Page 21 of Whispers Left Behind (Kinsley Aspen #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

Kinsley Aspen October Thursday — 8:36 pm

Despite the warmth of the firepit, Kinsley welcomed the crisp air cutting through the rising heat as she finished carving the last curve into her jack-o-lantern’s mouth. The natural stone pavers of her parents’ patio were bathed in an amber glow. The flickering flames had a bit of help in that area from a long string of fairy lights that wrapped around the perimeter of the sitting area.

Beyond the edge of the patio, darkness loomed as if the night were trying to remind her that all was not okay in her life. Or was it Fate, the way Alex had suggested the other day? Either way, she didn’t need the reminder.

Instead, she focused her thoughts on the Hanson case.

The repetitive motion needed to make the curve a little steeper aided in mentally shaving off the layers of the investigation. Joe Cider had been removed from the board. The turtle guy was irrelevant, as well. The man resided out of state, and he had already arrived home days before Rachel had been murdered on Cooper’s farm. As for Alex, he hadn’t been able to garner any useful information from Tobias Zayn, Louise Baird, or Douglas Glynn.

The only good news to come out of the past week had been an update on Gage Baird’s condition. The swelling in his brain had fully receded, and there was a good chance that Kinsley and Alex would be able to question him about the events leading up to the crash.

Movement inside the house caught Kinsley’s attention. She couldn’t help but smile as Lily gingerly carried a mug of apple cider through the dining room and into the living room. Her lips were pursed in concentration with every measured step. Her niece had spent a good hour outside with Kinsley carving the pumpkin, but she had gotten restless when she spotted her grandfather doling out apple cider.

It wouldn’t be long until Thursday night football kicked off, and that was when Kinsley would be able to grab her purse and keys in the front foyer. A simple claim that a lead came in regarding the case would lend itself to calling it an early evening.

She set aside the carving knife before reaching for the wet washcloth her mother had provided earlier this evening. The material was quite cold, but Kinsley didn’t mind. She studied her handiwork as the jack-o-lantern sneered back at her. It certainly wouldn’t win her this year’s Aspen competition.

The swoosh of the sliding glass door had her believing that Lily had returned to witness the finished product, but Kinsley found that her bad luck continued its long streak. George Aspen was using his elbow to close the door behind him. In his hands were two mugs with cinnamon sticks gliding back and forth against the rims.

“I thought you could use a warmup.”

George approached the firepit before holding out one of the mugs. The night had grown so cold that the steam from the cider rose in long, thin wisps. She accepted the mug, unable to prevent an underlying tension from coiling within her.

“Thanks,” Kinsley murmured as she tossed aside the wet washcloth. She wrapped both of her hands around the warm mug, suddenly grateful for the heat. She would bide her time until she could figure out a way to excuse herself for the evening. “I didn’t get to have any last week.”

The orange glow of the flames danced between them, casting flickering shadows over her father's face. She hadn’t really taken the time to observe him recently. Doing so was difficult when she had gone out of her way to avoid being in his presence. She was taken aback by how much he had aged in the past year.

He was ten months shy of his sixtieth birthday. Her mother was already planning a huge get-together with Olivia flying in to join the celebration. There was no denying the man pulled off a distinguished appearance, despite the lines of wisdom around his eyes and lips.

Kinsley took advantage of his interest in his drink to study him. His dark blond beard was trimmed short, although she could spot some lighter hairs in the mix. Even though the workday for him was complete, his attire was always immaculate. He had changed out of his suit and tie for a pair of khakis and a navy blue sweater.

“Did you ever file a report about your car?” Kinsley's question cut through the awkward silence. “I ran into Mom at the hospital the other day when she was visiting Dawn Willers.”

Kinsley’s father took his time responding to her question.

“No.” George glanced down at the apple cider. He made no move to taste the sweet beverage. “I had it towed to Jensen’s Garage. He and his son have always done right by us.”

Kinsley refrained from advising her father that the individual responsible would never be held accountable, but he wouldn’t take the chance that someone related to a victim of Calvin Gantz was to blame. As much anger as she had directed at her father for what happened last year, there was no denying that he empathized with the families involved in the case.

“I know not everyone understood why I took Calvin’s case.”

“Dad, I—”

“Please, hear me out.”

George raised his eyes to meet hers. There was an emotion deep within the familiar blue hues that she couldn’t name. Noah took after their father the most, and she gritted her teeth at the knowledge her older brother would advise her that it was time to leave the past in the past.

Only Kinsley’s jaunt up to Terrapin Lake yesterday proved nothing stayed in the past…not secrets, and certainly not skeletons.

She stared at the dark liquid in her mug, waiting impatiently for her father to continue. Everyone in the family would have agreed that this conversation was long overdue, but it wouldn’t solve anything. Most of her anger was pointed inward, but he shared the blame for what transpired last year.

What would his opinion be of her if he knew the truth?

She took ahold of the cinnamon stick and began to stir the apple cider. The crackling of wood punctuated the stillness, and it was as if the flickering flames used the rising tension as fuel to reach higher into the chilled air.

“Your mother and I went to high school with Mary Gantz.”

“I know your reasons for defending Gantz. We don’t need to—”

“Mary was the reason I became a lawyer.”

Kinsley stilled the cinnamon stick, eventually releasing it to wrap her hand around the mug. Everyone had been privy to the reason George Aspen defended Calvin Gantz, because her father had stood on the courthouse steps and announced to the world that the two victims hadn’t been the only ones raised in Fallbrook.

Calvin Gantz had been raised on a farm, only to lose his father in a tragic farming accident. Mary had sold the farm and moved her young son to a neighborhood where she wouldn’t be so alone in raising him. Calvin had thrived in his new life, never having been one for physical labor. He preferred to rely on his charm and intelligence. It was a lethal combination for someone so inherently evil.

Mary had been diagnosed with breast cancer shortly thereafter. Those years hadn’t been kind to her, but she had managed to hold on until Calvin graduated from the community college. Her funeral had been held a month later.

“Mary got pregnant in high school. Her parents despised Frank,” George revealed with a shake of his head. It was clear from his disapproval that he hadn’t agreed with such a summation. “They did everything they could to talk Mary into giving up the baby, but Mary loved Frank. She wasn’t about to leave him, but that didn’t stop her mother and father from looking for ways to change her mind.”

Kinsley bit the side of her cheek to keep from asking questions. Her father always had a way of telling a story and leaving the listener hanging on to his every word. Once Gantz had been arrested, neither Kinsley nor her father had spoken about the case to one another. Every detail she had learned about the man had been through her own investigation and the media.

“During Mary’s seventh month of pregnancy, some of her mother’s jewelry went missing. They called the police. Blamed Frank Gantz, saying at the time that he had been the only one with the means and motive to take the missing items.” George paused to take a sip of his apple cider. He held up his mug. “Tasting this makes me miss her, you know.”

Maybe that was why her father was sitting outside with Kinsley while everyone else was watching the football game. He missed Nana, and he was overcome with sentimentality. He always said that Kinsley reminded him the most of his mother.

“I don’t recall Frank Gantz having a record,” Kinsley said, hoping to delay or avoid altogether the issues between them. She would have preferred not to speak of Gantz, either, but that wasn’t the way these past two weeks had panned out. “I’m sure the prosecutor was aware of it, not that it would have made any difference. Whatever Frank did or didn’t do as a teenager had no bearing on Calvin’s crimes.”

“The police arrested Frank, but his family didn’t have enough money for a private defense attorney. He was given a public defender who was wet behind the ears. The guy tried to force Frank to take a plea, but it was Mary who begged and finally convinced him to stall.”

Kinsley sipped her cider, the warmth doing little to soften the chill that had settled inside her. Her father had an entire year to sit down with her, not that she had made such opportunities easy. Surely this heart-to-heart was at the urging of her mother.

“Mary asked a few friends for some help, and that’s what we did,” George replied with a glance toward the sliding glass door. “Your mother and another friend of theirs put together a timeline of who was in and out of the house during that period of time. I hit the law books in the library, looking for anything that could help Frank avoid jail time.”

“You found it, didn’t you?”

“I did, but it didn’t matter in the end.” George had been staring at the bright flames of the fire while telling his story, but he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Mary discovered that her cousin had been at the house the day her mother’s jewelry had gone missing, so Mary convinced your mother and a friend to sneak into the girl’s room. They found the necklace and ring that had been taken, so the police were forced to drop the charges. Frank was released, he married Mary on her eighteenth birthday, and Calvin was born three weeks later.”

There were no crickets to offset the silence, and the rest of the wildlife appeared to have called it a night. Even the rustle of the leaves from the slight breeze wasn’t loud enough to cause a distraction.

“I went into law because of Mary Gantz.”

“You went into law because of Mary Reeder,” Kinsley corrected him by utilizing Mary’s maiden name. She hadn’t meant for her voice to have such an edge, but the buried emotions from last year had been exposed at Terrapin Lake today. “Don’t confuse the two, Dad. Calvin Gantz murdered two women who were born and raised in Fallbrook. What about them? Their families? Don’t they deserve justice?”

“Of course, they do,” George replied just as sharply. He looked out into the darkness as if he needed to regain his train of thought. After a few seconds, he turned his attention back toward her. “It’s about legacy. About defending those who have no one else.”

“Even when the cost is so high?”

George rested his mug on his leg with his left hand while rubbing his lower lip with the other. Everyone had a tell, and her father had just shown his. Her question had hit from many different directions.

“I owed it to Mary to give her son a defense. You told me the day you clipped that badge to your belt that you wanted to be treated no differently than any other officer on the force. Had I overheard such a discussion from anyone else, I would have done the exact same thing—investigate the allegations myself. I did precisely that, and I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

Kinsley leaned her head back in disappointment and stared up at the stars. The world was such a vast place, yet Fallbrook was like one of those tiny towns encapsulated in a snow globe. She hadn’t expected her father to apologize, but his refusal to do so hurt nonetheless.

“What I do apologize for was how I handled the situation,” George stated gruffly before clearing his throat. “I should have given you some warning that I had overheard your conversation with Lanen. Instead, I called a private investigator to confirm that the forensics tech had taken a bribe and allowed a journalist into Gantz’s residence. Hell, the guy should have ended up behind bars instead of receiving a slap on the wrist.”

“You won’t get an argument from me there,” Kinsley muttered in disappointment. “He was also fired, not that the punishment fit the crime.”

The temperature had dropped enough that her breath had begun to form tiny clouds in the air. The heat from the firepit could no longer prevent the cold from seeping through her jacket. Her father probably wouldn’t have put up much of an argument if she decided to go inside, but he had chosen to extend an olive branch. In reality, the olive branch was firmly in her mother’s hand.

Still, the anger inside of Kinsley was becoming almost too much to bear. While there was no absolution for what she had done, her father had no idea that his daughter was no better than those he represented on a daily basis.

It wasn’t fair for her to continually penalize him.

“Even fathers aren’t perfect,” George reluctantly admitted as he shifted in his chair. Such admission wasn’t easy for a man like him. “If I could go back and handle the situation differently, I would do so in a heartbeat. I miss you, butterfly.”

The sincerity in her father’s voice clawed at her resolve, which had been torn to shreds recently. Hearing her childhood nickname tore it completely in two. She was the only one of her siblings who hadn’t been able to stand being swaddled in a blanket, and she would work tirelessly until her arms and legs were free from their constraints. Her father had mentioned many times that it was like watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon, thus was born her nickname from day one.

Kinsley stared at the man who had taught her to stand firm. He was oblivious to the cracks in that very same foundation. She came to the realization that their relationship was akin to the fire between them—complex, flickering with moments of warmth, but ultimately unpredictable and capable of leaving scars.

A loud snap cut through the night air.

The sharp sound had nothing to do with the fire, and Kinsley scanned the darkness for any sign of immediate danger. She usually left her firearm in her safe at home before joining her family for dinner, but the busy day had forced her to drive straight to her parents’ house from work. While Owen’s review of the footage hadn’t revealed anyone outside her home, she couldn’t shake the belief that someone was monitoring her from afar.

“It’s just the wildlife,” George reassured her as his interest focused on the sliding glass door instead of the thin stretch of land in front of the treeline on the backside of the property. “There’s my toothless granddaughter.”

“I’m not toothless, Grandpa. See?” Lily smiled as she came closer to them, pointing at her front teeth that still weren’t fully settled. “Everyone is watching the game, and I need someone to play cards with me.”

“You just want to play with someone who isn’t good at Go Fish,” George complained good-naturedly, causing Lily to giggle with delight. “Come on, squirt. I’ll play you a hand or two.”

Lily grabbed her grandfather’s hand, and he allowed her to believe she was dragging him into the house. Her laughter was loud enough that it would have scared away any critter nearby.

Kinsley didn’t sense a change in the air, though.

She might not have proof, but someone was out there.

Waiting…watching…and planning something that could very well destroy their lives.

“Dad?”

Kinsley drew her gaze away from the darkness. Her father had just reached the sliding glass door when he heard her call out to him. He released Lily’s hand as she disappeared through the open doorway. There was a vulnerable quality to his stance that she had never witnessed before. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to take hold of the olive branch.

“I miss you, too.”