Debbie Herbert - Unmasking The Shadow Man

In a race against time

Can they defeat an unseen foe?

Officer Liam Andrews knows trouble when he sees it, and trouble should be Harper Catlett’s middle name. Especially considering the mysterious goings-on in the home where Harper’s sister died decades before. Secretly working undercover, Liam is soon roped into Harper’s amateur detective work as she probes Baysville’s sordid secrets. But together, can the pair solve these long-buried crimes…before they both wind up dead?

USA TODAY bestselling author DEBBIE HERBERTwrites paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her eldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.

Also by Debbie Herbert

Appalachian Prey

Appalachian Abduction

Bayou Shadow Hunter

Bayou Shadow Protector

Bayou Wolf

Siren’s Secret

Siren’s Treasure

Siren’s Call

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Unmasking the Shadow Man

Debbie Herbert

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09443-6

UNMASKING THE SHADOW MAN

© 2019 Debbie Herbert

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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This book is dedicated to Karen Groce; thanks for

being such a great beta reader!

And, as always, to my husband, Tim; my dad, J. W.

Gainey; and my sons, Byron and Jacob.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

The scratching began again. Skreek. A heartbeat of silence. Skreek. Skreek.

She could sleep through the blare of traffic in Atlanta, but this teeny noise in her mom’s old house in rural Virginia had roused her from deep sleep in a mere nanosecond.

It was the sound of her nightmares. The ominous scratching that had preceded the worst moment of her life and hounded Harper to this day. It was inexorably tied to the image of her sister Presley’s body lying on the kitchen floor as smoke swirled and fire licked the darkness. Harper sat up in bed and waited for the scratching to resume. But this time, the only noise was a faint swish of something soft brushing against a wall.

Probably just a mouse scampering behind the old Sheetrock, or so she hoped. Disgusting as that was, she’d welcome the prospect of mice infiltration over creepier alternatives. As a child, she’d wondered if the house was haunted by a ghost—or an even scarier type of supernatural horror.

Harper pictured the wraithlike, filthy creature she’d glimpsed the night Presley died. The thing—she wasn’t sure if it was a person or some remnant from a dream—had loomed over her sister’s lifeless body. She’d screamed, and the pale figure had vanished into the shadows. Never to be seen again.

Nobody had believed her. There’d been no signs of forced entry, and a search of the old Victorian had revealed nothing unusual. Presley’s death had been ruled accidental.

But even now, the skin at the nape of her neck prickled at the memory.

This wouldn’t do. After all, she’d returned to Baysville in order to settle her mom’s estate and make peace with her own disturbing past. Time to discover what was real and what was imaginary. Over the years, she’d pushed that night’s events to the back of her mind.

Of course, she wasn’t always successful. At unexpected moments, a vivid image of pale skin draped on a frail, gaunt figure would crystallize from the hazy memories of the night Presley died.

Sleep was no longer possible, so Harper climbed out of bed and turned on the bedside lamp. The light reassuringly spotlighted the familiar and mercifully vacant room. All was in order. The peach-colored walls cast a comforting warm glow. Her white French provincial bed and dresser were old but classic and had served her since childhood. She could have taken the larger master bedroom across the hall, but it still felt like Mom’s room. Probably always would, no matter how many years passed after her death.

Harper donned her comfy, though tattered, pink robe and opened the bedroom door, flipping on the hall lights. The recently polished oak floors gleamed golden and reflected the bright sheen of her red hair. She gripped the iron railing of the staircase, surveyed the stairs, and then her eyes darted involuntarily to the kitchen. After all these years, she still checked to make sure no flames or smoke billowed from the room. Grimly, Harper made her way down the steps. Would she ever descend them without remembering that night?