Page 53 of Letting Go
“I’m okay but … Walker, I … I just received another poem.” My voice sounds so meek and my skin is crawling, but I can’t help how freaked out I am right now. Whoever is sending these anonymous taunts is now hurting other people and I don’t know what I did to deserve this.
“Are you at your sister’s?” he demands and I whimper in response. Walker sounds like he’s now jogging. “Stay there, put the note and envelope in a plastic bag. Don’t touch it again. We can exclude your prints but it’s better if no one else touches it. What did the poem say, Vivian?” I can hear the call switch to his Bluetooth and the roar of his truck.
“I don’t understand this, Walker. This poem, or note, or whatever feels more like a threat this time but who would be threatening me? What did I do?” My breath is starting to evade me, and I’m struggling to take a deep inhale. The pressure increases in my chest and my hands are trembling. I cover my eyes with one hand and try to counteract the pressure building in my head by pressing on my forehead. I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
Savannah walks through the kitchen to get a food storage bag for me from the pantry. I involuntarily rub my chest with my hand, slightly pressing my fingertips over my racing heart, trying to calm the palpitations and tingling in my chest. Tilting my head, I try to balance the phone while I reach for the plastic bag, but my movements are shaky. Savannah catches my cell just before it slips off my shoulder and puts the call on speaker when she sees who’s on the other end, placing it on the countertop in front of us. Pulling me in for a side hug, she gives me a tight squeeze.
“Hi Agent Bennett, this is Vivian’s sister, Savannah. I think our girl here is on the verge of a panic attack so if we could pause any questions right now, I would really appreciate it. Viv, you need to take a deep breath, honey.” Savannah is slowly rubbing familiarcircular patterns on my back; it’s the same way our mama would rub our backs to calm us down.
“Vivian?” Walker calls for me, and I want to answer him but I just shake my head slightly to my sister. “Vivian, I need you to focus on my voice. What are four things you can see in the room right now?” Walker’s deep voice commands my attention through the phone.
I lower my hand to look around the room, following his instructions. “My sister, uh … a vase of flowers, my phone, and … and a hot pink water bottle,” I respond as I try to focus on just breathing.
“Good girl. What are three things you can feel or reach out to touch right now?” Walker continues.
“My sister’s hand on my back, my leg bouncing on the stool, and … and the cool kitchen island under my forearms.”
“There you go. You’re doing great, honey. Take a deep breath, Vivian, and then I want you to tell me two things you can smell right now.”
“My sister’s perfume and … the flowers on the counter.” I can finally take a deep breath. My heartrate is still galloping but my lungs are grateful for the oxygen.
“Okay Vivian, what is one thing you can hear right now?” His deep timbre voice has my full attention.
“You. I can hear you right now, Walker,” I respond sounding a bit more like myself, although my hands are still trembling.
“That’s right, Viv. You can hear me and I’m telling you it’s going to be okay. We are going to figure this out. I’m en route from the Nashville office and will be at your sister’s as soon as possible. I have another field agent that’s also coming to your sister’s house to collect the poem to get it to the lab for prints. If she beats me there, her name is Special Agent Tara White, and she is a member of my task force. I trust her and you can too. As soon as she gets the poem, she’s going to personally rush it to our lab for processing.”
How did he coordinate that when he’s been on the phone with me for less than five minutes? I don’t question him, I just agree. His voice calms me so I try to focus on just that for right now. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point, I started to depend on Walker. He makes me feel safe and right now, that’s everything to me.
Chapter twenty-nine
Walker
“When you feel like your breath is steady, go ahead and take me off speaker phone, Vivian.” I don’t phrase it as a question, but I try to soften my commanding tone. If talking to me is helping her breathe easier, I won’t hang up until I’m pulling into her sister’s driveway. She takes a deep breath before picking up the phone, and I like that she sounds closer to me now.
“I didn’t know what to do, Walker. I called you right away, I just got the mail from outside. Who is doing this? Are they watching me right now? How would that even be possible? This one just somehow feels different from the other poems. I’m extremely creeped out right now.” Vivian’s vulnerability bleeds through the phone and I want to absorb every single drop.
Even if she is freaking out, I can’t help but preen a little knowing that I was her first call. She had other options, but she chose me. Not her brothers or her father, not the Chicago detectives, not local authorities—me. I really like the feeling of knowing she came to me first, even if I’m not sure what that means.
“I am so glad you called me right away, Viv. That’s the right thing to do, honey, and we’re going to find whoever is responsible for all of this. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, okay?” She hums in agreement. “I’ll take care of letting Chicago PD and local authorities know about this new poem. They may need to follow up with you directly, but I’ll handle as much of it as I can. It’s going to be okay; I’ve got you, Sugar.”
This conversation may be flirting with the lines of professionalism, but there is something inherently unique and precious about Vivian that compels me to do whatever necessary to keep her happy and safe. I've always been a natural protector, but Vivian Stone calls out to me in a way that I can't quite put into words. Her beautiful, vivid green eyes and her sweet, soft voice have consumed my thoughts since I met her, but it’s more than just a physical attraction. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to wrap her in my arms and shield her from any threat. Throughout my career, I have never had to worry about crossing professional boundaries during an investigation, and I need to keep that in mind while she is involved in an active case. However, my gut is never wrong and something tells me Vivian is going to be in my life for a very a long time, well after this case is solved.
I am confident that we will catch the sniper and anyone else involved in these murders, it’s just a matter of time. If the poems are connected to the cases, then this person has been involved with killing and threatening people in Vivian’s life, and there is no other option. None of the other cases our task force is investigating have included any type of communication from the shooter, and it’s incredibly frustrating to not know why Vivian is different from the other people related to these cases. There is always the possibility the poems and threats are unrelated to the murders, and someone is merely capitalizing on Vivian’s fear right now with their own agenda. None of this is adding up but I know my team and I will unravel this mess, doing whatever it takes to stop whomever is behind these threats.
God help anyone that stands in my way of keeping Vivian safe. Failure is not an option, and I am fully committed to keeping both her and her daughter safe. After everything Vivian has told me about Eloise during our phone calls, and finally meeting her at the park, I am just as protective of her little girl. Vivian describes it asher mama bear instinct, but I didn’t even know I had a papa bear instinct until Vivian introduced me to Eloise. True to my roots, everything is bigger in and from Texas, so this papa bear would be a colossal beast that only a fool would provoke.
I keep Vivian on the phone, the conversation shifting when I ask how Eloise likes school, and how she’s adjusting to Forrest Hills Academy. Talking about Eloise’s school seems to be a good distraction for Vivian, and I just keep asking questions to keep her talking. I wanted to keep her on the phone the entire time, but five minutes out from her sister’s house, Special Agent Isabelle Chavez beeps in, forcing me to tell Vivian I will see her soon. The call from Chavez wasn’t urgent, but when a supervisory special agent calls you directly, the only option is to take the call.
I make impressive time driving to Forrest Falls and pull into Savannah’s driveway just as I hang up with Special Agent Chavez. Looking up and down the street, I don’t notice any vehicles or people that look out of place. If someone is watching Vivian, they’re being stealth and cautious about it. I make a note to go through her sister’s security cam footage but with the poem being mailed, there’s a chance the perpetrator has never been to her sister’s house in person.
Savannah promptly opens the door after I briefly knock.
“Thanks for coming so quickly Agent Bennett, our girl is really spooked and to be honest, I’m more pissed off than a hornet whose nest has been kicked. My sister has been through enough.” Savannah gestures for me to come in and leads me through the expansive foyer and down the hall to a family room. Vivian is sitting on the couch, staring out the window at nothing in particular, but she has fear written all over her face. I don’t like seeing her like this, I don’t like it at all. I clear my throat as we walk in the room. Vivian turns and sits up straighter as she notices us. In two strides, and without thought, I crouch down in front of where she sits.
Chapter thirty
Vivian
