Page 39 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
“Like I’m ever on time.” Lydia laughed before seemingly addressing someone else. Before too long, she was back. “Yoga is about to start. I’ll see you tonight.”
Kinsley turned off the ignition. Before exiting, she tossed her sunglasses in the passenger seat. Removing one of her hair ties from around the gear shift, she pulled her strands back at the base of her neck. A quick check in the mirror revealed her appearance was professional enough.
She instinctively went to grab her purse before recalling that she had stored it in her desk drawer back at the station. Since she was still uncertain of the sender's intentions, she hadreconsidered carrying the envelope around with her. The police station was the most secure spot until she could hand the note over to her father, even though he hadn't done enough to control the situation.Noah never should have known she had turned to their father for legal representation.
Unable to do anything about it today, she stepped out into the humid afternoon air. The sun was a little too bright without her sunglasses, so she quickly crossed the remaining distance to where the shade hit the pavement, providing her with some relief.
Kinsley didn’t have to search hard for the doorbell. The lighted button was framed by a sophisticated plate, its metallic surface intricately designed with swirling patterns. When the heavy oak door finally swung open, William Scriven gave the appearance of a man who had aged a decade in the span of two days.
Gone was his immaculate appearance. In its place was a wrinkled shirt, no tie, and dark circles beneath his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and endless guilt. He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning, either. The redness in his eyes almost brought tears to her own.
“Detective Aspen,” William greeted, his voice carrying the hoarse quality of someone who had spent too many hours grieving. “Please, come in.”
Before Kinsley could respond, Bailey's voice erupted from somewhere deeper in the house, raw with tears and fury.
“You think you can start treating me the way you did Hannah? Just because she’s dead doesn’t give you the right to try and turn me into her!”
“You will not embarrass this family.” Katherine’s response was sharp, but Bailey wasn’t having any of it.
“Is that what this is about?” Bailey's laugh held no humor, only bitter resentment. “Hannah's dead, and you're still worriedabout what people will think of us? She’s dead, Mom, and you’ve learned nothing!”
William winced as if each word were a physical blow. He stepped aside to allow Kinsley entry, one hand pressed against his temple where a vein pulsed visibly beneath skin that had taken on a grayish pallor.
“I apologize, Detective Aspen,” William murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the source of the argument. “The stress of everything has brought out the worst in all of us, I’m afraid.”
William parted his lips but then closed them again when he could not find words to adequately explain the dissolution of his family's carefully constructed façade.
“I know this is a very difficult time for you and your family,” Kinsley replied as William closed the front door. The foyer stretched before them like a museum display. The marble floors were polished to mirror brightness, and oil paintings were hung in heavy, ornate frames. “I’ll do my best to go through Hannah’s belongings as quickly as possible. Although since Bailey is here, would you mind if I have a word with her?”
William hesitated, but he finally nodded before leading her through an arched doorway into a formal living room. The walls were covered with photographs spanning two decades, each image carefully framed and positioned with the precision of a gallery curator. But it was the obvious contrast between the twins that caught Kinsley's attention.
Bailey beamed from nearly every photo, her arms thrown wide in celebration or wrapped around friends and family members with unreserved affection. Her outfits changed with the seasons and trends—bright yellows, electric blues, and patterns that demanded attention. Even as a child, she clearly possessed a magnetic quality that drew the camera's focus, her smile so wide it seemed capable of illuminating entire rooms.
Hannah, however, remained constant throughout the years—composed, elegant, beautiful in a way that demonstrated elegance. Her smiles were measured, her posture perfect, and her clothing always appropriate for the occasion. Even in casual family photos, she appeared to maintain a careful distance, as if she had learned early on that joy was something to be regulated rather than expressed.
“Hannah was going to be extraordinary,” William said softly, following Kinsley's gaze to a recent graduation photo where Hannah stood between her parents, her cap slightly askew. It was the only imperfection in an otherwise flawless composition. “Hannah had everything planned out. Partnership track at the firm by thirty, marriage to someone suitable, and children who would carry on the family tradition. She was going to be everything we could have ever hoped for her.”
Kinsley kept her opinion to herself, as Katherine and Bailey had both stopped speaking to stare at William with irritation. It was obvious that both women would have preferred a warning about Kinsley’s arrival. Katherine smoothed the front of her blouse, unable to hide the slight tremor in her hand.
“Detective Aspen,” Katherine greeted, her voice restored to its professional neutrality. “I apologize for my daughter. As I'm sure you can understand, this has been an extremely difficult time for our family.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for me,” Bailey exclaimed as she moved toward the couch. She picked up her purse, not bothering to hook the thick strap over her shoulder. She met Kinsley’s gaze defiantly. “Have you made an arrest?”
“No, but we are making progress,” Kinsley replied, not willing to release Rebecca Chambliss’ name just yet. It was only a matter of time before such information hit the news, but Kinsley wanted to make the most of the anonymity. “I was hoping toask a few follow-up questions before looking through some of Hannah's belongings.”
“Of course,” Katherine replied, shooting her daughter a glare that basically dared her to object. “We want to do everything we can to help with the investigation.”
“Actually, I’d like to speak with Bailey alone.”
Katherine and William immediately objected to such a request, but Kinsley had counted on Bailey’s need for independence. Kinsley was awarded with a simple nod. Bailey wasn’t about to be coddled by her parents, even if it meant being interviewed by the police without legal representation.
“Bailey, you aren’t thinking straight,” William stressed once more, stepping forward to make his point heard. “One should never voluntarily speak to?—”
“Do you think that I had something to do with Hannah’s murder?” Bailey asked incredulously, tossing her purse back onto the couch in anger. She then pointed a finger at her mother. “Do you? I would never?—”
“We never accused you of such a thing, and I will not stand here and?—”
“No one asked you to, Mom.” Bailey rubbed her face in frustration. Maybe even exhaustion. Kinsley wasn’t quite sure, but the action caused her cheeks to flush even more. “Someone killed my sister. I want them to pay, and I don’t care about all the red tape. You want to lawyer up? Go call a criminal lawyer and delay justice. It’s always about the two of you, anyway.”
