12. Walker
Chapter twelve
Walker
This is far from fine.
I’m trying to not take out my frustrations and shoot the messenger as Detective Johnson explains the most recent anonymous poem Vivian received. She should have called me; I’m pissed I’m hearing about this from the Chicago detective instead.
My grip is so tight on the pen that my hand just about snaps it as I listen to him explain his phone call from her. I haven’t heard from Vivian since her adorable drunk dial the other night, assuming she woke up embarrassed, but I thought I’d give her a few days before I followed up with her. I didn’t expect to have this detective inform me that not only has she been threatened, but someone also caused damage to her property. That escalation in behavior makes me wonder how this may be connected to her husband’s murder, but none of the cases in the other cities have had anything like this happen.
I knew she was beautiful from her picture before meeting her in-person. But actually meeting her? Vivian is grace personified. She had me completely captivated and awestruck by her beauty. I realize I already care more than I should about her from a professional standpoint but my feelings aside, this is still an active case. We will never solve this case if I’m not receiving any and all new information in a timely manner. I’m assuming Detective Johnson called soon after speaking with Vivian, but I’m still finding out information after someone else .
I don’t like being second to anyone in anything.
As I finish up talking to him, I send Harlow a text message asking her to come by my office. I scroll through a few notifications to check if Vivian has messaged or called, but still nothing, just like when I checked an hour ago. Setting aside her embarrassment, I can’t protect her if I’m not aware of everything going on. Fuck it, I’m not willing to wait for her to get over her embarrassment when it comes to her safety.
Me
Detective Johnson just updated me on everything, but I need to hear how you’re doing. When you get a chance today, I need you to call me. You should always feel like you can call me, alright?
Tossing my cell on my desk, I groan in frustration. Despite trying to ignore it, there is something about Vivian that calls to me, demanding in my gut that I protect her. It’s more than her obvious beauty and tender vulnerability. I can’t quite define it, other than this feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever had with any other case.
“Knock, knock.” Harlow enters my office, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Come on in, I need to catch you up.” I gesture to the seat in front of my desk. Opening my email, I pull up the photo of the poem Detective Johnson sent over and display it on the large monitor hung on the wall behind the conference table.
Vivian sent the photo to him in a text message, so despite her silence, it confirms her phone works and she can send texts. She either didn’t consider contacting me, or chose not to, and I’m not sure which one of those options frustrates me more than the other .
Gesturing to the screen, I go through the details of the most recent poem to Harlow, trying to downplay the slight of Vivian choosing to not notify me herself. But the problem with having a colleague as smart and observant as Harlow is means she catches every detail.
With a head tilt and a careful examination of the poem, Harlow begins her process of thinking out loud and dissecting the escalation of the sender’s behavior.
“There is, of course, the possibility that our cases and these poems are independent of each other. The mention of her husband in the first poem, with a possible reference in the second one, and the similarity of both poems’ structure suggests they were likely written by the same person. These poems could have implications for our Chicago case, and potentially other cases as well.”
“But why?” Harlow rises out of the chair and begins to pace back and forth across my office. “The question here is, who is the main target? Although we assumed it was Dr. Stone in this case, we may need to reconsider that assumption. Even though losing her husband would obviously hurt Vivian, but what … what if his death was more about her than him? Hmm. At this point, the poems can’t hurt Dr. Stone. Until we have more information, we cannot ignore them, even if they don't match the criminological commonalities of the other cases. If they were sent from someone involved with our sniper cases, then I’m not sure Dr. Stone was the primary target in the first place.”
I hum and nod in agreement. As she continues, Harlow taps her fingers on her chin. “But this indicates that not only this person sending the poems has now vandalized property close to her vicinity, but they are also monitoring her somehow. Were they surveying her in Chicago too? And if so, what’s next? What will they do next or what might trigger a reaction? If the symbolic violence of the taillight is the escalation from their initial communication, then it would be fair to say the next escalation could easily be direct physical violence toward Vivian or her loved ones as the target.” Harlow continues to think out loud as I take a sip of coffee, grimacing at the tepid temperature. Even if it tastes alright, I hate lukewarm coffee. After working together as long as we have, I know that until Harlow asks me a direct question, it’s best to give her space to verbally process before I give my opinion. I don’t like the direction of her theory, but I suspect she is on to something.
“I’m no longer comfortable saying she’s not in danger. At this point, it would be nearly impossible to predict the next escalation, but I doubt a smashed taillight is their end game.” She sits back down, turning to face me. “Walker, what are your thoughts?”
“Unfortunately, I agree. If these poems are related to the Chicago case, we don’t know who the primary target was, but what if it was her? That doesn’t match the other sniper cases we are aware of, but something isn’t adding up here. And how are they keeping an eye on her now? It’s a small town where everyone seems to know everyone. It would be easier for them to do that in Chicago, but she’s back in her small hometown. If someone were to watch or follow her, wouldn’t one of her neighbors notice? The sociodemographic of a small town means they look out for their neighbor, out of both duty and curiosity.” I brainstorm with Harlow.
“True, but maybe we could use that fact to our benefit. What if we quietly ask select people in Forrest Falls to notify us if anything or anyone is out of the ordinary? To avoid suspicion or any unnecessary attention, this needs to be done carefully.” Harlow is right. Sending undercover agents would be simple if Forrest Falls had a larger population, but our options are limited with how close this community is and how much outsiders stand out.
"We need to activate the surveillance of this small town without anyone realizing what we are doing," Harlow says as she snaps her fingers. “And I think I may have just the person in mind to help us navigate how to accomplish that without drawing any attention.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Like I mentioned the other day, I know her brother, Liam Callahan. He is … an interesting person, but also very good at his job. This is his sister and his hometown. I suspect if we ask Liam to help us identify a few trusted people that would be willing to help, he will know exactly who to ask without activating the gossip grapevine. We ask these individuals to be vigilant for anything suspicious regarding Vivian, her house, her child, or even if someone is paying extra attention to her when she goes to get coffee.” Harlow nods as she talks through her idea.
“That’s a good plan and may lead us to the string that if we pull on it right, unravels this case, along with the other cases. Do you need me to get Liam’s contact information?”
Harlow blushes. “No, that’s okay. I already have it.”
"Is that so?" My eyebrows go up in response to my colleague’s interesting verbal and physical response.
“Yes really, and no, I will not disclose any further details than that.” Harlow sits up a bit straighter. “I’ll reach out to Liam and explain what we’re trying to accomplish and see what he thinks.”
Harlow tilts her head and hums as she reads through the poem again. “Did the Chicago detective say anything about why Vivian’s car was on a public street overnight? I wonder what she was doing the evening before she discovered the smashed taillight.”
“She went out with some of her girlfriends and had a few drinks at the local bar.”
Harlow flips through the printed case notes. “I don’t see any of that information here.” She looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know what she was doing if it’s not in the notes? It's unlike you to jump to conclusions, Walker. ”
“I’m not assuming anything. But remind me again, how did you say you knew her brother?” My face stays completely neutral. I don’t want to disclose my personal phone conversation with a very inebriated, albeit adorable, Vivian. Neither of us did anything wrong, but I want to keep that conversation between us if possible.
Harlow and I look at each other, clearly both assessing the other, trying to get a good read on what’s not being said. It’s challenging because of the nature of our jobs and the fact we both have excellent poker faces.
Nodding, Harlow closes the case notes. “Fair enough and I did not say. Perhaps we both agree to just circle back to the case.” I nod in agreement—I’m not the only person who wants to keep some of their cards close to their chest.
Interesting.
Harlow and I talk through a few other details before she leaves my office to contact Vivian’s brother, Liam. Piquing my curiosity about the history and nature of their relationship, I notice Harlow didn't call him from my office. Obviously, she didn’t want to divulge any further details. While I respect her too much to push, I can’t help but wonder what the story was between her and Liam.
I work on a few emails and a handful of other things on my to do list before my restlessness refuses to allow any further productivity. I need to work off some of this frustration between having more questions than answers with our sniper cases and wrestling with the agitation of Vivian not contacting me.
Grabbing my keys, I walk out of the office to my truck and head home.
Ghost is more than happy to see me earlier than usual. He’s even happier when he sees me change into my running clothes and lace up my shoes. I clip on his leash and we head out to run around our new neighborhood. I haven’t decided on a favorite route yet and like to mix it up as I explore the new-to-us area. I try to focus on our surroundings but my thoughts keep going back to a certain woman with long blonde hair and stunning green eyes.
Vivian’s oval face and classic beauty are distracting my thoughts. She was enchanting the other night when she drunk dialed me and sounded so care-free going on about her damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. I imagine her luscious, full lips wrapping around a spoonful of her favorite ice cream, or how good they would look wrapped around my … I shake my head. Alright, man, get a hold of yourself. Yes, she is beautiful, but I can’t cross that line yet. Not until I find justice for her and her daughter.
I try to think of the least appealing things I can in an attempt to make my run more comfortable. No guy likes to run at half-mast.
Wrinkly old man balls.
Ghost when he was sprayed by a skunk last summer.
Spoiled milk.
Catching Gretchen in bed with her lover.
That last one is a buzzkill every single time. Although instead of hurt, I’m more disgusted this time.
I stop running and lean down with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Ghost looks back at me offended for interrupting his pace as I realize I haven’t thought of Gretchen in weeks. While her actions still disgust me, I don’t really feel anything thinking of her now. My reaction to the memory is more because of the fact it was in my house, not because of who she was to me. “Ha, what do you know, boy? The witch is finally gone,” I tell Ghost as I give him a few scratches. Knowing she no longer has any influence on me is a euphoric feeling. The thought of her quickly solves my issue and I start running, much more comfortable now that I relaxed. I just need to keep my thoughts off of Vivian until I get home and in the shower where I can take care of things.
After a shower that included an embarrassingly quick release to my daydreams about investigating the assets of a gorgeous, curvy, green-eyed beauty, I grab my cell and walk out to my covered patio. Ghost joins me and sprawls out at my feet as I sit on the outdoor sectional my parents sent as a housewarming gift. Picking up my phone, I pull up the group chat with my brothers that was going off while I was in the shower.
Charlie
Walker, what’s the verdict on the 4 th of July? Are you coming home? Mama mentioned you hadn’t booked a flight yet.
Sam
You better be. The fourth is going to be lit! I special ordered a case of multi-shot fireworks from Booms that are going to be epic.
Charlie
I’ll host this year, that way Carrie won’t divorce your pyro ass if you burn down your house.
Sam
I never burned down the house, that was just a small little ditch fire—and it was two years ago, man. Let it go, and FFS do NOT bring that up in front of my wife.
Charlie
I think it’s hilarious to talk about that in front of Carrie. She still gets so pissed about her flowerbed.
Sam
Thanks, asshole. Walker, are you coming home or what?
I laugh as I catch up on their messages. Some things just never change, and I’m grateful that even though we live states away from each other, it doesn’t change anything about how we are in our family.
Me
Not sure yet. The task force is busy and part of a case has all my attention right now. I may not be able to get away, but it would be a last-minute decision if I do.
Sam
How’s Nashville? And how are the ladies in Nashville?
Charlie
I hope Carrie sees that question .
Sam
What? He’s single, and obviously good looking because he looks like me. These are fair questions. I am a happily married man and women don’t catch my eye since I landed the best woman ever.
Me
Are you afraid she’s tapping your texts or what?
Charlie
Definitely afraid his wife is going to see him asking about other women. But he has a valid point and inquiring minds want to know...
Me
Nashville is good. Move was the right call, needed a change. House is great, Ghost loves having the backyard, work is busy but good. Haven’t been out or dated since I moved so there’s nothing to report.
Sam
That is the lamest answer ever. You disappoint me.
Charlie
As long as your next woman is the opposite of Gretchen the Grinch, I’ll be happy for you.
Sam
Hear, hear! Glad she didn’t get our last name, Walker. I know you had that ring.
Me
She never even knew I had it. I’ll let you guys know about the fourth as soon as I can, but don’t get your hopes up. I’m hoping this case breaks soon and if it does, I’ll be chasing it.
Sam
Hopefully it either gets solved tomorrow or turns into a long case that allows you enough free time to get your ass home. Take care and watch your six, brother.
Charlie
I agree. I’m off to check the back pasture. Walker, be safe out there brother, yeah?
Me
You got it.