Page 7 of Whispers Left Behind (Kinsley Aspen #1)

Chapter Seven

Beck Serra October Friday — 12:29 pm

The cool, crisp October air had Beck Serra sliding his hands into his coat pockets. The sun did its best to temper the slight breeze, but the rays simply weren’t strong enough. It wasn’t the chill that had him shifting his weight in discomfort, but the faint scent of cigarette smoke drifting from the group of voyeurs maybe twenty feet away.

Five months was how long he had been without a cigarette.

“…same way as the two women he killed last year.”

“Think they’ll call in the feds?”

Beck stood on the sidewalk across from Calvin Gantz's residence. The neighborhood’s tree-lined streets were ablaze with color, but no one paid any attention to the vibrant leaves. Instead, everyone’s focus was currently on the front door of one specific house owned by none other than Calvin Gantz.

A flock of crows cawed as they flew overhead, but not even their unsettling presence fazed the gathering crowd. Two officers had instructed the media to stand on the sidewalk across the street. It hadn’t been long after that two more crews had joined in the fray, hoping for a soundbite during their noon slot.

Beck had arrived just a few short moments ago, but he had overheard enough to know that Homicide Detectives Kinsley Aspen and Alex Lanen were inside the home. Some of the neighbors had speculated that Gantz had returned to town, spotted by a neighbor. Others claimed there was a dead body inside. One couldn’t take too much at face value without first having confirmation from an inside source. He had yet to secure one, but that was high on his priority list this weekend.

Given that Beck was due back in Bismarck next Wednesday, he didn’t have much time to waste. It had been sheer luck that he had overheard a diner at the café next to the police station talking about a call that had officers responding to Gantz’s residence. The rumors had swirled, and it was no different now as he stood apart from the news crews.

“…was brunette, and she was discovered in Lionel Cooper’s barn. I heard the scene was just like…”

“…be ready to record if one of them exits the house, especially Detective Aspen. Her father was…”

Beck was privy to all the public details regarding Kinsley Aspen’s relationship with Calvin Gantz’s defense attorney—George Aspen. It was no secret that they were father and daughter. They had faced each other in court multiple times. However, George always made sure that someone else from his legal team questioned Kinsley when she was on the stand. Despite attempts by prosecutors to have him removed from trials, the man’s impeccable record spoke for itself. He never allowed their personal relationship to affect his professional duty to defend a client.

“Movement!”

Two of the cameramen swung the large devices on their shoulders to capture someone exiting Gantz’s home. Unlike the other reporters at the scene, Beck was an investigative journalist, and his sole interest was Kinsley Aspen. He studied her as she navigated the lawn with an unwavering sense of purpose. She didn’t bother to use the thin path that led to the driveway.

There was no denying Kinsley was a beautiful woman. She was in her early thirties, had blonde hair that she normally pulled back in a clip, and piercing blue eyes that could be seen even from his spot across the street. She couldn’t be five inches over five feet, and yet she had a solid athletic frame that spoke to years of rigorous training and physical fitness.

“Detective Aspen, any comments on the case?” shouted a reporter, eager for a soundbite that would never come.

Kinsley had ignored the question, her stride deliberate and efficient. He had noticed from his research that she didn’t speak to the press. She allowed her partner the honor of doing so when a statement needed to be made. Beck observed the set of keys in her hand, so it was obvious that her destination was the unmarked police car parked behind one of the patrol cruisers.

“Hey, you're not from around here, are you?” The question had been posed to him by one of the reporters. She was probably in her mid-twenties, ten years his junior. Her press credentials revealed that she worked for one of the local stations. Her name was Nadine. “New?”

“No.” Beck never took his focus off Kinsley. “Bismarck. I’m an investigative journalist. Freelance.”

“Ah, you heard about the body found in that barn last night," she said, clearly undeterred when he didn’t turn his attention toward her. “The victim’s name was Rachel Hanson. I’m here to cover the Gantz sighting. My colleague is over at the Hanson residence hoping to get a quote from the husband.”

The lack of respect for the dead was one of the reasons that Beck had left the industry. Granted, he still wrote investigative pieces, but he did so on his terms. He had been on the other end, and he wouldn’t wish those packs of vultures on anyone else.

“I heard another body had been discovered last night, and I thought it might be worth the drive.”

The young reporter had already taken her focus off him. She had determined that he was of no use to her, and her gaze scanned the scene hungrily for any tidbits of information she could gather from her fellow journalists. When she had spoken of her colleague, Beck understood right away that Nadine wasn’t the station’s first choice when it came to the crime beat. It was obvious she was trying to poach whatever dirt she could find on Gantz, hoping to make a name for herself.

Uninterested in engaging further, he turned his attention to the unmarked police vehicle. Kinsley had settled in behind the wheel. Through the tinted window, he was surprised to find her staring back at him.

Was she recalling their first and only meeting?

During the Gantz trial, Beck had finagled an introduction with her at the Bucket. She had unfortunately been leaving when said encounter had taken place, so he hadn’t been able to make any inroads into the subject matter that had brought her to his attention in the first place.

Kinsley Aspen was more than just an intriguing subject for his ongoing investigation—she was the key to unlocking the truth behind Calvin Gantz's disappearance.

Beck quietly observed her pull away from the curb and drive slowly down the neighborhood street. He could have gotten in his own vehicle and followed her, but he didn’t want to play his hand quite yet. He had been patient for the past year, and he would continue to do so until the time was right.

He had originally returned home after the trial to spend time writing an in-depth piece on how a town had turned its back on one of its own. After scoring an exclusive interview with both George Aspen and Calvin Gantz, Beck had several calls from those at national papers and online sites bidding for the said article. Such a sale had afforded him a nice cushion in his checking account, but he was now aiming for a lot more. But his objective had changed since then.

Calvin Gantz had left town.

Vanished without a trace.

Simply disappeared into thin air.

Beck had reason to believe such departure wasn’t by the man’s own volition.

His rationale was two short sentences handwritten on a thin piece of paper. Eleven measly words that had haunted Beck for the past twelve months and had prompted him to spend the past year investigating Calvin Gantz’s disappearance.

The message had all but imprinted itself in Beck’s mind.

If you’ve received this note, I’m dead. Kinsley Aspen killed me.