Page 11 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
Never hers.
Yet here she was, almost vulnerable as she comforted Hannah Scriven's sister. It was like catching a glimpse of the old Kinsley, the one who had once confided in him about her fears and hopes over countless drinks at The Bucket after especially tough cases.
As Bailey kept sobbing against Kinsley's shoulder, Alex gave her a quick glance over the grieving woman's head. In that brief eye contact, he glimpsed the connection they once shared, before secrets and silence had caused a rift between them.
Then Kinsley averted her gaze, her attention returning to Bailey, and Alex was left with the uncomfortable realization that whatever had changed in his partner after the Gantz case went deeper than he had previously thought.
Kinsley guided Bailey to a wooden chair near the small stone firepit in front of the cabin. The circular arrangement of seats seemed cruelly fitting for this moment. After all, it was a space meant for comfort and conversation.
Now?
It was a place for grief and interrogation.
Bailey's steps were uneven as she allowed Kinsley to guide her. She finally collapsed into a chair. Her hands trembled violently as she tried to wipe the tears from her face, smearing mascara across her cheekbones in dark streaks.
Unlike the carefully arranged victim they had found inside, Bailey seemed to intentionally present herself as messy—her cut-off jeans had loose white threads, her toenails were painted in various colors, and her hair was gathered into a messy bun with wisps hanging loosely around her face.
“I’ll get you some tissues,” Kinsley offered gently before turning toward him, extending her palm. She mouthed one word. “Keys.”
Alex fished his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Kinsley. He always kept a fresh supply of travel-sized tissue packs in his glove compartment.
Alex took the seat beside Bailey, giving her a moment to compose herself before beginning what they both understood was coming. The initial shock had begun to settle into a more coherent grief. Her sobs had quieted to irregular hitches in her breathing, punctuated by occasional tremors that ran through her body.
“Ms. Scriven, I know this is incredibly difficult, but we need to ask you some questions that might help us understand what happened to your sister.”
Bailey nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“We believe Hannah was attacked sometime last night,” Alex said, deciding to leave out the specifics of Hannah's injuries for now. “When was the last time you spoke with your sister?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Bailey replied, her voice catching again. “Around four, I think.”
“You spoke on the phone?” Alex prompted gently. “Or had you visited her here at the cabin?”
Bailey shook her head.
“No. Hannah didn't want visitors. She said people would only disrupt her study flow or something. We spoke on the phone.”
Alex nodded, noting the information.
“In your conversation yesterday, did Hannah mention anything unusual? Anyone who might have been bothering her, or any concerns she had?”
“Are you saying someone she knew did this to her?”
“We're exploring all possibilities.” Alex gave the standard response while Kinsley was making her way back toward them. “Did Hannah say anything to indicate she was afraid of someone?”
“No. I mean, she broke up with her boyfriend a few of months ago, but Nick wouldn’t hurt her. They were together for three years. Law school sweethearts or whatever.” Her tone took on a bitter edge. “I never liked him much. Too controlling, too much like our parents—always pushing her to be 'better’.”
Bailey formed air quotes with her fingers.
“Nick?”
“Ryder. Nick Ryder, but I can't imagine him hurting her. He's too concerned with his reputation.”
Kinsley silently handed Bailey an open packet of tissues, making it easy for her to pull one out. She immediately blew her nose, but that didn’t stop her eyes from filling back up with tears.
“Did Hannah mention any arguments with anyone recently?” Alex continued. “Friends, classmates, professors? Anyone who might have been upset with her?”
Bailey wadded the used tissue in her fist.
