Unmasking the Shadow Man

by Debbie Herbert

  Gunner gazed blankly at them and then at the IV needle in his arm. Harper laid a hand over his trembling fingers, offering quiet reassurance as Liam questioned him.

  “You were hurt last night, and now you’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

  Awareness dawned in his wide, frightened eyes. “So much pain,” he murmured hoarsely.

  “I’m sorry. But I need to know. Did you see who did this to you?”

  Gunner licked his lips. “Just for a sec. Don’t know him.”

  She and Liam exchanged a quick glance over Gunner’s prone body. So the attacker wasn’t the enforcer who had originally contracted Gunner to go after Richard.

  Gunner struggled to rise and then sank farther into the bed. “The other fellas? Are they...?”

  “They’re fine,” Liam reassured him. “You were the only one attacked. Tell me what you remember.”

  “We’d all finished supper. It was dark. A text came, saying, ‘Got your money. Meet me behind your tent.’” Gunner stopped and drew a couple of deep breaths.

  “You’re doing good. Just a few more questions. What happened when you met him?”

  “Someone grabbed me from behind. And then...pain.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “No.”

  “Any idea how tall he was, or did he have a tattoo...anything?”

  “Beefy guy. Not fat. And not young, either. Gray in his hair.”

  The description wasn’t much help. It could be almost any man over the age of forty. “Okay, then. Rest up and I’ll check back in with you later. When you’re better, maybe you can give us more details and look through some mug shots.”

  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and they walked away from the bed. Harper was about to close the curtain when Gunner spoke again.

  “Don’t you do it.”

  Liam’s forehead creased. “Meaning?”

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  Liam inhaled sharply. “You’ll never again spend another night out in the cold and in danger. I promise you that.”

  * * *

  THE DRIVE HOME was silent and tense. He pulled into her driveway, and she turned to him, wanting to offer comfort. “The worst is over. He’s going to be okay, Liam.”

  “Yeah. No thanks to me.” He gave a mirthless laugh, the heaviness of recrimination obvious.

  “Don’t. You can’t protect everyone all the time. It’s not your fault.”

  “Exactly what he said. Which only makes me feel worse.”

  “Come on inside and let’s talk.”

  “No. You go on to bed. I’m dead tired.”

  “Then come in and sleep with me.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think through the implications. And by sleep she meant make love. But it felt right. She longed to run her hands through his hair and kiss away the sadness. She wanted to become one with him, to experience him in every sense.

  She loved Liam.

  The knowledge burst onto her consciousness, full-blown and irrefutable. She wouldn’t tell him the words tonight—she wanted her declaration unhampered with the tragedy of the stabbing. But she could show him love with her touch...with her body.

  “Please say you’ll come,” she urged again.

  His hesitation stretched on, but at last he got out, slamming the truck door shut. As they walked to the porch, she could see the exhaustion pouring from his lackluster eyes, unsmiling face and slow gait.

  Harper sensed a certain guard from him, as if he were deliberately erecting a barrier. She’d never fallen for a cop before. Not even close. Liam seemed unable to divorce his feelings from his job tonight. Which was completely understandable. His compassion was one of the reasons she loved him. If she wanted to be a part of his life—and she did—then she needed to accept this was part and parcel of Liam. But how best to help him?

  In the foyer, she leaned against him, resting her head on his broad chest. “Gunner’s lucky to have you in his corner.”

  “Lucky?” He snorted and took a step back. “That’s not the word I’d use.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing else to say. Probably best I go on home. I don’t want you dragged further into this.”

  He was pushing her away. “I wish you’d stay,” she said quietly.

  “Why? I wouldn’t be good company tonight.”

  “No problem. You don’t have to be. I only want to be with you.”

  For the first time this evening, Liam’s face softened, and he reached for her, pulling her back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and he stroked her back in long, firm caresses that left her craving more. Her skin tingled at the warm strength of his body through the thin cotton fabric of her shirt.

  This.

  This was where she was meant to be—in his arms. She cradled the sides of his face in her palms, feeling the abrasive scruff along his jaw. So masculine, so sexy. His mouth found hers, and the world faded to black as their lips and tongues danced. Heat bubbled in her veins, and she couldn’t get close enough. She untucked his uniform shirt and ran her hands up his bare back. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips, and his breath became jagged. Growing bolder, Harper moved her hands over his chest and then lowered them to trace his sculpted abs.

  Liam stilled and pulled back a few inches, nailing her with the intensity of his smoky gray eyes. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice ragged and deep.

  Harper knew exactly what he was asking—and what she was offering.

  In answer, she rose and held out her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Liam quietly entered Bryce’s office, where his boss was engrossed in reading a file that lay on his desk. With a flick of his wrist, Liam forcefully shut the door. Bryce looked up, startled.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Andrews?” he asked with a scowl. “I’m busy.”

  “I think you’ll want to hear this.”

  “Make it quick. I’m buried in paperwork.”

  “Maybe you should spend more time in the field and less time in the office if you really want to do your job effectively.”

  Bryce slammed the file closed. “This is my office, and I’m the chief. You’d do well to remember that. But now that you’re here, answer this. What in the hell were you thinking arresting Mitchell Sullivan?”

  “He collects money generated from a huge, illegal gambling ring that’s been operating right under your nose for years.”

  “Mitchell?” Bryce scoffed. “I find it hard to believe that a man of his stature, a pharmacist, no less, would get involved in some penny-ante poker games.”

  “Make no mistake. This is no small-time ring. It generates thousands of dollars of income. It’s even expanded into a profitable side business involving prostitution.”

  Bryce crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

  “But I don’t have to tell you all this, do I? You know what’s going on.”

  “Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve been lying to me since the day you came in this office for a job interview. Should have trusted my instincts not to hire you.”

  His secret was out. Liam lifted his chin. “You call it lying, I call it doing my job.”

  Bryce’s face flushed with anger, and he stood, glaring. “Why did you come to Baysville in the first place?”

  He countered with a question of his own. “How did you find out I was working undercover?”

  “Dad has lots of connections after decades working as an arson investigator. He’d worked with law enforcement agencies on a number of cases. One of his old buddies in Richmond ratted you out.”

  Liam made a mental note to bring Carlton Fairfax in later for questioning. “How long have you known?”
/>   “Almost from the beginning.”

  No wonder his boss seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him. And no surprise Bryce was always trying to usurp his authority. His turf had been threatened.

  “Why haven’t you confronted me with that info before now?” Liam asked curiously.

  “What’s that old saying—keep your friends close but your enemies closer?”

  “I’m not your enemy. We should both want the same thing. A town free of organized crime.”

  “Of course, that’s what I want, too.” Bryce sat back down. “Damn it, Andrews, why do you think I took this job?”

  “Ego? You wanted to prove to your dad that you could run this place like he used to run the fire department?”

  It’d been clear to him from the start that Bryce appeared to have an odd relationship with his father. The old man was always around, offering advice. It was as though he regretted ever retiring and wanted to continue running what he could behind the scenes.

  A tiny muscle worked in Bryce’s jaw, and the pencil in his hand snapped in two. The sound detonated like a firecracker. A stunned silence followed.

  “Looks like I hit a nerve,” Liam remarked drily.

  “What’s all this crap about organized crime? I assumed you were sent because you state guys found it suspicious we hadn’t solved the homeless murder cases.”

  “It’s what caught our eye at first,” he admitted. Liam debated whether to say more, but he decided a friendly talk with Fairfax might elicit more info. The full heat of his division would be bearing down on Baysville by this evening or early morning at the latest. And he wanted to be the first to interview the chief, tap him out and observe his reaction to the pressure. “The murders are our top priority. But now I’m convinced the murders and gambling and prostitution are all related.”

  The angry flush on Bryce’s face melted, replaced by a sheet of pasty white.

  “You don’t like my theory?” Liam pressed.

  “I don’t see any possible connection between the two crimes.”

  “Whoever the ringleader is, he’s been hiring the homeless over the years to enforce people to pay their debts.”

  Light dawned in his boss’s eyes. “And you think he later killed the men he’d hired to ensure their silence.”

  “In his eyes, they’re an expendable commodity. Use them for a bit, then when they’ve seen too much or start asking questions, it’s time to kill. After all, they’re the perfect victims. Nobody reports them missing or brings public pressure to solve the case. Sometimes the victims aren’t even identified.”

  “That’s a lot of theorizing on your part. Where’s the evidence?”

  “Why should I show my entire hand to you?” The irony of using a poker analogy wasn’t lost on Liam, but he plowed on. “Start talking. Prove to me why I should trust you.”

  “I’m not going to defend myself from your outrageous insinuations.”

  “Outrageous? Explain your reasoning.”

  “The murders have been spaced out over the years. And all the victims are transients. You know as well as I do that these people have a high rate of drug and alcohol abuse and mental illness problems. Those issues lead to violence. They’re constantly vulnerable to becoming crime victims.”

  He thought of his uncle Teddy. “Doesn’t mean their lives matter any less.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Really? Because it’s our observation that this department hasn’t been aggressive in their investigations. I came to find out why.”

  “Not true. I’ve done all I can to solve the murders.”

  “Have you?”

  Bryce slammed a fist on his desk. “How dare you. You feds think we have unlimited personnel to chase down clues? I do the best I can with the Baysville budget.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Are you accusing me of incompetence—or something even worse?” Bryce pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket, popped a wad in his mouth and began chewing furiously.

  Liam’s gaze affixed on the crimson and white stripes of the discarded wrapper, and then his eyes slowly traveled up to meet Bryce’s dark eyes.

  “What?” Bryce asked, bewildered.

  Liam grabbed the wrapper and studied it more closely, then held it to his nose. The scent of cloves was pungent. Yes, this was it. A perfect match.

  “I found wrappers just like this near Gunner’s body,” he said softly.

  “So?”

  “So I collected them as evidence, and it’s been sent to the forensics lab in Richmond.”

  “You won’t find my prints on them. Anyone could have dropped those wrappers at any time. Not like I’m the only one who buys this particular gum.”

  “It’s a bit unusual. An old-fashioned brand. I haven’t seen them in the stores much since I was a kid. And you always seem to be nearby when there’s trouble.”

  Bryce’s expression set into defensive stubbornness. “I’m not a murderer.”

  “But you know who he is, don’t you, Bryce?”

  His mouth worked the gum as he chose his words. “I’ve had suspicions over the years. Nothing I can prove.”

  “It’s a cop, isn’t it? Come clean. You protect a dirty cop and you’ll only go down with him.” His gut clenched as he recalled finding Gunner near dead, blood seeping out and darkening the back of his shirt. Liam couldn’t even imagine the pain and suffering resulting from the multiple stab wounds. He’d vowed to protect Gunner and the other homeless men from sick predators. It was the least he could do after failing so abysmally last night. “I promise I’ll make you pay if you could have prevented these attacks and did nothing,” he threatened.

  “I’m not defending a dirty cop. I interviewed Mitchell Sullivan extensively yesterday, and he denied all accusations. Apparently, he owns a home-remodeling company on the side and Richard Collins was paying him cash for an overdue bill.”

  “Did you ask to look at his accounting books?”

  “Of course. He said he’d have his attorney provide that.”

  “He’s lying. We’ll crack him when the full force of the agency bears down on him.”

  “Good.”

  Liam eyed Bryce curiously. “I thought Richard Collins was your friend. You believe Sullivan over Collins?”

  Bryce shifted his gaze to the window and steepled his fingers. Liam waited for his answer, sensing that the man was wrestling with a hard decision.

  “Sometimes,” he finally said, his voice heavy, “it’s hard to know who to believe. Who to trust.”

  Liam sensed an opening. Bryce was struggling with something, and if Liam played his cards right, he’d find out what it was and how it connected to the activities he was investigating.

  “We started on the wrong foot with each other, Bryce. What do you say we work together to bring down these criminals? Just tell me what’s troubling you. I promise to listen and not make any judgments until all the facts are in. You’ll find I’m a fair man.”

  Bryce nodded, but continued to face the window, as if expecting a miraculous solution to his dilemma.

  “You know something, don’t you?” he prodded.

  “It’s all suspicions. Nothing concrete.”

  “Listen. Wouldn’t you rather talk to me than the suits who will be descending later from Richmond? Gunner will be shown photos of every cop on this force. If he recognizes one of them as his attacker, all hell is going to break loose in your department. At a minimum, you’ll be fired and lucky to find any kind of security job in the future.”

  “To hell with that. My problem’s a lot stickier than a damn job.”

  “Spill it.”

  Bryce scrubbed his face and then nodded slowly. He swallowed and looked down, and for a moment, Liam wondered if the man was about to cry. His eyes glistened as he spoke. “If there really is a h
otbed of illegal activity connected to the homeless murders, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

  “I know your knee-jerk reaction is to protect your fellow—”

  “The culprit isn’t on the force.”

  “Then—”

  “You need to be looking at an ex-firefighter.”

  Ex-? His mind spun as though he were on a high-speed carnival ride. His thoughts slowed and oddly settled on the image of one man. “You’re not saying—”

  “My father.”

  Carlton Fairfax.

  Was Bryce low enough to deflect suspicion on his own father just to throw the heat off himself? Even as he pondered the question, Liam instinctively felt Bryce spoke the truth.

  Bryce abruptly stood and paced the small room. “I hope to God I’m wrong.”

  Liam switched tactics and spoke in a reasonable, sympathetic manner. “Lay out your suspicions and we’ll figure it out together.”

  “It started when I was in high school. Senior year, to be exact. Life was good back then. Uncomplicated. I was dating Julie, now my wife, and had received a scholarship offer to play football at Alabama. The only blip on the screen was my poor grades in math. But with his usual determination, Dad arranged to solve that problem. My future was set.”

  Bryce ran a hand through his hair and stood by the window, evidently contemplating his next words. “Then everything changed. I met Presley.”

  At the mention of Harper’s sister, a knot of concern balled in his gut. “Your math tutor, I remember. Go on.”

  “Presley was...how do I describe her? She was unlike Julie or any other girl I ever dated. Genius-level smart. Very shy, but in a charming kind of way.” A sad smile ghosted across his face. “Of course, I was determined to break down that studious wall of reserve.”

  “And so, you did.” Liam paused before continuing, as he realized the implications of what he was learning. “You’re the mystery father Harper’s been trying to find.”

  Bryce returned to his seat. “It was a shock when she came to me with the news. Damn, I was so stupid. And careless.”