Page 27 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
Why lie?
“Food has arrived!”
Sam’s announcement blared through the bullpen, though he remained on the other side of the glass partition. Kinsley peered over her shoulder to find him carrying two large brown paper bags. It wasn’t long before the mouthwatering scent of garlic and pepperoni wafted toward her desk.
The bullpen had gradually emptied as the lunch hour approached, but a handful of detectives had all pitched in and ordered from a local Italian restaurant known for its stromboli. She would wait to collect hers until the kitchen cleared out.
Kinsley exchanged the yellow highlighter for a green one.
She ran a line through a number that appeared multiple times throughout May and early June from the burner used by Fawn Ginkel.
According to the brief conversation Kinsley had with Jade’s new roommate, Fawn had sought out Hannah after hearing she might be considering the illegal services. Fawn had wanted some legal advice of her own on how to avoid charges if she were caught in the act, and Jade had confided in Courtney about a potential quid pro quo.
If Fawn could easily pass the bar exam, why would she need legal advice from a student? It made no sense. Hannah’s parents specialized in corporate law, not criminal law. Kinsley and Alex were definitely missing a piece of a very large puzzle.
The calls between Hannah and Fawn suddenly stopped in mid-June.
Kinsley needed to give her eyes a break from scanning so many phone numbers. She picked up the text messages she had taken the time to print out. Most of Hannah's messages had been with Bailey—daily texts that ranged from simple updates to long venting sessions about their parents. Then there was NickRyder, whose number appeared regularly through the month of May before vanishing altogether.
Their last exchange was terse.
Nick: We need to talk in person.*
Hannah: I think we've said everything that needs saying.*
Nick: That's the problem. You don't listen. Never have.*
Kinsley set those aside and picked up another piece of paper to read an exchange between Hannah and Jade. Unlike the steady stream with Bailey or the romantic timeline with Nick, these messages revealed a friendship frayed at the edges. The exchanges from April were supportive…friendly even. The subjects ranged from dinner plans to dishwasher schedules. There were even a few reminders about study groups.
Again, in May, something had shifted.
Jade: Mom is starting chemo next week. Working extra shifts at the library to help with medical bills.*
Hannah: I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can help.*
Jade: Thanks.*
Simple. Polite. But noticeably cooler than earlier conversations. Kinsley flipped through more printouts, finding another exchange from early May that caught her attention.
Hannah: I can't believe my parents. They're on me about the bar exam again. Mom had been sending me practice questions hourly, and I still have finals.*
Jade: At least you don't have to figure out how to pay for next semester while your mom pukes her guts out from treatment.*
Hannah: But you figured it out, didn’t you? Not that I agree with it. Anyway, I didn't mean to downplay your situation.*
Jade: No, you never mean to. You just don't think beyond your bubble.*
The texts grew increasingly tense throughout the month of May, when Jade's frustration finally boiled over.
Jade: I can't be your emotional dumping ground anymore, Hannah. Some of us have REAL problems. Your family has money. Your future is secure. You want to know what struggling really is? Try watching your mother waste away while working two jobs just to stay in school. Your privilege blinds you. You're the most selfish person I've ever met.*
Hannah hadn't replied to that accusation. Instead, the records proved she had called Jade twice the following day—both calls lasting less than a minute.
Kinsley's attention shifted to Bailey's calls in the final week—over ten of them, all unanswered, until the day prior to Hannah's death. Bailey hadn’t lied about speaking to her sister around four o’clock on Wednesday. Something had prompted Bailey to reach out repeatedly and urgently. Hannah had chosen not to answer any of them until the middle of the week.
“What were you avoiding, Hannah?” Kinsley whispered before checking the time.
Nearly thirty minutes had passed since Sam's announcement. Her stomach renewed its protests with a growl that seemed to echo across the bullpen. Standing from her desk, her knee gave that familiar pop. She grimaced when the old softball injury made itself known, but the knee brace should keep it stable on Sunday.
