Page 13 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
After all, grief was known to cause odd reactions.
Or had Bailey Scriven been the one to take her sister’s life?
5
Kinsley Aspen
July
Thursday — 11:17 am
Kinsley stepped through the glass doors of Scriven Law, where the stifling humidity abruptly shifted to cold, artificial air. She couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran through her body. Removing her sunglasses, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the softer, muted lighting.
The shiny marble floors and stylish furniture could have been ripped from a design magazine. Each piece was carefully arranged to boost the lobby’s elegance.There was also a stillness that was both deliberate and oppressive.
Kinsley’s phone emitted a notification, though her purse muffled the tweeting sound. She usually left her purse tucked in the back seat of her Jeep, but there hadn’t been a parking spot out front. She ended up circling the block at least two times before giving up and finding a spot three blocks away.
Stepping aside in case anyone else came through the door, she grabbed her phone. She was sure the message was fromAlex, but it turned out to be from her doorbell camera. She opened the app, but then quickly remembered she had ordered a new knee brace for Sunday’s game. Her old softball injury from high school often reminded her of its presence at the worst times.
Kinsley silenced her phone and let it sink to the bottom of her purse. She also dropped her sunglasses into the large void before approaching the receptionist behind a very long counter. By the time she was waiting for the woman to end a phone call, Kinsley had her credentials in hand.
“Detective Kinsley Aspen, Fallbrook PD,” Kinsley greeted with a small smile, omitting the rest of her title. She didn’t want the receptionist to alert the Scrivens that a homicide detective needed to speak with them. This was going to be a tough enough interview as it was, though no doubt Bailey had already informed the couple about their daughter’s death. “I need to speak with Katherine and William Scriven.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
The question threw Kinsley off balance. She hadn’t expected the receptionist, whose silk blouse probably cost more than Kinsley’s entire outfit, to offer a practiced smile that indicated she had no idea that the Scrivens’ daughter had been killed last night.
“No, but this concerns their daughter.” Kinsley intentionally left out which daughter in another attempt to read the situation. If she didn’t know any better, she would swear that Bailey Scriven hadn’t driven straight to her parents’ law firm. “Please let them know I’m here.”
A flicker of curiosity crossed the woman's face before she regained her professional composure. She slowly stood up from the chair, glancing at the phone console. Deciding not to call either Scriven, she chose to notify them in person.
“One moment, please.”
Kinsley clipped her credentials to her belt before adjusting the strap of her purse. She glanced around the space while waiting, noticing the artful black-and-white photographs of downtown Fallbrook hung thoughtfully on the walls around the lobby. The images captured the city's historic architecture but somehow made it seem like somewhere else entirely more important.
Her father's law office was half this size, with practical furniture and framed diplomas instead of abstract art. George Aspen had always claimed that clients preferred substance over style, believing that an office too fancy might make them wonder if they were paying for the marble rather than legal expertise.
Considering George Aspen was the most prominent criminal defense attorney in town, it left Kinsley wondering just how much her parents had managed to save by living a modest lifestyle.
The front glass entrance swung open and interrupted her train of thought. Alex strolled in before adjusting his tie. After a quick glance around the lobby, he walked over to her.
“You got a spot out front, didn’t you?”
“How far did you have to walk?” Alex asked with a grin.
“I don’t want to talk about,” Kinsley muttered as she gestured toward the empty chair on the other side of the counter. “I don’t think Bailey came here. The receptionist asked if I had an appointment.”
“Interesting. I only stayed at the crime scene long enough to get a preliminary time of death. Wally estimates the vic was killed between ten and two last night. Multiple blunt force traumas to the skull. He'll know more after the autopsy.”
Before Kinsley could respond to Alex, movement near the reception desk drew her attention. The woman had returned with a man in his late fifties. He had a hint of silver in hissideburns and a neatly trimmed mustache. His navy suit was perfectly tailored, giving him a rather distinguished appearance.
“William Scriven.” He stepped forward and shook their hands firmly. “Diana tells me that you’re here about one of my daughters. I take it Bailey has gotten herself into some trouble? Whatever it is, we’ll pay for any damages.”
Kinsley and Alex exchanged meaningful glances. William’s opinion of Bailey spoke volumes.
“Mr. Scriven, I'm Detective Kinsley Aspen, and this is my partner, Detective Alex Lanen,” Kinsley said, taking the time to complete the formal introductions. “Is there a place where we can speak with you and your wife privately?”
“I take it this is more serious than the previous vandalism charge? In my daughter’s defense, those charges were dropped by the bar’s owner.” Though William continued to defend his daughter, he continued to guide them past the reception area and down a long hallway. His cologne wasn’t woodsy like her father’s but was instead layered with heavier spices. “We’re corporate attorneys here, but she didn’t even need representation at the time since we reached an agreement with the bar owner.”
