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“Celery smeared with peanut butter.” Raymond gave Amber a teasing punch to the shoulder. “That makes a great snack, too.”
Amber frowned, but there was humor in the gesture. “No one gets to watch me swell up and turn blotchy today. You’ll have to find your entertainment elsewhere.”
Vincent turned to his wife. “Amber has a terrible allergy to anything containing peanuts. Can’t get anywhere near the stuff.”
As they waited for their food to arrive, conversation turned serious. Caleb reached for the manila folder. “I assume someone from the sheriff’s office has brought you all up to speed.”
They each nodded and he continued. “Then you’re aware Ramona Freeborn was murdered. Someone hauled her into the woods and took a baseball bat to her.”
Olivia gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. Raymond and Vincent cringed. Someone had apparently left out that detail.
Vincent shook his head, frowning. “So was Alex murdered, too?”
“We don’t have a definitive answer yet, but it’s a possibility, especially in light of the messages you each received.” He opened the folder and read the six lines. “Individually, they’re meaningless. But when read as a whole, ending with Ramona’s, the threat is obvious. Someone has targeted you, seeking vigilante justice. So far, it looks like he’s been successful twice.” He paused to look at each of them. Every face registered concern. Raymond’s right leg bounced up and down, the movement radiating into his torso. A touch of wildness had crept into his eyes.
Caleb rested his forearms on the table, his fingers entwined. “Any idea who or why?”
Before anyone could answer, the waitress returned with their drinks.
Leaving his straw on the table, Raymond chugged several swallows of his Coke, then jabbed a hand through his stringy, dishwater-blond bangs. They fell right back onto his forehead. “This is about Landon Cleary.” He clutched his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. His other hand was splayed on the red-checked tablecloth.
Amber nodded. “That’s what I think.”
Raymond shook his head, the movement causing his hair to fall into his eyes. He didn’t bother to sweep it aside. “Somebody knows what we did.”
Vincent shot him a warning glare. “We didn’t do anything. Amber invited him to hang with us. Someone beat him up and smashed his head in with a rock. We never saw him, so we couldn’t have done anything.”
Raymond let out a pent-up breath. “That’s not what I meant. He was coming to hang with us, so I feel responsible.” He released his Coke to rest his hand on the table. The cuticles were stained dark, signs he made his living as a mechanic. He still wore his uniform with its embroidered Speedy Lube Express patch over the left pocket. Although he appeared calmer now, holding the anxiety at bay seemed to be requiring some effort.
“He wasn’t coming to hang with us,” Vincent said. “He was coming to hang with Amber. And you don’t see her beating herself up over it.”
Caleb slanted a glance at her. The tight jaw and downcast eyes told him a lot. Vincent was wrong. Amber had beat herself up. Plenty of times. Apparently she still did.
A pang of sympathy shot through him, along with the desire to wipe away her pain. He shook off the latter. He couldn’t fix everyone’s woes. He’d had to accept that fact a long time ago. Life was messier than it had been in high school, the enemies to happiness much more tenacious than a few school bullies.
He shifted his gaze to the others. “If this is about Landon Cleary, any ideas as to who might have appointed himself executioner?”
“Only one,” Raymond said. “Logan.”
Vincent nodded. “He’s always blamed us. If anyone’s decided to take vengeance for Landon’s death, it would be Logan.”
“Why do you say that?” He and Amber had already discussed Logan, and she’d updated him on the confrontation yesterday, but he wanted to hear what the others had to say.
Raymond shrugged. “I’ve only seen him a few times in the past ten years. He always stares daggers at me, like he wants to hurt me. I try to avoid him.”
“Same here,” Vincent said. “I ran into him several times the summer after graduation. He was always spouting off about the six of us doing something to his brother. The end of the summer, I left for college. Then I settled in Gainesville, so I never saw him until this past weekend.”
The waitress approached with platters of nachos, onion rings, mozzarella sticks and fried pickles, then placed a stack of plates on the table. When she left, they each took samples and Vincent continued.
“Several times during the reunion, I caught Logan glaring at me. He was talking to people, even did some dancing. But the whole time, his eyes were on one of us. It was creepy.”
Caleb picked up a mozzarella stick and bit off the end. “Did he say anything to you?”
Vincent shook his head. “Didn’t need to. The threat was loud and clear without him opening his mouth.”
“That’s how he was with me, too,” Liv said. “He never spoke to me, but every time I looked at him, he was staring real mean-like.”
Caleb nodded. “If he showed up at your house, would you open the door?”
“No way.” Raymond didn’t even hesitate. “I’d call the police.”
Vincent agreed. “None of us would let him in.”
“Apparently Ramona did. She disappeared from her home late at night. There was no sign of forced entry. So she must have opened the door for the killer, which means it was likely someone she knew and didn’t feel threatened by.”
Vincent frowned. “I can’t imagine who.”
“Was there anyone Logan and Landon were close to who might do something like this?”
“They were close to a lot of people.” Vincent waved a hand. “I mean, they were both pretty popular. But close enough to take this kind of vengeance?”
Amber released a slow breath. “I can see making some threats, but someone’s got to be pretty warped to do what they did to Ramona.” A shudder shook her shoulders. “Maybe she opened the door for another reason and the killer was waiting. She could have remembered something she left in her car. Or maybe she had a cat and was letting it in or out.”
Caleb dipped his head. “It’s a possibility.” Logan was the most likely suspect. Actually he was their only suspect. He’d better have someone who could place him far from Fort Lauderdale on that night in April.
“I had a run-in with Logan yesterday.” Amber’s tone was somber as she relayed everything she’d told him previously.
When she’d finished, Raymond flopped back in his chair. “See? I told you. It’s Logan. I know it is.”
“We’ll be talking to him.” Caleb looked around the table. “Regardless, keep your eyes open and report anything suspicious. I don’t care how insignificant it seems. And don’t open your door for anyone.”
As the six of them polished off the appetizers, the conversation topics grew increasingly light. By the time they’d finished and paid their bills, Caleb had heard at least a dozen stories of long-ago pranks, some likely embellished.
Vincent pushed his chair away from the table. “The wife and I still have to stop by the office before we can call it a day, so we’ll need to split.”
When Liv stood, the napkin fell from her lap and she bent to pick it up.
“Cool tattoo,” Amber said.
Caleb followed her gaze. Liv’s tight-fitting tank had ridden up, exposing a two-inch stretch of skin above the waistband of her jeans. An inked blue-green line crossed itself to form a sort of sideways cause ribbon. One side continued down and around, wrapping a scripted LC. Two red and green hearts framed the elaborate design like bookends.
Olivia wiggled her hips then posed, showing off the artwork.
“So who’s LC?” Raymond asked.
“Liv Chamberlain.” She cast the words over her shoulder.
Vincent cocked a brow. “You have your own initials tattooed on your back?”
She turned around, grinning. “It’s a hint in case I forget who I am.”
Vincent laughed. “That’s our Liv.”
Caleb had to agree. He’d had a few classes with her and she’d always been a little on the ditsy side. As long as he’d known her, she’d struck him as someone who liked attention—flamboyant, loud and boisterous. Ten years later she still dressed to be noticed, from the ridiculously high black stilettos to the rhinestone-studded dress jeans to the spiky auburn hair with its purple highlights. The auburn wasn’t any more natural than the purple. Actually, he wasn’t sure what her natural color was. Even in high school, she’d dyed it, sometimes blond, sometimes red, sometimes jet-black.
She shrugged, still grinning. “You never know when it might come in handy.”
Raymond gave her a playful slap. “Especially if you party the way you used to.”
Olivia raised her hand in a fist pump. “If there’s a girl who knows how to party, it’s me.”
Caleb watched her lead the way to the door, a spring in her step, at least as much as the five-inch heels would allow.
The day is sunny and skies are blue.
Liv’s line of the poem. The outlook of someone who was perpetually cheerful.
With Liv, it was probably an act. Her eyes held an underlying sadness the false cheeriness didn’t quite mask. What was at its root? A burden that grew heavier with every passing year? A secret slowly eating a hole in her heart?
Raymond knew. Something, anyway. He’d gotten agitated enough to almost let it slip. Then Vincent had stopped him.
Caleb stepped out the door into the steamy afternoon. He needed to speak with Raymond alone. But first he’d pore over all the investigative reports from Landon’s murder. The next time he met with any of them, he’d be armed with every fact he could get his hands on. He’d force some answers.
Whatever happened ten years ago, there was probably plenty the six of them had never told the police.
Secrets two of them had taken to their graves.
THREE (#u8da21117-890a-56f2-acf1-1ba5c400361a)
Amber turned onto Airport Road and stepped hard on the gas, lights flashing and siren blaring. Usually her shift consisted of helping tourists with directions or taking the report of an occasional stolen cell phone. This one had the potential to be much more exciting.
Two minutes ago a call had come in. A woman in distress. Someone had heard screams coming from the woods near the airport.
Amber’s cruiser screeched to a halt in front of the area described by the caller, a patch of woods just past where the road straightened to parallel the runway. She stepped from the car and drew her weapon. From deep within the pines and palmettos, a rustle sounded and her senses shot to full alert.
“Hello?”
Another rustle. A shiver went up her spine.
“Cedar Key Police. Do you need assistance?”
A soft breeze blew, whispering through the trees. But over the murmur of the wind was movement, much more substantial.
She tightened her grip on her weapon and called again. “Hello?”
This time there was a response, a raspy whisper. “Help me.”
Her heart thudded. The victim. She was alive but likely hurt. Amber stepped into the woods, unclipping her radio from her belt. “I need backup. And possibly medical assistance.” Once Cedar Key Fire Rescue responded, they’d determine whether an ambulance needed to come from the mainland.
She crept deeper into the woods, watching and listening for movement. The woman needed help, but whoever had attacked her might be lurking nearby. Charging in recklessly could get her killed. “Keep talking so I can find you.”
Silence met her words. Maybe the victim had lost consciousness.
Or maybe there was no victim. Maybe the call was a hoax. She stopped walking and turned in a slow circle, pistol raised. A bead of perspiration traced a downward path between her shoulder blades. The sense of being watched was too strong to ignore. But except for the soft, steady rustle of the breeze through the trees, the woods were quiet.
Sirens sounded in the distance. They drew closer then stopped, dying in quick succession. Backup had arrived, along with fire rescue.
“Amber?”
It was her brother Hunter’s voice. Her breath escaped in a rush. “In here.”
Moments later Hunter joined her, along with fireman and EMT Wade Tanner.
Hunter looked around them. “What have we got?”
“Right now? Absolutely nothing.”
At their raised brows, she continued. “When I arrived, someone was in the woods. I heard rustling and a woman’s faint cry. ‘Help me.’”
At least she’d assumed it was a woman. Now she wasn’t sure. The hoarse whisper could have belonged to anyone.
They spread out to comb the woods. When Hunter approached her a few minutes later, he was holding a fillet knife wrapped in a handkerchief likely pulled from his pocket. A shudder rippled through her. That eight-inch blade could have done some serious damage. Had someone planned to use it on her but was scared off when the others arrived?
Hunter indicated what he held. “I found this on the ground. Since the water’s pretty close, it’s possible a fisherman dropped it. We’ll see if we can lift prints, anyway.”
Over the next half hour, the three of them knocked on doors and searched the long, narrow stretch of land housing the Cedar Key Airport. They came up with nothing, other than the knife. Wade opened the driver’s door of the Ford rescue vehicle. At least he hadn’t brought the ladder truck to this wild-goose chase.
She flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry I brought you out here for nothing. When I heard someone call for help, I was afraid we might need you.”
“No problem. It added some excitement to my afternoon. You think it was kids playing around?”
“Maybe.” That scenario was better than the one she’d come up with.
He shut the door and Hunter stepped up beside her. “Do you really believe that?”
Wade cranked the engine and pulled onto the road, leaving her alone with Hunter.
“Honestly? No.” She walked toward her car. This wasn’t going to turn out well. Hunter had that big-brother’s-gonna-protect-his-little-sister look in his eye. As soon as he’d learned there’d been a suspicious death at her reunion, he’d contacted Levy County to get details. Then he’d bombarded her with questions.
His footsteps pounded behind her. “You shouldn’t respond to calls like this alone.”
She spun and planted her hands on her hips. “How long do you think Chief Sandlin’s going to keep me if I can’t do my job?” After a year as a part-time officer, supplementing her pay with waitressing, she’d recently made full-time. She wasn’t about to jeopardize it.
Hunter stared her down, jaw tight. “How well do you think you’ll do your job if you’re dead?”
She jerked open the cruiser door. Hunter needed to mind his own business. She’d lived under his shadow her whole life.
Through her teen years he’d tried to keep her out of trouble. It hadn’t worked. She’d resented what she’d perceived as his holier-than-thou attitude and bossy ways. Unable to measure up, she hadn’t even tried. It had been easier to follow in Harold’s downhill footsteps than to climb the path Hunter trod.
