’s signed affidavit that the restraining order was necessary because Tim had come to the house one evening and become violent. In her statement she said Tim shoved her into the door frame, then pushed her over a table, necessitating a trip to the emergency room. The ER doctor’s report confirmed bruised ribs, and bruising along Collins’s upper arms. Nothing else in the file showed that Tim had a violent temper or a propensity for violence, though they were admittedly just getting started.

“According to court documents, the matter was resolved when he agreed not to set foot in the house on days he was to pick up Connor,” Kins said. “He was supposed to wait in the car.”

“She didn’t press charges?” Faz asked. “If she really was an abused spouse, why wouldn’t she press charges?”

“Maybe she figured the restraining order was enough.”

“Not if you believe what’s in the divorce papers,” Faz said. “Read that, and she was married to Attila the Hun.”

Kins flipped to CSI’s preliminary report, which had been sent over while they’d been interviewing Angela Collins. The report included dozens of photographs, as well as the latent print examiner’s findings. The examiner identified positive fingerprint hits for Angela, Connor, and Tim Collins throughout the house, which was to be expected. They’d found additional prints as well, but so far none of those generated hits when run through AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System, which kept a record of the prints of people who had been convicted of crimes, served in the military, or entered specific professions.

Kins sat forward when he read the next sentence. “Did you see this?” he said to Faz. “The examiner found both Angela’s and Connor’s fingerprints on the Colt Defender.”

“So the kid did touch the gun,” Faz said.

“Apparently.” Kins continued reading, stopped, and reread the same sentence a second and then a third time. “They didn’t find any prints on the sculpture.”

“What?” Faz got up from his desk and walked across the bull pen to Kins’s cubicle.

Kins pointed to his computer screen and read the sentence aloud. “Negative for
any
prints.”

“How can that be?” Faz said. “That don’t make no sense.”

Kins continued reading. “But they
did
find Connor’s fingerprints on his father’s shoe. Why would the kid’s prints be on one of the shoes?”

“Maybe he tried to move him?”

Kins shook his head. “ME’s report says there was no indication the body was moved. Lividity is consistent with a body that had been lying in one spot.” Kins rocked in his chair. “The only way that sculpture could be clean is if someone wiped it clean, right?”

“Or no one touched it in the first place,” Faz said.

“Then how’d it get on the floor?”

“Got knocked over during the argument.”

“Why would she say he used it to hit her?”

“She needed to explain the cut on her head.”

“How else would she have gotten it?”