Page 24 of Whispers Left Behind
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 wasno 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.”
Chapter Eleven
Kinsley Aspen
October
Saturday — 9:16 am
The slate-grey sky loomedover Fallbrook, pressing down the chilled air as if the town had been packed into a deep freezer. Kinsley steered her car into the hospital parking lot. She was mindful not to make the left turn too sharp and spill her coffee. With three of her travel mugs sitting in the sink, she had opted to bring one of her porcelain mugs. Not the wisest idea, but Alex wasn’t riding shotgun to deliver any judgment.
Kinsley managed to find an opening two rows back from the main entrance. It wasn’t long before she had shifted the gear into park and left the engine to idle. Her attention was now solely on the rearview mirror. Ever since Noah had left the townhome yesterday, she had been on edge.
There was nothing to indicate that someone was monitoring her movements.
None.
Yet she couldn’t shake the unease that caused every nerve in her body to go into fight-or-flight mode. It had been that way for months after she and Noah had disposed of Gantz’s body. The daily grind had gradually helped her develop another—somewhat normal—routine.
Unfortunately, it was as if she were back to square one.
Five minutes later, Kinsley set her empty mug in the cupholder as best she could given the awkward handle. She was allowing Gantz to disrupt her life again. Her anger rose swiftly as she shut off the engine and yanked the keys from the ignition. She needed this case to be closed.
It was a little after nine o'clock on Saturday morning, and it was easier to let Alex sleep as long as possible. She had sent him a text message detailing her day. After all, what were the odds that two siblings had been involved in separate car accidents in the span of two days?
Depending on how long it took for some of the interviews Kinsley had planned this morning, there was a possibility she would be working without overtime. The city had budgeted only so much for each department, and they had been put on notice a couple of months ago that certain requests would be denied unless signed off by their immediate supervisor.
Technically, Alex and Kinsley had planned to interview the victim’s friends and coworkers this afternoon. Last night’s phone call had altered the day’s agenda.
Kinsley exited her Jeep, but nothing in her surroundings seemed unusual. The scent of burning firewood from some distant neighborhoods clung to the brisk air, but not even her favorite Fall fragrance could make this morning any more tolerable. Once her vehicle was locked up tight and she had rescanned the area, she eventually made her way to the entrance of the hospital.
Inside the sterile lobby, there was practically no difference in temperature. An exaggeration, for sure, but Kinsley couldn’t stand hospitals for several reasons. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the linoleum floors too squeaky, and the scent of disinfectant too overwhelming. The sight of her mother, Margaret, standing at the information desk brought Kinsley up short.
“Mom?”
“Kin!” Margaret exclaimed after turning around. She reached out when Kinsley closed the distance between them and brought her in for a warm embrace. She pulled away after a few seconds, but she kept her hands wrapped around Kinsley’s arms in concern. “What on earth are you doing here? Don’t tell me something happened with Alex.”
“No, no,” Kinsley reassured her mother with a pat on her hand. “Nothing like that. An individual involved in a case was in a car accident last night. I’m just here to question the family.”
“Thank goodness,” Margaret said before dropping her hands and stepping back. She then reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of gum. “Here. Take this. You have coffee breath.”
Kinsley held out her hand and waited for her mother to place a stick of gum into her palm. Margaret was a force to be reckoned with, and she had done her best to remain neutral on the issues between father and daughter. The past year had been a strain on them all.
“I'm here to visit Dawn Willers,” Margaret exclaimed as she tucked the pack of gum back into her purse. She readjusted the thick strap on her shoulder. “You remember her, don’t you? She used to work at that greenhouse where we got our annuals for the front flowerbeds.”
