Page 25 of Silencing Stolen Whispers (Kinsley Aspen #2)
Kinsley Aspen
July
T he afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the makeshift football field behind the community center, turning the grass into a furnace beneath Kinsley's cleats. Sweat stung her eyes as she sprinted toward the sideline, her lungs burning with each ragged breath. The humidity clung to her skin like a second jersey, and she could taste salt on her lips as she pivoted sharply to avoid Travis Collins’ outstretched arm.
“You’re getting slow in your old age, Travis,” Kinsley taunted with a laugh as she tossed the football to the center ref. The man caught it before walking toward the middle of the field. “I bet you’re wishing that stormfront heading in our direction hadn’t stalled out.”
“Keep up the smack-talk, Aspen,” Travis called back good-naturedly. “One interception, and the game is over.”
“Keep dreaming,” Kinsley yelled as she rested her hands on her hips.
She slowly headed toward the huddle, trying to steady her breathing.
The physical effort was just what she needed to burn off steam from last night’s clash with Beck Serra.
She had spent quite a bit of time on her laptop when she got home, and what she found confirmed her belief that she had connected the right dots.
Beck Serra hadn't published a major article since his exclusive with Calvin Gantz and her father during the trial.
His byline was no longer in major publications, and even local newspapers seemed to have lost interest in his work.
He was a journalist whose career had peaked with one sensational story, and now he was desperately trying to find anything that could bring back his relevance.
“Aspen, let’s go!”
“What’s your big play, Wally?” Kinsley asked after joining the huddle. Wally hadn’t gone to her three times in a row the entire game, which meant Alex, Shane, or Izzy were up next. “We need a touchdown to win, and there are nine seconds on the clock.”
“These smoke eaters think I’m going to throw to Alex. I’ve gone to you twice, but I want you to cut toward the right. They won’t expect you to get the ball this time. Izzy is going to hold back for a second and then follow your lead. You’ll then throw a lateral.”
“That does not sound like a?—”
“You’ve got this,” Alex exclaimed as he elbowed her in the side. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
The others in the huddle laughed at the backward encouragement. Even Izzy was tugging her black receiver gloves into place with a rather wicked smile.The only one who hadn’t engaged in any kind of conversation with her today had been Shane.
As a matter of fact, she wasn’t even sure he had made direct eye contact with her.
“On three,” Wally stated with determination. “Let’s bring home that trophy! One, two, three!”
Everyone took their rightful places on the line.
Sure enough, Travis and the other firemen were glancing in Alex’s direction, though some were staring at Dominic Waylon. He had been instrumental in many of their points today. He didn’t seem to mind that Kinsley had been the focal point for the last two plays.
“Blue forty-two! Blue forty-two!” Wally's voice cut through the summer humidity and held his hands up as he readied himself to receive the ball. “Hike!”
Kinsley sprinted ahead before executing a perfect cut, leaving Travis in the dust. The brace she had purchased the other day kept her knee stable, allowing her to turn slightly without giving out.
The blue flag attached to her belt fluttered behind her as she accelerated down the field. She glanced over her shoulder to find the football already in a perfect spiral. Time seemed to slow as she tracked the ball's rotation, her hands rising instinctively to form a pocket.
The leather struck her palms with a satisfying thud.
Sensing Travis close to her, she spun away from his reaching hands before cutting back toward the center of the field. She spotted Izzy breaking free down the middle.
Without hesitation, Kinsley lateraled the ball.
Izzy moved with fluid grace, extending both arms to pluck the football from the air. Stu, one of the other firemen on defense, reached out to grab one of the fluttering flags, leaving Kinsley to hold her breath in anticipation.
Izzy crossed into the end zone, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Even from twenty yards away, Kinsley caught Izzy’s grin. Teammates converged on her in a tangle of high-fives and backslaps, though Kinsley needed a minute to drag some oxygen into her lungs.
“That's how it's done!” Wally bellowed, pumping his fist in the air as he jogged toward the celebration. Sweat had darkened his shirt to navy blue. “Kin, that was poetry in motion!”
Kinsley waved in his direction before straightening at the waist and resting her hands on her hips. Alex appeared next to her, his usually perfect hair hanging in damp strands across his forehead.
“We’re getting old, Kin.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kinsley exhaled with a smile as they started walking toward the sideline. She finally managed to breathe somewhat evenly. “You’re the idiot who decided to volunteer to play both sides of the ball.”
“It wasn’t like you were going to…ah, shit.”
The celebration was winding down, and it was obvious that Wally's good mood was fading as he zeroed in on Dominic.Wally was still upset about the missing headbands.
“Sergeant Waylon!” Wally's voice carried before Alex could rush forward to stop him from making a huge mistake. “I know you were behind the theft of those headbands. They didn't just up and walk away by themselves.”
Dominic turned slowly, his expression as unreadable as a stone. He was a large man, built like a linebacker. His calm demeanor only seemed to increase Wally's irritation. The other players started to notice the tension, and conversations began to fade as they sensed the change in atmosphere.
“And how did you come to that conclusion, Elm?”
“I think Wally is suffering from a little too much sun and not enough hydration,” Alex called out as he stepped in front of Wally so that he wouldn’t escalate the situation.
“Didn’t you catch three touchdown passes today, Sarg?
I’m pretty sure that makes you the MVP, headbands or no headbands. Right?”
“Suck up,” Kinsley muttered as she slipped past both Alex and Wally.
She continued until she was standing next to Dominic near the Gatorade station, far out of earshot from anyone else.
“Here’s the deal, Sarg. We planted your pen in the morgue after stealing the box of headbands that had ‘MORGUE MARAUDERS’ stitched on them with really, really bright red thread.
If you think about it, we did everyone a favor. ”
Dominic remained silent as he stared at her, mulling over her confession. His large hand was wrapped around a tiny plastic cup, but his imposing height didn’t deter her hope that he would recognize the reasoning behind their decision.
“I want Lanen for a weekend on an undercover assignment next month.”
“Done.” Kinsley didn’t have the slightest guilt in volunteering her partner for a weekend. He was the one who had gotten them into this mess with his bright idea to blame Dominic. “Anything else?”
“I want my pen back, Aspen.”
Considering that Wally probably had it locked up tight inside the morgue somewhere, that condition might be a little bit harder to follow through on, but she would negotiate with Izzy on that task.
“I always knew you were a reasonable man, Sarg.”
Before Dominic could rethink his position and throw them under the bus, Kinsley quickly made her way back over to Alex. Wally was still complaining about the headbands, but Izzy had diverted his attention with the shiny trophy that the charity organizer had made for the occasion.
Alex was currently sitting on the ground with a blue towel draped around his neck. As she approached, he nodded toward the parking lot. She turned to find that Shane was walking to his truck. His shoulders were set in a rigid line, and it didn’t appear that he had spoken to anyone after the game.
As a matter of fact, the new veterinarian hadn’t made an appearance.
“I wonder what that is about,” Alex murmured as Kinsley debated on whether or not to take a seat next to him. The field had begun to empty as a lot of the players had drifted toward the other side of the field. “Incoming.”
Kinsley turned around just in time to spot a blur of pink and purple racing across the grass toward her.
Lily Aspen moved like a guided missile, her arms pumping with eight-year-old determination.
Her face was bright with the kind of unrestrained joy that only children seemed capable of summoning at will.
“Aunt Kin! Aunt Kin!”
Lily's voice carried across the distance, high and clear as a bell. She launched herself through the air with complete faith that Kinsley would catch her. Kinsley barely had time to brace herself before fifty pounds of pure enthusiasm collided with her midsection.
The impact caused them both to tumble onto the grass in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter. Lilly’s giggle was contagious, bubbling up from deep within her chest like orchestral music.
“You’re growing up way too fast, pumpkin,” Kinsley protested, though her voice carried no real complaint.
She wrapped her arms around her niece, marveling at the innocence shining in those blue eyes of hers.
It was in brief moments like these that gave Kinsley the strength to live with her guilt. “You knocked me down!”
“You weren't ready,” Lily replied with the unassailable logic of childhood.
She pushed herself up on her elbows and grinned with genuine mischief.
Her brown hair had escaped its carefully arranged pigtails and now framed her face in wild wisps that caught the afternoon light.
“You're supposed to always be ready. That's what Daddy says about cops.”