CALCULATED REVENGE

When a former classmate is murdered at Detective Caleb Lyons’s ten-year high school reunion, he knows the victim’s old group of friends are keeping secrets. That includes Cedar Key, Florida, police officer Amber Kingston. Back in school, Amber was headed for trouble, but now she’s as dedicated to the law as he is. As he works overtime to get the pretty cop to open up to him, Amber and her friends receive messages threatening payback for past deeds. And her friends keep dying...one by one. But protecting Amber and unmasking a murderer isn’t just the widowed detective’s shot at redemption—it’s his unexpected second chance at love.

Someone had tricked her into coming to the reunion, Amber realized.

Someone who wanted to make sure I’d be here.

“Amber? Are you okay?” Caleb asked.

He was staring at her, an eyebrow lifted in concern. Before she could formulate a response, a scream pierced the silence.

She shot to her feet. The scream had come from outside.

Caleb brushed past Amber at a full run before dropping to the stone walkway beside the body on the ground.

When Amber reached them, she stifled a gasp. The victim was Alex. From their old group of friends.

Caleb held up a hand. “Everyone stay back.”

She stepped forward and knelt beside him. Everyone didn’t include her. “I’m a cop.”

Amber drew in a shaky breath. First Mona, now Alex. One-third of them gone before age thirty.

“This is Detective Caleb Sutherland with the Levy County Sheriff’s Office.” Caleb spoke into the phone, his voice all cool professionalism. Detective? Caleb?

She figured he’d be a preacher or something equally righteous. Now they’d work together to solve this murder.

Murders.

Dear Reader,

I hope you’ve enjoyed our final trip to Cedar Key. I’m a little sad to leave our friends there. It’s one of my favorite places to visit, with its quaint, artsy atmosphere and friendly people.

I’ve had fun bringing you Amber and Caleb’s story. Amber grew up under the shadow of a “perfect” older brother and never felt as if she was good enough. She made some serious mistakes and carried some heavy regrets. After years of trying to earn God’s forgiveness, she finally realized grace isn’t something that can be earned; it is offered freely through Christ’s sacrifice.

Amber saw Caleb as “super Christian,” but he was carrying regrets. He’d always thought he had a strong faith, but when it was tested, he failed miserably. Though he found his way back, the road to complete trust in God was a long one. I hope one or both of these characters’ struggles spoke to you.

I would love it if you’d drop me a line. You can find me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/caroljpost.author and on Twitter @caroljpost, or visit my website www.caroljpost.com and email me at caroljpost@gmail.com. For news and fun contests, join my newsletter. The link is on my website. I promise I won’t sell your info or spam you!

God bless you!

Carol

CAROL J. POST writes fun and fast-paced inspirational romantic suspense stories and lives in sunshiny central Florida. She sings and plays the piano for her church and also enjoys sailing, hiking, camping—almost anything outdoors. Her daughters and grandkids live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of two fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dachshund.

Reunited by Danger

Carol J. Post

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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As far as the east is from the west,

so far has He removed our transgressions from us.

—Psalms 103:12

Acknowledgments

Thank you to all the people who supported me in writing this series:

All the helpful people on Cedar Key.

My wonderful critique partners, Karen Fleming and Sabrina Jarema.

My awesome editor, Giselle Regus.

My lovely agent, Nalini Akolekar.

My sweet, supportive family.

And my loving husband.

You are the best!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Just three hours and it would be over.

Amber Kingston slid into a chair at an empty table and watched the colorful crush of bodies gyrating on the dance floor. A banner hung over the stage: 10-Year Reunion in gold and blue letters. The music of Linkin Park blasted through the speakers at a volume capable of shattering glass.

Amber observed the activity from her solitary perch in the back, thankful for a few moments alone. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to spend her Saturday night. She’d come because of Ramona, who she hadn’t talked to in almost ten years. Who, a month ago, sent her a Facebook message out of the blue, begging her to come to this stupid high school reunion. Mona had said she was dying of cancer and had six months to live. She didn’t want to be remembered as the girl she’d been in high school.

Actually, Amber didn’t, either.

The music faded and another song grew to full volume within seconds. Ramona had twisted her arm to get her there and hadn’t even shown up.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The male voice close to her ear drew her gaze to the smiling face behind it. He’d slipped into the event space from a side door.

She returned the smile. “Caleb.”

He eased into the chair next to her. Though the planes of his face had matured, his eyes were still the same Caribbean Sea blue. Sandy-blond hair fell in soft layers. Little had changed since high school, but he’d acquired some mass over the past ten years, the kind that came from hard work rather than too much Southern cooking.

He leaned toward her, the closeness necessary for conversation. He even smelled nice, a light citrusy scent with hints of spice. “I hope it’s all right if I join you.”

“Totally.”

Caleb Lyons had always been nice to her. Of course, he’d been nice to everybody. Defender of the underdog. He’d lived four doors down. They’d even gone to the same church for a while. Other than that, their circles had rarely intersected, although they were in the same grade. His gang was filled with the good kids—band members, chess club participants, straight-A students, kids who never missed Sunday school or youth group because they wanted to be there. Back then she’d been sure their sole purpose in life was to make her and her friends look bad.

He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “What are you up to these days? Still living in Florida?”

“I’m a cop for Cedar Key.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound carrying over the decibels pounding from the speakers. After slapping his hand on the table a couple of times, he shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m sorry. I knew you’d have dealings with the police, but that wasn’t the kind I expected.”

The grin he flashed her tugged one out of her. “What can I say? I finally got some sense.” Fortunately she’d acquired it before any of her stupid shenanigans made it onto her adult record.

Growing up with two older brothers who were polar opposites, she’d always thought Harold’s daredevil lifestyle looked more exciting than Hunter’s straitlaced ways. Good thing she’d wised up when she had. Now Hunter was serving the people of Cedar Key alongside her, and Harold was a long-time resident of Florida State. The prison, not the school.

The music faded and the DJ took the microphone.

“Y’all having a great time?”

Shouts echoed throughout the room. After welcoming everyone, his tone turned somber.

“There are four classmates who are no longer with us. Let’s remember each with a moment of silence.”

Amber knew about the first death. It had happened two days after graduation, a murder that had rocked the small town of Chiefland. The next two names were familiar. Both had died in their early twenties. Amber didn’t know them well, but sadness wove through her anyway. The other guests apparently felt it, too. Silence hung over the room, a stark contrast to the noise that had shaken the walls less than five minutes earlier.

The DJ continued. “Lastly, in April of this year, we lost Ramona Freeborn.”

Amber’s jaw dropped as the words slammed into her. Ramona died two months ago.

So who’d sent the Facebook message in May, pretending to be Mona? And the follow-up ones, as recently as last weekend, confirming she hadn’t changed her mind about coming to the reunion?

Someone who wanted to make sure I’d be here.

The temperature in the room dropped. Or maybe the chill was internal.

“Amber? Are you okay?” Caleb sat staring at her, an eyebrow lifted in concern. Before she could formulate a response, a scream pierced the silence.

She shot to her feet, snatching her purse from the table. The scream had come from outside. Another followed it. She dashed to the nearest exit with a handful of other people. The others remained glued to their seats, their eyes wide and jaws lax.

She soon located the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the glow of the garden lights, hands pressed to her mouth. Shivers racked her body and wails escaped between her fingers.

Olivia Chamberlain. Liv. They’d been the best of friends—Amber, Liv and Mona, along with Alex, Vince and Ray—until they’d all racked up growing lists of misdemeanors and increasingly serious alcohol addictions. And a dead body.

Caleb brushed past her at a full run before dropping to the stone walkway in front of Liv. Someone was on the ground.

When Amber reached them, Caleb had his cell phone pressed to his ear. She stifled a gasp. Alex O’Dell.

Caleb held up a hand. “Everyone stay back.”

She knelt beside him. Everyone didn’t include her. “I’m a cop.” She cast the words over her shoulder and then grasped her former friend’s wrist to check for a pulse. Nothing. Judging from the awkward angle of Alex’s head, his neck was broken. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Another small trail came from his nose, both combining to form a darkening oval on the garden pavers.

Amber drew in a shaky breath. Mona, now Alex. One-third of them gone before age thirty.

“This is Detective Caleb Lyons with the Levy County Sheriff’s Office,” Caleb spoke into the phone, his voice all cool professionalism.

Detective? Caleb? She figured he’d be a preacher or something equally righteous.

He continued with the same somber tone. “We have a homicide.”

Several gasps sounded around them. “He was murdered?”

Amber looked up at the former cheerleader who’d spoken. “Any suspicious death is investigated as a homicide until foul play is ruled out.”

Alex had apparently fallen. Or been pushed. Her gaze followed the side of the stucco building to a curved balcony, its wrought-iron railing thirteen or fourteen feet up. Situated halfway between Chiefland and Bronson, the Mediterranean Revival-style structure had likely been someone’s home. But during her lifetime, it had been a venue for weddings and other events. Tonight, Amber hadn’t gone upstairs. Their group had booked only the bottom floor.

So what had Alex been doing up there?

She straightened and draped her arm across Liv’s shoulders. The wails had quieted to sniffles, but shivers still shook her body.

“Did you see what happened?”

Liv shook her head. “I hadn’t been here long.”

Amber nodded. That would explain why they hadn’t seen each other.

Liv continued. “It was so crowded inside, I came out here to be alone. That’s when I found him.”

Amber scanned those gathered. Other classmates were now filing out of the building. The police would need to talk to all of them. Of course, almost everyone had been inside, like her, and probably hadn’t seen anything.

As she studied the faces around her, one man snagged her gaze. He was standing to the side. The glow of the garden lights didn’t reach his face, but she didn’t need to see him to know he was watching her. She could feel it. The hostility rolling toward her was almost palpable.

Logan Cleary. Anytime she came back to Chiefland, she tried to avoid him. Although she hadn’t been ready to leave her friends, moving to Ocala right after graduation had been a relief.

“He blames us, you know.”

Amber started at hearing a new voice close to her ear and frowned at Vince Mahoney. “He blames me.”

“He blames all of us.”

She crossed her arms, warding off a sudden chill in spite of the balmy June night. Vince and the others were part of the gang, but she was the one who’d sent the texts, inviting Logan’s brother to join them at their hangout in the woods. Landon Cleary had been a class-A jerk. But even after she’d learned the truth, she hadn’t wanted him dead.

She dropped her arm from Liv’s shoulders and cast a glance at Alex. Caleb was doing a good job of preserving the scene. No one had ventured near the body. She started to turn away then hesitated. Something white was caught in the branches of a shrub a few feet from where Alex lay. Paper? She pressed her purse against her side, unease chewing at the edges of her mind.

When she’d been in the bathroom earlier, someone had slid a sheet of paper, folded in quarters, under the stall door. Black sequined ballet slippers and a hand covered by a black silk glove were all she’d seen. No one at the reunion was wearing either.

She put a hand on Vince’s arm. “Did someone give you a sheet of paper tonight?”

His eyes widened, providing the answer before he opened his mouth. “I was standing at the bar talking to someone. When I went to pick up my drink, a sheet of paper was sitting next to it.”

Raymond Ellis staggered up to join them. Not much had changed. He was as wasted as he’d been when they’d hung out in high school.

She turned her attention to Vince. “What did the paper say?”

“‘All of life’s pleasures surround you.’” He studied her. “You got one, too.”

She nodded. “‘A sworn public servant, you’ve answered the call.’”

“You’re a cop.”

It wasn’t a secret. When she’d first arrived, she’d caught up with everyone except Liv, and they’d filled each other in on their lives. Raymond worked as a mechanic in a tire-and-lube place, and Alex was a trim carpenter. Vince had scored big. He’d married into money and had a cushy management job in his father-in-law’s manufacturing business. He was probably enjoying some of those pleasures mentioned in his note.

Ray squinted at them. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone slipped us notes,” Amber said. “One line about each of our lives.”

“I didn’t get anything.” After patting his back pockets, Ray produced a piece of paper. His brows drew together. “I didn’t know I had this.” After unfolding the single page, he read it aloud. “‘Once you were bound, but now you’re free.’”

Vince wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ray had suddenly sobered up. “I did a couple years for drug charges. Not many people know about it. I was living in Georgia.”

Amber turned. “Liv?”

Liv spun around, eyes filled with panic. “My purse. I had it when I came into the garden.”

Amber put a hand on her shoulder. “You probably dropped it when you found Alex. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, gradually increasing in volume. When the police arrived, the contents of those notes were going into the report, regardless of what her friends wanted.

Caleb approached and handed Liv a black clutch. “It was under a bush.”

She snapped open the small bag and looked inside. “I have no idea who put this in here.”

“Wait.” Amber held up a hand. “Maybe they can get prints.” Vince, Raymond and she had already handled their notes. But Liv, and possibly Alex, hadn’t.

Ray frowned. “Someone knows a lot about us.”

“You know what’s really creepy?” Vincent lowered his voice, his tone ominous. “A month ago, someone pretending to be Mona messaged me on Facebook, begging me to come here.”

Ray’s eyes widened. “Me, too.”

Liv nodded and Amber sighed. “I think we all received the same messages.”

Flashes of blue and red tugged her gaze to the shaded drive, where two emergency vehicles moved toward them.

Someone had lured them all here. Now they each had a piece of paper bearing a single line of print.

And one of them had died tonight. Whatever had happened to Alex, the notes tied the five of them together. Monday morning, she’d ask some questions.

First would be how did Ramona Freeborn die?

* * *

Caleb opened the door to the white RAV4 and watched Amber slide into the driver’s seat. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

She gave him a tired smile. “No problem. I figured you guys could use an extra body.”

Yeah, they could have used two or three. But he and Amber, plus the four other law enforcement personnel who’d arrived, had managed to talk to everyone and get whatever information they could. Which wasn’t much. No one had seen anyone go up or down the stairs, and no one had witnessed O’Dell fall.

Now, at a few minutes past eleven, the remaining guests were back inside, a shocked sense of loss overshadowing their earlier revelry. The body had been removed, but Crime Scene was still there, combing the area for evidence.

And he was officially on the clock. After four years with Levy County, he’d finally made his goal of being assigned to the Criminal Investigations Division. But being the low guy on the totem pole, he was stuck with the night shift. He was getting used to it. Strong coffee helped.

He pulled a pen and pad from his shirt pocket. He’d retrieved both from his glove box earlier. “I can reach you through Cedar Key, but how about giving me your cell number?” When he’d finished jotting it down, he scrawled his own number and tore the sheet from the pad. “Call me with any updates.”

“I will. Please keep me in the loop.”

“You’re there whether you want to be or not. Though you and Ramona didn’t keep in touch with the old gang, you were all pretty tight in high school. These notes tie you together again. Five of you, anyway.”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The soft glow of the parking lot light illuminated the concern in her eyes. She fastened the seat belt across her lap before tugging loose the blond locks trapped by the shoulder harness. Her dress rested a few inches above her knees, the fabric a shade his designer sister would call teal. Both the hem and the neckline were more modest than ninety percent of the attire he’d seen tonight. At least on the women. She apparently wasn’t trying to draw male attention.

She’d gotten it, anyway, until she’d escaped to an empty table at the back of the room. She’d been pretty as long as he’d known her. In high school, he hadn’t been interested. He’d stayed away from girls who were bad news. And Amber Kingston had been bad news in capital letters.

Now she was an upstanding citizen. But he still wasn’t interested, for entirely different reasons.

“Be careful driving home.” He stepped aside and closed her door.

As she moved away, her taillights disappeared into the trees lining the curved drive. A minute later he was in his vehicle, following the same path. He was a little overdressed in his suit, but his plans to cut out around ten and go home to change clothes hadn’t materialized. Shedding the jacket would help.

He turned onto US 27 and released a sigh. It’d be easy to chalk up tonight’s death to another drunk being careless. They didn’t have O’Dell’s blood alcohol levels yet, but according to several people, the guy hadn’t taken it easy on the booze. People did stupid stuff when drunk. Things like sitting on balcony railings, tempting fate. Except based on the way O’Dell landed, he’d been facing outward when he began his plunge. Had he leaned too far over the railing and lost his balance?

But that didn’t explain what he was doing up there to begin with. Everyone’s testimony backed up what he remembered—O’Dell was gregarious and loud, not the type to seek out solitude. Which meant someone was lying about not being with him.

That wasn’t all that was fishy. He didn’t know about Alex, but the other former comrades in crime had all received Facebook messages from someone posing as Ramona, claiming to have cancer. Was that what had killed the real Ramona or had it been something more sinister?

By the time he reached the sheriff’s office in Bronson fifteen minutes later, he’d come up with a dozen questions and zero answers. On his way to his office, he poked his head into a doorway.

“Learn anything yet?”

Detective Frank Mason shifted his gaze from the computer screen. “Alex O’Dell apparently kept his nose clean. Nothing on his record but a couple of speeding tickets. He’s worked for Zanardi Construction since 2012. In the morning, we’ll talk to his neighbors, friends and family members to see if he had any enemies.”

“Have you checked out Ramona Freeborn yet?”

“Haven’t had a chance.” The desk chair squeaked as Mason shifted position. Built like a linebacker, his girth filled it. No one would mess with Frank Mason, even without the pistol at his side.

Caleb rested his palm on the doorjamb. “I’ll see what I can find.”

He moved down the hall toward his office. Amber had given him a middle name and date of birth. According to the fake Facebook profile, Ramona lived in Fort Lauderdale. That at least gave him a starting point.

He slid into the swivel chair and removed the notepad from his pocket. While waiting for his computer to boot up, he skimmed his notes, pausing to reread one line.

“The day is sunny and skies are blue.” The words were from the paper Crime Scene had retrieved from Olivia Chamberlain’s purse. If that was meant to describe Liv, the meaning was pretty obscure. Maybe she was naturally a cheerful person. He hadn’t seen it tonight.

The message found near Alex made more sense. Sort of. “The kids all adore you, their referee.” Alex was a coach, not a referee. Whoever had written it may have not known the difference.

He jumped to Vincent Mahoney’s line before flipping the page back. “The day is sunny and skies are blue. All of life’s pleasures surround you.” Did the five lines form a poem?

He grabbed a legal pad and scrawled what he’d read. Two other lines rhymed. After writing the fifth, he scanned the page.

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.

His brow creased. A line was missing, the final word rhyming with call. But no one else had received a note. He and other law enforcement had asked the question of everyone at the reunion.

He reached for the mouse. Ramona Freeborn. The sixth friend. Had she received a mysterious message, making up the last line of the poem? He leaned forward and, after a couple of clicks, started typing.

During the next several minutes he found two Ramona Freeborns, one much older and the other slightly younger. When a third one came up, his pulse quickened. The date of birth matched. And she’d lived in Fort Lauderdale. As he read, a lead weight settled in his gut.

Ramona Freeborn had been murdered.

Investigative records provided details. Her body had been found in the woods five miles from where she’d lived. She’d disappeared late in the evening from her home, where she resided alone, having been divorced for nine months. There’d been no sign of forced entry. She’d either known the killer or had stepped outside and been abducted.

He moved on to the evidence list. Nothing of significance had been found at the house. In the woods, about ten feet from the body, lay a bloody wooden baseball bat. He’d seen some gruesome things in the line of duty, but the pictures that followed sent bile surging up his throat. Someone had beat Ramona to a bloody pulp.

More reports came after the initial one. Interviews with neighbors who’d seen nothing. Statements from coworkers saying they couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. Even her ex had nothing negative to say, claiming their divorce had been amicable, a fact supported by several of her friends.

There was another piece of evidence—a sheet of paper, apparently carried by the wind and lodged in some underbrush outside the initial crime scene perimeter. As he read the words, a cold blanket of dread covered him.

The missing line of the poem.

He reached for the phone but hesitated. Amber would be asleep. But first thing tomorrow, he’d make the call. He had to warn her and her friends.

Because this final line changed everything.

TWO

Amber 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.

THREE

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.

Ten years later everything had changed, yet nothing had. She was a responsible adult, living an upstanding life, and Hunter was still telling her what to do.

“Come on, Amber.” He wasn’t yelling but his voice was raised beyond its usual mellow tone. “This guy has already killed two people. You’re on the list.”

“I’m armed.”

“It won’t matter if he takes you out from behind.”

She slid into the seat and gripped the wheel. Whatever had made her think she could work alongside her older brother without him trying to micromanage her life?

Hunter lowered his voice. “I’m not trying to control you. I just don’t want you taking unnecessary chances. Most of what we do is pretty safe. But if you get any weird calls, respond with backup.”

She released her grip on the wheel. He was right. Someone had tried to get her alone and she’d almost played into his hands. Those last moments before Hunter and Wade arrived, she’d been scared. Whoever was after her and the others wasn’t going to stop until he was caught. Or they were all dead.

“All right.” She heaved a sigh. “If I’m not driving around town, answering touristy questions and keeping people from speeding, I’ll make sure I’m with someone.”

Hunter’s mouth curved into a relieved smile. “Thank you. I’ll breathe much easier.”

She closed the door and watched him walk to the SUV. He only got into her business because he loved her. And she loved him, although he annoyed her sometimes.

She started the car and made her way toward downtown. Her shift would soon be over. She’d go by the station, write up her report then head for home.

When she pulled into her driveway thirty minutes later, three of her cats were sitting in the front windows, having weaved in behind the vertical blind slats. Tippy occupied a windowsill by herself. Smokey and Ash, the gray sisters, shared the second. Cimba and Shadow were likely sleeping on the couch.

Of the five, only Tippy was hers. The other four were visitors, cats she was fostering for Sheltering Hands. Over the past several months, a dozen others had passed through her place on their way to forever homes.

She retrieved her purse from the passenger seat and her gaze slid across the lower right-hand corner of the windshield. Something white was tucked under the tip of the wiper blade.

As she stepped from the vehicle, dread trickled over her. No one seemed to be watching, but she couldn’t be sure. Woods lined Hodges Avenue and most of the streets running off it—165th Terrace was no exception. Maybe she should have rented something a little more open.

She moved to the back of the RAV4 to retrieve a pair of latex gloves. What lay jammed beneath the wiper blade wasn’t an advertisement or note from someone she knew. It had been placed too inconspicuously. It was folded in eighths, its size and location almost guaranteeing she’d be the one to discover it. In fact, she’d almost missed it herself.

After donning the gloves, she pulled the paper from the glass and took it inside the house.

Block print filled the page. Six lines. As she read what she held, her blood turned to ice.

She laid the sheet on the table and took her phone from her purse. She could call Caleb directly and leave Hunter out of it. No, Caleb was probably asleep, getting his rest before going in to work all night. She needed to go through the proper channels, which meant reporting it to her own police department.

When she opened the door several minutes later, Hunter frowned at her. “What’s going on?”

“Come in and I’ll show you.” She led him to the table and pointed to the sheet of paper. “Someone slipped this under my wiper blade at the station.”

As he read, she followed along.

One by one, the days tick by.

One by one, the moments fly.

One by one, plans are set.

One by one, goals are met.

One by one, mistakes are made.

And one by one, debts are paid.

Hunter’s eyes met hers. He was still frowning. “What do you think it means?”

“Like the other poem, it’s referencing our successes.”

“And the mistakes?”

“Ramona’s mistake was opening the door. For Alex, it was venturing up on that balcony.”

“And with each death, a debt was paid.”

Her gaze dipped to the page. “I wonder if the others got this.”

“If not, I’m even more concerned.”

Her eyes again locked with his. “Why?”

“It might mean you’re next.”

* * *

Caleb dried his plate and put it in the cupboard. Voices drifted to him from the living room, an evening sitcom he had no intention of watching. But conversation, no matter how senseless, made the house feel less lonely.

He closed the cabinet door and left the kitchen. He’d finished dinner. Or maybe it would be breakfast, since he’d gotten up only two hours ago. When most of the eastern US was getting ready for bed, his day was just starting. Eventually he’d put in for days. But after several weeks, he was pretty used to the backward schedule.

When he came into the living room, a set of green eyes and a pair of dark brown ones followed him. He walked toward the recliner and excitement rippled along the dog’s back. Rescued a year ago, Kira was a beagle mix who loved cuddling, chasing squirrels and eating, in that order. As soon as his body met the leather surface, the dog landed in his lap with a whoomph.

He laughed and scratched her neck. “Good thing you’re not a Saint Bernard or I’d be in trouble.”

Not willing to share a lap with a dog, Tess jumped onto the arm of the recliner and began to purr. Caleb slid his fingers through her silky gray fur before reaching for the remote. As usual, he’d brought work home. One file sat on the kitchen table, still open from where he’d been reading it at dinnertime. The other was on the end table next to him. Sometimes things that eluded him at the station came to him in the comfort of his home. Reviewing work also made a great way to pass the evening.

He lowered the volume on the TV and laid down the remote. But instead of reaching for the file, he shifted his weight under Kira’s white, tan and black body to pull his cell phone from its pouch. He didn’t have anything new to tell Amber. When he’d gone in last night, he’d relayed what she and her friends had told him about Logan. Someone would make contact with him today.

Caleb had also printed the investigative reports connected with Landon Cleary’s murder. Nothing had jumped out at him. Amber and her friends had given statements. Each person’s story confirmed the others’. One hundred percent. Either they were all telling the truth or they’d coordinated everything before giving their statements to police. Caleb’s gut told him it was the latter. Something was fishy. Raymond’s actions at the Gathering Table had confirmed it.

Caleb had phoned him last night. Judging from the man’s slurred speech, the call had caught him well into his evening binge. That should have worked in Caleb’s favor. But Raymond had stuck by the same line he’d given after Vincent’s warning glare. The booze hadn’t loosened his tongue at all. He obviously functioned well while drunk.

Caleb brought up his contacts and scrolled to where Amber Kingston was listed first. After their meeting yesterday, he’d finally programmed her number into his phone. She was his main contact, the one most likely to tell him what he wanted to know. She was directly involved and had an inside link with the others. And she was fellow law enforcement. It made sense to stay in close touch with her.

As he pressed the call icon, his pulse picked up a notch. Okay, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit it. He was keeping in touch with her for all the professional reasons, but she intrigued him, too. Former bad girl turned cop. Expressive green eyes that revealed her emotions but shielded her secrets. An air that radiated confidence but a sense of regret that ran beneath the surface.

She answered with a “Hi, Caleb” instead of a generic hello. Maybe she’d programmed him into her phone, too.

Kira shifted in his lap. “You still awake?”

“For about another twenty minutes. What are you up to?”

“Sitting in my recliner buried under twenty-five pounds of canine sweetness.”

“Aww. I like dogs, but I’m more of a cat person.”

“I have one of those, too.”

“I have...more than one.” She paused. “Do they get along, your dog and cat?”

“I don’t know if get along is the right way to describe it. They tolerate one another. I already had Tess, my cat, when I rescued Kira, so Kira’s cool with cats. She just doesn’t like other dogs. But I think Tess still hasn’t fully forgiven me.”

“She’ll get over it. Eventually. Cats can hold a grudge for a long time.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He stroked Tess’s back and she stretched, front paws working in a kneading motion. “Have you talked to anyone since our meeting yesterday afternoon?”

“Liv called.”

“What did she say?”

“She was scared. She wanted to know what I was doing to stay safe. I told her I’m being careful, keeping my eyes and ears open and my door locked, trying not to go out alone at night. Sleeping with my gun. Liv said she doesn’t have one anymore.”

“Liv had a gun?”

“In high school she had a rifle. She took lessons and competed. She was pretty good. Won a lot of ribbons. Used to regularly beat out the boys.”

It was hard to picture Liv focused enough to be that competitive. “Maybe she should consider getting one again.” He switched the phone to his other ear. “Did you talk to anyone else?”

“Nope, just Liv.”

“I don’t have anything new to add, either. I did learn the FBI is getting involved. With those notes tying you six together, and the obvious threat in Ramona’s, everyone’s treating these as serial killings.”

“That’s probably good. The more people looking at this, the better.”

Kira stood to change her position. After rotating a quarter turn, she plopped down, her back against his belly, and he once again appreciated her smaller size. He ran a hand along her side and she released a contented sigh. “How was work today?”

“Interesting.”

“Since Cedar Key isn’t a hot spot for crime, I take it something out of the ordinary happened.”

“I responded to a call, a woman screaming for help. When I arrived, I heard movement in the woods. Someone even said ‘help me.’ But whoever it was, never showed.”

His chest tightened. “Do you think it was a hoax, a way to lure you into the woods alone?”

“It’s pretty suspicious. First, whoever called said they wanted to remain anonymous. Nothing came up for the number, either. Probably a disposable cell. On the 911 recording, the voice was too raspy to even tell whether it was a man or woman.”

She drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. “There are a few houses in the area. No one reported hearing screams. When I left the station, someone had put a note on my windshield.”

“What kind of note?”

“A poem, six lines, the same rhyme pattern as the other one. Each line started with ‘one by one,’ ending with ‘And one by one, debts are paid.’”

He swallowed hard. His stomach had twisted into a knot. “You need to be extra careful.”

“I am. When I heard someone in the woods, I called for backup right away.”

He finished the thought for her. “And went in without waiting for them to get there.”

He couldn’t blame her. He’d have done the same thing. When someone was in trouble, he jumped in with both feet. Had all his life.

She didn’t respond and he continued. “You probably shouldn’t handle any calls like that alone.”

“You been talking to Hunter?” She gave a wry laugh. “He works for Cedar Key, too, and insists on playing the part of protective big brother.”

Caleb smiled. Hunter had been five years ahead of them in school, but Caleb remembered him from the neighborhood. “In this case, you should probably listen.” He paused briefly. “Any idea what Raymond was going to say before Vincent shut him up?”

“You noticed that, too.” She sighed. “No idea. If any of them laid a hand on Landon, they’ve never breathed a word of it. Liv was with me, and everyone else has maintained that they left before Landon got there. I’ve never had reason to doubt them. We weren’t the best kids, but we weren’t killers.”

The sincerity in her tone resonated with something deep inside him. She was telling the truth. Whatever happened, she hadn’t been a part of it. An unexpected lightness filled his chest.

But the others had apparently kept something from her. They might not be capable of murder, but what about a prank gone wrong?

“If anyone hints otherwise, will you let me know?”

“Of course.”

Caleb glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to take Kira out before I leave. I always keep her on a leash. The squirrels in the neighborhood thank me.”

Amber laughed. “I hope I get to meet her sometime.”

Not gonna happen. It wasn’t like he’d be inviting her over for pizza and movies. The only women who visited his personal space were his sister and his mother. He didn’t believe in setting up impossible expectations.

After disconnecting the call, he removed a reluctant dog from his lap. Tess relinquished her place on the padded arm and jumped down, rather than waiting for him to disturb her. They were great company, but intelligent conversation was lacking. Though the TV dispelled the silence, it never quite chased away the loneliness.

Eventually he’d be ready to risk his heart again. But when the time came, it would be with someone he could keep safe, not a woman whose job put her in potential danger every day. The world was a nasty place. He’d experienced the worst it had to offer firsthand.

When he arrived at the station, he got caught up on everything that had transpired since he’d ended his shift the prior night. Logan Cleary had an alibi for the night Ramona Freeborn was killed, an ex-girlfriend he’d spent the weekend with. A married ex-girlfriend whose husband had been out of town. Since Danielle had a whole lot to lose if her indiscretion was made public, he was inclined to believe her.

So if Logan was behind the killings, he wasn’t working alone. Who would be willing to take up his vendetta? Someone who cared a lot for him. Likely someone they all knew.

Caleb sat in his office chair and pulled out the reports he’d printed last night. The time of death was set between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. Someone had used the boy as a punching bag, then struck him in the head with a rock. Said rock was lying nearby, along with some others scattered around. The medical examiner had ruled out the possibility Landon had been running and had fallen. Otherwise he’d have thrust his hands out in front of him, leaving scrapes and debris. But his palms had been clean. His knees, too.

Although the cause of death was clear, they’d never been able to nail down the perpetrators. The boys and Ramona had said they’d left the woods at around twelve thirty. Amber and Liv had left thirty minutes earlier.

Raymond’s parents had said he had a 1:00 a.m. curfew and had made it home with time to spare. Vincent and Alex had met a friend at Strickland Park, all three boys’ statements putting them there well before one. Liv claimed to have gone home after dropping Amber off but had no one to corroborate her story. Ramona hadn’t, either. She’d supposedly sneaked back into her house at twelve forty-five without disturbing anyone.

Amber hadn’t been so lucky. While climbing in her bedroom window, she’d slipped and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. According to the statement her parents gave, this had happened shortly after midnight. From everything he knew about them, they were probably telling the truth. He wasn’t sure about Alex and Vincent’s friend, though.

He pulled up the transcript of his statement. The friend’s name was Steve Wilkins, likely in the same graduating class as the others, according to his date of birth. When Caleb ran his information through the database, several pages of arrests came up. The guy had been in trouble from the time he’d graduated until about two years ago, which made him a pretty shaky witness for Alex and Vincent.

So that left only Amber and Raymond with airtight alibis. He pulled two statements from underneath the stack and laid them on top of Wilkins’s. Theodore and Donna Ellis. He had no reason to doubt Raymond’s parents’ words, but typed their names into the search field anyway. They were both clean.

He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger. What were the four of them hiding? What would Raymond have spilled if Vincent’s subtle warning hadn’t shut him up?

He entered Raymond’s name. Besides the Georgia drug charge he’d done time for, he had a couple of DUIs and a Trespassing. That was all.

Was there someone Raymond may have talked to, someone outside their group? A close friend? A family member?

He had an older brother who’d been two years ahead of them in school. What was his name? Ronald. He’d gone by Ron. On a whim, Caleb typed in Ronald Ellis’s name, then scrolled through the lengthy record. His charges began shortly after he’d turned eighteen—two that year, three the following year... Caleb’s gaze snapped back to one of the dates. June 3. Landon Cleary’s date of death. It couldn’t have been related. There’d been no arrests made in connection with Cleary’s death.

Caleb clicked to pull up the record. Possession. He’d been stopped at 1:46 a.m. due to a nonfunctioning tag light. After finding crack cocaine in the console, the officer had arrested Ronald and had him booked into Levy County Detention. A passenger had been released.

A passenger by the name of Raymond Ellis.

Caleb looked at the time of arrest again, then picked up Theodore Ellis’s statement. Ronald had been stopped at 1:46 a.m. Raymond had been with him.

But Raymond’s parents had stated he was home before one.

Raymond’s parents had lied.

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