Page 2 of Whispers Left Behind (Kinsley Aspen #1)

Chapter Two

Kinsley Aspen October Thursday — 7:24 pm

“Do you have any secrets, Aunt Kin?”

Warm water trickled through Kinsley Aspen's fingers as her eight-year-old niece came to stand beside her at the kitchen sink. Lily’s question had been innocent enough, yet the innocuous inquiry had struck a deep chord. It was impossible to stop the flood of complex emotions.

Hidden truths had a way of destroying a person.

“Everyone has secrets, peanut.” Kinsley cleared her throat as she squeezed the sponge. Enough white suds foamed for her to wash the rest of the dinner plate. She held the dish under the steady stream of water to rinse off the remaining soap. If only it were as easy to cleanse one’s soul. “Does your mom and dad know about the flashlight under your bed?”

“Hey,” Lily exclaimed defensively before pursing her lips. She even crossed her arms like her father did when he was displeased with her. “How do you know about my flashlight?”

“Don’t worry,” Kinsley whispered with a wink of conspiracy. She even leaned over just enough to pretend Dylan couldn’t hear them. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Lily was an avid reader. She loved all kinds of genres, and her parents encouraged her with weekly trips to the library. The entire family was aware that Lily stayed up reading well past her bedtime. She had a tendency to fall asleep with her flashlight in one hand and a book in the other. Never once had she questioned how her book ended up on the bedside table and her flashlight tucked safely back underneath her bed.

“Thanks, Aunt Kin,” Lily whispered in return with a scrunch of her nose and a wide grin. She slowly lowered her arms and peered at her Uncle Dylan. He was going along with Kinsley’s subterfuge and feigning a little too much interest in his task of drying a fork. “Grandpa needs another garbage bag, Uncle Dylan. The big kind.”

“Coming right up.” Dylan tossed the fork into the silverware drawer before nudging Kinsley to the side. He opened the lower cabinet underneath the sink and pulled out a white garbage bag that was supposed to smell like lemons. Holding it up high enough, Lily giggled in her attempt to grab it. She was victorious on the third jump. “Make sure to save me a pumpkin. I intend to beat your dad in this year’s competition.”

The Aspen family’s annual pumpkin carving event always took place the first week of October. It had technically been Noah’s turn to wash the dishes this evening, but Kinsley had intentionally offered to take her older brother’s place so she could delay the inevitable.

She wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with their father.

Given the size of their family, it hadn’t taken much prodding on her part to remain inside the house and clean off the dinner table. With nine family members in attendance this evening, storing food and washing the dishes had been quite the chore.

“Dad saved you the pumpkin with the missing stem.” Lily giggled again when Dylan set his hands on his hips with feigned annoyance. “He said that it matched your brain.”

“You tell your dad that—”

“We’ll bring out the hot apple cider in a few minutes,” Kinsley stated loudly with a laugh, interrupting whatever message Dylan would have sent their older brother. “Get a head start on carving your pumpkin so you can help me with mine.”

Thursday nights were reserved for family dinners.

Even after the loss of Kinsley’s last grandparent, the tradition had remained unchanged. The only difference now was the location where such meals took place. George and Margaret Aspen had taken on the responsibility of hosting, and their five children wouldn’t dare miss a single gathering.

Lily dashed out of the kitchen, disappearing through the open glass-sliding exit that led to the backyard. In her excitement, she hadn’t closed the heavy door all the way. Laughter and low murmurs of conversation drifted in through the tiny crack.

It was obvious that Lily’s energy was undiminished by the weight of any unsettling secret, and Kinsley couldn’t help but wonder why her niece would have asked such a question in the first place.

Had she overheard something of significance?

Kinsley dismissed such a wary thought right away. She trusted her older brother more than anyone else in her life. Her niece was merely being inquisitive.

Lily was the spitting image of her father in almost every way. The only exception was her chestnut-colored curls, which she had inherited from her mother. Noah resembled most of the Aspen men with his tall stature, reserved manner, blond hair, and blue eyes. His wife, Emily, was the complete opposite, with a petite frame, an outspoken view of life, hazel eyes, and vibrant waves of hair.

“Spill,” Dylan directed, pulling Kinsley’s attention away from the backyard. He reached for the plate in her hand. She released the last dish before concentrating on rinsing out the sponge. Doing so gave her time to think. “What big secret do you have?”

“Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black?” Kinsley was older than Dylan by three years. He would never get one up on her. She placed the sponge in its holder before reaching for the sprayer on the faucet. “I haven’t met the new waitress at the Plow. Is she nice? Word around town is that you didn’t waste time getting to know the color of her bedsheets.”

The Local Plow was a bar at the edge of town. It was a popular spot among the ranchers and farmers who preferred its down-to-earth vibe over the more polished establishments in town. It was also easily accessible via a dirt road that wound its way through farmland, but the watering hole was tucked away in the country, far enough to keep out the tourists. It also happened to be Dylan’s favorite place of entertainment on the weekends.

“As a matter of fact, it was the other way around. Cecilia wanted to know the color of my sheets.” Dylan flashed Kinsley a wayward smile as he stored the plate in its designated spot. He closed the overhead cabinet before tossing the dishtowel over his shoulder. He then leaned against the counter as if he had all the time in the world. “Seriously. You’re doing the dishes, Kin. You’d rather clean up dog shit. Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”

Kinsley released her hold on the nozzle, letting it slam into place with a snap. It was her opinion that her siblings could let things go a little too easily, but she wasn’t about to be dragged into another debate about family and forgiveness.

“Don’t start with me, Dylan.” Kinsley snatched the dishtowel from his shoulder and began to dry the edge of the counter. “It was Noah’s turn to do the dishes, but he shouldn’t have to miss out on carving a pumpkin with his daughter. I was only being nice.”

Kinsley was the middle child, but that didn’t stop her from viewing Dylan as the same. Noah and Olivia were fraternal twins, born when their father had been in law school. Kinsley had been born right after her father’s graduation, followed up by Dylan a year later, and Owen eleven months after that.

Dylan possessed an easy charm that the others didn’t, as well as a zest for life that had taken him away from Fallbrook for quite a while. He wasn’t meant to be chained to a desk, and he certainly hadn’t had the patience for college. He had lucked out landing a job with a local rancher after returning to town a few years ago. He might be adventurous and free-spirited, but he was also a homebody.

Not that he would ever admit to such a thing.

“Would you hand me the mugs, please?” Kinsley folded the dishtowel and hung it over the oven handle to move things along. “The apple cider should be ready. Mom mentioned she turned on the crockpot a couple hours before dinner.”

“Dad was the one who made Nana’s apple cider recipe today,” Dylan clarified as he made no move toward the cupboard. He was displaying his stubborn side, and she didn’t have time for it. “He knows how much you love it. He’s trying his best, Kin.”

Kinsley was grateful her parents had a large kitchen. It afforded her the ability to concentrate on plucking the cinnamon sticks from a mason jar while keeping her back to Dylan. He was pushing the issue even after she had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to have this conversation.

After setting aside nine cinnamon sticks, she took her time fastening the silver lid. A part of her hoped Lily would return inside and drag her uncle out to the backyard. Kinsley could ladle the apple cider out of the crockpot and into the mugs herself.

She preferred to do a lot of things by herself lately.

“It’s been a year, Kinsley.”

She gritted her teeth in response to Dylan’s statement.

Shoving the mason jar back into place, she made sure the glass container was evenly lined with the others. Her mother had spent a great deal of time decorating her kitchen after the extensive remodel. She had miraculously managed to maintain its rustic charm, and Kinsley wouldn’t be the one responsible for any untidiness.

Her parents had purchased the old farmhouse the same year Kinsley had been born. Their one prerequisite had been for their home to have enough bedrooms to accommodate a large family. They had not only succeeded, but they had also accomplished some major renovations over the past few decades. The most recent project had been her mother’s dream kitchen, with state-of-the-art appliances, grey granite countertops, and plenty of storage space.

The perfect home for an imperfect family.

“And yet it still feels like yesterday,” Kinsley murmured honestly. If Dylan wanted to have this conversation, so be it. She was tired of walking on eggshells. She turned around and leaned against the L side of the counter. “Dad used me to acquit a man who murdered two women. Two women who were born and raised in this town, Dylan. I’m still lucky to be a homicide detective.”

“You and I both know that you’re damn good at your job,” Dylan replied, doing his best to back up the conversation. He didn’t get to have his way this time. “It wasn’t even your fault. That crime tech—”

“My scene. My case. My responsibility.”

Kinsley could still hear the gavel hit the sound block. She suffered from nightmares every single night. Flashes of the shocking newspaper headlines, the intense trial, and the damning testimony that had allowed a killer to walk free would forever be imprinted in her mind. There wasn’t a second from those trying days that didn’t still haunt her.

“A forensics technician allowed a freelance journalist access to the crime scene for five hundred dollars.” Dylan crossed his ankle over the other. Again, it was as if he believed this discussion would last a while. “You did your job to the best of your ability. Dad was just doing his, Kin.”

Kinsley could have remained in the kitchen arguing with her brother. She could have brought up for the thousandth time that her dad had used information that he had obtained from a phone conversation. A private discussion she had been having with her partner on the back patio during a Thursday night family dinner. She had foolishly believed at the time that such boundaries between professions were respected.

Kinsley and her father understood early on that their careers would cross paths—or at least, that was what she believed at the time. After all, he was a local defense attorney, and she was a homicide detective for the Fallbrook Police Department.

“I have one question for you, Dylan—do you believe Calvin Gantz brutally murdered those two women?”

Dylan was saved from answering when Kinsley’s phone gave off a muffled ring from inside her purse. He sighed audibly and tilted his head back in resignation. He agreed with her about Gantz’s guilt, but they had been raised in a family who respected the justice system.

Everyone deserved a defense—even the guilty.

Pushing off the counter, she made her way to the foyer. She should have worn a jacket, but she hated anything bulky. Her purse was hanging from one of the wrought-iron hooks. It took her more than a few seconds to retrieve her phone, but she managed to answer before her partner disconnected the call.

“Perfect timing.” Kinsley had greeted Alex Lanen after catching sight of his name on the lighted display. She lowered her voice so Dylan wouldn’t overhear her side of the conversation. She’d been there, done that, and had promised herself never to let it happen again. “Even if you’re only calling to say that you’re going to be late tomorrow, I’m telling my family that we have a case.”

Each division within the police station had a Fantasy Football league. Though North Dakota didn’t have their own NFL team, most everyone in homicide supported the Minnesota Vikings. Seeing as they were playing the Chicago Bears tonight, it wouldn’t come as a shock to anyone if most of the detectives came strolling into work late tomorrow morning.

Unfortunately, the silence on the other end of the line suggested that Alex wasn’t calling about the football game. By the time he began to speak, Dylan had opened one of the cupboards. Even with the distance between them, the clinking of the mugs he had collected for the hot apple cider drowned out her partner’s words.

“Alex, you’ll have to repeat that,” Kinsley replied cautiously as she dug her keys out from the depths of her purse.

She had to have been mistaken about the information he had provided, and she chalked up her misunderstanding due to her unsolicited conversation with Dylan. She revisited her past every night in her nightmares. There was no need to discuss her transgressions in the present, and she shouldn’t have allowed it to happen in the first place.

“Where am I meeting you, Alex?”

Kinsley’s pumpkin would have to be carved another time. She palmed her keys and settled her purse strap over her shoulder. Dylan was already ladling the apple cider into the mugs. He raised a hand to indicate that he would let the others know she had caught a case.

“Old man Cooper’s farm.” There was another long pause before Alex repeated his earlier statement. Bile hit the back of her throat. “Did you hear me before, Kin? It’s bad. Real bad. I think…well, everything points toward Gantz being back in town.”

Kinsley wasn’t sure how she made it out the front door of her parents’ house without losing her stomach contents. Fortunately, the crisp air helped her to contain the unwanted physical response. She managed to disconnect the call without Alex any the wiser, but she found she couldn’t make it to her Jeep.

She lowered herself slowly until she was sitting on the porch's top step.

Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last, and it had nothing to do with the thick smoke from the burning firewood out back. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her knees tight to control her breathing. No amount of meditation could keep the memories from flooding her mind.

The media had dubbed Calvin Gantz the Fallbrook Killer.

It had taken Kinsley and Alex close to eighteen months to apprehend him, and only then due to an offhand comment during a third round of interviews from a patron at a local diner. Gantz had been overheard asking a waitress out to dinner. According to the witness, Annie Parron’s denial of such a request had prompted an unusual response. The odd depiction had led Kinsley to dig further into the confrontation.

There was no doubt in her mind that Gantz had lured Parron to an abandoned barn and slit her throat. He had also remained with her to witness the life slowly drain from her body. Savannah Veloso had met the same gruesome fate shortly thereafter. Kinsley had collected the physical evidence needed to back up her arrest.

Unfortunately, the jury had only heard the circumstantial evidence.

During the investigation, there were many decisions and outcomes that Kinsley would have given anything to change. She hadn’t had such power, and the jury’s acquittal had all but been written in stone.

Gantz had walked away from the courthouse a free man.

The last anyone had seen or heard from him was one year ago this month. Now, her partner believed Gantz had returned to Fallbrook.

All Kinsley needed was one minute to compose herself. She couldn’t allow herself to show up at a crime scene without being in control of her emotions. Alex would ask her too many questions, just as he had last October.

Kinsley hadn’t lied to her niece earlier this evening.

Everyone had secrets.

Hers?

She had murdered Calvin Gantz in cold blood.