Page 5 of Silencing Stolen Whispers (Kinsley Aspen #2)
Alex Lanen
July
T he yellow Volkswagen bug came to an abrupt stop beside Kinsley's Jeep. Dust was still billowing around the tires as the driver's door swung open with such force it bounced back, but that didn’t prevent a young woman from scrambling out of the compact car. Her face was a mirror image of their victim’s, but this version was animated with panic and a desperate energy that the dead could never have.
It was quite disorienting to examine the murder victim and then seemingly see her rise from the beyond. This woman had the same oval face, full lips, and hair of the same color. The only differences were how the thick auburn strands were styled and how the two siblings dressed.
They were obviously twins, and this particular sister was about to have her life turned upside down.
“Hannah!” The scream was practically torn from the woman’s throat. “Hannah!”
The sister sprinted toward the cabin, her eyes wide with terror, her arms pumping as if the extra momentum could somehow change what awaited inside. Officer Hendricks was closest and able to react quickly enough to block her path.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there,” Officer Hendricks said, his voice firm yet laced with compassion. She tried to push past him, her hands striking his shoulders. “Ma’am, please. If you’ll just?—”
“Get out of my way! Hannah! Hannah, answer me!”
By the time Alex had reached them, Dot was repeatedly apologizing for not mentioning that she had called Hannah’s emergency contact while waiting for the police to arrive. He wished he had known that piece of news sooner, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Alex was able to push Hendricks aside, sensing that Kinsley was close behind.
The woman's face was still twisted in fear, tears already running down her cheeks.
He had seen that expression many times before.
The desperate hope that somehow the worst wasn't true, that there had been a mistake, and that their loved one was still alive.
“Ma'am,” Alex said firmly while Kinsley took hold of the woman to allow Kendricks to step back, “we need you to take a deep breath and listen to us for a moment.”
“No, no, I need to see my sister!” Her voice cracked, but she was no longer attempting to move forward. Her hands were clutched against her chest. “Please, just let me?—”
“I'm Detective Lanen with Fallbrook PD,” Alex continued steadily, trying to maintain eye contact. That was proving quite difficult since the sister wouldn’t take her gaze from the front door of the cabin. “Can you tell me your name?”
Her breathing came in ragged gasps, but something in his tone seemed to penetrate her panic. She swallowed hard.
“Bailey. Bailey Scriven. Hannah's my twin sister.” Bailey’s voice had lowered to a whisper. “Please tell me that she is okay. Please.”
Alex hated delivering death notices. It was by far the worst part of the job. He glanced briefly at Hendricks, who had stepped back slightly to intercept Bailey if she tried to rush past again.
“Ms. Scriven,” Alex began, “I'm very sorry to tell you this, but Ms. Whitaker discovered your sister’s body this morning.” Alex paused, the practiced words inadequate as always. “I'm deeply sorry for your loss.”
Bailey's face drained of color. What was left, anyway.
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged.For a moment, she seemed suspended in time, processing his words. Then her features crumpled, her body folding as if someone had cut the strings holding her upright. Kinsley was there to catch her.
Grief was powerful, though.
Bailey was soon bent at the waist, one hand braced against her knee while the other covered her mouth.A keening sound emerged, haunting in its rawness.
Dot attempted to step forward, reaching out to Bailey instinctively.
“Oh, honey,” Dot began, but Alex gently blocked the woman’s approach.
In his experience, well-meaning comfort from strangers often complicated these initial moments of grief. Bailey could possess information critical to their investigation, and he didn’t want anyone engaging in conversation with her until he or Kinsley could question her.
“Dot, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside with Officer Hendricks,” Alex directed with a nod toward the officer. “Finish up here, please. We’ll touch base when we clear the crime scene.”
While Alex had spoken directly to Dot, her attention was still on Bailey. Fortunately, Kinsley had taken over, placing a hand on the sister’s back.
“Bailey, I'm Detective Aspen,” Kinsley said softly. “I'm truly sorry about your sister.”
Bailey's sobs intensified, but she didn't pull away from Kinsley's touch. Alex continued to observe while she encouraged Bailey to stand upright, even supporting her with a gentle but firm hand.
The transformation in Kinsley struck him.
Since the Calvin Gantz case, Kinsley had changed. She had built walls and developed a sharper edge. Her jokes had become more biting, her demeanor more closed off. Even their friendship had suffered, with conversations rarely venturing beyond case details, team sports, and his personal life.
Never hers.
Yet here she was, almost vulnerable as she comforted Hannah Scriven's sister. It was like catching a glimpse of the old Kinsley, the one who had once confided in him about her fears and hopes over countless drinks at The Bucket after especially tough cases.
As Bailey kept sobbing against Kinsley's shoulder, Alex gave her a quick glance over the grieving woman's head. In that brief eye contact, he glimpsed the connection they once shared, before secrets and silence had caused a rift between them.
Then Kinsley averted her gaze, her attention returning to Bailey, and Alex was left with the uncomfortable realization that whatever had changed in his partner after the Gantz case went deeper than he had previously thought.
Kinsley guided Bailey to a wooden chair near the small stone firepit in front of the cabin. The circular arrangement of seats seemed cruelly fitting for this moment. After all, it was a space meant for comfort and conversation.
Now?
It was a place for grief and interrogation.
Bailey's steps were uneven as she allowed Kinsley to guide her. She finally collapsed into a chair. Her hands trembled violently as she tried to wipe the tears from her face, smearing mascara across her cheekbones in dark streaks.
Unlike the carefully arranged victim they had found inside, Bailey seemed to intentionally present herself as messy—her cut-off jeans had loose white threads, her toenails were painted in various colors, and her hair was gathered into a messy bun with wisps hanging loosely around her face.
“I’ll get you some tissues,” Kinsley offered gently before turning toward him, extending her palm. She mouthed one word. “Keys.”
Alex fished his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Kinsley. He always kept a fresh supply of travel-sized tissue packs in his glove compartment.
Alex took the seat beside Bailey, giving her a moment to compose herself before beginning what they both understood was coming.
The initial shock had begun to settle into a more coherent grief.
Her sobs had quieted to irregular hitches in her breathing, punctuated by occasional tremors that ran through her body.
“Ms. Scriven, I know this is incredibly difficult, but we need to ask you some questions that might help us understand what happened to your sister.”
Bailey nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“We believe Hannah was attacked sometime last night,” Alex said, deciding to leave out the specifics of Hannah's injuries for now. “When was the last time you spoke with your sister?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Bailey replied, her voice catching again. “Around four, I think.”
“You spoke on the phone?” Alex prompted gently. “Or had you visited her here at the cabin?”
Bailey shook her head.
“No. Hannah didn't want visitors. She said people would only disrupt her study flow or something. We spoke on the phone.”
Alex nodded, noting the information.
“In your conversation yesterday, did Hannah mention anything unusual? Anyone who might have been bothering her, or any concerns she had?”
“Are you saying someone she knew did this to her?”
“We're exploring all possibilities.” Alex gave the standard response while Kinsley was making her way back toward them. “Did Hannah say anything to indicate she was afraid of someone?”
“No. I mean, she broke up with her boyfriend a few of months ago, but Nick wouldn’t hurt her.
They were together for three years. Law school sweethearts or whatever.
” Her tone took on a bitter edge. “I never liked him much. Too controlling, too much like our parents—always pushing her to be 'better’.”
Bailey formed air quotes with her fingers.
“Nick?”
“Ryder. Nick Ryder, but I can't imagine him hurting her. He's too concerned with his reputation.”
Kinsley silently handed Bailey an open packet of tissues, making it easy for her to pull one out. She immediately blew her nose, but that didn’t stop her eyes from filling back up with tears.
“Did Hannah mention any arguments with anyone recently?” Alex continued. “Friends, classmates, professors? Anyone who might have been upset with her?”
Bailey wadded the used tissue in her fist.
“Hannah didn't really have time for a social life outside of law school. Between classes, studying for the bar, and trying to please our parents, she barely had time to sleep. She really only had one friend—Jade Patel.” Bailey pulled another tissue from the pouch.
“That was the difference between us, you know? Hannah spent her whole life trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, especially our parents.
I couldn't give a shit about their approval. "
“Scriven,” Kinsley murmured before meeting Alex’s gaze. She then directed her stare at Bailey. “Katherine and William Scriven are your parents? Corporate law, if I remember correctly.”