Unmasking the Shadow Man Read online

  Kimber shrugged her shoulders. “I was trying to fix our problems without Richard’s business being affected. And...pride? I know how you always looked up to me. I didn’t want you—or anyone—to know just how bad it’s gotten.”

  “Bound to come out when your check-fraud cases go to trial,” Liam said drily.

  “I keep hoping for a miracle,” she admitted. “I know. It’s stupid. But I can’t bear everyone knowing I’ve failed.”

  “You’d rather torment me out of my own home than have everyone know you aren’t perfect. That’s pretty sick.”

  “I don’t blame you for being angry. I would be, too.”

  She had to get out of here. Harper grabbed her purse and strode to the door.

  “You aren’t pressing charges—right?” Kimber’s voice rose. “Isn’t that right, Harper?”

  She should reassure Kimber, but her heart wasn’t in it. Not yet, anyway. Let her sweat it out a bit. After all, how many nights had she lost sleep—too afraid to sleep in her own bedroom? All because of Kimber.

  On the porch she closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp clean air.

  “You okay?” Liam draped an arm across her shoulders.

  The heavy warmth spread comfort through her body—a balm for her troubled spirit. “I should go back in and reassure Kimber I’m not pressing charges. Right?”

  “It’s okay to think about yourself now. She betrayed your trust. I wouldn’t be in any hurry to offer comfort if I were in your shoes.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Home.

  It felt great to be back, to know that she was safe inside her childhood home. The danger had been eliminated. Police officers had come by earlier today and done a clean sweep of the house. No other cameras and speakers were found. So no more hunkering down at Liam’s place.

  How could Kimber have done such a thing?

  Resolutely, she tamped down the anger and upset. Kimber had caused enough trouble—she didn’t need to waste any more of her time dwelling on that confrontation. She ran her hands along the smooth oak table that had been there ever since she’d been a little girl. Happier times when the whole family had been together. Her gaze drifted to the fireplace mantel in the den and the large photograph of the entire family smiling the kind of bright, carefree grins one sported before life kicked you in the butt.

  And then she noticed something else. That smell had returned. Only a trace, but enough that her nostrils flared in distaste. She’d deal with that again another day. For now, she’d fix iced tea and then head to the master bathroom for a long, scented bubble bath. Only two years earlier, Mom had installed a whirlpool tub to help ease the pain of her arthritis, and it made for a lovely retreat.

  She poured a glass of tea and reached into the cookie jar to grab a snack, but only crumbs remained. Her brow furrowed. She’d just filled the jar a couple of days ago. The officers who’d searched her home must have helped themselves. Which was fine—the least she could do to show her appreciation. Tomorrow she’d send a written thank-you letter to the police department. In the bathroom, her mom’s old radio, now dusty, sat on a shelf, and her eyes were magnetically drawn to the old-school device. How many times had she and Presley heard Mom playing classical music from this very room? Some people retreated from life’s demands by taking a nap or settling in front of the TV with a cup of coffee, but their mom had opted for long bubble baths and classical music. Really loud music. Mom had been deaf in one ear, the result of a childhood infection.

  On impulse, she retrieved the radio and pressed play. The invigorating chords of Johann Strauss’s “Blue Danube Waltz” blared in the small space. A memory, long forgotten, surged forth—she and Presley impromptu waltzing through the house to this very piece. What they lacked in elegance they made up for with youthful enthusiasm as, hands on each other’s shoulders, they leaped and skipped about the kitchen and hallways.

  Nostalgia, bittersweet as baking chocolate, smacked Harper’s senses as she filled the tub with hot water. What was that old saying—in for a penny, in for a pound? Might as well go all the way for the full effect. She located Mom’s old bottle of gardenia-scented bath salts before stripping down and stepping into the tub.

  Heavenly. The stress of the day began to ease as she enjoyed the water’s warm, liquid caress. Mom’s method of escape was a winner. She closed her eyes, imagining herself dancing at a Viennese ball, the Danube River flowing magically in the background.

  Everything would get better now. No more strange voices and unsettling emails. No more treacherous friends manipulating her mind. To top it off, Liam was quickly healing from his wound, and their relationship grew deeper every day. Languidly, Harper traced her lips with an index finger, recalling his kisses. In many ways she was a lucky, lucky girl.

  A loud rustling erupted from outside the bathroom window. Shrubbery scraped against the frosted glass pane. A small animal, perhaps? But no, a cat or dog couldn’t cause that much ruckus.

  But a human could.

  Fear prickled along her neck and shoulders, and—despite the bathwater’s heat—her arms broke out in goose bumps.

  A silhouette appeared—a broad outline of head and shoulders. She wasn’t alone. Frantic, she glanced at her robe hanging on a hook on the wall and out of arm’s reach. Much as she loathed stepping naked out of the tub, lying there like a sitting duck for the Peeping Tom was an even worse option. With a giant splash, she climbed out, snatching the robe from the hook and wrapping the tie around her waist.

  “Get out of here! I’m calling the police right now.”

  Rounded eyes and a gaping mouth regarded her from the other side of the glass. Even through the distortion of the frosted window, something in the shape and angle of his face seemed familiar. Anger melted her fear. Did everyone in this town have a hidden sinister nature underneath their masks of smiles?

  The man vanished.

  This probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but if she wanted to know the creep’s identity, this was her only chance. The guy was fleeing after all, not trying to break in and harm her. Harper flung open the window.

  She recognized that slight-built frame. “Hey!” she shouted. “What are you doing here, Allen?”

  His head whipped around, his eyes wide pools of panic. He froze, head twisting from side to side, as though debating whether to flee or face the music.

  “Get back here,” she ordered. “Talk to me before the police arrive. Might go better for you this way.”

  Allen’s shoulders slumped, and he shuffled back to the window. “Damn it.”

  “Is that anyway for a preacher to talk? Oh, that’s right,” she continued, voice dripping in sarcasm. “When he’s caught peeping in a woman’s window, that’s the least of his worries.”

  “It’s not what you think,” he protested, holding up his hands like a shield. “Please don’t call the cops. Please. I’m already in enough trouble.”

  “Why should I care?”

  “If not for me, then will you do it for my family? My wife and kids will be devastated. Give me a chance to explain.”

  This ought to be good. Harper crossed her arms. “You’ve got one minute to explain yourself.”

  He glanced around the yard. “Meet me on your porch? In case anyone walks by and wonders what I’m doing. This doesn’t look right.”

  She laughed. He’d been creeping around in the shrubs by her window and now he was worried what people would think?

  “Don’t you dare run off,” she warned.

  “I won’t. I can explain this misunderstanding. Meet you around front. And make sure you put some clothes on first. I have a reputation to maintain.”

  The nerve of that sanctimonious hypocrite.

  Quickly, she threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and ran to the front porch. To her surprise, Allen hadn’t left. He sat in the glider, awaiting her appearance. Anyon
e passing by would think he’d come to pay a call, exercising his pastoral duties.

  The creep.

  “I thought teenage girls were more your forte. Why were you peeking in my bathroom window? Only one answer comes to mind.”

  Allen winced. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t know that was a window on a bathroom. Really. Sit down and let’s talk.”

  “I’ll stand right here, thank you very much.”

  “All right then.” He drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I was just trying to find you to talk. Your car’s in the driveway, so I knew you had to be home. I knocked at the front and back doors for over a minute, and you didn’t answer.”

  “Which would lead anyone normal to figure that the person was indisposed for company.”

  “I wanted to take advantage of this moment. You’re either not home lately, or that cop”—he practically spat the word—“is with you.”

  “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Officer Andrews.”

  “Not really. You see, he’s the problem.”

  She quirked a brow, waiting on his explanation.

  “He’s ruined my life. I was fired from my church, and my marriage is in shambles. I’m facing financial ruin, too. No one would help me in posting bond. You have no idea what it’s been like for me.”

  “Spare me your sob story. Wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you hadn’t been released on bond. I’m worried about Emily and any other victims that might turn up during the investigation.”

  “I’m begging you, Harper. Talk to him and see if he can help me out in some way.”

  Allen was delusional if he thought there was anything Liam could or would do to help him.

  What had Presley ever seen in this creepy wimp? “Preying on minors is breaking the law. You should be put in jail.”

  “I never admitted crossing a certain line. What I did was wrong, but I can seek treatment. Start over.”

  “She’s a child. Don’t try to justify anything to me. And I’m really supposed to believe you weren’t trying to enjoy the show in my bathroom?”

  “I couldn’t see anything through the frosted glass. You’re not going to tell him about that, are you? I was only trying to find you.”

  A shudder of revulsion passed through her. “Stay away from me, Allen. Don’t ever come back here.”

  “For Presley’s sake—can’t you at least grant me a little kindness?”

  “You’re pathetic. Even you admitted she’d broken up with you weeks before she died. You have no claim on my pity.”

  “What if I told you I might have information?”

  A pulse of nervous energy sparked in her chest. “Like what?”

  “You came to me wanting to know if I got her pregnant. I didn’t. But I know who Presley was secretly seeing after she broke up with me.”

  “Who?”

  Allen wagged a finger. “First, you agree not to tell Liam I was at your bathroom window. Second, I want special consideration when my case comes to trial.”

  “I’m not agreeing to anything. Give me the information or give it to Liam. You know you can’t keep it secret.”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh. “All right, all right. What do I have to lose? I’ve lost almost everything anyway. But if you could see it in your heart to help me, put a word in for me...”

  “Who was it?” she demanded.

  “Bryce Fairfax.”

  * * *

  THE PHONE RANG, and he recognized the caller number. Liam pressed the Answer button on his vehicle’s Bluetooth device. “What’s up, Gunner?”

  “I’ve been contacted.”

  Finally. A break in this case. “By who? What did they ask you to do?”

  “He didn’t give me his name. Guy come down to camp, and I seen him chatting up with Buddy. But Buddy shrugged him off and walked away. He don’t cotton to strangers, you see. Then the guy goes over to Buddy and I stroll over real quiet like to see what he’s up to.”

  Liam grit his teeth in exasperation. All he needed was the man’s description and what he wanted with Gunner. But he’d learned not to interrupt Gunner once he’d started a story; it would only take him twice as long to gather his thoughts and start the whole story all over again.

  “When he mentioned a job enforcing dudes to pay their gambling debts, why, I motioned Buddy to walk away, too. Then I eased up next to the fella and told him I’d be interested in making a little cash.”

  At Gunner’s brief pause for breath, Liam jumped in. “Did he give you an assignment already?”

  “I’m getting to that, boss. So, when I told him...”

  Liam pulled over to the side of the road and grabbed pen and paper to write down information. Absently, he rubbed a hand over his gun wound that was more uncomfortable than truly painful. He’d find the bastard responsible for this.

  “Then he says that I didn’t look fit for the kind of job he had in mind. He needed muscle to manhandle a welsher. Ticked me off big-time. I told him I was scrappy and had won many a fight at camps over the years. That I could hold my own with anybody. Guy didn’t look convinced but said he’d give me a test job. Pay me one hundred dollars, cash, to go rough up this dude who needed to be taught a lesson. And I says...”

  Liam couldn’t stay silent. “What’s the target’s name?”

  “The target? Oh, you mean who I’m supposed to rough up? Well, I’m getting to that. So, I told him I wouldn’t take any less than one hundred and fifty bucks. You know, just to make it seem like I weren’t too interested in taking the job. Didn’t want him to be suspicious of me. So the guy agreed to that. Gave me fifty bucks and said I’d get the rest tomorrow when I completed the job.”

  Liam’s heart hammered with anticipation. “Who are you supposed to beat up?”

  “Well, at first he didn’t want to give me a name. Just an address. But I told him I needed at least the target’s name, and a photograph would be even better. Told him I wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt the wrong man, see? I could tell he didn’t like that, but he got out his phone and showed me the guy’s picture. Looked like a real preppy kind of dude. Know what I mean? Fancy clothes and a trendy kinda hairdo you don’t get at a real barbershop. Must have gone to a girly beauty parlor to get it done, know what I mean?”

  “Go on.” Liam refrained from banging his head against the dashboard. But just barely.

  “Did I tell you the guy also said there might be an occasional need to force a call girl to pay up all the money she’d collected? Now, I draw the line there. Told him so, too, but that I’d find someone willing to do it. And he said, what are you? King of the hobos? And I said...”

  He glanced at the dashboard clock. He was already late meeting Harper for dinner, but work came first. If they continued seeing each other, she’d come to realize that grim reality. Could be a deal breaker for her, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman had decided that he wasn’t worth the aggravation. Although he quietly admitted to himself that if Harper felt that way, it would shake him.

  “Anyway, we exchanged cell phone numbers. I’m supposed to call him after I finish the job.”

  “Excellent. Give me his number. Probably a throwaway phone, but I’ll check it out.” He scribbled down the number Gunner provided.

  “How’s this going to work now, boss? What’s gonna happen when I don’t show up for the job? Makes me a little antsy to have this guy ticked off. Worried he might come hunt me down.”

  “I’ll contact the target and squeeze him for information on the players in this racket. Hopefully, we’ll get this shut down quick. In the meantime, I’ll pick you up now and take you to a safe location.”

  “I appreciate that, boss, but wait until tomorrow. If I suddenly leave it’ll look funny to my guys. And what if this man shows up at camp again in the meantime and I�
�m not here? It’ll blow up everything.”

  Gunner was right, but Liam didn’t want to place him in a vulnerable position. “I’ll take that chance.”

  Gunner chuckled. “Truth be told, I kinda want to spend tonight with my friends. One last time, ya know?”

  “Are you sure?” This didn’t sit well with him. The old man played a dangerous game.

  “Positive.” In a sudden show of brevity, Gunner added, “Gotta go. Meet me about four o’clock tomorrow at the clearing. Oh, and the target’s name? Richard Collins.”

  Collins...a jolt of recognition coursed through him. Had to be Kimber’s husband. Time to pay the man a visit earlier than he’d planned.

  He was so close. Liam could almost feel the answer to his questions settle into the palm of his hand. Squeezing the steering wheel, he eased his truck back onto the road.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Where are you headed?” Liam’s voice called to her from the cab of his vehicle as Harper descended her porch steps to her car. She was on her way back to Kimber’s to reassure the woman she wouldn’t press charges. As angry as Harper was, she knew Kimber was hurting, and she didn’t want to inflict pain on her when she herself had suffered enough.

  After sharing this news with Liam, his eyebrows shot up. “Not a good time,” he said stonily.

  “Why? Are you headed there? I could go with you.”

  “It’s police business, Harper. I just happened to be heading past your place.”

  She sighed. “Tell me. You know I’ll find out soon enough. And you won’t stop me from heading there, too.”

  When he explained his mission, she got in his car without asking permission. “I can help,” she announced. “Richard and Kimber know me, and they’re in my debt for not pressing charges. Besides, I need to get out of the house.”

  “Why? Did anything happen?”

  On a sigh, she told him. “Allen Spencer paid me a visit earlier.”

  Liam scowled as he drove. “What did he want?”