“This is a magical place,” Cara offered, her eyes sparkling as Tyson gave her a weird look that Jack assumed was part of the show. “There’s more here than just wild beauty.”
“Like murdering spouses?” Carter asked pointedly. He and Damien were on an adjacent blanket next to Ivy and Jack and seemed to be perfectly content to cuddle together even though Bart kept sending them regular glares of disdain.
“I don’t know about that.” Cara darted a glance at Bart and then shook her head. “I’m talking about the spirits of the river.”
Jack had done a good job of loosening up Ivy, but he didn’t miss the way her muscles tensed.
“What sort of spirits?” she asked, feigning polite curiosity. “Like ... ghosts?”
“Some say they’re ghosts,” Cara replied. “Plenty of people have died along the river over the years. Down in the areas where the water rages — areas you guys don’t have to worry about traversing — a great number of people have not only been lost to the wilderness, but their bodies have also never been found.”
“How does that work?” Harold queried. He had an orderly mind, Ivy realized, which meant that the mystical was going to fly directly over his head and be discarded. It wasn’t something he could understand, so he would dismiss it outright.
“It’s one of the great mysteries of the river,” Tyson replied. “Sometimes people go in and never come out.”
“But surely they must wash up on the shore somewhere,” Harold persisted. “I mean ... they can’t just disappear. That’s not how it works. This is a river, not an ocean. There aren’t any sharks to eat up the bodies.”
“It’s possible,” Jack countered, digging his thumbs into the tender spot between Ivy’s shoulder blades and smiling when she let loose a little grunt. She was doing her best not to groan in pleasure, but he recognized that she was enjoying the massage. “I used to work in Detroit and we lost a lot of bodies in the Detroit River. People would report jumpers, or people going swimming, and we would never find the bodies even though we knew they should be there.”
“Why is that?” Vanessa asked from her spot next to Nate. “I mean ... where do the bodies go?”
“The current is really fast,” Jack explained. “If the water levels are low because of drought conditions, bodies aren’t as difficult to pull out. If the water levels are high, though, there’s an eddy system beneath the water. It drags in swimmers and just never lets them go.”
“But the bodies have to be in there somewhere,” Nate insisted.
“They’re in there. That doesn’t mean we can find them.”
“The river has been used as a dumping ground for certain mafia types over the years, too,” Ivy offered. “Because of the current, it’s a great way to make an enemy disappear.”
“That’s horrible.” Vanessa involuntarily shuddered. “I’m so glad we live in Los Angeles instead of Detroit. It doesn’t sound safe there.”
Jack chuckled. Los Angeles was hardly a safe city. “We don’t live in Detroit. Even when I worked for the city department, I didn’t live there. I lived in the suburbs. Now we’re up in the northwest portion of the Lower Peninsula. We live in a tiny town called Shadow Lake. It’s perfectly safe.” Except when people try to murder my wife, he silently added. That was definitely not appropriate bonfire conversation, though.
“I want to hear about the spirits of the river,” Ivy insisted. “What are they?”
Cara’s smile grew as she returned to her story. It was obvious she loved when her audience was engaged. “Well, it started several years ago. We’re not the only company that does regular trips down the river and we did not receive the first reports. A woman in a group with a different company swore up and down she saw people in the shadows beyond the river watching her as she kayaked with a group of friends.”
Ivy cast a curious look toward Jack and found him listening to Cara with rapt attention.
“Were they people or ghosts?” Jack queried.
Bart let loose a disdainful snort. “Are you kidding? Ghosts aren’t real.”
Jack shot him a dark look. “I happen to believe in ghosts. I wasn’t talking to you anyway.”
“I believe in ghosts, too,” Carter said. “They freak me out. I swear my Nana has been haunting me since she died three years ago. She keeps throwing away my moisturizer.”
“That’s me,” Damien countered. “It’s wrong for your skin type. You need something water-based.”
Carter let loose a huff. “It’s my Nana and you know it. Like you would ever throw out Charlotte Tilbury brand anything.”
Ivy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She found she enjoyed Damien and Carter a great deal.
“I don’t know if the river spirits are ghosts,” Cara offered, drawing all eyes back to her. “Some people believe they are, restless spirits drawn to the river because it never sleeps, just like them. Other people believe we’re dealing with water nymphs, spirits from another plane who are only visible at dusk and dawn, when they dance to signify the changing of the day.”
“Oh, geez,” Bart muttered.
Everybody ignored him.
“What do you believe?” Ivy was honestly curious.
Cara shrugged. “I guess it depends on the day. I’ve never felt unsafe on these waters. If they are ghosts we’re dealing with, then they’re peaceful spirits. I think they like to watch the river and make sure everybody gets to where they’re supposed to be.”
“If that were true, there wouldn’t be ghosts in the first place,” Bart pointed out.
Cara pretended she didn’t hear him. “Some days I like the nymph theory. Who doesn’t like the idea of dancing fairies?”
“Um, anybody with a brain,” Bart replied.
Jack heaved out a sigh, the sound carrying to the other side of the bonfire, to where Bart sat. “Do you have to try to make everybody as miserable as you obviously feel?”
Suddenly, Bart was the picture of innocence. “What are you talking about? I’m just contributing to the conversation.”
“You’re being an ass,” Ivy countered.
Bart’s eyes flashed with something dark when they landed on her. “Thank you for your opinion.”
“It’s not just her opinion,” Jack said. “It’s mine, too.”
“Well, la-di-da.”
Jack’s grip on Ivy’s shoulders momentarily tightened and then he forced himself to calm down. Getting in a fight now would definitely ruin things for his wife. “How about this?” he started. “Unless you’re directly called upon to offer an opinion, why don’t you keep your ideas to yourself?”
Bart opened his mouth, what Ivy was certain would be an ugly retort on his lips, but Tyson smoothly stepped in and took control of the conversation.
“I think we can all agree that’s a fabulous idea,” the river guide said. “For now, how about we spend another twenty minutes under the stars relaxing and then call it a night. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”
Jack nuzzled his face in Ivy’s neck. “The stars are pretty,” he whispered. “You’re prettier. How do you feel about getting away from Bart and heading back to our tent for a little ... frolicking?”
She laughed, delighted with him and the idea. “You read my mind.”
“Somehow I knew that.”
7
Seven
Ivy dreamt of giggling nymphs and splashing water, the occasional glimpse of shimmering lights visible on the river through crowded trees serving as an enticing hook drawing her away from the warmth of her bed. She was too exhausted to go far, though, and when she woke in the morning, Jack was wrapped firmly around her ... and snoring directly into her face.
She smiled at the picture, inadvertently giggling. She hadn’t meant to wake him, but the noise did it, and when he wrenched open one eye, he found his beautiful wife staring at him as the rising sun set the tent on fire and allowed her beauty to break free.
“You take my breath away,” he said by way of greeting.
That was not how Ivy expected him to wake. “I thought you would be mad. You still have ten minutes to sleep.”
“I don’t need it. I have you.” He pulled her so she was on top of him and rolled to his back, his fingers gentle as they brushed her hair away from her face. “How did you sleep?”
“Pretty well.” She cocked her head, considering. “I had a dream that I’m starting to wonder about, like maybe it came from you.”
“Oh, yeah?” He was intrigued. “I don’t think I dreamed, honey. I was down for the count the second my head hit the pillow.”
“We both were. I had one of those dreams that was more fragments than anything solid. There were a bunch of women in the water, giggling and carrying on.”
“Were they naked?”
“I don’t think so. If they were, it was definitely your dream.”
He let loose a hearty chuckle. “I really don’t think I dreamed.”
“You probably did, but I don’t see why you would draw me into a sex dream with other women.”
He suddenly went stern and tapped the end of her nose with his finger. “I have sex dreams about no one but you.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Everybody has sex dreams about other people.”
His eyebrows hiked. “Excuse me? That is not true. For the record, though, who are you having sex dreams about? I might want to throw some punches at some point.”
“Aquaman.”
He snorted. “Heck, even I think he’s hot. I guess you can live.” He gave her a soft kiss and was readying himself to enjoy the next five minutes of snuggling before they would have to hop in the shower and then start their day when an earth-shattering scream jerked him out of his reverie.
“What was that?” Ivy was already rolling even as she asked the question.
“I have no idea.” Jack tugged on his boxers and pants and reached for a shirt. His shoes didn’t have laces so all he had to do was tug them on. He was about to order Ivy to stay in the tent when he realized she’d already slipped around the front flap, which they’d pulled down for privacy upon returning to their tent the previous evening while leaving the other sides open, and was already gone.
“Son of a ... !” He viciously swore under his breath and kicked it into high gear.
Ivy had good instincts, whether from the magic or simply being herself, and her sense of direction was second to none. She found the source of the screaming quickly. It was Vanessa, and she was so white Ivy swore she could almost see through her. “What is it?”
Vanessa’s finger trembled as she extended her hand. Ivy swiveled quickly, expecting to find a wild animal, and instead found a noticeable stain on the ground behind one of the other tents.
“What is that?”
Jack rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, his hair standing on end and his eyes wild. “Don’t ever run off toward a scream and leave me behind again,” he ordered.
“There’s blood over here,” Ivy announced, rather than respond to his demand. “It’s kind of ... localized.” She swirled her hand and fixed her husband with an expectant look.
“Did you hear me?” Jack demanded.
Ivy’s expression didn’t change. “No.”
“No?”
She shook her head, emphatic. “If I’d heard you, then we would be in the middle of a fight right now because you’re not the boss of me. I’m on my honeymoon and don’t want to fight.”
Jack worked his jaw. “Fine.” He turned to the spot on the ground she’d indicated. “How do you know that’s blood?” he asked after a beat.
She shot him a “really?” look. “I think I know what blood is,” she said. “I am married to a cop.”
And she’d seen it up close and personal more times than Jack could count, he silently added. Rather than rise to the obvious bait she was leaving for him to verbally trip over, he dragged a hand through his hair and hunkered down. “Is this all you found?” he asked Vanessa.
“Who? Me?” She was still whiter than should be humanly possible as far as Ivy was concerned.
Jack called on his training and maintained an even voice. “Yes, you. You’re the one who screamed, right?”
“Of course I screamed. That’s a big pool of blood there.”
Jack tugged on his limited patience. “Do you happen to know who that blood belongs to?”
Vanessa glanced around, her expression blank. “I don’t see a sign or anything, so that would be a no.”
Her response annoyed Jack, but one look at Ivy, and her almost imperceptible head shake, told him he would be making a mistake if he snapped at the woman. “Ivy, you don’t see a body anywhere, do you?”
Ivy moved her head to indicate no and shifted away from Jack to get a better look. “No, and I don’t see droplets anywhere. This area is pretty well worn. There’s no grass to hide it.”
“True.” Jack’s eyes drifted to his left, and what he found there had him jolting. “There are tracks over here, though.”
“Blood tracks?” Ivy hurried in that direction, pulling up short when she got a gander at what Jack was looking at. “Oh, no.” She deflated just a bit. “It’s not a bear,” she said automatically. “A bear did not sneak into this camp and kill someone, Jack. It didn’t happen.”
Jack pinned her with a look. “Did I say it was a bear?”
“No, but I know the way your mind works.”
“Obviously not if you thought that dream belonged to me,” he grumbled under his breath.
“I’m sorry about the dream,” she automatically replied.
He ignored her. “Like I would dream about a bunch of random women in a river. I would dream about you, with your stupid lotions and mean cat, and in our house.”
“Jack.” Ivy couldn’t hide her exasperation. “I’m sorry I brought up the bear.”
He flashed her a grin. “Thank you. Now, I would like to point out, these are the exact same footprints we saw yesterday when we were stretching our legs. They’re from some sort of wild animal.”
Ivy felt as if she’d somehow lost track of the plot. “It’s not a bear,” she hissed.
“I didn’t say it was a bear.”
“It’s not Bigfoot either.”
“It’s definitely not Bigfoot,” he agreed, craning his neck to look around. “Why is it that we’re the only ones who responded? Where is everybody else?” He flicked his eyes to Vanessa. “Where is your husband? Why are you out here alone?”
“I like to convene with nature in a serene setting,” Vanessa replied blankly. “I need to film a video to upload to my channel. If I don’t have fresh content I lose viewers, and that means less money.”
Jack couldn’t make any sense out of the response and he didn’t care enough to press her on it. “And where is your husband?”
“He’s still asleep. He has his headphones on.” Vanessa moved her hands up and down next to her ears to demonstrate. “They’re solar-powered and surround him with ambient noise. That way it sounds as if he’s floating on a cloud in the heavens when he’s down for the night.”
“How does anybody know what floating on a cloud in the heavens would sound like?” Jack queried.
“What?” Vanessa looked well and truly confused as far as Ivy could ascertain.
“It’s obviously not Nate, Jack,” Ivy said. “We need to get one of the guides over here.”
“We do,” he agreed, glancing around.
“I’ll go look. You stay here.” Ivy made to start off, but Jack grabbed her by the hem of the shirt, which she’d put on backwards in her haste to be the first one out of the tent, before she could escape his reach.
“I think you should stay here while I find Tyson,” he countered.
Ivy didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “Why can’t I be the one to go?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not a reason.”
Jack found he was almost choking on his frustration he was so fed up. “Ivy—”
“Fine.” She
threw up her hands. “I’ll wait here and you can go find Tyson.”
“Thank you.” He moved to round the corner of the tent and then stilled long enough to give her a hard kiss. “You drive me crazy.”
“Right back at you.”
“WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?”
Tyson was awake when Jack found him but not overly keen to abandon his coffee to check out what Jack assured him was a pool of blood. Finally, Jack used his cop voice to demand Tyson follow him and the guide reluctantly agreed. He didn’t seem wowed by what Jack had to show him.
“It’s blood,” Jack insisted.
“Okay.” Tyson sipped his coffee and slid his gaze to Ivy, her morning bedhead causing him to smile. “Do you know your shirt is on backwards?”
“I do,” Ivy replied. “We ran out when we heard the scream and I just threw on what I wore yesterday and didn’t pay much attention to it.”
“Ah.” Tyson sipped again. “Your hair is pretty cute.”
Jack snapped his fingers in front of the guide’s face to get his attention. “Stop flirting with my wife and focus. There’s blood on the ground.”
Tyson made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “You say that’s blood. That just looks like a spot of liquid to me. How do you know somebody didn’t dump a mug of coffee there?”
“Oh, that’s a good thought.” Vanessa brightened considerably. “Maybe someone dumped coffee. Whew.” She wiped her forearm across her forehead. “I feel so much better. What’s for breakfast?”
Jack shot her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. I’m ready for breakfast.”
Jack licked his lips and internally counted to five before speaking again. It was a calming mechanism he’d forced himself to adopt when Ivy was driving him to distraction, which was often. Their marriage was never going to be one of quiet comfort. No, it would be fiery passion and delight. He’d not only resigned himself to it but was looking forward to it as well.
“Where is everybody else?” he finally asked Tyson. “Why has nobody else come out here to see why somebody was screaming?”
Wicked Honeymoon (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 19) Page 7