Wicked Winter (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 8)

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Like for a honeymoon?” Jack’s eyes twinkled as he flicked his eyes to Ivy.

  “Ugh. I wasn’t fishing for anything like that.”

  “No, probably not.” Jack rested his hand on top of Ivy’s as she played with the sand. “How are you really feeling?”

  “Jack, don’t get worked up about this,” Ivy warned. “I don’t feel sick. I simply feel … tired.”

  “That’s often a precursor to getting sick.”

  “It is, but that’s not exactly how I feel.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know how to put it into words.” Ivy licked her lips as she rested her head against Jack’s shoulder. “If I tell you something, though, do you promise not to laugh?”

  “In this instance? Yes.”

  “Is that because you’re so worried about me falling apart?”

  “Honey, you’re the strongest person I know,” Jack countered. “Sometimes I look at you and wonder why your shoulders aren’t broader because you’re so very strong.”

  “I think your shoulders are broad enough for both of us.” Ivy turned so she could press her hand to the spot on Jack’s chest, covering the wounds left when he was shot. “Your scars always look lighter when we’re in the dreamscape. Why do you think that is?”

  Jack shrugged. He honestly had no idea. “Maybe because you’ve fixed what is broken. Even though my body can never reflect that, my heart does and my head recognizes that.”

  “Oh, that was very sweet.” Ivy pressed a kiss to the spot next to the scarred wounds. “I think someone believes I know something I don’t know.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Because Dorian Jackson spoke to you before he died?”

  Ivy nodded. “I can’t help but wonder if the police played up that angle because they were hoping to cause someone to screw up. You know, if the other person at the mall that day believed that I knew something important, they might scramble to try and shut me up.”

  Jack wanted to put Ivy at ease but he’d already come to that conclusion himself. “I’m going to call the detective tomorrow. If he did that … .” He broke off, unsure how to finish the sentence. There wasn’t much he could do after the fact.

  “We have to find who it is on our own,” Ivy supplied. “We’re stronger when we work together.”

  Jack’s heart dinged at her earnest expression. “I feel unbeatable when I’m with you.”

  Ivy grinned. “You’re on a romantic streak tonight, huh?”

  Jack shrugged. “I love you so much I can’t help but be romantic.”

  “I love you, too, but I don’t want to turn this dream into a melancholy soap opera.” Ivy rolled to her knees and kissed him. “Do you want to make a sandcastle with me? I promise it will be big and ornate. I also promise I won’t bother you about the ring if you play along.”

  Jack slipped a strand of Ivy’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll do whatever you want. If that’s a sandcastle, then let’s do it.”

  “After we’re finished, I figured we could have a From Here to Eternity moment in the waves.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “We can get naked and roll around in the water,” Ivy clarified.

  “Oh.” Jack brightened. “All you had to say was ‘naked’ and I was going to be in regardless.”

  Ivy giggled, the sound lightening Jack’s worried soul. “You’re such a man.”

  “And you’re my favorite woman.” Jack smacked a playful kiss on the corner of Ivy’s mouth. “Come on. Let’s make the sandcastle. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we’ll get to the nudity.”

  “And that will relax both of us.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Seventeen

  “Sorry I’m late. I had to follow Ivy to Max’s lumberyard to make sure she made it there safely.”

  Jack stomped his feet against the mat at the entry point to the office he shared with Brian the next morning, kicking off fresh ice and snow as he offered his partner a rueful smile.

  “That’s okay.” Brian glanced up from his computer, his expression unreadable. “How is Ivy? Did she get sick?”

  “She’s fine.” Jack said the words, but he wasn’t entirely sure he meant them. “I don’t think she’s getting sick. I think she’s feeling something else.”

  Jack set a fresh coffee cup on Brian’s desk as he moved to his own. He figured if he was going to be late the least he could do was reward his partner with his favorite blend.

  Brian accepted the coffee with a happy sigh and deeply inhaled the rich aroma. “I think this is what Heaven smells like.”

  “Really? I think it smells like gingerbread.”

  The look on Jack’s face told Brian his partner had gone somewhere dirty. “You’re a pig. That girl is still ten and wearing pigtails when I look at her.”

  Jack balked. “How do you know I was even talking about her?”

  “Because you have very Ivy-specific expressions,” Brian replied. “If you go there, I’m going to punch you.”

  “It still might be worth the pain,” Jack teased, flicking his eyes to Brian’s monitor. “Have you got anything?”

  “I sent a uniform over to pick up Ricky Hughes. I’m not sure if that’s what you meant, but I didn’t want to dilly-dally today.”

  Jack couldn’t help being surprised. “Seriously?”

  “He followed Ivy yesterday. I’m not giving him a pass on that.”

  “I don’t want to give him a pass on that either, but I’m not sure we can prove that he followed her,” Jack pointed out. “He’s going to claim it was an accident.”

  “Of course he is. That’s the only sensible thing to do. From our perspective, the only sensible thing to do is explain to him that we know it wasn’t an accident and we’re watching him.”

  Jack rolled his neck and stared at the ceiling as he considered what Brian suggested. “Ivy thinks that Detective Crawford – he’s the one who questioned her after the shooting – let it slip that Dorian Jackson told her more than he did in an effort to shake up whoever Dorian was working with.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it makes sense.” Jack extended his long legs next to his desk. “I think it’s something you and I would do if we were trying to shake something loose in an investigation.”

  “But?”

  “But what he’s shaken loose is terror for my girlfriend,” Jack replied. “She’s afraid. I’m not sure she even realizes it, but she is. I think that’s what’s making her sick.”

  Brian was well aware of the odd things that popped up from time to time since Ivy and Jack fell in love. He recognized there was something special about their relationship even before Jack wanted to admit it. He couldn’t put a name to what was happening to Ivy – whether it was magic or something else entirely – but he believed the woman had a sixth sense that put her ahead of the normal population. He also believed that sense was somehow directly tied to her relationship with Jack. Beyond that, he had no idea what to think.

  “You think something bad is going to happen to her, don’t you?”

  “I won’t let anything bad happen to her,” Jack answered, his temper flaring. “I won’t lose her. I won’t … she’ll be fine.”

  Brian held up his hands in a placating manner. “Let me rephrase that,” he suggested. “You believe that someone might try to hurt Ivy. That’s why you took her to the lumberyard before coming here.”

  “Max will keep her safe.”

  “Max will keep her safe,” Brian agreed. “We’ll keep her safe, too. That’s why our first step is to question Ricky Hughes.”

  “And after that?”

  Brian shrugged. “We can only take it one step at a time. Ricky is first. We’ll make a decision after we talk to him.”

  RICKY HUGHES was all bluster and bravado when he sat at a conference room table across from Jack and Brian an hour later. He pasted an innocent expression on his face as he pretended he didn’t have a care in the wo
rld.

  Jack saw right through that, and it made him inexplicably angry.

  “Do you want to explain why you were following Ivy Morgan yesterday?” Brian asked right out of the gate. By tacit agreement, he and Jack decided he would ask the questions in case Jack lost his temper and made things worse.

  “I wasn’t following Ivy Morgan,” Ricky answered, attempting a bewildered expression that almost made him look cross-eyed. “I don’t understand why she would think that.”

  “Yes, well, she seemed fairly adamant,” Brian said. “It does strike me as odd that you would end up in the magic shop owned and operated by Ivy’s aunt at the same time she was there for a visit.”

  “I was shopping for my girlfriend.”

  “And what’s her name?” Brian asked the question with the same cool detachment he saved for people he regarded as irksome rather than important. Jack didn’t miss the flash in Ricky’s eye at the surprise question, though.

  “Why does that matter?”

  “We’re trying to plug holes in our case,” Brian answered, not missing a beat. “If you’re making up a girlfriend, that would be an instance of one of those pesky holes.”

  “I’m not making up a girlfriend!” Ricky was affronted, or at least he did a good job pretending the dig upset him. “My girlfriend is real.”

  “Then that means she should have a real name,” Brian said. “What is it?”

  “I … don’t have to tell you that,” Ricky spat. “I agreed to come here to answer questions because the officer who came to my door said it was necessary. If you’re going to insult me, you can do it through my lawyer.”

  “If you want a lawyer, that will force us to move things along at a more expedited pace,” Brian countered. “Is that what you want?”

  The look on Ricky’s face told Jack that the man wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He knew it wasn’t good, though.

  “I don’t see why this is such a big thing,” Ricky protested. “I accidentally ran into Ivy Morgan at a store yesterday. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Then you should try looking at it from my perspective,” Jack suggested.

  “Yes, from Jack’s perspective, things aren’t funny at all,” Brian said. “Why do you think that is?”

  Ricky turned his hands palms up as his shoulders hopped. “Perhaps he’s strung a little tight.”

  “Where Ivy is concerned, he’s strung incredibly tight,” Brian agreed. “I am, too. The thing is, your appearance at the store is a little too coincidental given the circumstances.”

  Ricky grew more flustered by the minute, but he wasn’t quite ready to back down. “And what circumstances are those?”

  “The ones where you had a co-worker attempt to rob a busy mall a few days before Christmas and end up dead within feet of Ms. Morgan,” Brian answered. “That’s on top of the fact that she happened to stop at the tree lot where you all worked the other night and the day after she made her visit, the owner of the tree lot was found murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Ricky’s eyebrow winged up. “I thought it was an accident due to the fire.”

  “How would there be an accident due to the fire?”

  Ricky’s blasé expression was back. “I just figured that Norman decided to set the trees on fire because he’d been complaining they weren’t making enough of a profit. He probably planned to take the insurance money and run.”

  “That’s an interesting theory,” Brian said.

  “Except he’s dead,” Jack added.

  “He probably accidentally got trapped in his own fire. It’s tragic and sad but … nothing more.”

  “Huh.” Brian rubbed his chin as he exchanged a quick look with Jack. “If that’s the case, how did the bullet end up in the back of Norman’s head?”

  For the first time since entering the office, Ricky’s annoying posturing came to an end. He openly gaped at Brian. “What?”

  Jack couldn’t decide if Ricky was surprised by the manner of Norman’s death or the fact that the police had figured it out. It was a tough call.

  “Norman was shot in the head,” Brian said calmly. “He was murdered. We’re checking the ballistics right now against the slug pulled out of Dorian Jackson. What do you think the odds are that they’ll match?”

  Ricky’s face drained of color. “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with this.”

  “I don’t know,” Brian countered. “You did work for Norman and with Dorian. You did follow Ivy Morgan yesterday, and she’s the one who was with Dorian when he died.”

  “I wasn’t following her!” Ricky erupted. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Then who was it?”

  “I … .” Ricky worked his jaw, panic setting in. “It has to be Corbin.”

  “Corbin Dancy?” Jack asked.

  Ricky nodded. “They’ve been acting weird.”

  “Who is they?”

  “Corbin and his brother.”

  “I don’t remember seeing a brother in Corbin’s file,” Brian said, flicking through one of the folders on the table in front of him. “There’s no brother listed.”

  “That’s because it’s a foster brother,” Ricky explained. “They grew up in the same foster home and they call each other ‘brother’ even though they’re not really brothers. I swear I had nothing to do with this. It has to be Corbin. He’s always looking for an easy bit of money and his brother is even worse.”

  “And what is the brother’s name?”

  “Mitchell Anderson.”

  Jack’s stomach twisted and he couldn’t stop himself from eagerly leaning forward. “Are you sure that’s his name?”

  “Absolutely. If you’re looking for murderers, it’s Corbin and Mitchell. I promise you that.”

  Jack’s smile was slow and triumphant as he relaxed in his chair, some of the worry and doubt stalking him over the past few days escaping in a long sigh. They finally had a name. Now they had to find the man who belonged to the name.

  “WHAT DO you have?”

  Jack and Brian met Detective Crawford in front of a ramshackle house on Traverse City’s east side. Since Corbin Dancy lived out of their jurisdiction they had to coordinate with other cops. Since the Traverse City Police Department was looking for a murderer of their own, they insisted on being the department to arrest the two men living inside when Jack called explaining what information they’d been able to glean.

  Jack was agitated by the turn of events but also thankful that the nightmare looked to be coming to an end. He didn’t care who got the glory. He cared about Ivy’s safety. That was the most important thing to him.

  “We served the warrant an hour ago,” Crawford replied, talking as if he was reciting a report for a superior. “We seem to have taken the two suspects by surprise, although they fled out the back door and tried to make a run for it.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow. He wasn’t surprised. “Are they in the wind?”

  “They didn’t make it far,” Crawford replied, his lips twitching. “They apparently forgot exactly how deep the snow was in the trees. They got stuck and we had to send sleds out there to retrieve them.”

  Jack didn’t want to smile. Two people were dead, after all, but it was a hilarious thing to picture. “I see. Well, that’s … terrible.”

  “Yes, it’s downright dreadful,” Brian agreed, grinning. “Were they stuck out in the snow for very long?”

  “Longer than we would’ve liked,” Crawford replied, continuing to play the game. “Once we ascertained they were stuck and couldn’t escape, we had no choice but to put our officers’ safety first. That meant picking a spot to monitor the suspects while waiting for the appropriate equipment to arrive. It took longer than we anticipated.”

  Jack rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “I see. Have you been able to question them yet?”

  Crawford shook his head, turning serious. “Honestly? They’re still out there. They can’t move and they’re fighting officers who try to cuff them. The
y’ll only be able to hold out for so long. Once we do have them in custody, though, we’ll probably have to get them medical treatment even though they did this to themselves.”

  “Do you think you have the right people?” Brian asked.

  Crawford nodded. “Come inside real quick. Don’t touch anything, but I know you’re interested because of your girlfriend so this will probably make you feel better.” Crawford led the two Shadow Lake police officers through the filthy home, barely sparing a glance for the discarded beer cans and general filth. He didn’t stop until he hit the kitchen. “Do you see anything of interest?”

  Jack wrinkled his nose as a specific scent immediately assailed his senses. “They were cooking meth.”

  “They were indeed.” Crawford bobbed his head.

  “How do you know that?” Brian asked, legitimately curious. “They don’t have anything out to signify that.”

  “You can’t miss the smell,” Jack replied. “Down in Detroit the people doing it would coat their walls in tinfoil to try to hold back the smell. It barely worked. Have you found anything else? The meth is interesting, but it doesn’t necessarily tie them to two murders.”

  “We found twenty guns in the bedroom which are going in for a ballistics test and we found this,” Crawford replied, moving to the table. He pointed toward a pile of jewelry – necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets all tangled together – and mustered a wan smile. “That jewelry matches the description given by the woman at the jewelry store. Those items were stolen from the mall the day of the shooting.”

  “Ah.” Jack exhaled heavily. “Even if they don’t admit what they’ve done, you have enough evidence to hang them.”

  “Pretty much,” Crawford confirmed. “We also found a lot of cash in a metal box under the bed. It was all fives, tens, twenties, and fifties … and some of it was pretty wrinkled. We’re not sure where that came from yet.”

  “It could’ve come from the tree lot,” Brian offered. “The safe on the property was empty when we checked it. We think robbery makes the most sense for Norman’s murder.”