Читать книгу Unmasking The Shadow Man - Debbie Herbert - Страница 13

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.

Liam turned back to Harper. “Want to go to the store with me? I need to pick up a few things before it closes at nine.”

Her face lit up. “Actually, I’m wound up too tight to relax, and I could use a few things. I’ll grab my purse and meet you out front.”

What Bryce didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He liked Harper, and he’d been in law enforcement for years. Not as though he were a rookie about to be taken in by a deranged woman. No, he was capable of making his own decisions about a person’s character. Bryce might have distant knowledge of Harper through her sister and mutual acquaintances, but that didn’t mean he knew the woman she’d become.

Soon, she stood by the vehicle, waiting with purse in hand.

“That was quick.” He opened the door for her, and she slid in.

“No time to waste if we want to make it by closing.”

Liam entered the driver’s side and started the engine.

“Is your fridge totally empty?” Harper asked. “That happens to me all the time in Atlanta. I’ll work long hours and forget to shop. I end up eating way too much fast food.”

“The groceries aren’t for me.”

She shot him a questioning glance as he backed out of the driveway.

“It’s for the men we met tonight,” he admitted reluctantly. “Gunner, I guess you could call him their leader, mentioned they’d been searching for the victim. They’d scraped together money for him to buy provisions for a stew tonight.”

“You’re buying the food for them? You’re a kind man.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat at her look of admiration. He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I have a soft spot for the homeless. My uncle used to be one. For all I know, maybe he still is. We haven’t heard from him in years.”

“That’s terrible. Were you close?”

“Not me, but my mother was close to Uncle Teddy. She still harbors an irrational hope of reuniting with him one day.” Liam crossed an intersection, bemused at his admission. He didn’t normally open up to people so quickly.

“Anything’s possible. He might turn up one day out of the blue.”

“I’ve asked around about him, of course. Over a decade ago, he was arrested several times in Baysville for public vagrancy and for living in abandoned buildings. After the last arrest, he spent a few nights in the county jail. Probably a welcome change from cold and hunger. Never was seen or heard from again. I’ve showed old photos of my uncle to Gunner and some of the older guys, but they didn’t recognize him.”

“At least you tried. I’m sure your mom appreciates that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as he drove through town. A few couples strolled the river walk, and others exited from the main street restaurants that were closing. The scent of crab cakes and lobster was strong enough to detect even in the car. One of the many advantages of living in a tourist town were the great restaurants and bars.

He’d be sad to leave when the time came. His stint in Baysville was temporary, although his boss and coworkers didn’t know that. Only one person knew his real reason for coming, and Liam trusted him to keep that knowledge secret.

“This seems like a great place to grow up,” he noted.

“Mostly. If only…well, if only Presley hadn’t had that accident and I hadn’t seen what I did.” She hesitated. “Or what I thought I saw.”

“Can you describe it again? In more detail?”

“A man hovered over Presley. Extremely pale. When he looked up at me, I couldn’t really read his expression. His eyes were large and full of contradiction—anger, surprise, but mostly fear. Although he couldn’t have been more afraid of me than I was of him.”

“How tall was he?”

“Hard to say since he was bent over, but I don’t think he was a tall man. He wore dirty clothes that were ragged, and his face and arms looked as though they were crusted in dirt. If not for that, he might have been glow-in-the-dark pale. Very sickly looking.”

“The legendary Shadow Dweller, perhaps?”

The corners of her mouth turned down. “Bryce was awfully chatty tonight, wasn’t he? And here I thought he was my friend—that we shared a connection through Presley’s memory.”

A false belief like that could be dangerous. He shouldn’t say anything, and yet… “A word of warning,” he said reluctantly. “Don’t trust Bryce Fairfax one hundred percent. He might not be all that he appears to be on the surface.”