Unmasking the Shadow Man

by Debbie Herbert

  She motioned to the table, and they sat down, this time side by side. She was hyperaware of his arms and shoulders so close to her own. Harper gripped her coffee mug with both hands to resist an impulse to reach out and touch Liam. “What about your family?” she ventured. “How long have you lived in Baysville?”

  A contented smile washed over his face. “I have a huge family. Three brothers and two sisters. Most of them live in Arlington.”

  “Parents still living?”

  “Yep. Both still kicking.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  A heartbeat of silence fell between them, a locked gaze that lasted a second too long to be casual. Liam scooted his chair. “Time for me to get moving. You going to be okay here by yourself?”

  “Yes, of course.” They both rose at the same time, and Harper almost sighed. It would be ridiculous to start anything with her moving so soon, and she wasn’t into one-night stands. Damn it.

  “What the hell?” Liam frowned and strode toward the back window of the kitchen.

  “What is it?”

  “Look outside.”

  Dutifully, she walked over and stood beside him. An elliptical flashlight beam pierced the marshlands abutting the far side of her property. Liam hurried out onto the back porch, and Harper grabbed the flashlight she always kept on the chifforobe for emergencies. By the time she joined up with Liam, they were halfway across her yard.

  “Get back,” he ordered. “I’ll check it out.”

  “Alone?”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Shouldn’t you at least call a dispatcher before you take off to investigate potential danger?”

  “It’s one person with a flashlight. And I have my cell phone on me. Not to mention a sidearm. Stay inside,” he added. “Until I’m sure the area’s safe.”

  But instead she fell into step behind him. “I’d feel safer with you.”

  They walked away from the lights of town and into the dark silence of the marshes. Cordgrass leaves brushed against her thighs, and her sneakers sank slightly into the muck covered by black needlerush. In the distance, flowing river water lapped against the shore, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuated the night. Moonbeams glowed silver on the tips of cypress trees and wax myrtles.

  Again, the inky blackness was pierced by a flashlight beam, but it was farther away now.

  “Whoever it was, they’re leaving,” she whispered.

  Liam turned her flashlight on full beam and directed it toward whoever had been lurking. “Damn. If I thought I could trust you not to run after me, I’d give chase.”

  “Good thing I’m here, then.”

  He shot her a severe frown. “I’m going in a little closer anyway to see what he might have been up to.”

  “We’re getting near the railroad tracks. Probably a vagrant wandering the area.”

  “Awful brave of him, considering the several recent murders.”

  “Several?” she asked in alarm.

  “Over the past ten years, six have been reported. All were vagrants. You weren’t aware of this?”

  “I’d heard of a couple over the years, but I didn’t realize there were so many. That’s awful. Have they been fighting among themselves, like some sort of gang war?”

  “That’s one theory,” he said drily.

  “I take it that’s not your favorite theory.”

  The rev of an engine sounded from far away, but no headlights appeared.

  “Think that’s our flashlight man—or woman?” she asked.

  “If it is, he’s definitely up to no good.”

  “Or she,” Harper remarked. “I’m an equal-opportunity crime theorist.”

  “Fine. You go home and theorize up a storm. Can you see well enough to make it back?”

  “Sure. I left the porch light on.”

  “Great. I’m going to investigate.”

  She’d said she could see the way home, but not that she’d obey. “Be careful,” she answered, turning around and taking a few steps. Once Liam was out of sight, she stopped and waited. Better to be here and learn what he’d found firsthand than to sit at home waiting and wondering. And no doubt every tiny rustle in the house would set her imagination down a fearful path she was sick of traveling.

  Headlights beamed from far off, appearing for an instant and then vanishing along the winding county road out of town.

  Harper shivered and wished she’d thought to grab a jacket from the porch. Liam moved quickly through the marsh, the flashlight beam set on high and shining in an arc over the wetland field. Whatever was out there, she hoped it wasn’t dangerous. She wished they would return to her house and call for backup—in case of trouble.

  A hoot owl screeched, and chills bristled her skin. According to legend, the night’s predatory raptor had cried a message of death.

  Chapter Three

  There. He’d almost stepped on the prone body lying facedown in the boggy soil. Liam shone his light on the victim, automatically categorizing details—Caucasian male, approximately six feet tall, long brown hair, wearing jeans, army boots and a flannel jacket shredded in the back upper torso area. Beneath the jagged slits, blood oozed from multiple lacerations.

  It fit the pattern.

  As he’d told Harper, this had been going on for years. Whoever the murderer was, he was smart enough to space the crimes out. The choice of victims was calculated, too. Usually, the homeless had cut ties with their families, and no one would report them missing for years—if ever. It was entirely possible that his missing uncle Teddy had met a similarly violent end in the backwoods of some small town. Perhaps even this one. Liam shook off the speculation to focus on his duty. Before he called out a team, he wanted to take a good look at the scene for himself. He knelt and searched the ground near the body for small clues—a button, a gum wrapper, anything the killer might have left behind unnoticed.

  But there was nothing incriminating to be found.

  Not only was the killer smart, but he was as cowardly as he was vicious. Each victim had been attacked from behind and stabbed multiple times. Liam pulled out his cell phone, hit the dispatcher contact button and quickly explained the situation.

  A limb snapped nearby. “Officer?” a deep voice called out from the darkness. “That you, Officer Andrews?”

  A group of about half a dozen men approached, in various states of dishevelment and sporting long hair and beards. Liam recognized a few of their faces.

  One of the men stepped forward while the others lingered in the dark. “It’s Gunner, sir. We out here lookin’ for our buddy—Larry.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “It were morning time. He gathered up our spare change and offered to go into town to buy us a few veggies for our stew tonight. Nobody seen him since.”

  “Does your friend have long brown hair? Dressed in a flannel jacket?”

  “Yes, sir. You seen him?”

  “Unfortunately, I believe I have.” Liam waved him over. “Brace yourself. It’s not a pretty sight.”

  Liam turned the flashlight on the body for a brief second. “That look like him?”

  Gunner sank to his knees, gagging.

  Liam gave him a moment, then asked, “Did you see anyone roaming around here minutes ago?”

  “We saw a light and headed right over in the general direction.”

  “Larry have a beef with anyone in town that you know of?”

  “No, sir. He ain’t been in Baysville but a week or two.”

  That was often their way. Ride the rails, then jump track to stay in a town for a bit until the urge hit to travel again. It made tracking someone damn difficult. Easy to get lost in this counterculture. Years ago they were referred to as hobos, a word probably derived from poor migrant workers who traveled from town to town toting knapsacks and a hoe for
working the fields.

  Baysville had once been a boomtown for them. Plenty of work in the old tobacco and corn fields. During the off-season, they could sometimes find jobs in the pork-processing factories. But these days, Baysville’s largest industry was tourism, and those farm and factory jobs for transients had almost dried up.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like you and your friends to stick around a bit longer. Might have a few more questions for y’all after forensics arrive and we search the area.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gunner clearly would rather slink away than face a group of cops, but Liam figured he knew better than to take off.

  Looked like he’d be here awhile as well. Might be best to call Harper and explain the situation. After they were through here, it’d be too late to stop by her house. There was no reason to return, anyway, except to leave her flashlight on the porch and retrieve his car from the driveway. He’d checked her home and found no cause for alarm.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Damn if the night didn’t feel a little colder and lonelier. He called Harper’s number but got no answer. Maybe she was getting ready for bed. Liam left a voice message that he’d found a body and would be tied up the rest of the evening.

  Blue lights strobed on King Street at the same moment his phone rang. Liam held the flashlight straight up in the air as a beacon and verbally guided the officers to his precise location.

  “What’s happening? What did you find?”

  He whirled around at the familiar voice. “Thought you’d gone back to the house.”

  “Fat chance,” Harper said, looking around the scene.

  He knew the exact moment she spotted the body. She inhaled sharply. “Is he...is he—”

  “Dead,” he confirmed. “We have the situation covered.” He briefly pressed her small, trembling hand. “Go on back,” he urged.

  The police car bumped along the field and parked close by. A detective and the forensics examiner exited the vehicle and immediately set to work taking pictures and putting the body in a bag while Liam filled them in on what he knew. A siren sounded in the distance, and another cop car pulled up by the small crowd. Liam frowned when he recognized the driver.

  Bryce Fairfax strode over, hands on hips as he surveyed the scene. His eyes widened at the sight of Harper. “What are you doing out here?”

  “We saw a light in the marsh, and Liam... Officer Andrews...wanted to check it out.”

  Bryce shot him a stern look. “Civilians don’t need to be at a crime scene—unless they’ve witnessed a crime, of course.”

  Liam clamped his jaw tight to prevent an angry defense. His boss never failed to find something to criticize in his work. It had been like that almost since he’d transferred to the Baysville PD five months ago.

  “It’s not his fault,” Harper said quickly. “He told me not to come out here, but I did anyway.”

  “So I see.”

  Bryce shot him another look that promised he’d speak with him later about this matter. What a jerk.

  “I’ll go on home,” Harper said, giving Liam an apologetic smile before handing him her flashlight. “I won’t need this now.”

  “I’ll have you escorted,” Chief Fairfax said, motioning to one of the responding officers.

  For the next hour, they took statements and searched for forensic evidence. Bryce questioned the homeless men. His condescension was evident in his smirk and sharp, pointed questions. Bryce released them with a warning not to leave town. Liam predicted they’d be hopping the next train that passed through. Bryce had to realize that as well, which meant another unsolved vagrant murder.

  “That should wrap it up for tonight, men,” Bryce said, hitching up his belt and puffing out his chest. “Appears this is nothing more than another case of vagrants killing one of their own. Probably arguing over alcohol or drugs, I bet.”

  “You’re forgetting the car,” Liam pointed out. “There was someone roaming the field, and then we heard a vehicle driving off.”

  Bryce chuckled. “Probably just some teenagers making out. You know how kids are.” He nodded at the other two men. “Sam, stay here and keep the crime scene secure until another officer arrives from the midnight shift. George, go on home now. I need to speak to Andrews.”

  George left with a wave, Sam resumed searching the ground and Liam was alone with his boss.

  “What were you doing over at Harper Catlett’s place?”

  “I offered to search her house. She seemed upset this morning about the noises and that email. And someone tried to run her down with a truck. I’ll be writing up a report.”

  Bryce popped a stick of clove chewing gum in his mouth. “Let me fill you in on Harper. Her sister, Presley, died in that house seventeen years ago. Harper was only nine at the time. She was the first one on the scene. Claimed she saw a sickly looking man—or creature—hovering over her sister and that he just disappeared into thin air. The police thoroughly searched the place. Nobody had been in that house. Nobody, you understand?”

  “So she told me. What are you saying? That she lied?”

  “Lie is a strong word. Maybe a better word is imaginative. After all, she was a kid. Probably woke up from a nightmare and then suffered a trauma when she saw Presley dead. Or it could have been she was thinking of the Shadow Dweller.”

  “The Shadow Dweller? What are you talking about?”

  “A local legend. Some people—mostly kids—claim to see a filthy, emaciated creature that vanishes the instant he’s spotted. They say he peeks out of house windows or deserted buildings, especially whenever the mailman passes by.” Bryce chuckled. “When items go missing—a jacket, a pecan pie, a blanket—folks blame it on the Shadow Dweller.”

  Liam mulled over the new information. “And you think Harper’s mind leaped to the legend when she found her sister?”

  “Could be. Took a long time before kids stopped giving her grief about what she claimed to have seen.”

  “Kids can be cruel. What did her parents say about it?”

  “Her dad had died a year earlier. Ruth, her mom, made Harper go to grief counseling.”

  A stab of sympathy shot through him. Must have been pretty tough for Harper. “And you bring all this up because...?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Again, she’s claiming to hear noises in the house and that she received a threatening email. Weird how the proof happened to disappear.”

  Anger thrummed along his temples at the insinuation. “Harper’s not crazy.” He’d seen her abrasions from the near run-in with the truck. Those were real, and there had been a witness to the incident.

  “Now, now. I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it.”

  “I’m merely laying out the facts for you. Might want to take what she says with a grain of salt. You found nothing in her house, correct?”

  “Correct,” he reluctantly admitted. “But someone did try to run her over—”

  “Just watch your step, that’s all I’m saying. You entered her house, still in uniform, and spent time alone with her. Use caution. Who knows what goes on in that head of hers? I don’t want my department getting a harebrained sexual harassment complaint because Harper’s made up some fantasy in her head about you.”

  “Your fears are unwarranted,” he said stiffly. “Doubt I’ll even see her again before she leaves.”

  “Might be for the best.”

  Although it was offered as a suggestion, Liam understood his boss meant it as an order. Bryce hitched up his pants again and strolled to his car.

  Alone in the marsh, Liam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Porch lights shone from Harper’s house, and he could make out her silhouette where she stood, waiting. He’d return her flashlight and then be on his solitary way. Although he disagreed with his boss as to Harper’s state of mind.

  Reluctantly,
he returned. Harper opened the screen door and beckoned him inside, but Liam only climbed the porch steps and held out the flashlight. “Thanks for the loan. It came in handy.”

  “No problem.” She met him halfway on the steps and took the flashlight. “Can I offer you coffee?”

  “Sorry. I need to go back to the station and write up a report. I’ll be on my way.”

  She reached out to him, and the heat of her hand bled through his uniform sleeve. “I appreciate you coming over.” An uncertain smile lit her pale face. “Thanks for taking this matter seriously. Not everyone does that for me. But you did.”

  “So I heard.”

  Harper winced. “Bryce must have filled you in on my past. That didn’t take long.”

  “It doesn’t matter what other people think.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Harper shrugged. “It took a long time for all that stuff to blow over. Should have realized no one’s forgotten it, though. Hell, I’m not sure I even believe what I saw anymore.”

  “I see why you want to sell this place and get back to Atlanta. Lots of bad memories here.”

  “And good ones from when all four of us were alive. It wasn’t all bad. Guess all families are complicated that way.”

  “Right.” He dug his car keys out of his pocket.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asked.

  The wistful note in her voice tugged at him. “Maybe.”

  He turned away and started down the steps, conscious of her watching. His legs felt as though they weighed a ton. He didn’t want to leave Harper. That murder had been way too close to her house, right after someone had nearly run her over, and the night grew darker by the minute. What if the murderer had seen them leave her home and head into the marsh where he’d just killed? Unlike Bryce, he didn’t believe it was an instance of the homeless killing one of their own. His boss was lazy, too quick to dismiss the murders as unimportant casualties of the transients turning on one another.

  Liam would never forgive himself if he left Harper alone and something happened to her. He had to do more to keep her safe.