Unmasking The Shadow Man

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 (#ua3337c45-ed6d-56f7-8b11-1c1f0b21ec20)

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?”