Page 15 of Silencing Stolen Whispers (Kinsley Aspen #2)

Kinsley Aspen

July

K insley’s stomach growled in protest as she highlighted another entry in a lengthy list of calls to and from Hannah Scriven’s cell phone.

Fortunately, the search warrant Alex had filed the day before had prompted the victim’s provider to act quickly.

There were also many pages of text messages to go through.

Alex had dropped her off at the station so Kinsley could track down Fawn Ginkel, the woman willing to be paid a hefty sum in exchange for taking the bar exam. Since the woman’s name was an alias and the phone number was a burner, Kinsley’s luck had run out within minutes.

Alex wanted to return to campus in hopes that someone—particularly Jade—would be willing to share more about Hannah’s personal life. Jade had a lot to answer for, especially considering she had intentionally withheld information from them during her interview last night.

She had known all along about Fawn Ginkel.

Why lie?

“Food has arrived!”

Sam’s announcement blared through the bullpen, though he remained on the other side of the glass partition. Kinsley peered over her shoulder to find him carrying two large brown paper bags. It wasn’t long before the mouthwatering scent of garlic and pepperoni wafted toward her desk.

The bullpen had gradually emptied as the lunch hour approached, but a handful of detectives had all pitched in and ordered from a local Italian restaurant known for its stromboli. She would wait to collect hers until the kitchen cleared out.

Kinsley exchanged the yellow highlighter for a green one.

She ran a line through a number that appeared multiple times throughout May and early June from the burner used by Fawn Ginkel.

According to the brief conversation Kinsley had with Jade’s new roommate, Fawn had sought out Hannah after hearing she might be considering the illegal services.

Fawn had wanted some legal advice of her own on how to avoid charges if she were caught in the act, and Jade had confided in Courtney about a potential quid pro quo.

If Fawn could easily pass the bar exam, why would she need legal advice from a student? It made no sense. Hannah’s parents specialized in corporate law, not criminal law. Kinsley and Alex were definitely missing a piece of a very large puzzle.

The calls between Hannah and Fawn suddenly stopped in mid-June.

Kinsley needed to give her eyes a break from scanning so many phone numbers.

She picked up the text messages she had taken the time to print out.

Most of Hannah's messages had been with Bailey—daily texts that ranged from simple updates to long venting sessions about their parents.

Then there was Nick Ryder, whose number appeared regularly through the month of May before vanishing altogether.

Their last exchange was terse.

Nick: We need to talk in person.*

Hannah: I think we've said everything that needs saying.*

Nick: That's the problem. You don't listen. Never have.*

Kinsley set those aside and picked up another piece of paper to read an exchange between Hannah and Jade.

Unlike the steady stream with Bailey or the romantic timeline with Nick, these messages revealed a friendship frayed at the edges.

The exchanges from April were supportive…

friendly even. The subjects ranged from dinner plans to dishwasher schedules.

There were even a few reminders about study groups.

Again, in May, something had shifted.

Jade: Mom is starting chemo next week. Working extra shifts at the library to help with medical bills.*

Hannah: I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can help.*

Jade: Thanks.*

Simple. Polite. But noticeably cooler than earlier conversations. Kinsley flipped through more printouts, finding another exchange from early May that caught her attention.

Hannah: I can't believe my parents. They're on me about the bar exam again. Mom had been sending me practice questions hourly, and I still have finals.*

Jade: At least you don't have to figure out how to pay for next semester while your mom pukes her guts out from treatment.*

Hannah: But you figured it out, didn’t you? Not that I agree with it. Anyway, I didn't mean to downplay your situation.*

Jade: No, you never mean to. You just don't think beyond your bubble.*

The texts grew increasingly tense throughout the month of May, when Jade's frustration finally boiled over.

Jade: I can't be your emotional dumping ground anymore, Hannah.

Some of us have REAL problems. Your family has money.

Your future is secure. You want to know what struggling really is?

Try watching your mother waste away while working two jobs just to stay in school.

Your privilege blinds you. You're the most selfish person I've ever met. *

Hannah hadn't replied to that accusation. Instead, the records proved she had called Jade twice the following day—both calls lasting less than a minute.

Kinsley's attention shifted to Bailey's calls in the final week—over ten of them, all unanswered, until the day prior to Hannah's death. Bailey hadn’t lied about speaking to her sister around four o’clock on Wednesday.

Something had prompted Bailey to reach out repeatedly and urgently.

Hannah had chosen not to answer any of them until the middle of the week.

“What were you avoiding, Hannah?” Kinsley whispered before checking the time.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since Sam's announcement.

Her stomach renewed its protests with a growl that seemed to echo across the bullpen.

Standing from her desk, her knee gave that familiar pop.

She grimaced when the old softball injury made itself known, but the knee brace should keep it stable on Sunday.

Kinsley made her way into the break room, where the countertop was now littered with empty Styrofoam containers. She checked the fridge before returning to the counter, pulling forward each of the lids. Her irritation began to build when she couldn’t find her name labeled in black ink.

The delicious odor of garlic now permeated the small space, and it was strong enough for her to know that fresh Italian-American food was still nearby. Kinsley struck gold when she finally noticed a container tucked in the corner near the coffee machine.

She flipped open her box to find her stromboli with not one but two small containers of marinara sauce. Her stomach agreed, and she couldn’t hold back a smile.

Small mercies.

“You’re welcome.”

The deep, rich voice froze her in place.

Shane’s presence filled the break room, the air around her suddenly too thin.

She had gone out of her way to extend him a warm welcome to the department.

When they first became involved, well before the well-deserved karma train had run through her life, he had been working Vice.

But hell was a one-way ticket, and Shane had decided to transfer to homicide.

“I appreciate the extra sauce,” Kinsley managed to say as she reached for a stack of napkins to buy herself more time. “I thought Sam picked up lunch today.”

“I drove and then dropped him off out front. The cruiser needed fuel since we’ll be gone the rest of the day.”

Shane was the complete opposite of Alex.

No suit, no tie, no dress shoes.

Instead, Shane wore a dark blue button-down that somehow managed to bring out the piercing blue of his eyes.

The soft fabric also covered up a tattoo of an eagle, globe, and anchor on his left pectoral muscle.

His sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, revealing a small scar from his military service on his left wrist. She had traced that scar with her fingers many times.

“How's the Scriven case progressing?” Shane asked as he closed the distance to the fridge.

He opened the door and reached in for a bottle of water.

The simple action was executed with such precision that it was almost hypnotic.

“Haugen mentioned the ex-boyfriend is coming into the station this afternoon.”

“Nick Ryder.” Kinsley kept herself busy by grabbing the silverware from the drawer.

She hated the plastic utensils given with the order as they had a tendency to break easily.

“We’re still looking for a motive. Hannah mulled over cheating on the bar exam.

There’s a chance someone blackmailed her about it.

There's also tension with her family, her twin sister, her best friend—the list of people with grievances against her keeps growing.”

“But no smoking gun?” Shane removed the white cap and took a sip of water before leaning his hip against the counter.

“Not yet. We've traced some calls to a woman who offers to take the bar exam for students, but the contact stopped weeks before Hannah's death. Plus, the calls were to and from a burner.” Kinsley shifted her weight, conscious of maintaining distance between them.

“What about your case with Sam? The Westside shooting?”

“We tied the murder to that string of robberies last month,” Shane said, his jaw tightening slightly.

“The homeowner didn’t stand a chance. We've got the perps on camera, but their faces were covered the entire time. They were wearing short sleeves, so forensics is trying to pull something from the footage. Anything that stands out. Birthmark, tattoo, scar. Hell, I’d even take some type of limp at this point. ”

The conversation lulled, and the silence between them became thick with unspoken words. Two years of distance hadn't erased the familiarity—she still recognized the subtle tells in his expression, could read the tightness around his eyes that meant he was holding something back.

“You ready for Sunday?” Shane finally asked, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost forced. “Wally's been drilling the team like we're preparing for the Super Bowl instead of a charity flag football game.”

“I heard. Sorry I missed the impromptu gathering at The Bucket last night.”

“Your absence didn’t have anything to do with those missing headbands, did it?” Shane's mouth lifted in one corner. “You should know, Wally already requested security footage of the morgue.”

“Hypothetically speaking, of course, but Wally wouldn’t find anything should he decide to waste his time combing through said footage.

” They were walking on thin ice, and the comfortable rhythms were undercut by the knowledge of what awaited below.

Kinsley decided to break the ice herself.

“I hear things are going well with you and the new veterinarian.”

By this time, Kinsley had the container and napkins in hand. She gave as genuine a smile as she could while meeting his gaze.

“I’m happy for you, Shane.” The truth of that statement burned in her throat. It was as if she had swallowed fire. “Truly.”

“Her name is Chloe.” Shane took his time screwing the water cap back on the bottle. She got the sense that he was studying her expression, which she was trying very hard not to break. “Chloe Marlowe, and yes…things are going well.”

The confirmation was unnecessary since Alex had already given Kinsley the information.

Plus, department gossip spread faster than radio calls.

Kinsley should have known about the relationship long before her partner shared such details, but she had been too distracted with the chaos she had caused in her own life.

“Levick! Let’s roll!”

Kinsley hadn’t lied. She did want Shane to be happy.Just in some alternate universe where she hadn't killed a man and buried the truth so deep it poisoned everything she touched.

Shane held her gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, something unreadable passing behind his eyes before he shifted and walked toward the doorway.

“See you on Sunday, Kin.”

After Shane left the break room, Kinsley turned to face the counter.

She had no one to blame but herself for Shane moving on.

Sitting on the sidelines while observing him build a life with someone else was nothing short of what she deserved.

And while she genuinely believed that to be the truth, she no longer wanted to be an observer.

It was time for her to regain some semblance of control.

Starting tomorrow morning, she would refuse to let an unknown tormentor control her life. She was done living in fear of receiving another note as the nineteenth of a new month approached.

No more.

It was time for her to turn the tables.

From this point on, everything that happened would follow her own terms, not be driven by someone else's hidden agenda.