Page 19 of Letting Go
“Thank you, ma’am. We will let you get on with your day, but like Harlow said, please let us know if anything else comes up. I’ll be in touch with any other significant developments in the case as well.” Walker reaches out to shake my hand, and once again I feel that same distinctive but nice, warm sensation encompass and expand up my arm. Walker’s head tilts slightly to the right as he looks down at our hands and then back up to me. I can’t be sure, but I think the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly in a smile.
“Thank you for talking with us, Vivian. I know it’s never easy to discuss such private details, but we appreciate your candor with us,” Harlow adds as she shakes my hand after Walker. She hands me a card as she continues, “My cell is listed on there as well so please call with anything I can help with or if you can’t reach Walker.” I nod and see her long title is listed on the card as well: Dr. Harlow G. Lane, Senior Clinical Forensic Psychiatrist and Behavioral Analyst.
“Thank you, Walker and Harlow. I appreciate that,” I say as my sister clears her throat turning attention to her. “It would be my pleasure to walk y’all out, Special Agent Bennett and Dr. Lane,”Savannah says with a smile as she gestures with her extended hand to the foyer, ever the perfect hostess.
Walker peers intently at me, as if he can see into my soul. “I will be in touch, ma’am.” I inhale deeply and he nods, apparently finding whatever he was looking for. Harlow gives me a small wave as they follow Savannah out the door.
The view of Walker leaving the room makes me wonder if his suits are bespoke because they fit his body like a glove.
And that glove is tight perfection.
I don’t know what it is about this man. I understand blatantly checking out the Special Agent’s assets may seem inappropriate when he’s investigating my husband’s murder, but clearly my marriage was over before Trent’s death—I was just unaware of the fact. One would be blind not to notice how captivatingly handsome Walker is and I can’t ignore the delightful, warming tingle on my skin the few times we touched. I’ve never experienced an electric touch like that, nor how quickly my body responded to it.
I walk over to the front window and watch my sister visit with Walker and Harlow as they walk toward a large, fancy truck. My sister can make anyone feel welcome, so I suspect it’s small talk and I appreciate the additional moment to observe my unexpected visitors.
My sister continues talking to Harlow as Walker suddenly stops and turns to look back at the house. As if homing missiles, his eyes immediately lock in on mine, and I take a step back away from the window in embarrassment. I can’t believe he just caught me watching him and my face heats as a blush rises from my chest.
Attraction aside, I can’t help but wonder what this all means.
If the FBI is involved in Trent’s murder, that changes things. I cannot think of a single person who would be that mad at him to want to intentionally kill him. Even if I had found out about his affair, the worst I would have done is allow my brothers and maybeDaddy to have a conversation with him. Trent definitely would’ve had a few bruises afterwards but Eloise would still have her daddy. If it wasn’t random like I had assumed, what really happened that morning and why?
Chapter nine
Walker
“My sister has been through enough, Special Agent Bennett. I will do whatever I can to protect her from getting hurt even more.” Savannah Callahan-Williams is the epitome of a southern lady with mama bear claws. And for some reason, her being so protective of her sister settles something in my chest.
We stop near my truck and I turn to look back at the house. I can’t explain it but my eyes know exactly where to look—immediately locking in on Vivian’s gaze just in time to see her blush, jump slightly, and quickly step away from view.Was she embarrassed I just caught her watching us?
And why do I like the idea of her watching me so much?
I compartmentalize the amused smile and aim for an understanding expression as I address her sister’s concerns. After a few more minutes of visiting with Savannah, Harlow and I give her our business cards with instructions to notify us if anything else happens. Harlow barely waits for me to pull away from the curb before she sets her all-too-knowing eyes on me.
“That was an interesting interview. What did you think about Vivian Stone?” Her tone is casual, but I know Harlow and if I give an opening, she will eviscerate me with talk of feelings and emotions.
“I think it all went how I expected it to go. I really don’t like the poem she received but I’m also not convinced it’s related to her husband’s murder. It could be coincidental timing or it couldbe related, but there is zero crossover with taunting threats in our other cases.” I know how to answer a question without giving anything away, and Harlow should know that—she taught me some of the techniques I regularly use.
“Nice evasion and redirect, but you didn’t really answer my question, did you?” She barely holds back her laughter.
“Maybe, or maybe I just don’t have an opinion strong enough to share yet,” I suggest.
“And maybe pigs fly, and maybe I love talking on the phone with my sister. Oh wait, I thought we were just swapping bullshit lines right now, no?”
I grunt in response and leave it at that.
Or at least I want to leave it at that, but Harlow is still Harlow.
“You’re being quiet, even for you. What are you thinking?” Harlow lifts a brow and waits for me to fill the silence as we drive back to Nashville. I adjust the temperature dial as though it personally offended me. Why am I sweating so much right now—it’s not even that hot out today.
“Just thinking through the case and wondering what we’re missing.” And also wondering what the hell just happened. I knew Vivian Stone was beautiful, but I was not at all prepared for how breathtaking she is in person. I glance at Harlow and nope—she’s not buying it.
“And that’s all? You seemed … a bit out of sorts back there. Did your gut think something was off with the widow?” That’s nice of Harlow to give me an excuse for my behavior, but shit.
I’m an asshole.
Vivian is a widow and I’m thinking about her like I want to … what? Ask her out? Woo her? Handcuff her to my bed so I can keep her? I don’t know exactly but if it involves being in her presence, I want more of that. Whether I should or not, is an entirely different issue.
“I’m just considering all of the angles that we are aware of at this point.” I try to sound dismissive but it’s hopeless with Harlow. I wouldn’t mind considering Vivian though. She is the ideal woman, and her generous curves are in all the right places. I want to run my hands over every curve and see if the rest of her skin is as soft as it is on her hands. I’ve always been a boob guy and she might have the most perfect rack I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I could get lost in them and die a happy man. Mustering all of my self-control, I hold back a groan thinking about how incredible they would feel in my hands.
