Page 14 of Whispers Left Behind

Kinsley hadn’t meant to utter those words aloud, but they still somehow managed to escape her lips. She couldn’t prevent the acceleration of her heartbeat or the slight sheen of perspiration that formed on her palms as Alex slowly pulled the unmarked cruiser to a stop behind a patrol car.

The mere sight of the small two-story house belonging to Calvin Gantz caused an enormous wave of nausea to hit her. Apasserby never would have guessed that a killer had lived in such a charming home. After his mother had passed away over ten years ago, Gantz had kept up with the flowerbeds and yardwork, going out of his way to blend in with his neighbors. Those same flowerbeds were now overgrown, but the beautiful, full-grown trees drew the eye away from the thick vegetation. It was as if nature wouldn’t allow evil to grow roots.

The bountiful leaves from the large trees had turned from vivid shades of greens into various hues of fiery reds and oranges. The fallen leaves blanketed parts of the lawn that the homeowner’s association tended to on a bi-monthly basis. Considering the house siding was white with black shutters, the contrast was exquisite. When the time came that the homeowner’s association could force a sale of the property, the only bump in the road would be disclosing the previous owner’s history.

How could something so beautiful have harbored someone so vile?

Without a word, Alex killed the engine and opened the driver’s side door. Neither of them had spoken on the drive from the station. He hadn’t been pleased to hear about movement at the Gantz residence. She figured he was peeved at her for not issuing an APB on the man last night. Either that, or he was angry with himself for backing up her claim that Gantz had nothing to do with Hanson’s murder during the interview with her husband.

Kinsley desperately needed enough physical evidence to prove someone else was responsible for Rachel Hanson’s death. Otherwise, unwanted questions would continue to swirl. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

She dragged her gaze away from the house to focus on Alex. He had joined the two patrol officers near their cruiser. One of them even pointed toward the residence to the right. From her understanding, a call had been placed by a neighbor who hadnoticed Gantz’s interior door standing wide open. Believing that someone might have broken into an empty house, the resident then placed a call to the police.

The weight of Kinsley’s secret pressed down on her until she couldn’t sit still any longer. She needed fresh air. Opening the door, the staple scent of burning wood did little to ease her apprehension.

Rachel Hanson’s killer had set the stage, attempting to frame the Fallbrook Killer for the woman’s murder. It was the only scenario that made sense. He had no idea just how muddy he had made the waters in her life.

Kinsley slammed the door shut a little harder than necessary. Time was not her friend. With every passing second, the chance grew that someone would figure out Gantz hadn’t left town of his own volition. The crunch of some dry leaves underfoot near the curb couldn’t overshadow the ringing of her cell phone. She pulled it from her blazer pocket to find Noah’s name on the lighted screen.

Just as she had earlier with her father’s phone calls, she relegated her older brother to voicemail. Before joining Alex, who was now waiting for her in the driveway, she composed a quick text that said nothing more than she was working a case and couldn’t speak to him at the moment. She tacked on a suggestion—he should stop by her townhome later this evening to pick up Emily’s lasagna dish.

Noah would understand the meaning behind her invitation.

Kinsley slid the phone back into her pocket. Sweeping her gaze over the house once more, she did her best to suppress any anxiety that might have made its way to the surface.

“Morning,” Kinsley greeted the officers as she continued past them until she could fall into step next to Alex. “Did the neighbor add any other information in her statement?”

“Nothing of note.” Alex unfastened the button on his suit jacket. He wouldn’t want anything in the way if he needed access to his firearm. “Neighbor was on her morning walk. She noticed the interior door open. Since Gantz hasn’t been around for the past year, she walked up to the porch and called out his name. He didn’t come to the door, and after a while, she became uneasy. Dialed 911 to report a possible break-in. The officers arrived on scene and then walked the perimeter before clearing the house. The lock on the front door displays signs of being jimmied, but they aren’t sure if the marks are recent.”

Given the circumstances, there had been enough probable cause to support the officers’ decision to enter the home. Had the woman not called the police and chosen to close the door in a neighborly fashion, fully believing Gantz had left it open by mistake, no one would have suspected a break-in. The rumor alone would be enough to solidify the belief that Gantz had returned to Fallbrook.

“Anything missing?” Kinsley asked, keeping to her role. It was something she would have inquired about had she no idea that Gantz was dead. “Damaged?”

“No.” Alex came to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps. Kinsley observed the painted planks, but nothing stood out. “Forensics are on their way.”

Alex proceeded up the steps, crossed the porch, and then leaned down to study the handle on the screen door. He pulled out a pair of gloves, holding one of them up for her. She didn’t complain when she noticed it was the left one.

“We’ll do a quick walk-through. Maybe we’ll notice something out of place.” Alex stood to his full height and pulled on the door. This time, it was Kinsley who leaned forward enough to examine the interior door jamb. She spotted where the wood was slightly marred, though she was mindful not to touch it as she pointed toward the damage. “Here. What do you think? A screwdriver?”

There was no question that the officers had done their due diligence. A more inexperienced officer might not have noticed the faint scratches and misinterpreted them as normal wear and tear.

“Something thinner.”

Alex stepped over the threshold. His shift in movement caused a rather oppressive odor to escape. Even though the door had probably been left open for hours, it hadn’t been enough to air out a house that had been closed up for an entire year.

Kinsley held her breath as she navigated the same steps Alex had taken inside. She placed the back of her hand to her lips in an effort to stop the nausea that threatened to release if she didn’t get a hold of her emotions.

Work the case, Kin.

“I’ll take the second level.” Alex made his way over to the staircase, and Kinsley fought the urge to stop him. He flipped the light switch, but there was no electricity. “Don’t forget to check the garage.”

Was Alex becoming convinced that Gantz was responsible for Hanson’s murder? A year was a long time to be gone, and there was a chance someone would suggest that Gantz had lost the keys to his house during those twelve months. She mentally shook off her trepidation as she scanned the living room furniture.

The interior of Calvin Gantz's house was a time capsule, each room a homage to the decade of dial-up internet and grunge music. The floral-patterned sofa, the heavy drapes that swallowed what little light managed to seep through the windows, and the bulky CRT television—all relics of the '90s. Calvin hadn't changed a thing after his mother had passed away, the décor a shrine to her memory, untouched by time or taste. While Gantz had gone to great lengths to maintain the exteriorin an effort to conform, he had intentionally kept his personal space for some type of comfort.

Kinsley made her way over to the drapes and carefully drew them apart, the natural sunlight brightening the living room. Her footsteps were muffled by the worn carpet. It was evident from the thin layer of dust that nothing had been disturbed in quite some time.

A year, to be precise.

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