The woman didn’t speak, instead lifting her chin, as if to suggest Ivy should look over her shoulder.
Following her instincts, Ivy did just that, and found Brad storming across the lot and heading in her direction. She risked a glance back at the woman and wasn’t surprised to find she’d disappeared.
“That needs to stop right now,” she muttered to thin air. “It’s … creepy.”
“Where is your boyfriend?” Brad barked, forcing Ivy to focus on him instead of the woman – or perhaps witch – who kept popping in and out of her life.
“He’s on his way home,” Ivy replied, her internal danger alarm pinging. “If you want to talk to him, I suggest heading that way.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to go to your house,” he sneered. “Maybe I don’t want to go out of my way for your stupid boyfriend.”
“I don’t really care what you want to do … or where you want to go, for that matter.” Even though she was leery, Ivy refused to show fear. Brad seemed the sort of guy who would feed on it, and she didn’t want to reward him for a bad attitude. “Jack isn’t here, though, and I have nothing to say to you.”
Ivy tossed her remaining packages into the backseat, the ones she knew weren’t breakable, and slammed the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m expected home.”
Brad stepped in front of her, blocking the short trip to the driver’s side door. “Maybe I don’t want to excuse you.”
For the first time since she mentioned it, Ivy wished she really did have the ability to shoot fire out of her eyes. “You should really move.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Jack won’t be happy.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be.”
“Why? What is he going to do to me?”
Ivy didn’t have to answer because Jack picked that moment to slide between them and grab Brad by the front of his shirt. He threw the man so hard, Brad stumbled as he tried to maintain his footing, ultimately going down and scraping his palms against the pavement.
“There are a lot of things I could do to you,” Jack growled, his chest heaving.
Ivy looked over his shoulder and found his truck parked in the middle of the street, the door wide open. He’d obviously seen what was going down between her and Brad and decided to intervene. For once, she was happy with his overprotective nature.
“Honey, I want you to get into the car,” Jack ordered, his nostrils flaring.
Ivy took a moment to debate how she wanted to respond. She wasn’t thrilled with following orders but inserting herself between two fighting men seemed like the exact wrong thing to do. “Okay.”
If Jack was surprised by her capitulation, he didn’t show it. He merely stood guard as she climbed into her car, stuck her key in the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot. He was still standing there glaring at Brad when she headed toward home. She could only hope that they didn’t come to blows without a witness to rein Jack in.
IVY WAS DETERMINED TO keep from worrying about Jack, although she purposely drove the speed limit going home even though the road was completely empty. She employed a few calming breathing techniques as she grabbed her packages from the back of the car, her mind several miles away, and she was halfway up the steps that led to the house when she noticed something odd about the bay window at the front of the cottage.
It was getting dark, and she’d forgotten to turn on the front porch light before leaving, so she had to squint to make out what she’d determined were squiggles on the glass. For some reason, even though she had no idea what she was looking at, her heart rate picked up a notch.
Very slowly, deliberately, she backed down the steps and lowered the packages to the ground in front of her car. She felt exposed, as if someone was watching, but she couldn’t decide if she was better racing into the house or waiting for Jack outside.
Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. She heard Jack’s truck in the driveway, although she didn’t turn when his headlights bounced against the front of the house. Instead, she focused on the squiggles until her brain snapped into gear and she realized they represented writing. Only three words were legible, but they were enough to make her blood run cold.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked as he moved to stand with her. “Why haven’t you taken your stuff inside? Were you worried I got into a fight with Brad? You can rest assured that I didn’t put my hands on him a second time. I merely warned him what would happen if he ever stepped within a fifty-foot radius of you again.”
“That’s nice.” Ivy’s mouth was dry. “Do you have a flashlight in your truck?”
“Yeah. Why? Is the power out?”
“I don’t think so. There’s something on the glass.”
Puzzled, he furrowed his eyebrows and focused on the window. “What do you mean? Like a big bug or something? I hate to break it to you, honey, because I’m supposed to be your knight in shining armor, but I’m kind of afraid of bugs. You might have to kill it.”
Ivy was running out of patience. “It’s not a bug. Someone wrote something on the window. I saw it as I was climbing the steps, although I couldn’t make it out until you pulled into the driveway. I want to look again.”
Jack was understandably confused, but he retrieved the flashlight all the same. He knew better than questioning Ivy’s instincts. When he returned, he flicked the button on the shaft and pointed the beam toward the window.
It took everything he had not to jump out of his skin when he read the message. He’d convinced himself that whatever Ivy saw was probably a funny message from Max and nothing more. Instead, three words illuminated in the light beam and caused his heart to skip a beat.
“Don’t give up,” he read out loud. “What do you think that means?”
“Don’t give up on Phoebe,” Ivy answered without hesitation.
“How can you be sure?”
“I don’t know. It’s something I feel. I can’t explain it.”
“Okay.” Jack cast a glance at the trees surrounding the house, internally cursing how isolated they were. Then he moved closer to the window and lifted a finger so he could touch one of the letters. He brought his finger back to his nose and sniffed, making a face and inadvertently sneezing. “Lye. Why would someone use lye to write on our window?”
Ivy moved to his elbow and repeated his motions, although she didn’t sneeze when she inhaled the aroma. “It’s soap.”
“Soap?” Jack’s eyebrows hopped. “Like the soap you make?”
“Yeah. I use lye and scented oils, too. I’m betting whoever did this got the lye from my storage shed.”
Jack looked toward the small building in question. “I’ll check tomorrow.” He had no intention of leaving Ivy vulnerable. “Let’s grab your stuff and go inside. I believe I owe you a massage.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Let’s get inside first. We both need to relax. I’ll check the storage building tomorrow.”
JACK WAS UP EARLY, and although he almost never left Ivy alone in bed without him, he was careful as he climbed out from beneath the sheets. He took the time to tuck the feet she always insisted on poking out from beneath the covers back in place and then tugged on a pair of sweatpants and grabbed his gun from the nightstand before heading outside.
In the light of day, the film on the front window was easy to make out. It looked to have been drawn with a shaky hand because there were obvious gaps in some of the letters. He ignored the soap and fixed his full attention on Ivy’s storage building.
The door was shut, the padlock she affixed to it because he insisted remained in place, and when he opened it everything inside looked to be properly shelved. It was Ivy’s building and he didn’t pay much attention so he couldn’t be certain, but nothing looked out of place.
He was almost ready to shut the door when something caught his eye. It was a bar of soap in one of the boxes she kept in the shed, and everything was lined up perfectly
inside – because he was convinced Ivy had a minor case of OCD – except for one bar, which was askew. He carefully snagged the bar and held it up, eyeing it for signs it had been used to write on the window. Sure enough, one of the corners was flattened, which meant whoever took the time to write on the window somehow got into Ivy’s shed despite it being locked. Not only that, but he or she had returned the bar of soap, which made absolutely no sense.
“What are you doing out here?” Max asked from behind Jack, causing the police officer to grip his weapon tighter and practically jump out of his skin. “Are you and Ivy making lotions and soaps as a couple now? Or, wait, are you oiling yourself up so you can flex for her?”
Max realized what he said too late to take it back and made a horrified face. “Oh, I blame that one on me. It came out before I really thought about it. I can’t even blame you.”
“I wish I could bask in the wonder of your confession, but I’m out here for a different reason,” Jack said when he regained his calm. He placed the bar of soap in Max’s hand and exited the shed, making sure to lock it before heading to the house.
“Is this a hint that you want me to shower?” Max was confused. “If that’s why you texted me to come over here so early in the morning, I’m going to be offended … and maybe wrestle you to the ground until you cry or something because that seems like a manly thing to do to make up for the oil comment.”
Jack shot him a withering look. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“No.”
“Then I think you know your answer.”
Jack bit back a long-suffering sigh as he paused at the base of the stairs. “I called you here because I’m worried about your sister. I don’t want her left alone today if I can help it.”
Even though he enjoyed driving Jack crazy, Max instantly sobered. “What’s going on? Did something happen yesterday? I swear she was acting weird after we visited the shack, although she said nothing was wrong. I knew she was lying.”
“Something was definitely wrong.” Jack pushed open the front door and motioned for Max to enter. “She saw something at the shack. She’ll probably be angry at me for telling you, but her safety is the most important thing and I’m not risking it for anything.”
“What did she see?”
“She saw a woman, who promptly disappeared. I think she believes it was Susan Bishop. That was the name of the woman who lived there, right?”
Confused, Max furrowed his brow. “Um … Susan Bishop has been dead for like seventy years.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Ivy saw her.”
“But … .”
“Just, don’t ask stupid questions.” Jack waved a hand to let Max know he meant business and headed toward the kitchen so he could brew coffee. “Ivy saw her. I believe her. I don’t want you making a thing out of this. She’s having enough trouble as it is.”
“Fine. I won’t make fun of her.”
“Good.” Jack poured water into the Keurig’s basin and waited for it to heat. “Last night, Brad Green approached her downtown. He didn’t touch her, but he was acting a bit crazed. I gave him a good shove – something he’s threatened to lodge a complaint about, but I don’t think he’s ballsy enough to do it – and warned him away.”
“So you want me to protect her from Brad? No problem. I’ve never liked that guy.”
“I don’t think Brad would be stupid enough to come out here, but he’s not my real worry.” Jack explained about the message on the window, laying it out as simply as possible. When he was done, Max had gone from mildly concerned to furious.
“How did someone break into her shed, steal a bar of soap, write on the window, put the soap back, and lock the door?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be so worked up.”
“Well … I want to pound someone.”
“Join the club.”
“Who do you guys want to pound?” Ivy asked, appearing in the archway between the kitchen and living room, her hair mussed from sleep. She wore a pair of knit shorts and T-shirt and still had the lines from the pillow on her face, which meant she’d only been up a short time.
“All men who aren’t as manly as us,” Max automatically answered.
Jack groaned. “Don’t lie to her. I’m not asking you to lie to her.”
“Oh, good.” Max was genuinely relieved. “Jack wants me to watch you because Brad Green might try to hurt you and someone magically broke into your shed and stole soap last night.”
Ivy pursed her lips. “Oh. I guess I should’ve expected that.” She trudged into the kitchen and used her hips to nudge Jack away from the Keurig. “I need tea first. If we’re going to have a serious discussion, it requires caffeine.”
“Okay.” He was happy to find his hand steady when he rubbed it along her slim back. “You get the first dose of caffeine.”
“And then you can make us a huge breakfast so we have full stomachs when we make decisions about your safety,” Max suggested.
“And what decisions do you think we should make?” Ivy asked.
“I think the first should be that you’re not allowed to go anywhere alone,” Jack answered honestly.
Ivy’s lips curved down. “I’m an adult. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Try not to think of it as a babysitter,” Jack suggested. Anticipating a fight, he braced himself, and finished the thought. “Think of it as a bodyguard with benefits. The benefit being, you can order him around and make him do chores … like washing the front window.”
Ivy’s eyes momentarily drifted to the window. “I can clean the window.”
“Why? You have a bodyguard with benefits. Make Max do it for you.”
“Max will be unable to perform that particular task because he has his own business and will be working from that location for the day. I have my own business, too, and will be there.”
“I think you should allow Max to spend the day with you,” Jack persisted. “It would make me feel a lot better. I mean … you don’t want me to be so distracted because I’m worried about you that I make a mistake on the job, do you?”
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “That’s low.”
“I can go lower. You’re not going anywhere alone today. That’s all there is to it.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes to dangerous blue slits. “Do you want to bet?”
“Sure. I bet you a million dollars you’re going to be with Max today.”
“And I bet you two million dollars you’re wrong.”
“I can feel the love,” Max drawled, cringing when they both glared at him. “And the love looks like it’s going to hurt.”
Ten
Ivy won.
Kind of.
Ultimately, she laid down the law and Max slunk out of the house because he was afraid she was going to burn him with something other than the potential fire eyes she mentioned to Jack the previous evening.
For his part, Jack’s fury couldn’t be banked. Still, he insisted on walking Ivy to work. Since he refused to talk, the short stroll through the woods to her nursery was uncomfortable. He stuck with her until he caught sight of her father, Michael, and then broke away so he could talk to the man in private.
“Don’t you dare,” Ivy hissed, picking up her pace as she struggled to keep up with Jack’s long strides. “Don’t even think about doing what I know you’re going to do.”
Jack ignored her. They were already in a fight. Making it worse didn’t frighten him nearly as much as the idea of leaving Ivy unprotected.
“Good morning.” Michael beamed at them as he worked at arranging flower flats at the front of the property. “How are you two this glorious morning? It’s going to be a great day.”
“We’re fine,” Ivy automatically answered, holding her side as she gasped to get her breath. Given Jack’s height and long legs, it was easier for him to cover ground. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
“Everything is n
ot fine,” Jack countered, purposely avoiding eye contact with Ivy as he folded his arms over his chest. “Ivy needs to be watched today, and since she terrorized the individual I scheduled to watch her, you’re going to have to fill the position.”
Michael chuckled dryly. “Do I even want to know what you two are fighting about?”
“No,” Ivy replied, furious. “Jack is overreacting ... like usual. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“I am not overreacting.” Jack refused to back down. “I need you to keep an eye out for Brad Green. He approached Ivy last night in town and was ... aggressive.”
Michael’s gaze darkened. “Aggressive how?”
“He tried to cut her off from her vehicle.”
“He was posturing,” Ivy corrected. “He wasn’t going to touch me. He was simply angry and looking for Jack. He thought we were spying on him at the craft fair, which was ridiculous.”
Guilt churned in Jack’s belly. “Yes. He approached Ivy because he was angry at me. That doesn’t mean he’ll simply stay away because I’m in town and she’s out here. I want her safe.”
Michael was used to Ivy and Jack fighting. That was how their relationship started, and they both found it cathartic to blow off steam more than a year after getting together. He tried to stay out of their affairs as much as possible. There was something about the set of Jack’s shoulders that told him today might not be the time to avoid taking sides. “I’ll watch her,” he offered, instinctively taking a step away from a furious Ivy. “If Brad comes around, I’ll call you right away. I doubt he will, though. That’s not generally how he operates.”
“I doubt he will, too, but Brad isn’t my only concern.”
“Don’t,” Ivy snapped. “Just ... don’t.”
Jack knew what she was worried about. She didn’t want her father to know she’d been seeing things. She was an adult, but she couldn’t stop herself from fretting over what her parents thought. He had no intention of making things difficult for her on that front.
Wicked Haunts (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 12) Page 9