Page 86 of Letting Go
You don’t need to thank me, Savannah. I would do anything forher.
I don’t have the time to think about that last text from Savannah and what all happened today. Those emotions will have to be processed later, but for now, everything needs to stay tightly compartmentalized so my team and I can do what we do best.
“Walker, you’re going to want to see this,” Kelly calls out to me. I walk around the conference room and sit down next to him. He has Marcie Clarie’s cell phone connected to his laptop and has her text messages open, while also running some diagnostics on her phone.
“I was running keywords through her search history and on April 14thof last year, she searched for, and I quote ‘how to send something completely anonymously in the mail’ and then clicked on a website offering that exact service. She added the website to her favorites on her phone’s browser.” Kelly pulls up the website.
“I wonder ...” He pauses before going into Marcie Clarie’s emails stored on her cell phone through his laptop. He types in the website’s name in the search bar, and less than ten seconds later, we are looking at confirmation emails of four separate purchases through the website. Marcie Claire didn’t even delete the purchase confirmation emails; they were sitting in her inbox.
Shocked at her stupidity, a bark of laughter escapes me as it can’t be this easy.
“Can someone confirm the dates Vivian received the anonymous poems?” I ask the room.
“Hold on, I have them here … and … Walker, each of the poems were received three to four days after the confirmation emails were sent to Marcie Claire,” Tara says as she holds up a page of notes from the other side of the table.
“We may be able to add federal charges of mailing threatening communications if we can prove intent,” Harlow adds.
“This cell phone is fucking gold,” I say to myself as much as to my team. I am awestruck at the number of answers today hasalready revealed. Clapping my hands together, I tell my team, “Good work y’all, good fucking work!”
Chapter forty-six
Vivian
As I get out of my SUV, it’s impossible to miss the scene unfolding across the street. Chloe Jones is screeching at some poor unfortunate soul on the phone, that is until she sees me. She launches the meanest glare she is capable of and if looks could kill, I’d be flat out on the sidewalk. Thankfully her ugly sneer is only a reflection of her own heart, and not an actual threat. After everything that happened last week at the Riley’s, Chloe made a very public scene at O’Dell’s that resulted in her throwing her engagement ring at Chase. I hope he keeps it and never talks to her again, especially after MK confirmed that Chase only proposed because Chloe faked a pregnancy. I give her a big smile and wave as I internally bless her heart, hopefully she is blessed right out of town.
Without thinking, I start to pull Java Jive’s front door open and wince slightly. Switching quickly, I go to grab the door with my left arm, annoyed I tried to use my dominant arm out of habit. The bullet wound may still be tender but today is the best I’ve felt since I was shot last week. I still cannot believe I have a bullet wound, let alone that I was shot by Marcie Claire Riley. I don’t believe she was intentionally aiming for me but when Clark tried to take the gun away from her, instead of dropping it, she pulled the trigger. Thankfully the wound was through and through so once my stitches come out in a few days, the only physical reminder should be a small scar on my right bicep.
When I told Eloise what happened later that evening, I was terrified we would have a massive regression with her nightmares. I was so relieved she hadn’t overheard anything until I got home so I could be the one to explain everything to her. Elosie was upset and for a moment was confused why I was shot and didn’t die when a bullet killed her daddy. Explaining bullet wounds to a five-year-old is not something I ever expected to do as a mother. Harlow came to see me at the hospital and gave me some suggestions on how to frame the discussion and terms to use that were age appropriate. Both Savannah and Walker sat in the room and helped me navigate explaining it all to Eloise. Since then, my brothers have informed me Eloise has individually asked each of them about bullets and guns, so I expect to have more of these conversations with her in the foreseeable future. She has not had any nightmares and is convinced it’s because her stuffed toy dog Casper keeps them away so she is safe while she sleeps.
I wave at the barista and say hello as I walk into Java Jive. My eyes scan the space before being held captive by Walker’s gaze. As I make my way to the back of the coffee shop, my face breaks out in a genuine smile.
“Hey there, Sugar,” Walker greets me as he bends down and gently wraps his arm around my waist pulling me close. He tilts his head down and our kiss starts softly before he groans and pulls back.
“Hey there yourself, Special Agent Man. Have you been waiting long?” I sit across from him at the small bistro table. I notice the drinks and pastries waiting, raising my eyebrows in a silent question to him.
“Nope, you are right on time. I ordered you an iced Americano with sugar-free hazelnut and cream, but if you’d rather have a mint chocolate frappe, just let me know. When I talked to Savannahearlier, she said you’ve been on an iced Americano kick lately, so her inside scoop helped me with the order.”
“That was very sweet of you, and yes, the iced Americano is perfect. But when did you talk to Savannah? She didn’t say anything to me.” I pick up my drink and a small moan escapes me as the flavors dance together on my tongue.
“Is it good?” Walker’s eyes darken with an intense heat at that little moan.
My tongue swipes across my lower lip. “So good. It’s perfect.” A blush creeps up my face because I’m not just talking about the drink, it’s him. He’s perfect.
Walker shakes his head slightly before answering my question, “I called your sister this morning. She sent me a text asking about my availability for your father’s birthday party in a few weeks.”
My eyes widen a bit; I wasn’t aware my sister was inviting him. Walker sees my reaction and insists, “If you don’t want me to come, it’s fine, she was just being nice. It’s your dad, your call, baby.” Daddy’s birthday parties are always a good time. They usually consist of a barbecue in the backyard with family, friends, an open bar, a local yacht rock cover band for entertainment, and his requested flavor of cake, which is chocolate every single year.
“Well shoot, my sister stole my thunder.” I play with my straw, suddenly nervous for some reason. Walker takes me in and tilts his head, waiting for me to continue. “I was going to ask you to be my … my date for that evening.” I look down at my drink as that damn blush creeps back up my chest and neck.
Walker leans in and gently lifts my chin until I’m looking at him. “That’s better. I always want your eyes on me. I would be honored to be your date, and like I told your sister, as long as I’m not called away on a case, I will happily be there.” Getting to spend time with Walker in person will revolve around his career, but that hardly feels like a sacrifice to me when I believe his job is heroic.
“But I do have one condition.” He raises a single finger before pausing. Now it’s my turn to tilt my head at him. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date to the restaurant of your choice to celebrate the case officially being closed?”
I bite my lip and try to hold back the grin that quickly spreads. Walker had mentioned celebrating once the case was closed, and I was wondering when—and if—he would bring it up. Thrilled he just officially asked me out, I tell him, “Yes, of course, I would love that.” His smile grows into a full-fledged grin, and that dazzling sight should really be considered just as powerful a weapon as the service pistol strapped to his lower back. “Does that mean it’s really over?”
“Yes, it’s been an insane week. I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in a few days, I was in New York for the last arrest we needed to make with the case.” I wave away his apology, dismissing it just like I did the ones he gave me on the phone the last few nights. He contemplates something before saying, “I think it’s fair to say our next date would be our what, third or fourth date?”
“Well, we had New Year’s Eve with my family, that lovely evening at your place, and now this is the second time we met for coffee, but the first was for official business so I’m not sure how to count all of that, but we have spent time together multiple times.”
