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,