Читать книгу Reunited By Danger - Carol Post J. - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAmber poured dry cat food into a large mixing bowl, the sound of kibbles hitting metal echoing through the house. Two gray streaks zipped into the kitchen, followed by a yellow tabby and a solid black cat. It didn’t matter that they’d had their fill of moist food before she’d left for her morning run. Having spent too much of their lives perpetually hungry, they still acted as if each meal might be their last.
Except Tippy. She lay on the kitchen table, proud and regal, working on her after-breakfast bath. She resembled a chocolate point Siamese, but white tipped her feet, face and tail. A snowshoe, according to someone at Sheltering Hands, the Williston cat rescue. Amber had brought in pictures and gotten the official opinion shortly after Tippy had joined the Kingston household.
A ringtone interrupted her thoughts and she jogged into the living room, ponytail swishing against her neck. She retrieved her phone from the coffee table and frowned at the unfamiliar number before giving a tentative hello.
“Are you up?” It was Caleb.
“Just finished my morning run. I’m having breakfast then heading to Walmart in Chiefland.”
“At seven thirty in the morning?”
She strolled into the kitchen and Tippy stopped midlick, ready for the petting she knew would be forthcoming. Amber had halfheartedly tried to train her but had given up. That was one of the joys of living alone. There was no one to tell her cats don’t belong on the table. Or that five was too many.
“I have to be at work later this morning. But I’ve got friends coming for pizza and movies tonight, and my TV croaked.”
“How about meeting me for breakfast?”
Was he asking her out? She eyed the green concoction waiting in the blender on the kitchen counter: her breakfast smoothie. “I’ve already got it made.”
“Coffee then? We need to talk.”
The seriousness in his tone killed the possibility the call was anything but professional. An irrational twinge of disappointment passed through her. “Is everything all right?”
“There are some things you need to know.”
Her stomach tightened. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Huddle House in Chiefland.”
“Give me forty minutes.” Date or not, she wasn’t meeting him in a ponytail and Spandex. After pouring her drink into a quart-size Mason jar, she hurried down the hall to change into a pair of jeans and a scoop-neck T-shirt. By the time she’d finished, the jar was empty.
When she arrived at Huddle House, Caleb was inside. She took a seat opposite him.
“I already ordered. I hope you don’t mind. Since I came from the station, I haven’t eaten.”
The waitress approached with a plate of eggs, pancakes and hash browns and placed it in front of him. After bringing Amber a cup of steaming water and a tea bag, she left them alone.
Amber started the tea steeping. “What did you learn?”
“We don’t have anything back from the lab yet, but I uncovered some disturbing things about Ramona Freeborn’s death.” Beneath the sandy-blond hair, his brows were drawn together, and concern had settled in his eyes.
She frowned. “I’m guessing Mona didn’t have cancer.”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you that’s not how she died.”
A vise clamped down on her chest. “Murder?”
“She was taken into the woods and beaten to death with a baseball bat.”
Amber cringed at the mental image his words evoked. “Any idea who did it or why?”
“No. The case is still unsolved. But the killer left a piece of paper.”
The vise squeezed harder. “Like what the five of us received at the reunion.”
He pulled a page from the manila folder lying on the table and handed it to her. “I’ve written out all the messages and put them together.”
After a brief moment she snapped her gaze to his face. “It’s a poem.” She hadn’t recognized it before. Of course, she hadn’t seen half the lines.
Caleb took a bite of eggs before pointing with his fork. “Ramona’s line is the last one.”
She nodded and, as she silently read, something cold and dark settled over her.
The day is sunny and skies are blue.
All of life’s pleasures surround you.
Once you were bound, but now you’re free.
The kids all adore you, their referee.
A sworn public servant, you’ve answered the call.
But one by one, justice will find you all.
When she met Caleb’s eyes, he was studying her. “Any idea why somebody wants you guys dead?”
She swirled the tea bag in the mug and watched the liquid darken. She had an idea. It just didn’t make any sense.
Caleb’s gaze bore into her.
Finally she released a long breath. “Logan Cleary has always blamed us for his brother’s death.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t have anything to do with it.” Her hands tightened around her mug. “I invited him to join us. Then I got sick and Liv took me home.” The words came out more defensive than she’d intended and she softened her tone. “Landon never showed. But Logan has always blamed me. I don’t know whether he thinks we hurt Landon, but he holds me accountable for inviting him in the first place.”
She held herself accountable, too. Had for the past ten years. She just tried not to think about it. That was one reason she’d severed ties with all her old friends.
She sighed. “But why act now? I mean, it’s been ten years.”
“Logan has spent most of that time in the Army, so he’s been gone. He got out a few months ago.”
Yeah, that was what she’d heard. She’d run into him during one of his leaves. His animosity toward her was as strong as it had been right after Landon’s murder. And judging from the glares he’d given her at the reunion, it hadn’t faded.
Caleb poured syrup over his pancakes, the eggs and hash browns now gone. “What can you tell me about Landon’s last day alive?”
“Same thing I told the police ten years ago. It was Sunday, two days after graduation. He’d asked me out at the commencement ceremony, and we’d made plans for dinner and a movie Monday night. Sunday he texted me and asked what I was doing. I told him I was going out later and partying with friends.”
“How late?”
“Late. After Mom and Dad went to bed.” She didn’t have to tell him she’d been sneaking out. He knew. She could see the condemnation in his eyes. Or maybe her guilt was putting the condemnation there. That was something else she avoided thinking about, how her bad choices had affected her parents, especially her father.
“So you slipped out of the house after they went to bed.”
The words sounded even worse coming out of Caleb’s mouth. He’d probably never caused his parents a moment’s grief.
“What happened then?”
“I climbed out my bedroom window and Liv picked me up down the street. We went to the woods where Mona and the guys were. Raymond had raided his dad’s liquor cabinet, like always. I don’t remember what we were drinking, but we all got pretty wasted.”
“Then you got sick.”
She nodded. That had been a regular occurrence, too, drinking till she’d made herself sick. But she hadn’t touched the stuff since that night. First Landon’s death, then her father’s heart attack—two life-changing events in the span of a week had scared her straight.
“After Liv dropped me off, she went home. The guys and Ramona said they left shortly after we did. No one saw Landon.”
“You didn’t let him know you were no longer at the party?”
A wave of guilt crashed down on her. “I didn’t think about it.” Or maybe she had, somewhere between bouts of throwing up. But the thought hadn’t stayed in her pickled brain long enough to act on it.
“Anything else you can tell me?”
She shook her head, trying to tamp down another pang of guilt. There was something else, but it wasn’t connected to Landon’s murder. Not technically. If she brought it up now, the police would think they had something to hide. And they didn’t.
Caleb washed his last bite of pancake down with coffee. “Alex’s death is suspicious, but with Ramona, there’s no doubt. She was murdered. The last line of the poem proves it wasn’t random. This is someone’s warped idea of justice.”
She nodded and Caleb continued. “Frank Mason’s the lead detective on the case. He’s bringing the others up to speed, cautioning them about the danger. I told him I’d talk to you. But I’d like to meet with all of you and see if you can come up with some possible suspects. Logan is the most obvious. But it could be someone who’d been close to Landon.”
“I’ll get hold of them.” They’d all exchanged numbers before leaving the reunion.
The waitress brought the checks and he claimed both of them. After he’d finished paying, he walked her to her vehicle. “I guess you’re off to Walmart.”
“And you’re headed to bed.”
“Not yet. Church first. I teach a preteen Sunday school class.”
After bidding him farewell, she climbed into the driver’s seat. He was going to church. To teach Sunday school. He hadn’t become a preacher.
But he was still way out of her league.
* * *
Amber wheeled her cart into the midmorning sunshine, a large, flat box protruding from the top at an angle. She’d gone with a forty-inch. Anything bigger wouldn’t have fit on the shelf in her entertainment center.
As she moved down the center lane, she glanced around, an uneasy caution tightening her shoulders. The same uneasiness had plagued her since her meeting with Caleb. Mona was dead, brutally murdered. Alex’s death probably wasn’t an accident, either. Based on the poem, the rest of them were all marked. The question was, “Who’s next?”
She dragged in a shaky breath and pressed her key fob. Several spaces away, the lights on her RAV4 flashed and the security system beeped. Soon she’d be loaded up and locked safely inside. From now on, she wouldn’t go anywhere without her weapon, whether on duty or not.
After sliding the box into the back of her vehicle, she straightened to shut the door. Her heart stuttered. Logan Cleary stood at the driver’s-side front quarter panel, arms crossed.
“Hello, Amber.” He pushed her name off his tongue as if it were something distasteful, then moved toward her, blocking her path to the door.
Her pulse raced and moisture coated her palms. She squared her shoulders. Whether she was armed or not, he’d have to be stupid to try accosting her at Walmart in broad daylight.
“What do you want, Logan?”
“I want a lot of things. A filet mignon dinner. Tickets to the Super Bowl.” He rested a shoulder against her vehicle. “Justice.”
“I’m sorry about Landon, but I had nothing to do with that.”
“You can’t deny those texts.”
“I invited him to hang out with us.”
“You lured him there, and your friends beat him up. What happened? Did a dare go bad? Did he cross one of you?”
“Logan, go home, or I’ll call for security.” She’d tried to talk to him shortly after Landon was killed. But he hadn’t wanted to hear it. Ten years later, he still wasn’t listening.
He pushed himself away from her vehicle. “I’ll leave you alone for now. But know this. What goes around comes around. Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually karma has her way.” He pivoted to walk away. “Two down, four to go.” Though his back was turned, the words reached her, chilling her all the way to the core.
“Is that a confession?”
He hesitated, stiffening. When he turned around, the tension was gone. The usual cockiness emanated from him. “There’s nothing for me to confess. But someone’s making sure you guys pay for what you did. I’m just waiting for it to happen.”
She climbed into her SUV but didn’t pull from the space. Two down, four to go. It hadn’t taken Logan long to realize he’d said too much. Was he taking vengeance for his brother’s death or was he waiting for someone else to do it, as he’d claimed?
She watched him cross the lot and get into a red pickup. After he drove away, she shifted her vehicle into Reverse. Landon’s death had been tragic. Whatever he’d done, he hadn’t deserved to die in the way he had. No doubt his murder had left a hole in the lives of those who loved him. A hole his twin brother would feel for the rest of his life. And she’d unwittingly played a part, however small.
The fact that she hadn’t intended Landon harm didn’t matter to Logan. He’d charged, tried and convicted her.
All over a few innocent texts.
* * *
Caleb approached the double glass doors leading into the Gathering Table, a file folder tucked under one arm. According to the text Amber had sent him, she was already inside, along with Vincent and Raymond. Olivia hadn’t arrived yet.
He stepped into the popular restaurant and scanned the large room. It wasn’t crowded. Midafternoon on a Monday, it was too late for the lunch crowd but too early for the dinner crowd.
Meeting for a meal wasn’t the usual way he conducted interviews. But these weren’t typical witnesses. They were former classmates, although more acquaintances than friends. He had a dual purpose in bringing them together: to reiterate what he’d learned about Ramona and the danger they were in, and to find out what they’d done to make themselves targets. The latter was more likely to happen in the relaxed setting of the restaurant than in an interrogation room at the station.
As he made his way toward a double table at one edge of the room, Amber held up a hand and waved. He claimed the empty chair next to her and she flashed him a friendly smile.
“You know Ray and Vince. This is Vince’s wife, Jessica.”
He extended a hand across the table. When Amber had called him to finalize plans for their meeting, she’d told him Vince’s wife would be with him. It was probably for the best. She could be in as much danger as her husband.
The glass door swung open and Olivia stepped inside. She gave an enthusiastic wave before moving toward them, shoulders back and head high. But there was tension in her features and a stiffness in her gait. The stress was wearing on her already.
She plopped into the chair next to Raymond. “Sorry I’m late. I probably had the shortest drive of any of you, and I’m the last one here. Go figure.”
They’d decided on Chiefland as the place to meet, not because Caleb lived there, but because it was the most centralized. Raymond lived thirty-five minutes south, in the small town of Inglis, and Liv was only fifteen minutes west in Bronson. Amber, of course, came from Cedar Key, also a thirty-five-minute drive.
Vincent Mahoney was the only one who’d moved away from Levy County permanently. But since he and his wife had met a customer in Chiefland earlier, the location had been convenient for them, also.
After bringing drinks, the waitress left with their order of appetizers to share.
Vincent grinned at Amber. “I was hoping for some peanut butter cookies, but they weren’t on the menu.”
“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.
