Page 18 of Silencing Stolen Whispers (Kinsley Aspen #2)

Kinsley Aspen

July

T he line at Carol's Café stretched nearly to the door. It was a typical Saturday morning, and Kinsley had already been greeted by a handful of people as she waited with the other patrons for their morning beverage. There wasn’t a table to be had, and the stack of local papers in the wire bin by the door had already been sold out.

No doubt, the story on the front page covered Hannah Scriven’s murder. The article wouldn’t contain much information, but Kinsley planned to read it later today just in case it revealed a thread she and Alex hadn’t noticed yet.

The warm, yeasty smell of fresh bread combined with the rich aroma of coffee beans created a scent that should have been comforting. Instead, Kinsley experienced a disconnect between this ordinary moment and the real reason she had driven downtown instead of directly to the campus.

She moved forward slowly in line, her gaze drifting to the chalkboard menu where someone had sketched detailed coffee cups with steam curling into heart shapes. The cheerful artwork did nothing to lift her sour mood.

She and Alex had contacted the university last night and instructed them to cancel the vigil.

They requested that it be rescheduled next week, which would allow them to have plainclothes officers in the crowd.

Dean Chambliss didn’t hesitate to approve their request, but his role at the college and the investigation changed this morning when he was called in for questioning by CID.

The Criminal Investigation Division would take over the case involving academic fraud, leaving Kinsley and Alex to focus on the Scriven murder.

Alex was scheduled to interview Rebecca Chambliss today with one of CID’s detectives, while Kinsley was to handle the follow-up interviews with Bailey Scriven and Jade Patel.

Alex had initially suggested the opposite, but Kinsley needed some time to herself to attend to a personal matter. She had recently committed to turning her life around, and she planned to see it through.

The woman ahead of her placed an order and stepped aside, bringing Kinsley face-to-face with Brianna, the barista whose departing status had become something of a local point of pride. She was eighteen, bright-eyed, and heading to Stanford on a full scholarship.

“Detective Aspen,” Brianna greeted with a smile that dimpled her left cheek. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she wore the café’s signature green apron over a white t-shirt. “Your usual?”

“Yes, please,” Kinsley responded, returning the girl’s smile. Once Kinsley had paid for her coffee, she remained standing in front of the counter. “I also need to speak with Carol this morning. Is she in today?”

“She's in the kitchen wrapping up a fresh batch of blueberry muffins.” Brianna waved a hand toward the swinging door at the far end of the counter. “You can go on back. She won’t mind. I'll get your order started and have it ready for you by the time you’re finished.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Kinsley slipped behind the counter, ignoring the curious stares from waiting customers. She pushed through the swinging door that separated the café from the kitchen, instantly engulfed by a wall of heat and the concentrated, sweet scent of baking.

Carol was at the kitchen's center island, skillfully using gloved hands to wrap blueberry muffins in Saran Wrap. Her actions were smooth and precise, and she seamlessly glanced up to check who had entered the kitchen without once breaking her rhythm.

“Well, look who's here on her day off,” Carol said with a smile without stopping her task. “Or maybe not. You’re carrying your firearm. Did Dale finally approve some overtime for you overworked and underpaid detectives?”

Kinsley smiled, knowing full well that Carol and Captain Thompson went back a long way. She was also known to speak her mind without regret.

“Something like that,” Kinsley replied as she leaned against the stainless steel prep table. “Alex and I are working on the Scriven murder case. Given that tomorrow is the flag-football fundraiser, we’re putting in the extra hours today.”

“You and Wally both,” Carol shared as she finished sealing the last muffin and placing it on a silver tray that would ultimately wind up behind the glass display out front.

“He was waiting for me to flip the open sign this morning. I take it he’s performing the autopsy on that poor girl?

I can’t imagine the pain and grief her parents are going through right now. ”

Carol removed both gloves in two effortless motions before arching one eyebrow in concern. She slowly scanned Kinsley from head to toe.

“Those white slacks are asking for trouble in a bakery’s kitchen, honey. What can I do for you?”

“I need to check your security footage, if that's all right,” Kinsley requested without hesitation. She hated lying, but that’s all her life seemed to consist of these days.

“Someone bumped into the back of my Jeep out front on Thursday morning. No note. Nothing. I'd like to verify that individual’s identity.”

Kinsley maintained eye contact.

Carol studied her for a moment before nodding her consent.

“Follow me.”

Carol led Kinsley through the kitchen to a small office near the back exit.

The space was barely big enough for the desk it contained, with walls covered in employee schedules, vendor information, and numerous family photos.

Carol didn’t bother to sit down. Instead, she leaned forward and wiggled the mouse on an ancient computer, bringing the screen to life.

“Security system's basic, but it does the job,” Carol explained, clicking through several folders. “You can access footage by date and camera. We've got four—front door, kitchen, register, and back door.”

Carol demonstrated the navigation quickly.

“I need to get back out there before Brianna drowns in orders. Just close down when you’re done, honey.”

“Thanks, Carol. I appreciate it.”

Kinsley pulled out the desk chair and made herself comfortable while listening to Carol’s footsteps fade back into the kitchen.

She didn’t hesitate to navigate through the folders and access the security footage from the camera aimed at the front entrance.

The wide-angle view provided a clear perspective of the vehicles parked along the curb.

She quickly adjusted the timeline to view her arrival at the café on Thursday morning.

Leaning in towards the screen, she studied the faces of the people near the pick-up counter.

The note left for her had been slid under the cupholder, but there was no one close enough yet to do so.

She switched her focus to the long line of customers.

It was a strange sensation observing herself from such a detached perspective.

On screen, she appeared slightly more put together than she'd felt that morning. She had been distracted by the calendar date, calculating how and when the next note would arrive.

The footage continued to play as Brianna took Kinsley’s order. Another part-time employee was preparing the previous orders as Kinsley shoved her wallet back into her purse before joining two other people still waiting for their morning beverages.

Kinsley hadn’t noticed it then, but Brianna tried to call her back. Had she forgotten her change? The receipt? Kinsley tried to think back to how she had paid for her order last week, but her attempt to do so was cut off when Brianna motioned for the next customer to be patient.

Brianna then reached into her green apron and pulled out a small white envelope. It was the same size and the same stark whiteness as the one Kinsley had received that morning.

Brianna once again tried to attract Kinsley's attention, but she had been focused on her phone.

She recalled getting a weekly reminder text from her mother about dinner that night.

Brianna frowned before reaching for a cupholder.

She placed it down on top of the envelope before saying something to the other barista.

“What the hell?” Kinsley whispered to the empty office, rewinding and reviewing the sequence again.Brianna. The cheerful barista who was college-bound. "Something isn’t right.”

Kinsley couldn’t wrap her mind around Brianna being the one to send threatening notes about Calvin Gantz. It made no sense. Brianna would have only been sixteen when Gantz was killed. She also lived on the other side of town, and she would have had no reason to know what had happened that night.

Kinsley heard footsteps approaching and quickly closed the footage. By the time she had exited the software program, Carol was standing in the doorway.

“Find what you needed?” Carol asked, her gaze flicking to the screen and then back to Kinsley's face.

“I did, thank you.” Kinsley stood and then pushed the chair back into place. “I really appreciate this. Looks like the guy was an out-of-towner. Wisconsin plate.”

“Good luck getting him to pay then.” Carol wiped her hands on a dish towel before gesturing over her shoulder. “Brianna has your coffee waiting at the counter. I threw in a blueberry muffin.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kinsley protested as she took the mere three steps to the doorway.

“Consider it my contribution to crime prevention,” Carol replied with a wink. “Oh, and good luck at the game tomorrow. Win or lose, those funds are going to the new women’s shelter on Cedar Avenue.”

Kinsley made her way through the small kitchen before exiting through the swinging door. The café had only gotten busier, but she couldn’t leave without having a discussion with Brianna first.

Fortunately, the barista had switched positions and was now near the espresso machine, steaming milk. Her demeanor gave no indication that she was anything other than a young girl about to go off to college, which could only mean that someone had asked her to deliver the note.

Kinsley murmured an apology as she squeezed through the line at the register. She circled around to the pick-up counter where her coffee awaited, her name written on the sleeve with a smiley face next to it.

“Brianna?”

Kinsley waited for the young girl to glance her way.

“Did you, by chance, leave me a note on the counter this past Thursday?” Kinsley asked, wrapping her fingers around the warm beverage. The sleeve kept the thick paper cup from burning her palm. “When I picked up the carry tray, there was an envelope underneath with my name on it.”

Brianna's eyes widened, but not with guilt.

With recognition.

“Oh! Shoot. I meant to tell you about that.” Brianna secured a lid to the drink in front of her.

“Someone must have dropped it out back in the alleyway. Technically, it was almost near the street where I parked for my shift. I was going to hand it to you personally, but you couldn’t hear me over the morning rush.

I figured putting it under your order was the best way to make sure you got it. ”

Brianna set the next order down on the counter. A woman leaned forward to collect her drink, causing Kinsley to move aside. She had a few follow-up questions, and she wasn’t ready to let the topic slide.

“You didn’t see who dropped it?”

“No, sorry.” Brianna glanced over her shoulder to hear the other cashier call out two drink orders. “Got it!”

Brianna turned her attention back to Kinsley.

“I’m just glad I spotted it. Was it important?”

“Just a thank you note,” Kinsley murmured casually without missing a beat. “I’m glad you found it, too. Have a good day.”

Kinsley made her way to the door. She pushed open the glass door and held it for an elderly man and his wife. Once they had crossed the threshold, she allowed the door to close before making her way to her Jeep.

Someone deliberately placed the note where an employee would spot it. That person had knowledge of the staff's usual parking habits and Kinsley's coffee routine. Someone had been observing her for so long that they could predict her actions with unsettling accuracy.

Someone familiar with Fallbrook, its residents, and even the local businesses.

The morning sunshine was too bright and revealing. A sickening thought emerged as she stepped off the curb to go around the front of her Jeep. Someone was playing psychological games with her.Someone who had heard rumors and pieced together circumstantial evidence.

Or had someone actually been there that night?Maybe even witnessed her pulling the trigger?

One thing stood out to Kinsley, though.

Noah hadn’t been mentioned once.

If she had been observed killing Calvin Gantz, the individual hadn’t waited around for her older brother to arrive.Which meant one thing—Gantz’s remains were still safely hidden at the bottom of Terrapin Lake.