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

Kinsley Aspen

July

I know you killed Calvin Gantz.

The words burned into Kinsley's mind as if branded there, each letter a searing accusation. She didn’t need to open the white envelope to read the message. Her name was written on the front in the same block lettering as all the others.

Someone had knowledge of her secret.

Someone had the ability to destroy her life.

Had she really expected anything less?

Kinsley had murdered a man in cold blood. The fact that she had done so to protect her family was irrelevant. It didn’t matter that the man had taken the lives of three others. She was no better than those she arrested in her line of work.

Her gaze drifted to the framed photograph on her desk. Lily, her eight-year-old niece, grinned back with a missing front tooth at last summer's barbecue. The happy image served as a grim reminder of why Kinsley had made such a spontaneous, horrible decision.

Why she had overstepped a boundary no one should ever cross.

Someone had been sending her the same six-word message on the nineteenth of every month since last October—the one-year anniversary of Calvin Gantz's death.

The ninth note.

The ninth time her world had paused for just a moment.

Well, tenth if she were to take into account that fateful night.

Kinsley managed to inhale some oxygen as she shifted her gaze from Lily’s adorable face to the clock on the far wall of the Fallbrook Police Department's Homicide Division.

Her partner would be arriving soon, and she somehow had to get through another morning and afternoon without him noticing that she was slowly dying inside a little more each day.

She opened her desk drawer and slid the white envelope beneath some papers. The notes had always been left in random spots without security cameras—tucked under the windshield wiper of her Jeep, on her daily jogging route, and once even left on a park bench where she took Lily on weekends.

Today?

The messenger made a mistake by leaving the note on the counter of the coffee shop where she picked up her regular weekday order. It was a bold move that was hard for her to accept.

The precinct buzzed with early morning activity. Phones rang at desks and in distant offices, occasional bursts of laughter carried out from the break room, and keyboards clicked steadily. All of it sounded muffled, as if she were underwater.

“Aspen, donuts are in the break room.”

Kinsley managed a smile and raised her hand in acknowledgment.

Shane Levick was proof to her that karma existed, and every day, she was reminded of the life she might have had if she hadn't pulled the trigger of her firearm.

She often had to remind herself that she was the one who had ended things with him.

“Forget donuts, Kin.” Alex Lanen, her partner, strolled into the bullpen. He was holding two items wrapped in aluminum foil. “My mother made us her famous banana nut bread. She even put in double walnuts just for you.”

“How is Michelle?” Kinsley asked, managing not to knock over the two coffee cups that she had picked up at Carol’s Café across the street.

She tossed the cardboard carrier into her trash can before exchanging one of the cups for what she now viewed as her saving grace.

“Were you able to fix her water heater last night?”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Alex set both his coffee cup and his own loaf of banana bread onto his immaculate desk.

The contrast between their workspaces couldn't be more different. While her desk resembled the aftermath of a minor explosion, with files stacked haphazardly, sticky notes adorning her computer monitor, and pens scattered like Pick-up Sticks, Alex’s space was a testament to OCD.

Papers aligned at perfect right angles, pens stored in a leather holder, and notepads positioned precisely beside his keyboard.

It was enough to make her itch.

Kinsley pushed the wrapped bread to the left of the desk before moving her chair back. While Alex was busy hanging his suit jacket on the antique coatrack he had stolen from an old storage room, she managed to grab his banana bread.

“Damn it, Kin,” Alex complained as he unsuccessfully tried to snag his morning breakfast out of her hands. “That one’s mine.”

Alex wasn’t just her partner. He was also one of her closest friends.

Their way of keeping their personal space wasn’t their only difference, though.

She was impulsive, while Alex was methodical.

She kept her hair in a clip to manage the loose blonde strands she trimmed whenever the mood struck her, while he had a standing monthly appointment for his short-cropped black hair.

At forty years old, he maintained an athletic build through daily gym visits and a disciplined lifestyle.

Kinsley was over seven years younger, and she jogged whenever the mood struck her.

She preferred recreational sports over a strict routine.

He also hated it when she ate his food.

“You’re going to need to be faster on Sunday if you expect us to win in flag football against the fire station.

” Kinsley was already in the process of opening the aluminum foil from one end.

Michelle had even cut the bread for easier consumption.

“Besides, there’s more than enough here to share.

You’ll thank me for saving you from needless calories. ”

“You need to bring a dessert to your family dinner tonight, don’t you?”

“Secrets corrode the soul, butterfly," her father had once told her, long before the Fallbrook Killer case had shattered their relationship.

Before George Aspen had represented Calvin Gantz.

Before her father had taken the stand in court and secured freedom for a monster.

Now, George was well aware of what his daughter had done, and that knowledge lingered between them during their Thursday night family gatherings.

“You know me too well, partner,” Kinsley quipped before taking a large bite to hide that she had drifted into the past again.

She turned away, finished chewing, then sat down and reached for her coffee with an extra pump of caramel creamer and two espresso shots.

She hadn’t been sleeping well, so she had changed her weekday order over a year ago.

“What was going to be an apple pie from the grocery store is now going to be homemade banana bread. It’s a win-win for everyone involved. ”

“How exactly do I come out on top in this situation?” Alex asked as he pulled out his chair and took a seat. “No good deed goes unpunished. That reminds me, would you let Noah know that Mom received the signed papers that he requested? She said she was going to drop them off sometime next week.”

Noah, her oldest brother, was a family attorney. He had offered to help Michelle resolve some property issues from years ago after her husband abruptly left her as a single mother. Alex didn’t talk about his father often, and Kinsley usually avoided the topic.

Noah was also the only one who had knowledge of the full truth about what she had done. He had answered her panicked call that night and helped her sink Gantz's body into the murky depths of Terrapin Lake.

Noah, always the fixer.

Kinsley had kept from him the fact that she had gone to their father after receiving the first note.

She had kept her brother’s involvement out of the discussion, of course.

She would never allow him to go down with her.

Still, she had given her father a one-dollar bill so that, if or when the time came, she would have legal representation.

“I’m glad that your mother now has some peace of mind,” Kinsley murmured as she grabbed a tissue to set down the half-eaten slice of banana bread.

She then snagged another to wipe her fingers.

She didn’t want to talk about her brother, so she steered the conversation to something lighter.

“Where’s your gym bag? You need to keep up your workouts if you’re going to be ready for the big game. ”

“I’m meeting Wally at the park after our shift.

We’re drawing up a few more plays,” Alex said, rolling his chair closer to his desk.

The wheels made a soft scraping sound against the worn floor.

“Those overpaid smoke-eaters won’t know what hit ‘em.

Cap says we need to redeem ourselves after last year's disaster.”

I picked up some extra bandages this time.” Some of the tension eased from Kinsley’s shoulders as the ordinary conversation kept her grounded in normalcy. “Pretty sure half our team ended up bleeding last year.”

“It's not flag football if someone doesn't need stitches,” Alex replied with a grin. “Wally has been practicing his spiral. Says he's going to, and I quote, 'make those ladder-climbing pretty boys cry.'”

“Yeah, well, Wally is going to end up on his own slab if he keeps running his mouth.” Kinsley loved the man, but he had a tendency to put too much stock in the talents of those at the station.

As Fallbrook’s medical examiner, Wally had opted to join the team.

They had welcomed him with open arms, especially since he had been a high school football star, but his taunting was going to be their downfall.

“I guess our shirts came in yesterday. He was showing them off at The Bucket last night. Got our names on the back and everything.”

“My name better be spelled right, because last year there was an 'I' in my last name. Who the hell spells 'Lanen' with an 'I'?” Alex shook his head in disgust. “I had to wear 'Linen' across my back like I was some kind of fabric softener.”

Kinsley's laughter came more easily this time, recalling how the fire department had relentlessly mocked Alex and nicknamed him ‘Downy’.

Alex’s complaints were cut short when his desk phone rang.

“Lanen, Homicide.” His expression subtly changed as he listened, reaching for a pen and notepad. “Address?”

While Alex took notes, Kinsley's gaze drifted back across the room to where Shane stood with his partner, Detective Sam Haugen. Both men were speaking in low tones with Captain Thompson, and all three wore expressions that suggested their discussion was serious.

Thompson's weathered face seemed almost carved in stone, Sam’s arms were crossed in frustration, and Shane...well, Shane had that stern expression he wore when he was compartmentalizing. His jaw muscle even twitched slightly beneath his tanned skin.

Her stomach tightened.

Almost two years since their breakup, and the sight of him still affected her. She had come up with some lame excuse that their relationship was moving too fast.

Not the truth, of course.

The truth was that every time Shane stared at her, she was deathly afraid that he would discover her secret. What would he have done had she told him the truth?If one night, tangled in his sheets, her defenses worn thin by his tenderness, she had whispered, "I killed a man to protect my niece"?

Would he have understood?

Or would he have placed her in handcuffs and turned her over to their captain?

“The minute we start deciding who deserves to live or die based on our personal judgment, we're no better than them.” Kinsley recalled Shane’s words during a random conversation, and she didn’t need to second-guess his response to her actions.

It had been better to break things off with him than face his disappointment.

“We're up, Aspen,” Alex announced, hanging up the phone and startling her out of her memories. He stood, tucking his notepad into his shirt pocket with practiced ease.

“What've we got?” Kinsley asked, grateful for the distraction. She checked that her badge was clipped to her belt before reaching for her keys. “Let’s take our personal vehicles. I have dinner with the family tonight.”

“A female vic was discovered at one of those remote cabins north of town. Dot Whitaker's property. Apparent blunt force trauma."

“Dorothy Whitaker? The property manager who's always arguing with the town council over zoning regulations?”

“The very same.” Alex grabbed his car keys from his top drawer while Kinsley reached for her sunglasses. “Don’t forget my mother’s banana bread. And you’d better give me credit, Kin.”

As they headed to the elevator, Kinsley glanced over to see Shane monitoring their exit. His expression was unreadable. Their gazes briefly met across the room, and she wondered if he could somehow sense the weight of her secret from twenty feet away.

She broke their stare as she and Alex entered the elevator, shielding herself from Shane’s scrutiny.

For the next few hours, at least, she could lose herself in the investigation.

Her own guilt and fear would have to wait while she concentrated on someone else's tragedy—a bitter comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

As they exited the station into the bright July morning, she put on her sunglasses and took a deep breath of warm air. For a moment, just a moment, she wasn't a killer hiding her crime—she was simply Detective Kinsley Aspen, doing the job she had sworn to do.

The irony wasn't lost on her.