Unmasking the Shadow Man

by Debbie Herbert

  “Who’s there?” Gunner called out behind the door.

  “Liam. All’s clear.”

  The door immediately swung open, and he entered. Both men stood in the kitchen, anxiety palpable in their agitated stances. Harper leaned against the counter, looking calm and confident. As though she had done this a dozen times before. The woman had unplumbed depths.

  Richard hurried to lock the door. “Anyone see you out there?”

  “Probably not.” Liam wished he could offer more assurance. “But, Gunner and Harper, y’all were being watched. Not long after you entered, a man slipped out of the woods and took off in his vehicle. Once I was sure he was gone, I came.”

  “We heard the engine, too.” Gunner shook his head. “These guys mean business, don’t they?”

  “Once you get the payment, I’ll arrest the enforcer,” he promised. “Agents will wire money into your bank account first thing in the morning to cover the debt. After the arrest, I can call in for backup.”

  “The state guys, right?” Richard asked. “The local police will do more harm than good.”

  “They’re standing by for my call. After tomorrow, we’ll have at least two arrests. The enforcer paying off Gunner and the man accepting your gambling payment. Between the two of them, I’m confident at least one will give a full confession.”

  Richard nodded, but it was clear he didn’t share Liam’s full confidence. But if he were in Richard’s shoes, he’d also be uneasy until the matter was resolved.

  Harper took off the knitted black cap she wore, and her red hair gleamed in the light. “I’m glad this is almost over. I still can’t believe Mitchell Sullivan is involved in all this. I didn’t see that one coming.”

  Gunner leaned back against the sofa and ran his weathered hands along the smooth leather. “Nice home you got here. Must make you right proud.”

  Richard shrugged. “It’s been a hell of a strain. Feels good to finally admit that truth. I’m tired of keeping up pretenses. Time for me to get serious about straightening up my problem and getting my family back to normal.”

  “That will be a relief to Kimber,” Harper muttered.

  “I ain’t never had much, but I’ve seen more of this country than most men,” Gunner said quietly. “It’s been a grand ride, but I’m ready to settle.” He grinned. “About time for someone my age, eh?”

  The two men clinked their beers.

  “Sorry to interrupt the bro-fest, but let’s get to work.” From his inside coat pocket, Liam withdrew a large, white cotton strip of cloth and a small box of makeup. “Lucky for us, it’s Halloween season. Every store is carrying rows of monster makeup. Figured we can use this to draw a black eye. The cloth is for a makeshift sling. Might consider slightly limping on one leg when you meet Sullivan, although we don’t want to overdo it with the acting.”

  Richard dubiously eyed the makeup kit. “I’ll wear dark sunglasses so he can’t see my eyes too closely. Maybe just a purple smudge peeking through the bottom rim.”

  “Perfect. I’ve got a small mike for you to wear under your shirt. Damn shame we can’t do video, but it’s too risky.”

  “Sullivan doesn’t usually say much. Matter of fact, he doesn’t even open the envelope in front of me.”

  “Then you say something short, like here’s my payment from last weekend’s game. See if you can draw him into a conversation. Maybe take off your sunglasses for a second and remark that you’ve learned never to be late again.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Text me as soon as you get back in your car.” Liam turned to Gunner. “And you text me as soon as the enforcer answers your message about meeting him for the money. Arrange for the payment to take place at camp, if you can. Hiding out in one of the tents will be easier for me than if he tries to draw you out to some remote area in the woods.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  “I’ve already reserved a bed for you at the YMCA and lined up a job interview at city hall. They need a good maintenance worker.”

  Gunner cleared his throat. “I won’t let you down, boss.”

  “I know. Again, I’m offering you my spare bedroom tonight. Just to be safe.”

  “Take it, Gunner,” Harper urged.

  “Nah, I’ll be fine with the other fellas. We look out for each other. Ain’t nobody sneaking up on me.”

  “If you’re sure.” Liam didn’t like it, but he couldn’t force the man into accepting his protection, either.

  “I wouldn’t mind y’all driving me back to camp, though,” Gunner admitted. “These old legs of mine are mighty tired from all that walking tonight.”

  Richard offered Gunner his hand. “Thanks for helping out. And thanks, Harper, for all you’ve done, too. I’m fortunate y’all took the job. Otherwise, I’d have gotten my ass kicked tonight in front of my wife and kids.”

  “We all got what we wanted, including Liam.” Gunner tipped up the beer can and finished it off. “Guess I should be heading on back.”

  Richard hustled to the kitchen. “Let me pack a to-go box for you.” From the fridge, he pulled out sandwich meat and cheese, adding it to a bag where he tossed in chips, bread and canned goods. “Take the beer with you, too,” he urged.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Gunner said with a grin. “We’ll all have a grand time tonight at camp.”

  * * *

  HARPER OPENED THE door of her house, and she and Liam were greeted with the children’s shrieks.

  Kimber rushed to the foyer. “How did everything go? Is Richard okay?”

  “He’s fine. Everything pretty much went according to plan,” she assured her.

  “Pretty much? What’s that mean?”

  “Like I said, Richard’s fine.” No point mentioning the enforcer had seen her enter the farmhouse. It would only needlessly worry her friend. Besides, there was nothing to be done about it now. Liam gave her a quick nod; they were in accord on this.

  “Guess I’ll be on my way,” he said, edging toward the door.

  Harper regarded him with suspicion. What was his hurry?

  Kimber unexpectedly threw her arms around Liam’s neck. “Thanks for everything,” she said gruffly. “If anyone can help Richard and me, it’s you.”

  “No problem.”

  “Back in a minute,” Harper told Kimber, following Liam out the door. “You don’t have to run off. Why don’t you stay for supper?” she asked.

  “Got a couple things I need to check up on.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re going to keep an eye on Gunner tonight, aren’t you? I’ll go with you. We can take turns sleeping on your stakeout.”

  “You should stay with Kimber. She needs a friend tonight.”

  “She’s a grown woman. I’m coming with you.”

  Liam cocked his head at the front window where Kimber’s face was pressed against the glass, blue eyes huge with worry. The girls had joined her, their faces taut. “Grown or not, deserving or not, she needs you. So do her kids.”

  Harper sighed and threw up her hands. “If you’re sure. I’ll be glad when this is all over tomorrow. Whoever’s behind this crime ring has to be the one responsible for shooting and chasing us.”

  “Exactly.” Evidently mindful of their audience, Liam only gave her a reassuring hug before heading to his vehicle.

  Back inside, Kimber had flopped into a chair and dropped her head in her hands. If Harper was tired, then Kimber was a total wreck. Judging from her swollen, red eyes, Kimber had been crying for hours.

  “Girls, why don’t you go upstairs a few minutes while I talk to your mom?”

  Kimber straightened and pasted on a weary smile for them. “Go on and take a bath and get in your pajamas. I’ll help you in a few minutes.”

  The girls left, albeit reluctantly.

  “Richard hasn’t contacted me,” Kimber said, her vo
ice rough. “We could go back tonight, but if he wanted us, he’d have called by now.”

  “He’s probably scared to—or ashamed. Y’all didn’t part on the best of terms. And he does want you to be absolutely safe here.”

  “But he should call me. I’m not the one who got us into this mess.”

  “This mess isn’t one hundred percent his fault, is it?” she asked gently. “Surely, you two can work it out.”

  “I’ll admit I’ve spent way too much money over the years, but the majority of this is Richard’s fault. I thought when he finally agreed to counseling that we’d turned the corner, only to discover that he’s lied to me yet again.”

  “It’s your marriage. You know best.” Who was she to offer advice or to judge?

  Kimber nodded and blinked back tears. “I don’t deserve your kindness. I’m truly sorry. It was horrible of me to try and scare you off with those noises.”

  “For the last time, apology accepted.”

  “Can you really forgive me?”

  “Yes.” And it was true. The trust had been broken and she’d probably never feel quite the same about her old friend, but Harper was willing to let bygones be bygones.

  The doorbell rang, and Kimber’s hand flew to her chest in alarm. It was as though she expected any second for someone to burst through the door and harm either her or her kids.

  “Relax, I’ll get the door. It’s probably the pizza I ordered.” Harper opened the door and stared in surprise. “Richard?”

  A chair scraped in the kitchen, and a set of squeals erupted in the den. “Daddy! Daddy!” the girls cried as they ran to the door. They threw themselves against him as Kimber watched with widened eyes.

  Richard stepped through the door and faced Kimber. “Are you ready to come home?”

  Kimber looked ready to put up a fight, but instead, she ran to her husband and hugged him, the girls at their side.

  Harper felt her own eyes moisten. This family was going to be okay, she just knew it. Silently, she retreated from the foyer to give them privacy.

  Minutes later, a sheepish but much happier Kimber and Richard entered the kitchen, arms around each other’s waists.

  “I’m taking my girls home,” Richard said, a grateful gleam in his eyes. “Thank you for letting them stay with you. We owe you.”

  “Glad to do it. You’re welcome to stay for dinner. I ordered two large pizzas.”

  Richard pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and pressed it into her palm. “Thanks, but we want to get home. You understand.”

  Eagerly, the girls bounded to their rooms to pack their things. In record time, the family left, and she was alone once more. But at least now she could join Liam at his stakeout.

  She headed up the stairs to change into dry jeans and socks, but stopped midway, blinking in surprise at the metallic glint on one of the steps. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up.

  Another jack.

  She turned it over in her hand, tamping down a frisson of fear. Must have missed it earlier, she reasoned. Yet both she and Liam had examined the staircase more than once to see if they could find the two missing jacks. Stop. Just stop. They’d simply overlooked the tiny object.

  Harper pocketed the jack, quickly changed clothes in her room and headed back into the night to find Liam.

  At the railroad camp, his car headlights were on bright, illuminating the dark in all directions. What kind of quiet stakeout was this? Something was very wrong here.

  Harper parked next to him, jumped out of her car and ran. “What’s happened? Are you—”

  Liam approached, his arms raised. “Don’t come any closer. You don’t want to see.”

  His warning came too late. She peered around him and spotted Gunner, facedown on the ground, blood seeping through his shirt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Once again, Harper found herself back in the chilly, sterile atmosphere of the Tidewater Community Hospital. Inside the generic visitor waiting room with its plastic cushioned chairs, stale coffee and dog-eared magazines, she and Liam were the lone occupants. Did anyone even remember they were here awaiting news from the surgeon?

  She pushed open the door and stared up and down the empty hallways. After the frenzy of the emergency room, the surgical waiting area had the silence of a morgue. Where was that doctor? What was taking so long?

  Liam pushed past her and paced the halls, glaring every ten seconds at the closed doors leading to the operating room. She leaned in the doorway watching him as images of Gunner’s battered, bloody body replayed in her mind like a series of snapshots—Gunner sprawled facedown in the dirt, his cotton T-shirt shredded with slash marks, his fingers clawing into the ground, the smashed cell phone by his side. Liam had bagged a few gum wrappers for the forensics team, which arrived at the camp in short order.

  Worse was what wasn’t at the scene—not a single man remained. Apparently, they’d each packed up their meager belongings and hopped a train car out of town. All that remained of the camp was a pile of burned wood and empty food containers.

  How could they leave their friend like this? Unless they’d been terrified and believed Gunner already dead. It had been a near thing. It was a wonder, given his age, that he’d survived such a brutal attack.

  If Liam hadn’t checked on Gunner, the man would have had no chance of recovery. But Harper could tell from Liam’s haunted eyes that he blamed himself. She went to him and slid an arm around his waist. “Gunner’s getting the best care possible,” she said softly. “He’s a tough ole guy. My money’s on him to make it.”

  “This is all my fault. I never should have left him alone.” Liam’s voice was raspy, and he ran a hand through his cropped hair.

  “Don’t do this to yourself. You tried to get him to stay. He didn’t want to.”

  “The enforcer realized Gunner was an informant playing a dangerous game. And I’m the one who put Gunner in that position.”

  “You were trying to get to the bottom of the corruption here in Baysville. Self-recrimination accomplishes nothing.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re right. This attack only makes me more determined to bring in the state police ASAP and get answers. First thing in the morning, I’m confronting Bryce.”

  “Bryce?” A ripple of surprise shot through Harper. She released her arm from Liam’s back and stepped in front of him. “Confront Bryce about what?”

  “He can’t be blind to what’s going on in his own town. I’m ready to lay my cards on the table and see what he’s got to say about everything.”

  “I hope you’re wrong.” Bryce had a cocky attitude, but she remembered the sweet boy Presley once tutored, and now she knew her sister had had a relationship with him.

  “Actually, so do I. But if he’s in on it, I’ll try to break him down.”

  “Or Mitchell Sullivan,” she reminded him. “Still can’t get over that one.”

  “We owe that bit of the puzzle to Richard Collins. And at least now we know why the homeless men were killed. Their deaths are directly tied to the gambling and prostitution rings.”

  Harper stared at the closed doors down the hallway. “I want the name of the man who stabbed Gunner.”

  “Cowardly bastard, attacking an old man from behind. It perfectly fits the pattern of the other homeless deaths with those stab wounds in the back torso.”

  Her skin crawled to think of it.

  “Of course, this investigation will be much easier if Gunner lives and if he can describe the attacker.”

  The operating room doors swung open, and a man in surgical scrubs strode forward. “You’re the cops awaiting news on my patient?”

  Harper didn’t bother to correct his assumption they were both cops. She wanted to be with Liam when he got the news on Gunner’s condition. She tried to assess the doctor’s demeanor for a clue, but he merely looked
professional and courteous.

  “Did Gunner make it through surgery?” Liam asked.

  The doctor nodded reassuringly. “With flying colors. His right lung was nicked, but we cleaned out the fluid buildup and inserted a tube to drain any residue. Also performed a blood transfusion to replace the lost blood, and then a mass of stitches to close the stab wounds. Despite his age, he’s in stable condition and the prognosis of recovery is excellent, provided he doesn’t develop pneumonia.”

  The heaviness in her chest lifted, and she let out a deep breath. “When can we see him?”

  “He’s being wheeled into recovery now. Normally, we don’t allow visitors until later. Y’all need to ask him about the attacker?”

  “Yes. Police business.”

  The doctor motioned for them to follow him. “This way.”

  They strode through two sets of double doors, down a corridor and then into a room filled with white gowns, hairnets, masks and slippers.

  “He should be rousing from the anesthesia any moment. Ask your questions and then leave. My patient needs his rest.”

  The doctor led them to a room of curtained cubicles and pushed open one of the curtains. “In here.”

  Gunner looked as frail as Harper had ever seen him. His eyes were shut and his face was as pale as the white cotton bedsheets. An IV was attached to one arm, and he was hooked up to several monitors. They watched the rise and fall of his chest, loath to wake him from much-needed rest.

  “Gunner?” Liam whispered. If Gunner didn’t rouse easily, Liam would wait until he woke and was placed in a regular room. These killings had taken place over a decade. What difference did a couple more hours make?

  Liam cleared his throat. “You doing okay, buddy?”

  Gunner frowned, and his forehead creased in wrinkles. “Wh-what?”

  “It’s me. Liam. Harper’s here, too.” He stepped next to the bed and rested a hand on Gunner’s thin forearm. “You gave us quite a scare. But the doctor says you’re going to be fine.”