Unmasking the Shadow Man Page 5

  Bryce stopped by the booth. “Morning, Harper. Any more threatening emails or unexplained noises?”

  Several customers shifted their gazes to them, and her face warmed. Did he have to boom out the question within earshot of so many people? “Not in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Good, good. We’re always here if you need us. You coming, Andrews?”

  “In a few minutes.”

  A look passed between them, a tiny beat of tension. “Don’t stay too long—we’ve got a full load today.” Bryce turned from Liam to her and rapped his hand on the table. “See you around, then. Hopefully not in my official capacity.”

  She sipped her drink, relieved to find the other patrons resuming their own conversations. Liam leaned in, keeping his voice low. “You sure you’re going to be okay? You look...weary.”

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she admitted. “I kept thinking about that poor guy killed nearby. I tried to tackle a project, to get my mind off the murder, but I read something in Mom’s old papers that disturbed me.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  The loud rev of an engine distracted her. Outside, Bryce backed a police cruiser out of his parking place. “Don’t you need to get to the station? What with the full load Bryce mentioned.”

  “No hurry.” Liam kept his eyes pinned on her.

  Somehow, she found herself telling him about the autopsy report. Strange how she felt so free to confide in him instead of her longtime best friend. Maybe because he never knew her sister, it felt like less of a betrayal to confide about the pregnancy.

  “Damn, what a horrible way to find out.”

  “I can’t believe Mom never told me.”

  “She might have been trying to protect you from more pain.”

  “Probably. But I wish she had talked to me. Mom shut down after Presley’s death. Her life became a matter of merely going through the motions of living.”

  “Do you think this report has any bearing on your sister’s death—on what you saw that night?”

  “No. Her boyfriend, Allen Spencer, looks nothing like whatever I saw on the staircase. Although—I do wonder if Allen knew.” She set down her drink. The sugary sweetness that had tasted so good going down now roiled in her belly.

  “I can ask him for you.”

  “Seriously? You don’t think that would be presumptuous? I barely know the guy, and you don’t know him at all. Won’t you get into trouble for asking about his teenage behavior—wouldn’t he think you were harassing him?”

  “It’s all in the approach. I’ll tell him I’m searching for answers about what happened to Presley since some new information has come up. It’s the truth.”

  “He’s a minister now. He’s sure to be taken aback by you questioning him and his reputation. Let me do it. At least I won’t be a stranger.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “He’s a minister. He knew my sister. Knew of her tragic death. Surely he’ll respond with compassion.”

  “All right. But I’ll go with you. Not in an official capacity. I’ll change into my civilian clothes but let you do all the talking.”

  His kindness tugged at her heart, yet an ugly suspicion arose inside. Why was he being so helpful? He barely knew her. “Why?” she asked abruptly.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you being so nice?”

  “Maybe I’m just a decent guy.”

  Of course, that was one explanation. Why must she always be so suspicious of people’s motives? If alive, Mom would advise her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Okay, let’s do this. When’s a good time for you?”

  “When I get off work this evening. Find out the minister’s schedule, and we’ll work something out.” Liam finished the last of his coffee and set it down. “One last word of advice—don’t warn him we’re coming.”

  She hadn’t expected that. “Why not?”

  “He might not have been the man you saw that night, but say he and your sister argued about the pregnancy. Maybe she wanted to keep the baby, and that infuriated him. Enough so that he hired someone to hurt her.”

  “A teenager hiring a hit man? Bit of a stretch, I think.”

  “I’ve seen it all in my line of work. Never underestimate what people will do when they’re in a rage or feel cornered. By the way, I filed the report on that truck that came at you. Nothing’s come up yet, but I’ll let you know if something does.” Liam slid out of the booth. “I’ll buzz you later.”

  She continued to sit for a few more minutes, pondering Liam’s parting salvo. The Allen she remembered had been a quiet, slightly nerdy kind of guy. But what was that old line about how you always have to watch the quiet ones?

  “You doing okay, sweetie? More coffee?” Rhoda appeared at her side, a fresh pot in her hands.

  “No, thanks. I’d better get going.” Harper slapped a generous tip on the table and eased out of the booth, only now noticing several people standing at the entrance, waiting on a clean table. No wonder Mom used to come home with aching feet and a sore back from serving a steady stream of customers.

  She waved goodbye to the staff and headed outside, gazing forlornly at her car. Everyone else seemed so busy and content, full of things to do and people to meet. The way she had been not so long ago. And now? Nothing waiting on her but a creepy house that still needed more cleaning and decluttering. She didn’t even want to return to her childhood home—how sad was that? If she had any sense, she’d call Kimber immediately and accept her offer to buy it. In two days, she could be back at her old job in Atlanta, slipping into a comfortable routine.

  Funny how that hardly appealed to her, either.

  Harper pushed her shoulders back and strode forward. The thing was to keep busy. She’d sleep on Kimber’s offer tonight and call her in the morning with a decision.

  “Harper? Harper Catlett?”

  The deep, booming voice sounded familiar. She swung around, spotting Captain Carlton Fairfax bearing down on her. Make that ex-captain. Bryce’s father was a negative image of his son. Where Bryce was muscular, Carlton was stocky. Bryce’s dark good looks and affable smile managed to look downright smarmy on his dad, although the family resemblance was there in the strong jaw and in the confident aura both exuded.

  He held out a beefy hand, and she shook it, almost wincing at his tight squeeze. Was that a male dominance tactic—show her who was stronger? There she went with the suspicions again.

  “Knew it had to be you with the wild red hair.” He grinned.

  She forced a smile, reminding herself that he had been kind to her and Mom after the accident. Not to mention he’d been the first responder at the scene that night and had whisked them away to safety.

  “Sorry about your mother. She was a good woman, that Ruth. A hard worker.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Reckon you’ll be heading out of Baysville in the next few days?”

  She felt a perverse desire to contradict his assumption. “I might just stay.” The admission surprised even her.

  His smile slipped a notch. “I’d have thought Baysville wouldn’t hold much attraction to a young lady with a fancy decorating career in Atlanta.”

  It almost sounded as though he wanted her to leave. “Isn’t the mayor your buddy? Don’t imagine he’d find your portrayal of Baysville very flattering.”

  He barked out a laugh but hardly appeared amused. Harper opened her car door. “Good to see you again.” She shut herself inside, ending the conversation. From the rearview mirror, she saw him watch her as she backed out of the parking space and then onto Main Street. His stare was oddly unsettling. Probably a guilt by association thing. Since Liam had warned her that Bryce might not be a particularly reliable person, she assumed his dad was cut from the same cloth. It felt odd to be wary of them when she’d looked up to Bryce as a gir
l. But she was starting to view him in a different light now, especially since he’d refused to take her fears seriously.

  She turned on the radio, determined to shake off her uneasy mood. Obviously, last night’s discovery still played on her emotions, too, making her mistrustful of everyone and their motives. For now, she’d concentrate on her upcoming interview with the preacher.

  Chapter Five

  The nearly deserted church had an eerie vibe. On either side of the main sanctuary, the rippled surface of stained-glass windows sparkled like deep-hued jewels in the waning sunlight. A weighty silence blanketed the room, as though thousands of prayers were compressed between the walls.

  From a distance came the sound of a girl’s high-pitched voice—out of place and jarring. Liam couldn’t make out the words, but he guessed from her tone that she was agitated.

  “The youth group always met in the basement on Thursday nights,” Harper said in a near whisper. “If memory serves, it should begin in about fifteen minutes. When I called earlier, the church secretary told me that Allen personally conducts their meetings and would be available.”

  “Hmm...so he knows we’re coming?”

  “If the secretary told him. I know you didn’t want to alert him to our visit, but she asked if I wanted to see him.”

  “No problem. The basement it is, then.” Liam nodded, amused that he’d also lowered his voice, as though conversing in a normal tone would violate the reverent atmosphere. “I meant to ask, did Allen conduct the funeral service for your mother?”

  “No, we went to a different church across town.”

  They stepped from the sanctuary into a dimly lit hallway lined with rows of closed doors with placards designating various Bible study groups. A sliver of light shone from the last door on the right, casting a patchwork of shadows on the linoleum floor.

  “Allen? Where are you?”

  That same querulous voice he’d heard in the sanctuary drew closer, emerging from the staircase to his left. A young girl rounded the second level of the stairs, blinking at them in surprise. Skinny and with a short pixie cut feathering her face, her eyes looked impossibly large.

  “We’re looking for him, too.” Harper veered from his side and walked toward the stairs. “Are you part of the youth group?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sort of.”

  A muffled rustling sounded from down the hallway, much more interesting than this conversation with the girl. Liam quietly padded toward the occupied room, tuning in to whispering voices and the unmistakable metallic clicking of a zipper. He reckoned he’d either found the missing preacher or two brazen teenagers who’d arrived early for the youth meeting and decided to engage in a little fun first.

  The doorknob turned, and a fortysomething man appeared, running a hand through his short hair, his reading glasses slightly askew on his delicate features. He pasted on a nervous smile. “Did I hear someone calling for me?”

  “Allen Spencer?” Liam asked.

  Allen quickly shut the door behind him and walked away as if in a hurry to get somewhere. “Yes? Do I know you?”

  “Where ya been?” The teenager pushed in front of Liam to confront Allen, eyes narrowed.

  Now wasn’t this all very interesting. The man was hiding a secret. If he had a consensual thing going on with an adult employee, Liam couldn’t pursue that in any official way. But the inappropriate flash of suspicion and jealousy in the teenager’s eyes gave him pause. Did Allen flirt with these young girls and lead them on? Perhaps something even worse was happening here.

  “Patience, Kristen.” Allen frowned a warning at the girl before catching sight of Harper. He squinted and tentatively offered his hand, ignoring Liam. “Aren’t you—”

  “Harper Catlett. Presley’s sister.”

  They shook hands. “Yes, yes. There’s a resemblance. I heard about your mother. So sorry. What brings you here tonight?”

  Liam’s suspicion increased as the preacher drew them toward his office—and away from the closed door of the Adult Disciples room. Harper glanced at him with raised brows, a silent acknowledgment that she was also aware of the man’s odd behavior. Allen flipped on the lights and bade them enter, motioning them to sit on the couch across from his desk. “Come in, come in. I only have a few minutes, though, before the youth group starts. Kristen, will you please go downstairs and set up the chairs for me?”

  Kristen pouted, and Liam thought she was about to refuse, but the girl huffed out of the room, producing a surprising amount of noise as she stomped down the stairs. Liam remained standing at the door while Harper seated herself.

  Allen perched behind the desk, folding his slender fingers together atop its mahogany surface. “This must be a difficult time for you after losing your mother,” he began in what sounded to Liam like practiced, professional rote. “But death is not really the end, it’s—”

  “Thank you, but that’s not why I’m here,” Harper interrupted.

  “Oh?” Surprise lit behind the thick lens of his glasses.

  The landline phone on his desk rang, and he winced. “Excuse me a moment. I never know when it might be someone in the congregation who needs my assistance.”

  Perfect timing. Liam raised a finger toward Harper. “Be right back,” he murmured.

  She nodded in understanding. Allen appeared wrapped up in his phone call. Liam closed the door behind him and made his way back down the hall. If he found a grown woman trying to discreetly slip away, then there wasn’t much he could do if she was part of a consensual affair. It would make Allen a hypocrite and adulterer, but not necessarily a lawbreaker. If, however, the man was fooling around with underage girls, that was a different story entirely. Allen was in serious trouble in that case. At the last room on the right, from which Allen had originally emerged, he quickly opened the door and stepped inside.

  All was quiet. A corner lamp softly lit the unoccupied room where a circle of metal folding chairs was arranged. On the walls were shelves of books and angel statues. Had he missed whoever had been there a minute earlier? “It’s okay, you can come out now.”

  From the corner of his eye, he caught a slight movement to his far left. There. A young girl’s head peeked out from behind the back of a large, wing-backed chair positioned near the back window. They silently, warily eyed one another.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  Automatically, his right hand reached for the back pocket that held his wallet and police identification. He thought better of it. The girl was nervous enough without throwing that bit of information into the mix right off the bat.

  “Liam Andrews,” he answered simply. “Come on out.”

  She emerged from behind the chair, nervously running her hands through her shoulder-length tangle of curls. “I, um, I’d lost an earring and was looking for it.”

  “In that case, it might have been helpful to turn on the overhead light.”

  “Yeah.” She gave a self-deprecating giggle and stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “You’re right. My bad.”

  He commanded her gaze. “How’d you lose the earring?”

  She lifted her shoulders and raised her palms in a whatcha-gonna-do gesture. “Oh, you know...” The girl shuffled past him, her head bent low.

  “Hold on there,” he said.

  She spun around. “Yes, sir?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen. Why?”

  A minor then. This was bad. “What was going on in here?”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” A blush scoured her cheeks even as guilt flashed in her wide green eyes. Her hands left her pockets, and she again played with the loose curls framing her girlish face.

  “You can tell me. I’m a cop. I’ll help you.”

  Her eyes darted to the door.

  “Would you rather discuss this with a female officer?” he asked gen
tly. “I can call someone in.”

  White teeth scraped at her bottom lip. Slowly, she started walking backward toward the exit door. “I’m, um, late. I gotta go.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mary Smith.”

  If he wasn’t so concerned for her, he’d have been angry at the blatant lie. “What’s going on here is wrong,” he said gently. “Like I said, I can help you. But I need your real name. And your parents’ phone number.”

  Mary—or whatever her name was—visibly paled, and her mouth dropped open in fear. She bolted.

  Liam rushed into the hallway after her as she streaked through the sanctuary, swift as a scared bunny.

  Allen’s study door opened, and he poked his head out, furtively scanning the hallway. “Everything okay out here? Emily, what’s going on?” he called after the girl.

  Harper pushed past Allen and joined him in the pursuit.

  “Emily, wait!” she pleaded. She looked back at Liam, and said softly, “She might talk to a woman.”

  The girl halted and peered over her shoulder.

  “Can we talk a minute?” Harper asked, approaching her slowly, holding out a hand. “Just you and me.”

  Allen caught up to them, huffing from the short run. “Why are you running, Emily? What’s going on?”

  Liam’s jaw clenched at the man’s faked air of innocence and the deliberate, warning frown he gave the young girl. He stepped in front of Allen, blocking his view of Emily. “Harper, do you mind taking Emily inside while I deal with Mr. Spencer?”

  “What do you say, Emily?” Harper smiled softly, draped an arm over the girl’s shoulder and guided her to the sanctuary. “Everything’s going to be fine, honey. You’ll see.”

  Thank heavens for Harper’s assistance. The arrest would be so much easier without the victim witnessing it and possibly trying to protect her abuser, denying that anything wrong had occurred.

  “Get in my car,” he ordered Spencer. “I’m taking you into the station for questioning.”

  “Questioning? Wh-what are you talking about?”