Unmasking The Shadow Man. Debbie Herbert
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