Page 34 of Letting Go
“So, it looks like you’re settling in pretty well with everything, Viv,” Daddy says, and I know he’s steering this conversation somewhere specific.
“I think so. Savannah has been a lifesaver, and really the guest house has been great for us.” I look at my brother, who just raises his eyebrows to me and shrugs.
“Sure, but living there can’t be the long-term solution, right?” Daddy asks.
“Probably not. I eventually will need to sell the condo in Chicago and then, I don’t know, maybe buy something in town,” I reply.
“Well, can I toss another idea out there for you to consider?” Daddy asks, and I nod in response.
“If you want, I’d be happy to give you girls some land so you can build your own place out on the family property.” Our family home is on the edge of town, but our family owns acres of land behind it. Daddy always said he wanted to make sure Mama had a magnificent sunset view from their back porch. “For tax purposes, I would sell it to you for the bargain price of one whole dollar. I understand if you want to buy something else but there’s plenty of land and site options you could build on, so it wouldn’thave to be right next to the main house if you wanted more space, but I want you to at least think about it.”
“Thank you, Daddy. That is a very generous offer and when I’m looking for something long-term, I will definitely consider that.” I promise him.
“Finn would be happy to build you whatever you wanted, Viv. He did an awesome job with my place when I renovated,” Ryan adds. That’s true. Our brother did a phenomenal job when Ryan bought our grandparents’ property a mile away from Daddy’s and gutted it down to the studs. Even though it looks like a 1920s farmhouse on the outside, Finn completely updated the inside. I haven’t thought about building a house for us, but it’s definitely an option. I love the idea of Eloise having a childhood home filled with wonderful memories. While staying at Savannah’s is great for right now, I know it’s not where we will live forever.
“Please do. I think it could be great for you, and also, I could use a friendly neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar from when I run out,” he replies with a wink. “Now, speaking of borrowing sweets, what is it going to take for you to share some of your milkshake with Papa, Eloise?”
“No way, José, you should have ordered your own!” Eloise giggles in response as Daddy acts crushed by her refusal. The laughter continues throughout lunch and I swear it’s like Daddy is ten years younger as he laughs with my baby. Mama would be thrilled to see him as such a fantastic grandfather, I think as I absently run my thumb over her ring that I wear. Who knows, maybe Mama already knows this and is somehow watching over us.
I sure hope so.
Chapter fifteen
Walker
It’s been seven months since a sniper murdered Trent Stone as he exited the Plaza Hotel in Chicago. Four days ago, there was another shooting in New York City involving a .300 Winchester Magnum shot from a M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle. However, this time the shot was not fatal. The victim, a financial advisor named Peter Hopkins, survived emergency surgery and is currently in a medically induced coma, but is not out of the woods yet. The bullet is a ballistics match to the one that not only killed Trent Stone in Chicago but also matched the ballistics from each of the murders my task force is investigating. I hope Peter Hopkins is able to pull through and answer some of our questions, but his medical team isn’t sure which way his recovery is going to go at this point. If he does wake up, I have an agent from the local field office stationed at the hospital to speak to him if or when he is coherent enough to answer some questions.
Peter Hopkins is a questionable financial advisor, at best. There is a strong possibility that he’s affiliated with the New York City-based Bianchi crime family, which also has connections in New Jersey, Philadelphia, Chicago, and recently expanded into southern Florida. The connection may be coincidental, but my gut is telling me this is one more clue that will help lead us to whoever is behind these murders. Allegedly, Mr. Hopkins was withholding important financial information from his clients that resulted in multiple clients losing significant amounts of money in aninvestment he personally endorsed. The list of his clients includes multiple people with ties to organized crime, including Angela Bruno, the wife of Giovanni “Gio” Bruno who is the underboss of the Bianchi crime family. It’s not a strong connection as Mr. Hopkins has over three hundred clients, but without any solid theories, my team will pursue any possible lead at this point.
I pull up Vivian’s phone number on my cell and she answers after two rings. “Hello, this is Vivian.” Her delightfully sweet voice threw my concentration off for a moment. I never realized a speaking voice could be beautiful, but Vivian’s is lovely, and as much as I value quiet time, I could listen to her for hours. I snap out of my trance before the pause becomes awkward.
“Hey, Vivian. It’s Walker. How are you doing today?”
“Hey there, Walker, I’m doing well. How are you?” she responds, and it sounds like she is smiling when she talks. Is it possible to hear a smile on the phone? I can’t help but answer with a smile of my own.
“I’m good. I wanted to touch base to see what your afternoon looks like today. I have some meetings, but if you’re available, I’d like to meet with you around 4 p.m. to go over a few developments with the case.” I notice I didn’t refer to it as her husband’s case. “We could meet at your sister’s again or meet for coffee somewhere.”
“Of course, I just have to arrange for someone to look after Eloise, but that shouldn’t be an issue,” Vivian replies. “Would you like to meet at our local coffee shop, Java Jive?”
“I will always say yes to coffee,” I reply with a Cheshire grin on my face.Get it together, man. She is the wife of a victim in a case you’re working.I chastise myself and dial my smile down a few notches. “In case I get there early, what do you recommend ordering?”
“I don’t think you can go wrong with anything there, but I personally love an iced Americano with sugar-free hazelnut andcream, or you can’t go wrong with their dark roast coffee. And I must admit, when I feel like indulging, I love their blended mint chocolate frappe,” Vivian replies.
“Noted.” I smile as I recall her rambling about mint chocolate ice cream when she was three sheets to the wind. “Thank you, ma’am. I will see you this afternoon.”
“Sounds good, Walker. See you then.”
My day flies by and before I know it, I’m finishing a conference call as I pull into Forrest Falls. As I exit my truck, I nod and wave in greeting to the owner of Thom’s Hardware, Bill Thomas. He waves and continues sweeping in front of his store. Bill was one of the five Forrest Falls residents that Vivian’s brother Liam identified to Harlow as being observant, yet discreet in the small town. Harlow has received a few updates from the group but nothing significant yet. The other people identified by Liam included the owner of the town diner, a barista at Java Jive coffee shop, a retired schoolteacher who volunteers at the library and can often be found walking around town, and a retired member of the National Guard that now works at the local post office.
I arrive fifteen minutes early to Java Jive. I’m not sure which barista is working with Harlow, but if the one at the counter is also helping our team, she doesn’t let on at all. I order myself a large cup of black coffee with cream, an assortment of bakery items for Vivian to pick from, and a blended mint chocolate frappe. I don’t know if she feels like indulging today but if there is something she wants, I want to give it to her. I may be trying to hold back any personal feelings I have for Vivian, but I have an inherent need to take care of her in any way I can, even if it means giving her something to eatand her favorite drink. The small gestures are nothing special but until the sniper is arrested, it’s the best I can do and still uphold my professional responsibility.
I hear the soft jingle of the bell above the door and turn to see a vision enter the coffee shop. Vivian’s golden hair is twisted up in some sort of clip contraption with a few pieces falling loose around her face, only adding to her embodiment of effortless natural beauty. The word beautiful even feels insufficient to describe her. Standing to greet her, the Bookmarks are for Quitters embroidered across the front of her heather blue V-neck shirt makes me grin. She is stunning without even trying, and completely unaware of the effect she has on me. My eyes devour every inch of her as she walks into the coffee shop, and I find myself jealous of how tight her jeans hug her incredible ass and wish it were my hands instead of denim. There is nothing exceptional about her T-shirt and jeans, except for the fact she is wearing them.
“Hey, Vivian. I already ordered for us,” I call before she steps to the counter to place an order. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she says something to the barista before heading to the booth I selected in the back. I know privacy is an illusion in a small town, but I thought we would have a better chance in the back than in the front on display for anyone walking by the large windows facing Main Street. Vivan reaches the booth and as I reach out to shake her hand, I notice a tempting shine to her lips, and a whisper of vanilla faintly greets me. I wonder if her lip gloss is flavored. I imagine leaning in just a bit more to softly kiss her lips to confirm my theory.
As soon as I touch her hand, I have to stop myself from pulling her toward me and having even more physical contact with her. I wonder what she would feel like in my arms and I suspect she would fit perfectly. Her touch leaves—as she so eloquently put it—warm sparkly magic behind on my skin.
“Special AgentBennett, I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me,” she says as if I wouldn’t wait all day for her. Maybe she has no idea about the attraction I feel toward her, which is probably for the best—for now. She slides into the booth across from me and I’m instantly engulfed with an intoxicating scent mixture of pear, vanilla, possibly rose, and something else I can’t quite place.
