Page 71 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
As Bailey hurried from her chair towards Kinsley, Melanie had already fallen to her knees. Alex passed the weapon off to Blake before fastening handcuffs around Melanie’s wrists. The sound of the cuffs snapping shut seemed to shatter something inside the woman. She collapsed to the floor, leaning against Alex’s legs, sobbing with such force that her entire body shook.
“I’m sorry,” Melanie cried out as Alex knelt beside her. “S-so sorry.”
Kinsley kept one arm wrapped around Bailey while holstering her weapon. A broken moan that seemed torn from Bailey’s soul made itself known.
“It's okay,” Kinsley murmured reassuringly as she turned to guide Bailey toward the front of the library. “You're safe now. It's over.”
Officer Blake could be heard giving an update over the radio. The next few hours would be spent at the station processing Melanie, but it would be months, if not years, before Bailey and her parents found their footing in life without Hannah.
“It's my fault. All my fault.” Bailey’s fingers clutched desperately at Kinsley's shirt. “It should have been me.”
Nothing Kinsley said aloud could appease Bailey's guilt. Her grief poured out in waves.One sister had died because of a case of mistaken identity.A marriage had been destroyed by betrayal.
Lives had been forever altered by choices that seemed inconsequential in the moment they were made. The weight of it resonated deep within Kinsley, touching that secret place where her own burden lay hidden.
Every decision carried with it a consequence. Those punishing results rippled outward to touch lives in ways that couldn't be predicted or controlled. Some ripples remained constant. Others became tsunamis, destroying everything in their path.
“How do I live with this?” Bailey asked as they approached the front entrance of the library. She stopped before Kinsley could open the door. “How do I live with this guilt?”
“You learn to carry it,” Kinsley replied softly, her heart heavy with her own secrets. There was no point in being dishonest. Not a day would pass that Bailey didn’t punish herself for the choices she made that led to the death of her sister. “You find ways to cope. This will always be a part of you, Baily. But it’s up to you to make sure it doesn’t define you.”
30
Kinsley Aspen
July
Wednesday — 9:36 pm
The chocolate chip cookies in the oven had turned a perfect golden brown, their sweet aroma filling Kinsley's kitchen with the promise of tomorrow's family dinner. She bent down, oven mitt covering her right hand, and breathed in the warm, sugary scent as she pulled the baking sheet from the rack.
The heat from the oven washed over her.
“Perfect,” Kinsley murmured, setting the tray on top of the stove. She would give them a minute before transferring them to the cooling rack on the counter. “Mom can’t complain about store-bought cookies now.”
The cookies sizzled slightly as they settled, chocolate chips still molten and glistening. She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction, surveying the three previous batches already in a Tupperware container.
She peeled off the oven mitt, tossed it back into the drawer, and then turned off the oven. Leaning a hip against the counter, she reached for the bottle of beer from the six-pack she had purchased at the convenience store.
The Scriven case had officially been closed, and the last two days had been nothing but paperwork. The DA had already filed first-degree murder charges against Melanie Reeves. She had driven to the cabin with the intent to kill Hannah Scriven. It wouldn’t surprise Kinsley if the woman’s defense attorney sought out a plea deal of some kind. Either way, the investigation was over, and tomorrow was a new day.
Kinsley took a long sip of her beer, debating whether to have another cookie. She had already eaten two spoonfuls of dough.
“Why not?” Kinsley asked herself, reaching for one on the cooling rack. She moaned in pleasure right as the doorbell rang. Swallowing, she called out, “Coming!”
She shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth. Wiping her hand on her worn jeans, she headed for the door. Owen had promised to stop by tonight to replace her router. She had been having issues with it lately, and the lag was enough to make her pull out her hair.
The porch light illuminated a silhouette through the thin curtain covering the door's window—one too broad to be Owen. Kinsley slowed her approach as she tightened her grip on the glass bottle.
She would recognize those shoulders anywhere. The way they were rigid and straight gave way to the man’s tension. Her body responded before her mind could catch up, and she took a brief moment to gain some composure.
“Shane,” Kinsley greeted with a smile, not bothering to keep the curiosity from her voice. He hadn’t set foot in her house since the day she broke things off. “This is unexpected.”
He stood still on her porch, hands buried deep in his pockets, jaw clenched so tightly she noticed the muscle twitching beneath the stubble on his cheek. The harsh shadow across his face deepened the lines around his eyes that hadn't been there when they first met.
“May I come in?” His voice was flat, the question barely a question at all. “We need to talk.”
“Of course,” Kinsley replied as she instinctively stepped back, opening the door wider. “Is everything alright?”
