17. Walker
Chapter seventeen
Walker
The vandalized tires incident was annoyingly too smooth to have been random—especially once we discovered there was no video surveillance of the area where my truck was parked. Four days later, my frustration dramatically increased when Vivian received a third poem. The behavior escalated yet again when a fourth poem arrived at my home address one week after my tires were slashed. It matched the ones Vivian received, including its paper weight and color, font used, and postmark from Atlanta.
While not admitting direct criminal involvement, the sender's poems suggest their actions were intended to benefit Vivian by controlling and persuading her to change. The malicious insinuation creeped her out—rightfully so. Whoever is sending these poems officially pissed me off by not only threatening me, but by having the audacity to send it to my home address that is not public knowledge. Reading it, I thought I was going to crack a molar with how hard my jaw clenched. When I finished it, an animalistic roar of rage and frustration escaped my lungs, loud enough I’m sure it spooked a neighbor or two. It is infuriating that this piece of shit is out there, taunting me, and threatening Vivian. It is not a matter of if we will catch whomever is responsible, it’s only a matter of when we do—and I want them caught yesterday.
Liam and Harlow are working on identifying additional people to add to the network of eyes and ears of the town to try to figure out who is keeping tabs on Vivian. Harlow feels the escalation of behavior more than meets the requirement to consider this a stalking situation, but unfortunately, that doesn’t help us identify who is responsible any faster.
We know the person behind the poems is at minimum guilty of being involved with intentional damage to property, harassment, and stalking, if not also involved in at least one capital murder case. The two weeks following the third poem were uneventful, and Vivian didn’t receive any additional ones. Just like the previous poems, the third and fourth lacked any fingerprints or trace DNA on the piece of paper or the envelope. Our task force continues to chase every lead that pops up related to the nine cases involved, but we keep running into dead ends or uncovering more questions we don’t know the answers to yet.
It is incredibly frustrating to spin our wheels in circles without going anywhere. I remind my team that we need to keep putting in good work and something has to eventually give—I refuse to believe otherwise.
I wasn’t able to visit my family for my birthday like I intended, but August was too busy to get away. Mama won’t love that it’s just a quick weekend trip, but visiting a month late is better than not showing up at all. Exiting the airport doors, I scan the waiting vehicles for the signature black Bennett Corporation truck before hearing a short chirp of a horn.
“Are you lost, or what, stranger?” I snap my head to the right and laugh as I head toward the truck, throwing my suitcase in its bed before hopping into the front seat.
“Well, I don’t know how you do it, Carrie, but you get prettier, Sam gets uglier, and yet you stay with him anyway.” I grin as I hug my sister-in-law. When they started dating in high school, Carrie started babysitting me after she met our family and is the closest thing I have to a sister. My oldest brother can be wound a bit tight some days, and she’s a good balance for him. She rolls with things and is a little ray of sunshine, especially compared to her grumpy husband. If someone were to tell me they didn’t get along with her, I would question their personality.
“No, please, don’t stop and tell me more.” She laughs as I buckle my seatbelt. The forty-five minute drive from the airport flies by as I tell her what I can about my job, what I think about Tennessee, and dodge multiple questions about the status of my love life.
As we take the familiar turn toward the main gates of our family’s land, they swing open as the truck approaches. Two large stone pillars stand on either side of the road with an arched metal sign hanging overhead. In a bold black script, the words Bennett Family Farm let the world know whose land they are standing on.
My grandfather officially changed the business name to Bennett Corporation in 1948 when he took over for his father, but the metal sign predates the name change. If we ever needed to replace the sign, I suspect my parents or brothers would still have it say Bennett Family Farm. My granddad always said to never forget that true success in life is not just about being successful in business, but it’s really about being successful in taking care of your family. Pulling further up the drive, my shoulders seem to relax some tension I wasn’t aware I was carrying. Carrie parks in front of the main house, and I get out of the truck as three English cream golden retrievers bound toward me to say hello. I take a deep breath and let the Texas air welcome me home.
“Duke! Mallow! Lola! Get back, you nutty dogs, let the man breathe!” My brother Charlie bellows at his dogs from the front porch as they jump for attention. I drop down and give them a little love before standing as my brother struts off the porch. “Good to see you stranger, glad Carrie could pick you up so you didn’t get lost,” Charlie says as he claps my back.
“I missed you too, asshole,” I respond through a laugh.
“You might be old and grown, but I will still whoop your ass for speaking like that in front of a lady.” My father’s stern voice rings out as he and Mama walk up. “I promise I raised my boys better than that, Carrie,” he calls out.
“Yes, sir. My apologies, Carrie. I’m sure Sam never curses,” I tell her with a knowing look.
“Never, he is a perfect gentleman,” she replies with a chuckle.
“And you are a damn liar, girl, but you sure are a pretty liar,” Sam says as he wraps his arms around his wife, giving her a kiss on her cheek. “Give the man a break, Dad. He’s just been outta Texas for too long. We’ll set him straight before we let him run off again.”
“You’re not wrong. It sure is good to see you, son.” My dad shakes my hand as we clap each other’s backs.
“Will you hurry up and move so I can greet my baby now, Hank?” Mama pushes her way around him to get to me. “Hi, baby! I’m so glad you’re home!”
“Hey, Mama. I missed you.” I wrap her up in a big hug.
“Let’s move this reunion inside. I know Carole baked all your favorites, Walker. I brought up a pan of seven-layer bars before I headed to the airport,” Carrie says .
“Yep, they’re delicious, and already missing a row,” Charlie proclaims shamelessly. “I also made a fresh batch of sweet tea, and your favorite beer is in the fridge, Walker.” Mama tugs my arm toward the house.
Walking through their front door is like a time warp back to my childhood. The front room is centered around a large fireplace with multiple seating areas. The couches have been swapped out with newer ones, but otherwise the room hasn’t changed much in over thirty years. My parents raised us all in the main house, and now my brothers have houses on the land far enough away to have privacy but close enough to be here regularly. Sam and Carrie built a new house about a mile south, near a little stream on our family land. After they welcomed their sons Will and Henry, Carrie wanted to try for one more. Fate had a sense of humor and blessed Sam and Carrie with two identical twin girls. Brynn and Cecelia are six now and after raising her own three boys, Mama was thrilled to finally have some baby girls around to love.
Charlie built a house a half mile from Sam and Carrie when he was getting serious with his ex and considered proposing. While the relationship had an ugly and abrupt end, his house turned out beautiful. We joke that instead of a baseball field, he built a house of dreams: build it and the right woman will come, and someday she will. We were all relieved when he didn’t marry his ex-girlfriend. She was a piece of work; the only good thing to come out of that relationship was Charlie’s daughter. Isabelle is now five, and Charlie has had sole custody of her since she was a baby. Last I heard, Izzy hasn’t had any contact with her biological mother in at least three years. I don’t know how anyone could abandon such a sweet kid. Izzy may not have her biological mother in her life, but she is mothered and loved by her grandmother and aunt as if she were their own. She’s only a year younger than Sam and Carrie’s identical twins, and those girls are more like sisters than cousins .
“Girls! Come on down!” Mama hollers, and I promptly hear the stampede of three little girls running down the stairs. Who knew such dainty little things could be so dang loud?
“Uncle Walker!” Izzy launches herself at me with a bear hug with Brynn and Cece each tackling a leg close behind.
“Did you know Will and Henry are at baseball camp this whole week? Henry wanted to skip it, but Daddy said he couldn’t because he made a commickment,” Cece tells me.
“It’s commitment, baby,” Sam corrects her. “He was mad about how his season ended, but he’ll be just fine.”
“Tomato, potato,” Cece chimes in. “All I know is that he threw a right fit about going and Daddy—”
“Cecelia Jane, that’s enough. Go help your Nana in the kitchen,” Sam interrupts his daughter. “She’s like the Daily Republic of any juicy gossip, so be careful what you say around her. Odds are she’ll repeat it to anyone at random.”
I look down at Izzy, who has her head on my shoulder. “And what about you, darling? How are you doing?”
“I’m good, Uncle Walker. Sure is nice having you back home. I missed you,” she admits.
“Do you know how nice that is to hear, Izzy? It’s nice to be here. I missed y’all, even your daddy and his stinky feet.” I squint my eyes and glare at Charlie with a serious expression.
“Oh, they’re bad, Uncle Walker. I think he might have a condition,” she tells me. A bark of laughter explodes from me at such a serious statement from her.
“Isabelle Marie, I do not have a condition. My feet do not have a condition. I don’t know where you picked that up, but not everything is a condition.” Charlie rolls his eyes as he hands me a cold beer.
“I’m pretty sure denial is a condition,” I tell Izzy, who nods in agreement .
“I agree, and it sounds serious. We will need to investigate. Daddy, I’ll see what kind of treats will help.”
“Treatments,” I whisper.
“Right, I’ll see what kind of treatments will help your denial.” Izzy taps her chin in thought. “I should have brought my otoscope, but I might have an extra upstairs in my room here.” Izzy wiggles down and takes off to find her toy medical equipment.
“She watches this cartoon where the little girl is a doctor for toys, so everything has a condition or needs healing. It’s fine except for the amount of Band-Aids I need to purchase on a regular basis,” Charlie complains.
“Sounds like she is doing really well then, if that’s your biggest concern.”
“I’m grateful that’s the truth, Walker. It’s not easy every day, but every day is worth it,” Charlie admits, and I tap his beer with mine.
“You’re a good dad, Charlie. She’s a great kid.”
“I agree,” Mama says as she places yet another tray of food on the table. “That girl is a delight, but so are all of my grandbabies.” She starts fixing plates for all of us, unable to just sit still and visit without keeping busy. Cece and Brynn both talk a mile a minute, updating me on their lives, soccer games, school, and what they think about every kid in their class that I will never likely meet.
“There will be a quiz later, so I hope you took notes.” Carrie winks at me.
“Don’t worry, I’m the smart one,” I respond.
“I sure hope so with that ugly mug of yours. You need something to attract a woman,” Sam says across the room.
“Excuse me, I did not have ugly babies.” Mama chastises him. “Plus, y’all have been confused for triplets more than once, so what does that say about yourself, baby?”
“Mind your mama, she’s right. We only have handsome men in this family, if I do say so myself,” Dad adds.
“Handsome? Yes. Humble? Never,” Carrie responds as we all laugh in agreement.
After Izzy returns with her toy medical bag, she examines her daddy’s feet, declaring he has stinky feet-itis. We all end up becoming patients of Dr. Izzy and her colleagues, Dr. Brynn and Dr. Cece. Unfortunately, all of us had some kind of condition, but most of the treatments just made us laugh, especially when Sam had to perform the hokey pokey for all of us as a singing frog.
My brothers and I migrate to the back porch as my phone vibrates with an incoming message.
Vivian
Hi Walker. Sorry if I’m interrupting, just wanted to check in and see how your trip is going.
My authentic smile is instant as I read her text. Her quick text lets me know she was thinking of me, which makes me very happy. After she received the second poem, my occasional message checking in quickly evolved to a daily occurrence. I may have some self-imposed restrictions in place for boundaries until this case is solved, but I fully intend to see where this goes with her once I can pursue her.
Me
Hey Viv. Never apologize for reaching out to me, unless it’s for not doing it more often. It’s good to be back in Texas, great to see my family.
Vivian
That’s wonderful. I’m happy you were able to get away to see them. How long are you gone?
Me
Just a long weekend, so I’ll be back Monday. Does Tennessee miss me already?
Vivian
… Maybe something like that.
Does it make me an asshole that I love the idea of her missing me? I will find a reason to be in Forrest Falls this week, but before I can figure that out, one of Mama’s cinnamon rolls hit my forehead. I snap my head up to glare at the offender. While I’m not sure which brother threw the roll, I know both witnessed the massive grin on my face as I read her text. “What the hell?”
“I think you mean who, as in who the hell put that dopey grin on your face?” Sam tilts his head, studying me.
“Who indeed, Sam. I thought your wife said our boy Walker didn’t have much to say about a love life.”
“She sure as shit did say that, Charlie.”
“I think he’s holding out on us, brother.”
“Okay, assholes, enough. There’s nothing to share … at least not yet.” I surprise myself by admitting the last part to them.
“Who is she?” Charlie demands, trying to snag my phone, and I slap his hand away.
“Someone I met through work, and it’s a bit complicated right now. ”
“And …” Sam drawls.
“And she’s different. Since being in Nashville, I’ve been insanely busy with work, but…” I trail off in thought.
“But …” Charlie kicks my leg and gestures with his hand for me to go on.
“But this woman not only caught my attention, she honestly somehow commands it. If I’m not with her or texting her, she’s never far from my thoughts.” I glance down to see I missed a few more texts.
Vivian
When you’re back, do you think you could come check Liam's update to Savannah’s security system? You know, just to be safe.
Vivian
… Did I lose you?
I don’t think she could lose me if she tried. But I appreciate the excuse to see her this week. I get why she is creeped out and we haven’t made any progress on the poems or discovering the motive for whomever is behind them. If we could identify why someone is watching Vivian and sending these poems, it would bring us that much closer to identifying who is behind them, as well as how or if they are connected to the sniper cases. If the person behind the threatening poems is the same person behind her husband’s murder, it’s not a stretch to assume that Vivian and Eloise could both be in real danger.
Texas suddenly feels too far away and while I love seeing my family, I’m counting down the hours until I’m back in Tennessee.
Me
Sorry, my rude brothers interrupted me. I’ll come see you when I’m back. But you feel safe at the guest house, right?
Vivian
Yeah, just feel better having someone else around us. I don’t know who’s watching or why, and it creeps me out if I think about it too much.
My gut twists in anger at the thought of her being in danger and uncomfortable in her own home. I’m half tempted to set up camp outside her house to make sure no one touches my girl. I mean, her, make sure no one touches her. Shaking out that thought, another text comes through.
Vivian
But enough about all of that, I trust y’all are doing everything you can to stop this.
Me
I promise I won’t take your trust for granted, Vivian.
Vivian
Mmm. I don’t know why, but I believe you.
Me
Good. I’ll let you know when I can pop over this week. Let me know if anything else comes up, or even if it’s nothing and you just want to say hi. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you later?
Vivian
Thanks, Walker. I appreciate it … and look forward to it.
Me
Me too.
I know I am toeing that professional line as close as I can, but in the same breath, I wonder how fast I could get to Forrest Falls from Texas if she needed me. I lock my phone and put it in my pocket as I take a pull from my beer, only to look up at two assholes grinning at me.
“What?”
“No one special, huh? I’ll be sure to mention that to Mama,” Sam says as Charlie joins him laughing.
“You will abso-fucking-lutely not. You know how she gets.” I know they know, we’ve all been through it. Where do people think I learned the true art of an interrogation? Carole Jane Bennett could teach an interrogation class at Quantico.
“I wasn’t sure we would see the day when a woman would make you smile, especially like that, Walker. I’m happy for you, brother.” Charlie shifts the tone of the conversation.
“Hear, hear.” Sam lifts his beer. “I don’t think Gretch the Wench ever made you smile like that, but I’ll be in Mama’s ear faster than a pig in mud if I hear about this from my wife first.” He glares at me, knowing I probably would call Carrie about my love life before him.
“Fair enough. You’ll be the first to know,” I concede.
Or the second. Vivian should probably be the first to hear how while I want to make her feel safe, I also want to make her feel loved, treasured, happy, and anything else that will put a smile on her beautiful face.