Page 54 of Letting Go
I swear my heart rate slows down a little at the sight of him. But if I’m at all surprised by the inherent relief I feel seeing Walker stride into the family room, you could knock me over with a feather when this confident and imposing man lowers himself to the ground before me. Walker is gentle but firm as he grips my shoulders, methodically scanning my body as if checking for physical injuries. His eyes blaze with fury and even a papercut from the envelope would be too much right now. Searching my face as to get some kind of confirmation that I’m okay, his grip squeezes as he nods, and then slides to take a seat next to me. I take a deep breath, inhaling the delicious scent of him. He rushed to be here just for me.
Extending his arm along the back of the couch, he turns his body toward me and our knees are almost touching, but not quite. “Hey, Vivian. How are you feeling?” His deep mahogany eyes somehow see so much more than anyone else is capable of, and he continues to assess me and the room. I don’t feel like I need to put up a wall around my heart though, somehow Walker makes me feel safe enough that I’m comfortable letting go and allowing him in.
“Overall, I’m okay, but I’m pretty shaken up. Thank you for coming so quickly, I’m not sure what else you can do right now since your colleague picked up the note.” I say what is expected of me, but I am actually so thankful Walker came, even if just to see me with his own eyes because it allowed me to see him and find comfort in his commanding presence. It makes me feel a little better and a little safer to have him here.
“Agent White sent a text when she picked it up, along with a photo of the poem in the evidence bag. We should know quickly if there were any fingerprints or DNA left on anything.” It goes unsaid but Walker and I both know it will probably be void of any clues, just like the other ones.
“Hopefully there’s something. You only missed your colleague by maybe five minutes,” Savannah says as she comes back into the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea for us and a cup of black coffee for Walker, along with a cream and sugar serving set. Walker seems like the type of guy that takes his coffee straight black, but I know he likes a little cream in it. He bypasses the sugar as I take a sip of my tea. I notice Savannah must have added a little honey to this cup and I give her a small smile in gratitude as she picks up her own cup.
“Agent White was just west of Nashville following up on a lead so I knew she would get here before I did, but I drove as fast as I felt was reasonable.” He doesn’t expand on that statement, but Walker arrived only five minutes after she left. Coming from his office on the east side of Nashville, he had to have been going over the speed limit significantly or he would have been closer to twenty minutes behind his colleague, if not more. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and turns back toward me. “You said this one felt more like a threat, can you explain what feels different to you with this poem or what makes you feel threatened?”
I take a big sip of my tea as my heart rate starts to increase again, recalling the creepy poem. “The note said they hunt down runners, but the H in hunt was capitalized and I don’t think that was a mistake or typo. Last week, a father of a couple students from Eloise’s school was out running and was hit by a car. And the thing is, his name is Hunter.” I shake my head at the unbelievablepossibility that I’m somehow responsible for someone else getting hurt.
“Do you know this Hunter?” Walker’s tone is off and slightly tight.
“A little, but it’s really only been in passing. We see each other at drop off at school, but I don’t know him personally.”
“Other than when you ran into him at Java Jive,” Savannah chimes in.
I turn my head and look at my sister confused. “What does that have to do with anything? I literally ran smack dab into him, and that was an accident.”
“Honey, I know that, and you know that, but for a few days the gossip mill was all a buzz with word that Hunter and Vivian were flirting with each other in the coffee shop. It’s bound to happen when two beautiful people are seen interacting like that. You know how these things go in a small town. I’m not saying you were actually flirting with him; I’m just telling you that’s what was said. You also should know I corrected anyone that told me that you were flirting with him because Lord knows my sister can do much better than a rake like Hunter Miller.” Savannah scoffs and turns up her nose at the idea of me flirting with Hunter.
“Mrs. Williams, was it really that big of a deal?” Walker asks Savannah. “And do you know who specifically was talking about Hunter and Vivian?” He still sounds … pissed?Is he pissed off right now?My eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
“It’s a small town, Agent Bennett. Anything can be a big deal, from someone talking to someone at the grocery store to someone having an affair. As far as who was talking about them, it was anyone and everyone for a few days but then when Hunter was hit, the focus shifted to people trying to figure out who basically ran the poor guy over.” Savannah takes another sip of her tea. I don’t think either of us will be sleepingmuch tonight.
Walker turns his attention back to me. “What was the time frame between your interaction at the coffee shop with this individual and him being hit?” My stomach drops again because I think I know what he’s really asking.
“I didn’t have anything to do with him being hit by a car! I don’t even know him!” I insist as I throw my hands up in frustration.
“Of course not, I don’t think anyone thinks you had anything to do with this poor guy getting hurt. Just humor me, okay? How long after talking to him at the coffee shop and you two being the topic of local gossip was he hit?” Walker’s tone is gentler this time.
“Two days. It was just two days after we talked at Java Jive he was hit on his morning run last week,” I admit.
“And now a week later you receive another anonymous note, referencing this hit and run? I know you don’t think you had anything to do with Hunter being hit, and I completely agree you are not responsible for this. But I think there may be a connection, regardless of if you want there to be or intentionally did anything to make that connection,” Walker explains.
“Are you … are you saying that it’s my fault Hunter was hit?” Panic starts to creep back in as my mind makes another connection. “And if this is connected to Trent’s murder, then it was … if it was, then … oh no, no, no … could it also somehow be my fault that Trent was murdered?” I really am going to be sick this time as I jump up and run to the powder room just off the hallway.
I can feel Savannah’s fingers gathering my hair back as I retch what little contents my stomach had from the evening.Why is this happening? Why me? What did I do? Whoever is sending these poems blames me for their actions? Are they implying somehow it’s my fault that people have been hurt and killed?After my stomach is completely emptied, I lean over the toilet and put my head onto my arm as tears run down my face.
“I don’t understand, I don’t get why this is all happening. What did I do to deserve this?” I turn into my sister’s arms. “Who is so angry at me that they would do this to me and to my daughter?” A desperate sob escapes my throat as an overwhelming feeling of guilt washes over me.Did I do something that made whoever is sending these poems believe I deserved to be a widow? Or that Hunter deserved to be hit by a car, and for what? For talking to me at a coffee shop? Does that mean I’m responsible for Eloise losing her daddy?
“No, Vivian, you cannot do that to yourself.” Walker’s rich voice fills the small powder room as he squats down next to me. I must have said at least the last question out loud without realizing it. His tone is soft and gentle as he continues, “You are a victim here, just as much as anyone else is that has become the focus of this person’s rage and delusion. Whomever they are, they may believe they have the right to try to control your actions, but you need to know they do not. You are not responsible for what happened to this Hunter individual, or for Trent’s murder because of someone else’s delusion.” Walker gently squeezes my hand. His warm touch sends those magic tingles up my arm and somehow directly hugs my heart. “They may not have been caught yet, but that’s the keyword here, Viv. Yet. Their luck will run out and we will figure this out.”
“And until then? Until then I get to look forward to more threatening surprises in the mail and random people I interact with potentially being hurt? Oh my God, what if they try to hurt Eloise?” The panic is not calming down in my gut as I think of my little girl, currently fast asleep upstairs in her cousin’s room.
“I’m going to have Harlow look into this note, but she believes the previous messages appear to have deranged romantic implications, and so far, it looks like the victims they have referenced have been current or potential romantic interests. I don’t think Eloise is in any new or increased danger, but we will do whatever we needto keep both of you safe. Okay?” He squeezes my hand again as I nod. I believe him, I don’t have a reason not to believe him, and there is something about Walker Bennett that makes me feel safe.
Savannah’s phone rings. “It’s Liam. I’m going to step out and take this, okay honey?” I nod and she wipes a tear from my face with her thumb before she stands up to go talk to our brother.
“I suspect by the time our brother Liam gets home I’m going to have an entire security detail around me and Eloise.” I lean away from the toilet and look down at my trembling hands.
“Hmm. I haven’t met him yet, but I already like him. I do think it’s a good idea to consider some additional protection for you two until we can stop whoever is behind all of this.” Walker leans back on his haunches to sit on the floor with his back against the bathroom wall.
I lift my eyes to meet his gaze. “Why is this happening, Walker? What did I do?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I wish I could answer that for you, Viv, but crazy doesn’t follow logic. There’s a good chance you didn’t do anything at all to encourage anything that has happened. So for now, let’s focus on what we do know, okay?” His eyebrows raise expectedly at me.
