Page 10 of Whispers Left Behind (Kinsley Aspen #1)

Chapter Ten

Kinsley Aspen October Friday — 7:41 pm

The gentle strumming of a steel guitar drifted from the television speakers and filled the living room with a classic country tune. Alex hadn’t been the only one who needed to decompress after such a grueling day, but Kinsley had chosen some soothing music and a good beer to top off her evening instead of sleep.

It wasn’t like she had slept through the night for the past year anyway.

Since Alex had declined her invitation to hit the Bucket after work, she had taken time to stop by the convenience store to buy a six-pack of dark ale. She had also purchased a steak and cheese sub in the sandwich shop next door. She considered both to be appropriate sustenance for the hours she had planned to comb through Rachel Hanson’s social media.

The rapid knock on the door accompanied by the chime of her doorbell came an hour after Kinsley had devoured her sandwich and was nursing her second beer. She set the tablet on her coffee table next to the crime scene photos, taking a moment to turn them over. Her brother didn’t need to witness such graphic pictures. She had forced him to deal with enough already.

“Coming!”

The doorbell pealed a second time, echoing loudly around the open layout of her townhome. She was now second-guessing her belief that her brother was on her doorstep. There wasn’t an impatient bone in Noah’s body, and he would have caught the six o’clock news regarding the police’s press release. She took time to look through the peephole before reaching for the deadbolt.

“I need your off-the-shoulder red sweater,” Lydia Tarper exclaimed as she breezed through the entryway without stopping. She made her way to the staircase without hesitation and ascended the steps to the second level before Kinsley had a chance to close the front door. The sweet fragrance of her perfume lingered in the air. “The one that I gave you for your birthday last year.”

“You don’t look good in red,” Kinsley called out as she returned to the couch. Lydia wouldn’t be staying long. Not on a Friday night. “And wear your hair up!”

Her best friend made it a habit to rifle through her closet. The two of them had been inseparable since kindergarten, the Aspen clan taking Lydia into their fold without question. As an only child, she had yearned for siblings. She had claimed Kinsley’s brothers and sisters as her own a long time ago….except for Dylan.

Those two were like oil and water.

Kinsley left the crime scene photos face down. Lydia didn’t have the stomach for graphic television shows, and Kinsley wasn’t going to be responsible for ruining the woman’s evening. She clearly had a date.

“Do I need to call you at eleven?” Kinsley asked loud enough for her words to carry up a level. The bathroom was right in line with the staircase. “Or is this a planned hookup?”

“Planned.” The chaotic sound of rummaging told Kinsley that Lydia was searching through the makeup drawer in the vanity. “Where is—”

“Bottom drawer!”

Kinsley learned a long time ago that most of the gifts that Lydia purchased were based on her own style. Clothes, makeup, accessories, and the whole gauntlet. It was easier to go with the flow.

Lydia was one of the most nurturing people Kinsley had the honor of knowing, and the woman would give someone her last penny if she thought it would help them. Going into education and teaching at the elementary school had been a logical choice, but she also had a wild streak that such a mundane profession couldn’t satisfy.

“…Freddie at the Plow. You remember him, right? A class ahead of us? Anyway, I ran into him at…”

Kinsley continued to scroll through Rachel Hanson’s posts, which consisted of many shared recipes and DIY projects. Switching to the woman’s photographs, there were some older pictures of Rachel with her husband and a handful with her mother. Oddly enough, there weren’t too many with Rachel’s brother or grandfather.

“I remember her,” Lydia said softly from behind the couch. Kinsley had been so caught up in studying one picture in particular with the brother-in-law that the approaching footsteps hadn’t registered through her concentration. “Rachel Hanson. I couldn’t believe it when I heard on the news that she had been murdered.”

“You knew Rachel?” Kinsley turned, putting her knee on the couch to help stabilize herself as she turned halfway around to hear what Lydia had to say about their victim. “How? Yoga class?”

“No, no,” Lydia murmured as she fiddled with the V-neck of a bright blue sweater she had given Kinsley last Christmas. The tag was still on the sleeve. “Rachel went to Eastside. If you remember, I couldn’t get an internship at the elementary school in my senior year of college. I had to help out the freshman English teacher. Anyway, Rachel was a student in my class.”

Kinsley stood to collect the scissors from the junk drawer in the kitchen. She motioned for Lydia to lift her arm to cut the tag off the sleeve.

“Do you remember those bonfires out at Boulder Creek?” Lydia asked in retrospect. “I recall Rachel getting into some trouble in her freshman year after attending one.”

“I didn’t go to the bonfires our senior year,” Kinsley reminded Lydia before setting the tag and scissors on the counter. “I hurt my knee that Spring, remember?”

“You also didn’t go to the previous one in the Fall because you were grounded for sneaking alcohol into a school assembly.”

“You were the one who snuck a bottle of Vodka into the school assembly, and I covered for you because of your date with what’s-his-name.” Kinsley was able to recall the boy’s face but not his name. “Curly hair. Freckles.”

“Paul.” Lydia flashed a smile. “I heard he is some fancy plastic surgeon living in California now.”

Both women turned at the sound of the front door being opened, though Kinsley wasn’t alarmed in the least. She had been expecting her oldest brother. Noah stepped through the door, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Lydia, you left the engine running in your car,” Noah chastised good-naturedly, yet there was a hint of exasperation in his tone. “Someone is going to steal it.”

“Who is going to steal my car in front of a cop’s house?”

“Detective,” Kinsley corrected as she motioned for Lydia to turn around. She had taken the advice to secure her long curls so they were tamed for the evening, but she had missed one. After readjusting the clip, Kinsley patted Lydia on the shoulder. “All good. Go. Have fun. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“If I took your advice, I wouldn’t be doing anything on a Friday night. What fun is that?” Lydia leaned up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Noah’s cheek. “Say hi to the girls for me.”

It wasn’t long before the door was shut behind her with a thud.

Kinsley and Noah stared at one another in tense silence. Her regret at calling him that night was staggering, and she doubted that she would ever be able to forgive herself for such a selfish choice. She had dragged him into her nightmare out of habit and self-preservation. How he could stand to even look at her was beyond comprehension.

Kinsley broke eye contact to stare at the gas fireplace in the living. It was the sole feature that had sold her on this place. She hadn’t gotten her mother’s decorating gene, and she certainly hadn’t inherited her father’s obsessive desire to have everything in its place. The former was the reason that Lydia had been the one to help choose the furnishings, and nothing was going to help with the latter. The only reason why the townhouse appeared somewhat tidy was that she had thrown a ton of stuff in the coat closet near the garage entrance in the kitchen. She didn’t want to receive a lecture from her brother about housekeeping.

“Pumpkin carving went well last night,” Noah shared as he brushed past her to reach the lasagna dish on top of the stove. It was as if they hadn’t shared a moment of regret. “I’ll win this year’s competition by a mile.”

Not once had they spoken in length about Calvin Gantz or what had transpired that night. They had both agreed never to utter a word about their choices, and Noah had kept his promise. There were many times over the past twelve months when she had wanted nothing more than to beg for his forgiveness, but she had stuck to their script.

“Did you watch the six o’clock news?” Kinsley asked as she leaned against the counter.

“I did. Sounds like you’ll be working this weekend.” Noah made no move toward the front door. His blue eyes displayed no judgment, either. If anything, it was as if he was searching for reassurance. “Need anything?”

Kinsley managed to shake her head, not trusting her voice. The reason that he had called her today wasn’t because he was concerned with the consequences of their actions, but rather to check on her wellbeing.

His kind gesture only deepened her remorse.

“Call if you do, Kin.”

Noah closed the distance between them before gently planting a kiss on top of her head. Without another word, he quietly left her home. She couldn’t stop the onslaught of memories that she would have given anything to forget.

“N-Noah, I need help.” Kinsley pressed the phone painfully against her ear. Shock and adrenaline were surging through her body, and she could barely keep ahold of her weapon. She must have dropped to her knees after squeezing the trigger. “I—”

Kinsley pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stop the words—the admission of guilt—from passing her lips. Bile hit the back of her throat, but she forcibly swallowed it back. She pulled her forearm away to stare at the weapon provided to her by the department to protect the innocent.

“Where are you?” There was no hesitation in Noah’s voice. None. “Kin, just tell me where you are.”

The memory receded, and Kinsley found that she had pressed the back of her hand to her mouth once again. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to move away from the counter. Now that Alex had released a statement regarding the case, their daily lives could return to normal. The press wouldn’t be hounding them, they would be free to investigate Rachel Hanson’s murder, and the perp now understood there was no throwing suspicion onto someone else.

Kinsley made her way over to the front door. She turned the knob of the deadbolt before closing the distance to the living room window. Closing her fingers around the cord, she hesitated to pull it. Something prevented her from shutting the wooden slats. She leaned in closer until the cold seeped through the pane. Noah’s taillights could be seen in the distance as he slowly came to a stop at the stop sign. It wasn’t long before he turned left out of the addition toward his home.

Kinsley cautiously brought her gaze to the sidewalk across the street. Each tree had been strategically planted twenty feet apart, creating many areas for one to hide. She fixated on the large oak in front of her neighbor’s townhome, the branches becoming barer with each passing day. She remained still for several minutes, not even daring to breathe as she waited for any sign of movement from the darkness.

The ringing of her cell phone from across the room startled her. Yanking on the cord, the blinds snapped shut. There was no one outside. No ghosts of the past, either. She was letting paranoia get the best of her, just as she had back then.

Kinsley retrieved her phone, ignoring the tremor in her hand.

“Aspen.”

The precinct’s number had been highlighted on the display.

“Detective, this is Officer Blake. I thought you should know that Gage Baird was in a serious accident this evening. He totaled his truck on the curve out by the covered bridge. He was life-flighted to Fallbrook General Hospital. They aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”