Unmasking The Shadow Man. Debbie HerbertЧитать онлайн книгу.
this place into a B&B. But once he died, Mom lost all interest in the project. Truthfully, I don’t think she was ever gung-ho about the idea. She enjoyed waitressing at the diner. And Presley and I didn’t like the idea of sharing our home with a bunch of strangers, either.”
“Sorry about your sister’s accident.”
Speaking of which… “How did you know of it? Were you outside the office when I spoke with Bryce?”
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” he said easily. “I don’t like to barge in when he’s in the middle of a conversation.”
“Ah, I get you. Well, it’s been seventeen years since she died, so you don’t need to walk on eggshells when it comes to discussing what happened.” Harper cast an involuntary look back over her shoulder. “She fell down in the kitchen and passed out. The soup she had on the stove caught fire. She died from a combination of a head wound and smoke inhalation.”
“I see.” His kind gaze sent waves of comfort through her body. Lots of people acted weird when you brought up tragedies and tried to immediately change the subject. To his credit, Liam did not. “That must have been awful for your family.”
“Yeah. She was only sixteen.”
“Were you two close?”
“As close as you can be when you’re seven years apart. I looked up to her as a kid. Presley was smart. Genius kind of smart. Used to earn extra money tutoring students, including your boss.”
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.
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,