Page 24 of Silencing Stolen Whispers (Kinsley Aspen #2)

Dylan Aspen

July

T he gravel parking lot of The Local Plow was packed, which meant Dylan had to pull alongside the endless rows of corn. He had taken the time to wash his truck earlier in the day, but the passenger side would be covered with dust by the time he called it a night.

Cutting the engine, he winced at the sharp pain in his hand. The deep cut on the sensitive skin between his thumb and index finger was a reminder that he needed to be more mindful when fixing barbed wire fences.

He had finally found a good rhythm in his life, and he didn’t regret returning home after years of wandering from state to state.

There were times when he believed those travels had been less about finding himself and more about running from the expectations he had placed on himself.

His father was one of the best defense attorneys in town, and every single one of his siblings had solid careers and were building foundations for either their future or their own families.

Noah had followed in their father’s footsteps by attending law school. His career was thriving, his marriage was solid, and they were raising a beautiful daughter.

Olivia had opted for medical school. She had remained on the East Coast without hesitation, married the love of her life, and still managed to find time to have two wonderful children.

Even Owen had carved out his own niche. He was a self-taught coder and part-owner of a cybersecurity firm. He tended to be rather private, and it wouldn’t surprise Dylan if his brother just showed up at one of their weekly family dinners with a wife on his arm.

Then there was Kinsley. She hadn’t hesitated to go against the grain, working on the opposite side of the justice system from their father.

She was stubborn, determined, and set in her ways.

From Dylan’s perspective, there hadn’t been a moment in her life when she wasn’t sure of her path.

So much so, she had allowed the rift between father and daughter to stay until recently because of her strong sense of right and wrong.

Their father had referred to his deceit as a professional duty.

Kinsley had called it a betrayal of everything she stood for.

Dylan, on the other hand, had called it another reason why family dinners had become exercises in carefully navigating conversational minefields.

He could only hope that Kinsley’s current change of heart meant she was softening her expectations of others.

Her view on life’s roles was one of the reasons he hadn’t revealed his relationship with Lydia. It was new…fragile. And one he was genuinely happy about.

Kinsley, on the other hand, would no doubt have strong opinions about him dating her best friend.He and Lydia had been circling each other for months, engaging in casual conversations that carried undercurrents neither was quite ready to acknowledge.

Three weeks ago, they had finally given in to their attraction.

It had been both inevitable, electrifying, and terrifying all at the same time.

But he was finally ready to settle down and plant some roots of his own.

Dylan shifted in the seat to pull his phone from his back pocket. He accessed his messages, pressing on Lydia’s name.

Just pulled in.*

He then pressed the send button.

They had agreed to meet after Lydia's dinner with Kinsley, which is why he had deliberately delayed his arrival. The Plow was his usual weekend spot, but Kinsley was skilled at sensing when he was lying or hiding something. She had been able to do so since they were kids.

Dylan pocketed his keys before opening the door. As he stepped out of his truck, the humidity seemed to have risen a bit. He didn’t mind, though. Precipitation was on the horizon, and the fields could definitely use some rain.

His phone dinged right as he slammed his door shut.

Coast is clear. I’m sitting in the corner booth.*

As Dylan moved through the lot, loud voices cut through the lingering twilight, disrupting a cricket symphony that was just starting its evening chorus. Even from a distance, he instantly recognized one of the angry tones.

The sharpness in Kinsley’s voice made him quicken his pace. He stepped off the gravel, maneuvering around two vehicles and moving toward the source of the argument.

“…don’t know what you’re playing out, but you better stop. I…”

Dylan slowed his pace when he realized Kinsley wasn’t in any immediate danger. Luckily, the cloud cover was still patchy, allowing the brightening moonlight to spill over the parking lot. He noticed her defensive stance, which he understood all too well as a sign that she was very angry.

Directly in front of her stood a man with a partially visible profile. There was something familiar about him, although Dylan couldn't quite remember from where.

“…don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Really? I catch you with Elliot Goff, and you have the audacity to ask me that question? Did you think the coast was clear? That I would be at The Bucket with my colleagues?”

“I was just following up on?—”

“I know exactly what you’re doing, but you don’t seem to understand that your actions won’t allow this town to heal. Three women, Serra. Gantz killed three local women, and he walked away without so much as a slap on the wrist.”

“The man was found not guilty, Aspen. You and I both know that he didn’t just up and leave town.”

“What I know is that you’re walking a very thin line, and don’t think I won’t arrest you for harassing an officer.”

“Harassing an officer? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t spoken to you or anyone from your department in over nine months. You?—”

“Is there a problem here?”

Dylan stepped forward, keeping his hands loose at his sides. He had already tucked his phone into his back pocket and his keys into the front. He had caught the gist of their argument, and he wasn’t about to let Beck Serra antagonize Kinsley.

The journalist had caused quite a stir after Calvin Gantz left town.

Beck Serra seemed to be the only one concerned about the whereabouts of a murderer.

Dylan had heard both sides at the time, and the evidence that was thrown out would have convinced any jury that Gantz was guilty of murdering three women.

“No problem,” Beck replied, never taking his gaze off Kinsley. He lifted his hands in a gesture that was meant to seem peaceful but came across as mocking instead. “None at all.”

“Kin?”

“Mr. Serra was just leaving, weren’t you?”

Kinsley’s words carried a weight that seemed to press against the humid night air, making it seem even thicker and more oppressive. Beck slowly lowered his hands.

“I’ll find him on my own, Aspen.”

“Good luck. Wherever he is, it sure as hell isn’t hot enough.”

It appeared as if Serra wanted the last word, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and brushed past Kinsley. She cautiously turned and monitored his progress through the gravel lot.

“You want to tell me what that was about, Kin?”

There had been an insinuation in Serra’s words. A subtle emphasis that suggested he believed Kinsley was in possession of information regarding Gantz’s whereabouts.

“No, not really.”

His sister’s tone carried a fragile quality he had never heard before, and he instinctively took a step forward, pulling her into a brotherly embrace. She felt smaller than she should have, more delicate, and that simply wasn’t like his sister.

After about a minute, Kinsley patted his chest with a dismissive gesture that was meant to signal everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn't. She cleared her throat and stepped away from him, creating distance that was both physical and emotional.

“I need to get some rest. Big day tomorrow with the charity flag football game.” Kinsley brushed away a blonde strand from her cheek and flashed him a smile, as if she were trying to erase the fact that she had just had a verbal altercation with a journalist on a Saturday night.

“Are you going to be there? I think Noah and Emily are bringing Lily to the game.”

Dylan studied his sister’s profile in the pale moonlight. The shadows under her eyes were deeper than they should have been, and he didn’t like the way her tone came across as brittle. It was as if she were holding herself together through sheer force of will.

“What's really going on, Kin?” Dylan asked, stepping close enough that she couldn't ignore him.

“And don't give me some bullshit line about needing rest for tomorrow's game. And this isn't about Beck Serra showing up tonight, although I’m sure that didn’t help.

This is about whatever's been eating at you for months. The last two years, actually. I thought you and Dad were…mending things.”

Kinsley tilted her head back and stifled a groan.

“We are, Dylan,” Kinsley responded when she finally focused on him.

She reached up and pulled the hair tie out of her hair.

The rest of her blonde strands fell around her face while she massaged the back of her head.

“Things are going back to normal, aren’t they?

Family dinners are like before. Mom is happy, and Dad hasn’t brought up work at the dinner table in a long time.

Everyone is moving on, and I guess I let Serra’s presence here tonight get under my skin. ”

“You made it sound like this wasn’t a one-time deal, though. Is he harassing you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“And there’s nothing else bothering you?”

Kinsley parted her lips, and he would have sworn she was going to straight up lie to him. Instead, she averted the truth by making him question whether or not she knew about him and Lydia.

“We all have some secrets, don’t we? There’s nothing wrong with keeping some things to ourselves.”

The words carried implications he wasn't sure he wanted to unpack. Yet there was also something in the way she uttered them, a weight that suggested her secrets were darker than his own carefully guarded relationship with her best friend.

“To answer your initial question, everything is good,” Kinsley replied as she stepped forward to give him a quick hug. “I’ve got a game to win tomorrow. Will you be there?”

“I wish I could, but I’m helping move some livestock to another field tomorrow.”

“Enjoy your evening then,” Kinsley said as she turned to walk away.

Before he could do the same, he caught her turning around and walking backwards while smiling as if her verbal altercation with Beck Serra hadn’t taken place.

“And Dylan? Don’t hurt her. I’d hate to have to disown you for breaking my best friend’s heart. ”