Page 46 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
His phone dinged right as he slammed his door shut.
Coast is clear. I’m sitting in the corner booth.*
As Dylan moved through the lot, loud voices cut through the lingering twilight, disrupting a cricket symphony that was just starting its evening chorus. Even from a distance, he instantly recognized one of the angry tones.
The sharpness in Kinsley’s voice made him quicken his pace. He stepped off the gravel, maneuvering around two vehicles and moving toward the source of the argument.
“…don’t know what you’re playing out, but you better stop. I…”
Dylan slowed his pace when he realized Kinsley wasn’t in any immediate danger. Luckily, the cloud cover was still patchy,allowing the brightening moonlight to spill over the parking lot. He noticed her defensive stance, which he understood all too well as a sign that she was very angry.
Directly in front of her stood a man with a partially visible profile. There was something familiar about him, although Dylan couldn't quite remember from where.
“…don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Really? I catch you with Elliot Goff, and you have the audacity to ask me that question? Did you think the coast was clear? That I would be at The Bucket with my colleagues?”
“I was just following up on?—”
“I know exactly what you’re doing, but you don’t seem to understand that your actions won’t allow this town to heal. Three women, Serra. Gantz killed three local women, and he walked away without so much as a slap on the wrist.”
“The man was found not guilty, Aspen. You and I both know that he didn’t just up and leave town.”
“What I know is that you’re walking a very thin line, and don’t think I won’t arrest you for harassing an officer.”
“Harassing an officer? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t spoken to you or anyone from your department in over nine months. You?—”
“Is there a problem here?”
Dylan stepped forward, keeping his hands loose at his sides. He had already tucked his phone into his back pocket and his keys into the front. He had caught the gist of their argument, and he wasn’t about to let Beck Serra antagonize Kinsley.
The journalist had caused quite a stir after Calvin Gantz left town. Beck Serra seemed to be the only one concerned about the whereabouts of a murderer. Dylan had heard both sides at the time, and the evidence that was thrown out would have convinced any jury that Gantz was guilty of murdering three women.
“No problem,” Beck replied, never taking his gaze off Kinsley. He lifted his hands in a gesture that was meant to seem peaceful but came across as mocking instead. “None at all.”
“Kin?”
“Mr. Serra was just leaving, weren’t you?”
Kinsley’s words carried a weight that seemed to press against the humid night air, making it seem even thicker and more oppressive. Beck slowly lowered his hands.
“I’ll find him on my own, Aspen.”
“Good luck. Wherever he is, it sure as hell isn’t hot enough.”
It appeared as if Serra wanted the last word, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and brushed past Kinsley. She cautiously turned and monitored his progress through the gravel lot.
“You want to tell me what that was about, Kin?”
There had been an insinuation in Serra’s words. A subtle emphasis that suggested he believed Kinsley was in possession of information regarding Gantz’s whereabouts.
“No, not really.”
His sister’s tone carried a fragile quality he had never heard before, and he instinctively took a step forward, pulling her into a brotherly embrace. She felt smaller than she should have, more delicate, and that simply wasn’t like his sister.
After about a minute, Kinsley patted his chest with a dismissive gesture that was meant to signal everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn't. She cleared her throat and stepped away from him, creating distance that was both physical and emotional.
“I need to get some rest. Big day tomorrow with the charity flag football game.” Kinsley brushed away a blonde strand from her cheek and flashed him a smile, as if she were trying to erase the fact that she had just had a verbal altercation with a journalist on a Saturday night. “Are you going to be there? I think Noah and Emily are bringing Lily to the game.”
