“Everything okay?”
That probably wasn’t a good question. Where Liv was concerned, things were never okay. Once the killer was found and brought to justice, maybe she could get back to her therapist and find help for her problems.
The other shoulder came up this time. “I was thinking about Landon.”
“You seem to do a lot of that.”
“Don’t you?” She looked off into the distance. “You should.”
“Pardon me?”
“I mean, you were dating him, right?”
“No. Remember? He’d asked me out. We hadn’t had our first date. Once I found out about what he did to you, there’s no way I would’ve gone out with him.”
Liv crossed her arms. “Were you in love with him?” The question sounded almost accusatory.
“No. I was interested in him, like every other girl in the school. But I wasn’t in love with him. I was surprised when he asked me out.”
Liv nodded slowly, as if trying to make sense of the answer. Or maybe she was reading between the lines, searching for hidden meanings. There weren’t any.
For the next several seconds a sort of brooding silence stretched between them. That was typical of Liv. Her emotions bounced all over the spectrum.
Amber stood, ready to go to the kitchen in search of a healthy midafternoon snack.
Before she reached the open doorway, Liv’s voice stopped her.
“Landon was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.”
Amber did a double-take. “Whatever punishment he deserved is governed by our justice system, but anyone who would rape a woman is not a good man.”
“But...”
Amber walked toward Liv then stopped to look down at her from the other side of the coffee table. “But what?”
“I don’t remember.” Liv picked up the remote and clicked on the TV, indicating the conversation was over.
Fine. She’d just read. Or maybe she’d listen to Caleb’s sermon CD. She wasn’t likely to hear anything life-changing, but learning she’d listened to it would make Caleb happy.
It beat zoning out in front of the TV. There was no satellite here, not even cable. The flat plate mounted on the wall was one step up from the old-fashioned rabbit ears. It gave them a few choices—if they didn’t mind some snow and static.
Amber picked up the laptop and retrieved the CD from the stack of movies on the corner of the coffee table. Caleb would be there in a couple of hours with pizza and salad fixings. Meanwhile, she’d grab some baby carrots and go chill in her room.
* * *
A few minutes later she was stretched out on the bed, hands folded over her stomach, eyes closed. The paper towel that had held the carrots was wadded up on the nightstand and Caleb’s laptop sat open beside her on the bed.
A commanding bass voice came from the laptop’s speaker as Caleb’s pastor read. Jesus and his disciples were at the last supper when Jesus predicted one of them would betray him. That would have been Judas. Anyone who’d ever sat through a Palm Sunday or Easter service probably knew the story.
The chapter ended with Peter swearing he was ready to die for Christ. The guy had been a little overconfident. She knew what happened next. While Jesus was being tried, Peter was in the courtyard warming himself by the fire. Three different times, Peter denied even knowing Jesus. That was another part of the Easter story.
Sure enough, the pastor skipped to John 18 to read all the incriminating details. Poor Peter. Failures memorialized for generations to come.
She drew in a breath and let it out in a relaxed sigh. This was turning out to be more interesting than she’d expected, which maybe was nothing more than a testament to how bored she was. But she had to agree with Caleb. His pastor was a good speaker. The deep, smooth voice with lots of inflection and interesting commentary held her attention. This was no dry recitation of scripture.
After reading another passage wherein the resurrected Jesus gave Peter the opportunity to confess his love, the pastor wrapped up his message, summarizing his points.
“No matter how awful your past may be, Jesus is ready to not only forgive you, but also to restore you. But you have to be completely honest about where you are.”
Where was she right now? Racked with guilt, still unable to let it go ten years later.
And trying to do enough good to atone for all her past wrongs. Just as Caleb had said. She could no longer deny it.
Last week Hunter’s pastor had preached about David, how he’d messed up royally but still found his way back. This afternoon it was Peter.
There was also Caleb’s story. Like Peter, maybe he’d been overconfident. Whatever the cause, he’d suffered his own failures.
Sunday, she’d wondered if God was trying to tell her something. Now the answer seemed like a definitive yes.
In the span of seven days, God had given her three life-changing examples. The stories were different, but the basic pattern was the same—failure, forgiveness, restoration. It was exactly what she needed.
Could she do it? Could she let go of the wrong she’d done when the consequences were all around her? Could she find a way back to the faith of her early childhood?
A light clicked on in her brain and she unclasped her hands to push herself to an upright position. Yes she could.
Actually she’d been trying. But she’d gone about it all wrong. Nothing she could do would make her worthy of forgiveness. She could see it now. All the hours she spent doing good, the time was never wasted. But it didn’t do anything to get her one step closer to God or to cancel out a single one of her past mistakes.
Only one thing could do that. Forgiveness was being offered freely, because Christ loved her enough to pay the ultimate price.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood then dropped to her knees. In that pose of humility, it finally came together, everything she’d learned in her childhood. She surrendered it all to God—her will, her regrets, her mistakes.
When she rose to her feet, she was a changed person. For the first time in over ten years the burden of guilt was gone, replaced with a sense of peace. She wasn’t naive enough to believe life would be perfect from then on. But right now, nothing could dim her joy.
She had to share. What she’d found was exactly what Liv needed.
She hurried from the room and bounded down the stairs. When she entered the living room, Liv was pushing herself to a seated position, her eyes still half closed. Amber had apparently interrupted one of her naps.
Liv wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’ve never been—” She swallowed the rest of her words as Liv’s frown deepened. This wouldn’t be the best time to talk to her. She’d be much more receptive when she was in a better mood. But she had to tell someone.
Caleb. No, he’d probably already left his house by now. She wouldn’t call him while he was driving.
Her parents. They’d be as happy as Caleb. They’d both sent up a lot of tearful prayers over the past fifteen years.
She headed toward the foyer to go back upstairs, where she wouldn’t disturb Liv. Too bad she didn’t have anything appropriate to celebrate with. Because that was exactly what she felt like doing. A big party, complete with cake and ice cream. Or chocolate. Dark chocolate.
She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Did you bring any of that chocolate with you?”
Liv opened one eye. She’d already lain down again. “There’s a half bar in my purse. It’s on my nightstand.”
Amber took the steps two at a time. At Liv’s closed door, she hesitated. Walking into her room felt like an invasion of her privacy. But if Liv had had a problem with it, she’d have gotten the chocolate herself. Or she’d have said she didn’t have any. Liv obviously didn’t have any q
ualms about lying.
Amber opened the door and when she stepped into the room, she let out a low whistle. She was no neat freak, but considering they’d only been there two days, the room was a disaster. Makeup and hair products were spread out across the dresser, and every piece of clothing Liv had brought with her, lay scattered about the room.
Amber picked up Liv’s pajamas and laid them on the bed before stepping up to the nightstand. Her purse was there, along with four prescription medicine bottles and a journal. Writing out her thoughts and feelings was probably therapeutic for Liv.
Hopefully she was doing it. Amber cracked the book open to peek inside.
Yes, Liv was using the journal. The page was half filled, six lines, anyway. But this wasn’t a typical journal entry. It was a poem.
She opened the book fully. She’d had no intention of snooping through Liv’s things, but something unsettling chewed at the edges of her mind. She scanned the words.
The darkness weaves a path right to my heart,
A thick, inky poison that will not part.
It travels higher to capture my mind,
A smothering blanket that leaves me blind.
I’m trapped inside the blackest of night.
Then blood flows—a glimmer of light.
Amber’s skin prickled and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
A poem. Six lines. Was this left by the killer in a note to Liv and she wrote about it, transferring the poem to her journal? Or had Liv written the poem herself?
Amber picked up the journal and turned the page. It was another poem, same rhyming style as the one before it. And every bit as dark and disturbing. Amber flipped two more pages and read their contents, her mind trying to untangle what this meant while at the same time searching for an alternative to the obvious.
Liv couldn’t be the killer. She’d gotten the same threats as the rest of them. Whoever had targeted the others had also targeted Liv. He’d made threatening phone calls. He’d tried to break into her house. He’d even fired shots into her window.
All this according to Liv. Had the reports been fabricated? Was she the one who’d fired the shots? She could have been. No one had witnessed any of the incidents.
Amber plopped the journal onto the bedside stand. She could deny it no longer.
Liv was the killer.
Amber whirled around.
Liv stood in the open doorway, her left index finger over her mouth in a command to be silent.
Her right hand held a pistol.
* * *
Caleb pulled out of the ABC Pizza parking lot, his stomach rumbling. Tantalizing aromas wafted to him from the passenger seat.
He’d ordered two large pizzas with everything on them. They could each have their fill tonight and the ladies would have some leftover for lunch tomorrow.
A traffic light ahead changed and he slowed to a stop, glancing in the rearview mirror. Through the next two turns, he did the same thing, keeping a diligent watch behind him. No one appeared to be following him.
He heaved a sigh. This was his third trip to his aunt and uncle’s place. He’d even driven to Amber’s house to check out the progress of the investigation. The official report wasn’t available yet, but the fire was looking more and more like arson.
Wherever he’d gone, no one had paid him a bit of attention. If the killer didn’t make a move soon, they’d have to do something different. His aunt and uncle had agreed to take the house off the market temporarily. But he couldn’t expect them to do it forever.
Besides, Amber’s patience was going to eventually run out, if not with Liv, then with the entire situation. She was more than ready to return to her normal life—her job with Cedar Key, her foster cats, her work with the hospice. Being idle was about to drive her crazy. They needed to get this thing solved.
So far, they had four bodies and no suspect. Except Logan, who hadn’t had any involvement in the last two murders. At least, not directly.
They needed to think outside the box, beyond the obvious, and turn any preconceived notions upside down. The first assumption they’d made was that the killer was someone they knew.
That was likely correct. They not only knew the killer, but knew him closely enough for at least one of them to have felt comfortable talking. Or maybe Logan had put someone up to it. But why would anyone want to take up someone else’s vendetta?
They’d made another assumption on a more subconscious level. They usually referred to the killer in the masculine. But did it have to be a man?
Ramona had been beaten brutally, but even someone slight of frame could do a lot of damage wielding a baseball bat. Alex had fallen from a balcony. He was tall, six foot five. His center of gravity would have been well above the height of the wrought-iron railing. If he’d been leaning over the edge, as inebriated as he was, a weaker person could have pushed him to his death.
Then there was Vincent, lured into the woods and shot. Armed, the suspect wouldn’t need size or strength. But how had Vincent gotten into that position in the first place? His car had checked out fine, so he’d apparently stopped willingly, which would support the assumption he’d known and trusted the killer.
Last was Raymond. The killer had taken out the deputy first then gone in pursuit of Raymond, who’d likely panicked and lost control of his car. To take out a cop in a moving vehicle, the killer was obviously an expert shot. Being ex-military, Logan had the skills. But he’d been nowhere in the area at the time of the deputy’s murder. As far as Caleb knew, none of his other classmates were expert marksmen, except a couple who’d gone into law enforcement.
And Liv. According to Amber, Liv had been an excellent shot in high school, had done a lot of competing and won ribbons. But she no longer had a gun. Supposedly.
Liv wasn’t right, though. Amber had told him she carried a lot of guilt over what happened to Landon, even though she’d had no part in his death. Could the guilt have broken her?
He stifled a snort. Now he was grasping at straws. Liv was one of the victims, not the suspect. Besides, after being raped, she shouldn’t hold any kinds of warm feelings toward Landon.
But she obviously did.
The image of an inked design slid into his mind. A treble clef wrapped her initials. According to Amber, Liv didn’t play an instrument or sing. But Landon had been in the band all through high school and had signed Amber’s yearbook with a treble clef after his name.
Had Liv been in love with Landon Cleary and that was why she’d wrapped her initials in his symbol? Whoever heard of having one’s own initials tattooed on one’s body, anyway?
Caleb’s eyes widened and he gripped the wheel more tightly. Maybe LC didn’t stand for Liv Chamberlain. Maybe it was for Landon Cleary. A permanent remembrance of the man she’d loved and lost.
He jammed on the brakes and pulled off the road, then grabbed his phone. As he swiped the screen, his hand shook. Liv was possibly the killer. And Amber was alone with her.
No, she wasn’t alone. Along with law enforcement personnel parked down the road and hiding in the woods, one was also in the house. Besides...
He dropped his hand to his lap. Liv had been as closely guarded as Amber, at least during Raymond’s murder and the shooting of the deputy watching him. During the Fourth of July, when someone had come out to Amber’s uncle’s ranch, Liv had been confined in her house, sick with the flu, two deputies outside. She couldn’t have been involved in either incident.
He pulled back onto the road and stepped on the gas. There was something he was missing.
Something important.
During his years on the force, he’d learned to go with his gut. And right now his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. No matter how he tried to rationalize it away, he couldn’t deny the sense of uneasiness hanging ov
er him.
A premonition that wouldn’t go away.
* * *
Amber’s mind spun, the persuasive words she needed lost somewhere in the maelstrom of shock, hurt and fear. “Why?”
Liv stepped inside and closed the door. It made the softest click, but there was something terrifying about the sound. Liv leaned against the wooden surface, her feet shoulder-width apart, weapon aimed at Amber’s torso.
Amber’s was on her hip. But if she attempted to draw it, Liv would put a bullet through her chest before the pistol even left its holster.
“To right a wrong.”
Yeah, she’d gathered that from the poems. “That’s what the guys were trying to do. They were trying to make Landon pay for what he did to you. But they didn’t mean to kill him. You said that yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter. They were still to blame. But that’s not why they had to die.”
It isn’t? If not for killing Landon, why?
“Eight months ago, I ran into Vincent. When I saw him looking so happy with his pretty wife and fancy car, it did something to me. All these years I’d been tormented, but he’d moved on without giving Landon’s death a second thought. I had to see if the rest of you had done the same thing.”
As Liv spoke, Amber angled her body slightly away from Liv and moved her right hand toward her hip one slow inch at a time. She might not be able to draw her weapon before Liv decided to shoot, but the closer she could get, the better chance she’d have. Fractions of seconds counted.
“I went to see Mona first.” Liv’s gaze dipped to Amber’s arm. “Keep your hands where I can see them. Better yet, raise them. Reach for the ceiling.”
Amber complied. Liv pressed the barrel of the pistol into Amber’s chest and unsnapped the holster.
“You won’t be needing this anymore.” Without taking her eyes from Amber’s face, she withdrew the weapon from its case and walked backward to the dresser. Then she dropped the gun inside a drawer and pushed it closed.
“Okay. You can put your hands down. Now, back to Mona. She’d gotten a promotion at work and was dating a new guy. She invited me to have dinner with them. She was radiant. It was sickening.”
Reunited by Danger Page 16