Page 57 of Whispers Left Behind
Was Gantz holed up in some cabin, wanting revenge on the people involved with his arrest and trial? After all, Kinsley had been the arresting officer.
Or was Gantz truly six feet underground?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kinsley Aspen
October
Friday — 6:23 pm
“Aspen, are you goingto Crosby’s annual bonfire tomorrow night?”
“Are you bringing that moonshine of yours?” Kinsley asked, raising her voice so Hess could hear her on the other side of the glass partition. She glanced up from Rachel Hanson’s phone records. A printed version of the numbers was easier for Kinsley to cross-reference. “Judging by that smile of yours, I'll be there.”
“Admit it, Aspen. You’re going to miss me.”
The faint muffled sound of the elevator arriving on their floor could be heard, and Hess’ laughter faded away. Shewasgoing to miss him. Hess had been one of the first detectives to welcome her to the fold. He was old school, but he had worked his fair share of homicides. He had a method that worked for him, and she had taken tips along the way.
Kinsley glanced up when one of the fluorescent bulbs flickered, but it went right back to being steady. She gave it two weeks before it completely went out. Her gaze slid to the murder board. She and Alex could very well still be staring at the same timeline without any additional leads next year. There were too many cold cases on their desks as it was, and she didn’t want to add another.
With that thought in mind, Kinsley turned up the country music to keep her company. She wouldn’t be staying for too long, especially since she and Alex needed to go back to the hospital tomorrow morning. Gage Baird would have had time to process the events that unfolded before and after his accident. There could even be a chance that he recalled what he had wanted to speak with his mother about last week.
Two other detectives occupied the far side of the room, but they were too engrossed in their own work to be bothered by the tunes. Dobbs and Crosby wouldn’t be in for another couple of hours. As for Haugen and Shane, they probably wouldn’t report to the station until Monday.
As Kinsley settled back in and scanned the list of calls, she noted the number of times Rachel and Sebastian had spoken on a daily basis. The man and his lawyer had canceled their interview earlier today, which only served to irritate her further. Was Hanson avoiding her questions out of guilt? Covering for his brother?
Jack Hanson had motive and opportunity.
Kinsley jotted down a few more questions she would like to pose to Sebastian Hansen. She would be forced to give the list of inquiries to the man’s attorney, but eventually, said lawyer would advise his client to respond.
On the bright side, she had one less concern knowing her father wasn’t representing Hanson. He had chosen an upscale law firm from Bismarck.
Kinsley hovered her pen above the paper, using its tip to circle the calls Rachel made to the farm's landline—twice a week, every week, at the same time.
Tobias didn't carry a cell phone and was probably at the hospital with Louise and Douglas right now. Kinsley glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that visiting hours would likely be over by the time she reached the hospital. She understood what it took to run a farm, so she wasn’t concerned about the fact that JJ hadn’t been to the hospital. At least, to her knowledge, no such visit had taken place. Maybe they should be looking more into J.J. Callaghan's relationship with Gage and Rachel.
The sudden vibration of Kinsley’s cell phone on the desk jolted her from her thoughts. She picked it up while lowering the country music playing on her computer speakers. The display read her mother's name, and she couldn't help but smile.
“You did my dishes, didn't you?”
Margaret didn't laugh, and Kinsley's hand slowly came to rest on the small stack of papers. “Mom? Is everything okay?”
“Did you speak with a journalist named Beck Serra today?” Margaret inquired cautiously. “He stopped by your townhouse, and I directed him to the station.”
Kinsley leaned back in her chair, too stunned to immediately respond.
“I told your father, of course. He doesn’t seem to be too concerned about it, but I find it odd that a journalist would come to your home.”
“Did Mr. Serra give a reason as to why he wanted to speak with me?” Kinsley had managed to shake off her shock, but that sinking sensation in her stomach remained behind. “Did he upset you?”
“No, no,” Margaret said, though Kinsley caught the underlying tone of tension. “He was very respectful. He mentioned that he had met with you a couple of times, and he wanted a comment regarding Calvin Gantz’s missing persons investigation. I guess someone reopened the inquiry into his whereabouts. Again, I told your father all of this, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about it.”
Kinsley’s father wouldn’t be worried about the past coming back to haunt them, because he had no idea the horrifying deeds two of his children had done twelve months ago. She tightened her grip on the phone and closed her eyes to try and even out her breathing. Knowing better than to let her mother hear how unsettling the situation was, Kinsley forced a lightness to her voice.
“Dad’s right, Mom. Beck Serra is the journalist who Dad gave that one-on-one interview with during the Gantz trial.” Kinsley's throat constricted upon saying aloud the man’s name, but she managed to stay composed. “It’s obvious the man doesn’t know boundaries, but I was out of the station working a case most of the day. Maybe Serra thought I was home. Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go. Oh, and thanks for doing the dishes.”
Kinsley lowered her phone, but she was unable to push down the fear and anxiety that had resulted from hearing her mother’s words. Someone had reopened the missing persons inquiry into Calvin Gantz, but who? Before she could reach for her desk phone to contact the proper division, Izzy came around the glass partition with a folder in hand.
