Page 22 of Whispers Left Behind

“I’ll take a drink at the Bucket, but it’s going to have to be tomorrow night.” Alex appreciated that Kinsley hadn’t asked him for any details. They had always respected each other’sboundaries. “I’m going to faceplant in my bed and not move until tomorrow morning.”

Kinsley shed her sweater and then began to log into her computer. Once she had hit enter and sat back in her chair, she removed the clip from her hair. There was a slight wave to the blonde strands from being contained, and they fell just below her shoulders. He was often asked if the two of them had ever blurred the lines between their professional and personal lives, but she was more like a sister to him than anything. Being an only child, it was nice to have that type of relationship in his life.

“Guess what just landed in our laps,” Kinsley said with a bright smile. She even rubbed her hands together as she stared at her screen. Her eyes skimmed the contents of her email. Once she had finished, she finally shared the contents. “The background checks came in for Sebastian and Jack Hanson.”

Alex held his hands up, and she didn’t hesitate to toss him the eyedrop bottle. The liquid coolness did nothing for his discomfort. His only relief would come with sleep, which prompted him to cap the bottle and toss it back. She caught the small plastic container with one hand.

“Jack Hanson was a suspect in a domestic violence eight years ago.” Kinsley opened her desk drawer and stored the bottle of eyedrops in the side. “He was never officially charged, but I have the name of the woman who placed the initial call. I meant to bring this up earlier, but did you notice the brother’s insistence that the Fallbrook Killer was responsible for Rachel’s death? Or his reaction when I mentioned Rachel and her husband trying to conceive a child?”

“I noticed,” Alex said as he rolled his chair closer to the wall. Both of their monitors were to the side so that they could converse freely without something blocking their sight. He opened the template for the standard press release. “Do you want to ask Jack Hanson to come back into the station? Ifso, let’s make it for nine o’clock first thing Monday morning. We still need to interview the victim’s friends and coworkers. Blake and another officer took statements from the Hanson’s neighbors today. We’ll need to comb through those, as well.”

“I’m thinking we should pay Jack Hanson an unexpected visit,” Kinsley proposed as she leaned forward in her chair to concentrate on her screen. “Oh, and I want to re-question Louise Baird now that she’s had a chance to process her daughter’s death. I have questions for her about her father.”

“Care to share?”

Alex pecked at the keyboard, entering the appropriate information into the press release form while Kinsley caught him up on the interviews she had conducted up in Halliday. He stared at the information box, debating on how much information to divulge to the public. One concise sentence should be enough to convince the press to back off and allow the police to conduct the case with little to no interference. He reread the statement before completing the rest of the form.

Evidence obtained thus far during the investigation into Rachel Hanson’s homicide has led our department to officially rule out any involvement by Calvin Gantz.

Chapter Ten

Kinsley Aspen

October

Friday — 7:41 pm

The gentle strumming ofa steel guitar drifted from the television speakers and filled the living room with a classic country tune. Alex hadn’t been the only one who needed to decompress after such a grueling day, but Kinsley had chosen some soothing music and a good beer to top off her evening instead of sleep.

It wasn’t like she had slept through the night for the past year anyway.

Since Alex had declined her invitation to hit the Bucket after work, she had taken time to stop by the convenience store to buy a six-pack of dark ale. She had also purchased a steak and cheese sub in the sandwich shop next door. She considered both to be appropriate sustenance for the hours she had planned to comb through Rachel Hanson’s social media.

The rapid knock on the door accompanied by the chime of her doorbell came an hour after Kinsley had devoured her sandwich and was nursing her second beer. She set the tablet on her coffee table next to the crime scene photos, taking a moment to turn them over. Her brother didn’t need to witness such graphic pictures. She had forced him to deal with enough already.

“Coming!”

The doorbell pealed a second time, echoing loudly around the open layout of her townhome. She was now second-guessing her belief that her brother was on her doorstep. There wasn’t an impatient bone in Noah’s body, and he would have caught the six o’clock news regarding the police’s press release. She took time to look through the peephole before reaching for the deadbolt.

“I need your off-the-shoulder red sweater,” Lydia Tarper exclaimed as she breezed through the entryway without stopping. She made her way to the staircase without hesitation and ascended the steps to the second level before Kinsley had a chance to close the front door. The sweet fragrance of her perfume lingered in the air. “The one that I gave you for your birthday last year.”

“You don’t look good in red,” Kinsley called out as she returned to the couch. Lydia wouldn’t be staying long. Not on a Friday night. “And wear your hair up!”

Her best friend made it a habit to rifle through her closet. The two of them had been inseparable since kindergarten, the Aspen clan taking Lydia into their fold without question. As an only child, she had yearned for siblings. She had claimed Kinsley’sbrothers and sisters as her own a long time ago….except for Dylan.

Those two were like oil and water.

Kinsley left the crime scene photos face down. Lydia didn’t have the stomach for graphic television shows, and Kinsley wasn’t going to be responsible for ruining the woman’s evening. She clearly had a date.

“Do I need to call you at eleven?” Kinsley asked loud enough for her words to carry up a level. The bathroom was right in line with the staircase. “Or is this a planned hookup?”

“Planned.” The chaotic sound of rummaging told Kinsley that Lydia was searching through the makeup drawer in the vanity. “Where is—”

“Bottom drawer!”

Kinsley learned a long time ago that most of the gifts that Lydia purchased were based on her own style. Clothes, makeup, accessories, and the whole gauntlet. It was easier to go with the flow.

Lydia was one of the most nurturing people Kinsley had the honor of knowing, and the woman would give someone her last penny if she thought it would help them. Going into education and teaching at the elementary school had been a logical choice, but she also had a wild streak that such a mundane profession couldn’t satisfy.

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