Page 12 of Whispers Left Behind (Kinsley Aspen #1)
Chapter Twelve
Alex Lanen October Saturday — 12:07 pm
Alex rolled his black Camaro to a stop behind Kinsley's Jeep. Despite the ten hours of sleep, his body had protested his first attempt to get out of bed. It wasn’t until Kinsley had sent him a second text message informing him that she had a lead in the Hanson case that he dragged his ass into the shower.
What were the odds that two siblings had been in serious car accidents in a span of forty-eight hours? Kinsley was always one to give coincidence the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t say the same. The fact that Gage’s accident had been serious enough to cause the inflicted damage was not something either Alex or Kinsley should write off. Maybe the same had been intended for Rachel, but she had managed to escape into the woods. Had the killer improvised once he had caught up with his victim?
Kinsley stepping out of her Jeep caught Alex’s attention. She seemed intently focused on the entrance to the neighborhood. Her expression was pensive. By the time he joined her, she had arched her brow at his appearance.
“You should have stayed in bed.”
“You should have called earlier.”
“Cap isn’t going to be happy with my overtime sheet as it is, but this could be the break we’re looking for,” Kinsley said as her gaze veered back to the neighborhood’s entrance. “If I had known you needed more beauty sleep, I would have radioed in for an additional patrol unit. One should be arriving along with two techs since our warrant was approved late last night. I told them to hold off for a half hour while we speak with the brothers.”
“You don’t have a radio,” Alex responded, not needing confirmation of such conjecture. She tended to be impulsive. In all probability, she had driven straight from her townhome to the hospital and then to the Hanson residence without stopping at the station. “I’m betting you didn’t bother to bring a jacket, either.”
“I don’t need a radio when I have my cell phone. And I tossed my sweater in the back seat before leaving the house,” Kinsley muttered as the sound of an engine could be heard in the distance. Alex turned to find a minivan approaching them. A teenager was behind the steering wheel with his mother sitting next to him in the passenger seat. The fact that her hand was positioned defensively on the dashboard spoke volumes. “I drove over to Jack Hanson’s residence on the other side of town first. When he didn’t answer the door, I figured he might be here at his brother’s place. I would have been fine with a one-on-one interview, but not with the brother present.”
“You think the two of them are in it together?” Alex considered the theory. “It’s a possibility. Either that or Jack was having an affair with his brother’s wife.”
“That doesn’t explain why someone would target Gage Baird.”
“Your text stated that the officer at the crash scene believed it was an accident. Something change your mind?”
“Just a feeling,” Kinsley responded vaguely as she pressed the lock button on her keyfob. A quick beep was followed by the sound of her locks engaging. “I asked Izzy to go over Baird’s vehicle with a fine-tooth comb. We’ll know more this afternoon.”
Alex fell into step beside her as they made their way around the front of her Jeep and up the slight incline of the driveway. Jack Hanson’s car was parked in front of a three-car garage. Alex stopped himself from inquiring about her interest in the vehicles coming and going from the neighborhood. Given their profession, they were always aware of their surroundings. Kinsley’s unease indicated that such precaution had nothing to do with their case, but she would confide in him when she was good and ready.
It was Alex’s turn to study their surroundings. Old money was the first thing that came to mind. Each extravagant home was positioned on a large plot, though the structures varied in architectural lineage. Some houses were Tudor, some colonial, and there were even a handful of modern minimalistic designs. They must all share the same landscaping service, though. The meticulously tended flowerbeds all had identical displays.
“I chose the wrong career,” Alex muttered as they made their way to the front door. The home didn’t have a front porch. “Who knew selling composite fence panels could bring in this kind of money?”
“Speaking of the fencing company, I called the hotel in Bismarck last night to husband’s alibi. There was a conference, and there was a hotel room booked under Hanson’s name. I requested the hotel’s security footage to confirm that he never left the site.”
“We’ll receive that in a week or so,” Alex muttered in disgust as he peered over his shoulder. Hotels were never too keen on sharing their customer’s information let alone their comings and goings. While he understood the concern with privacy laws, such red tape tended to hinder homicide investigations.
He had noticed the neighbor across upon pulling up to the curb, and the older woman hadn’t bothered to hide her curiosity. While she was arranging some pumpkins and some dried cornstalks near her front door, the attempt was weak. She hadn’t stopped monitoring their progress for the past few minutes.
“Go,” Kinsley directed as she reached out to ring the doorbell. “She might have some useful information. Blake spent the day getting the neighbor’s statements. He was at the station pretty late last night typing up the reports. Nothing stood out that I could see, but we’ll need to go over them again. I’ll get started with the Hanson brothers, but don’t be long.”
“Wait to bring up Jack’s meeting with Rachel until I get back,” Alex advised as he retraced his steps. “And Kin?”
Alex waited for her to meet his gaze.
“About yesterday…thanks.”
Kinsley’s slight nod meant she understood the meaning behind his appreciation. She could have peppered his ass with questions regarding Laura. It would have been easy for Kinsley to give him grief. The fact that she had pulled back in doing so hadn’t gone unnoticed, but he figured she was just returning the favor. After last year’s fallout with the Gantz trial, he had gone easy on her.
Alex took measured strides across the street. The overcast sky hadn’t allowed one ray of sunshine to break through the thick clouds, and the cold temperatures proved it. He shoved his hands in his jacket as he walked up the small path to the woman’s front porch.
“Good afternoon.” It was close enough to lunch that Alex was comfortable with such a greeting. “I’m Detective Alex Lanen. My partner and I are investigating the murder of Rachel Hanson. I know you spoke with an officer yesterday, but I was hoping you had time to answer a few more questions for me.”
“Deborah Welling.” The woman had been adjusting the dried cornstalks tied together with brown twine, but she stepped forward and offered her hand. While doing so, her gaze peered past him to focus on the Hanson residence. “It’s just terrible. We were all shocked when we heard the news. On one hand, it was a relief to discover that the Fallbrook Killer wasn’t responsible. No matter that Calvin Gantz was acquitted, I watched the interview with some of the jurors. They might have acquitted him due to circumstantial evidence, but some of them still seemed convinced of his guilt. Anyway, I have a lasagna in the oven to take over to Mr. Hanson later this afternoon.”
“How well did you know Mrs. Hanson?”
“Only in passing,” Deborah replied as she met his gaze. It was clear she wanted to share something with him. “They are relatively new to the neighborhood. Not even a year, I believe. The younger ones tend to flock together, anyway. Sometimes I think our addition is the older version of high school.”
“Did you notice anything unusual recently?”
“There was a pickup truck parked out front of their house for several hours last week. I almost called the station last night, because I didn’t think to mention it to the officer yesterday. Then I spoke to my husband, and he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.” Deborah lifted one side of her mouth in hesitation. Her husband probably didn’t want anything to do with a murder investigation. “I’ve seen the man stop by from time to time, but I don’t want to talk out turn, Detective.”
“Nothing said here is out of turn, ma’am.” Alex made note of her doorbell camera, as well as the overhead security camera above her garage door. Both devices had a clear line of sight of the Hanson residence. He would politely request the footage if she said anything substantial. “Please, continue.”
“Well, it was an old beat-up truck. Light blue in color,” Deborah described as she crossed her arms. The cold wind was picking up, and since her residence was on a corner lot, there wasn’t much to block the strong gusts. “The man just sat behind the steering wheel for at least three hours. I finally walked across to ask if there was something he needed, but he drove off without rolling the window down.”
“Can you describe the man?”
“Late twenties or early thirties. Short brown hair. I don’t mean to make assumptions or anything, but he stopped by often when the husband wasn’t home. It’s one of the reasons I found it so odd that he would sit in front of their house for so long. Neither of the Hansons were home at the time, either.”
“What day was this?” Alex asked for clarification.
“It was over a week ago. Maybe a Thursday? It must have been, because my husband and I went out of town last weekend.”
Alex pulled his cell phone out of his jacket. It didn’t take him long to pull up a picture of Gage Baird. Out of the male subjects questioned so far, only Baird and Zayn drove pickup trucks.
“Is this the man you witnessed sitting outside the Hanson’s residence?”
Deborah reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. Once she had them perched on the end of her nose, she peered at the display of his cell phone.
“No.”
Alex lowered his phone in confusion, certain that Mrs. Welling would have identified the male subject outside of the Hanson residence as Gage Baird. Maybe she hadn’t been close enough for an accurate identification. Alex was proved wrong when Deborah removed her glasses and squinted at something…someone…across the street.
Alex shifted to the side to discover Jack Hanson had exited the house. He strolled to his car with purpose before yanking open the driver’s side door. After retrieving whatever it was he had forgotten inside the vehicle, he returned to the front entrance in a matter of seconds.
“That’s him, Detective. He is the man I saw sitting in the truck.”