Chapter 37
5 Years ago—27 years old
“Breathe, Vivian. Breathe.” Grandpa tightens my fingers around the shot glass.
All I do is watch the motion, because I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything … not even the violent quakes ravaging my body. I can see it. I can see myself trembling, but I’m helpless to stop it.
Much like Will’s death.
My sick stomach lurches into my chest, combining with the sharp ache that won’t go away. It’s an unholy trinity. One of pain, sickness, and unimaginable grief, and the moment I think I can collect my thoughts is when I go numb once again. There’s nothing I can grasp onto, nothing that will help. I shake my head.
I still can’t comprehend how this has happened. That my husband is dead.
A sob hits the air, and it takes me a moment to register it as my own. The bitter sound of despair is mine, yet it rings out so distant. Then I hear a chime and look down. The glass tinks in my hand while the cubed ice dances wildly in the golden swirl of whiskey—I’m shaking worse now.
“Vivie, come back. Calm yourself.” Grandpa sits on the coffee table across from me, his voice low and soothing. He pats my cheek firmly, steadies the shot glass in my clutch and pushes it toward my lips. “Deep breath, then take a drink.”
I’m not given a choice. The rim of the glass slides between my lips and liquid trails into my mouth and down my throat. A stale moment passes. Then I feel something. A tender spot on the side of my face and a stinging warmth spreading through my chest. The hazy dullness in my head lessens, and words finally tumble out.
“Oh, Grandpa.” My voice is hoarse and gruff. Probably from the wails and screams that poured out when I first got here an hour ago. “Will is dead…” An icy chill shoots up my spine, racking through every inch of me until I release a shudder. “I just know Will is…” My voice breaks, then fades. I can’t finish.
“And you're certain it was Lonnie?”
I nod.
When I first arrived, all that sputtered out was “Will. Dead. Lonnie.” All the other details fell away as I slipped into hysterics. But Grandpa got the message and held me in his arms till I could at least sit up on my own.
“God…” I sniffle, trying to inhale despite the snot clogging up my nose. “I knew Lonnie was sick, but I didn’t think he’d kill som…” I stop and squeeze the glass tight. “I didn’t think he’d hurt Will…”
“I did.”
My head snaps up. The surety of Grandpa’s tone cracks like a whip across my heart. It’s like he’s known all along, but that type of foreknowledge seems impossible. My brows meld together. “Grandpa?”
“At least … I feared, or suspected.” He slaps two weathered hands on his thighs and stands.
“But how—”
“You didn’t know my field of work, Vivian.”
I shake my head. Grandpa’s always been mum on details of his life other than those about my mom and grandmother.
“There's little I can tell you, but I know Lonnie shows all the tendencies of a psychopath.” He removes old-fashioned glasses, the frames oversized and square in his hand as he rubs at his eyelids.
“Damn this. DAMN it!” He looks at me and scowls. “I tried to tell Will two years ago to get you two out of the state. I told him Lonnie was dangerous. I told him—” He stops, and his eyes round with a look of sorrow. “It's too late for that now.”
I cry again with those words. “Grandpa, I'm scared.” The confession gurgles out.
“Don't worry, Vivie. He'll be caught.” The left couch cushion sinks with his weight when he sits beside me. “Pat has bribed all the right folks protecting him over the years, and Kathy has encouraged it, but this is the last straw. He'll hang. I promise that.”
“I hope so.” For Will’s sake. I want to say the last part out loud, but I can’t manage it.
I’ll never see him again. A hole punches through my chest, and I bow over.
My lover—my spark—my sunshine through the clouds is gone. Snuffed out. Killed by a person who never should have been in my life. I can sense a hot stream flooding out of my eyes and down my cheeks as I think of the last kiss Will gave me. It was sweet, tender, and loving ... Like him.
“Vivian.” There’s a surge of command in Grandpa’s voice. “Look at me and focus.”
The glass clunks on the coffee table as I place it down, and my lip quivers. It’s hard, but he’s right. I need to focus and push this all aside. “Grandpa, until everything settles, what am I going to do?” There will be an investigation, and the thought is terrifying. “Don't they usually look into spouses first?” That sole thought is crushing. My throat begins to close. “What if they don't suspect Lonnie? What if it's me? What if—”
“You dumped your phone like Will told you?”
I nod.
“And you left your car at the old junkyard before coming here?”
“Yes, sir. Like I always do.”
I never drive to Grandpa's house. If I'm cautious, then he's paranoid. We've managed to keep our relationship a secret all these years because of the protective instructions Grandpa's given me.
I’m not allowed to call. I just show up.
I never drive in his neighborhood. I always abandon my car and walk two miles. Why? I don't know. These are Grandpa's orders, not mine. I've asked, sure, but all he's told me is that it's for my protection. At first, I thought he was crazy, but maybe he's not.
His heavy hand pats my knee, then rests there. “They won't suspect you, Viv. I'll see to that.”
I cock my head in bewilderment. “But how can you…”
“Come with me.”
He grabs my wrist, firm, assuring, and helps me to my feet.
I straggle behind and follow. We go past the vintage kitchen with its formica countertops and wind through the narrow hallway. The quaint bathroom with sunflowers passes by, and we take one more left and enter a doorway.
It's Grandpa's bedroom. Judging by the abundant usage of burgundy flowers and a crocheted bedspread of crimson, I doubt he's altered a thing since Grandma’s passing.
We go a bit farther. Then we come to a head with the walk-in closet and go inside.
Racks of clothing shuffle and hanger tops scrape against the pole as Grandpa shifts things aside, revealing a safe. He licks his thumb and squats. Turning the black wheel to and fro, aligning the white lines with the minuscule arrow up top. I hear a click, then he tugs the steel handle down and pulls open the square metal door.
I watch him peer inside and hear him shuffle a few items around before he reaches his hand in. It's almost like watching a magic trick. When he pulls it out again, there're papers and documents. He looks down at the items and flicks through them a couple of times. Then one by one, passes them off.