Wicked Wishes (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 10)

by Lily Harper Hart

  “It’s not okay.” Jack was firm. “It’s not okay even a little. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I swear that won’t happen again.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you learned a valuable lesson. I did, too. I almost let my anger get the better of me and then I realized it would be a wasted effort. I’m not going to let some manipulative troll who thinks I’m holding you back come between us. That’s never going to happen.”

  Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Is that what she said to you?”

  “She said a lot of things to me.”

  “Well, don’t believe her. You’re not holding me back. In fact, well, you’re the one who gave me the strength to stretch my wings. I was kind of a wounded bird when we found each other. I’m not any longer. I’m who I was always meant to be.”

  “I think you’re kind of saying that you’re an eagle, huh?” Ivy’s eyes lit with amusement. “You’re like the eagle of Shadow Lake.”

  “I’m just a guy who loves you so much.” Jack leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I can’t believe you’re not ready to rip my heart out, though. I thought I would be begging all night.”

  “Did you buy more flowers?”

  “No. I raced out here as fast as I could instead.”

  “Hmm. You should’ve brought flowers.” Ivy surprised them both when she stood and held out her hand to help Jack to his feet. “I’m going to need a sacrifice on the altar of love since you didn’t bring a floral offering.”

  Jack had no idea what that meant. “Is this going to involve a massage or my tongue?”

  Ivy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his unintended double entendre. “It’s going to involve your hands … and your feet.”

  “That sounds kinky.”

  “Just schmaltzy.” Ivy held open her arms. “I thought we should dance. You know, just to prove we’re okay.”

  Jack was flabbergasted by her reaction. “You want to dance out here?”

  Ivy nodded. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “There’s no music.”

  “Ah, but there is.” Ivy slipped her arms around his neck and rested her ear against his heart. “If you listen really hard, the fairy ring will provide the music. That’s part of the magic of this place. I used to dance out here all the time when I was a kid and I always heard music.”

  Jack felt a bit silly, but he was so relieved she seemed to be okay with what happened he was ready to offer her anything, including a dance to no music. “Okay.” He swayed back and forth, tightening his arms around her. “I can’t hear the music yet, but I’m sure you’ll tell me when it’s about to start.”

  “I will.” Ivy hummed a bit as she pressed her eyes shut. “Can you hear it now?”

  Despite himself, Jack was almost certain he could hear the faint restrains of some Irish ballad moving with the wind as it swirled around them. “Um … .”

  “You can.” Ivy smiled. “Close your eyes and listen. I swear you’ll be able to hear it.”

  Jack did as instructed, his lips curving when the minimalistic sounds returned. “I can hear it.”

  “I know.”

  They swayed like that for twenty minutes, never once turning away from one another. If they had, if they’d torn themselves from their happy reverie, they would’ve noticed the dark figure watching them from a line of trees thirty feet away.

  The figure never said a word and its features were hidden in the shadows of the dwindling day, but hate emanated from the darkness. It wasn’t enough to pierce the happy bubble surrounding Jack and Ivy, but it was very clearly there … and growing.

  After a bit, the figure disappeared back into the woods … and it took every ounce of unhappiness with it as Jack and Ivy enjoyed their private dance.

  Eleven

  Jack and Ivy were lovey-dovey the next morning … right up until the point she forced him to take her into the woods so she could see the spot where the killer stood when firing the fateful shot that changed multiple lives.

  Jack was against it, griping all the way, but he did as she asked. He was too desperate to keep her happy to do otherwise.

  “Right here?” Ivy wrinkled her nose as she glanced around.

  Jack nodded. “The angle is this way.” He mimed holding a gun for her benefit.

  “That’s a long shot.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not difficult with a scope.”

  “Hmm.” Ivy shuffled her feet through the dead leaves. “Can I stand in the spot?”

  “Why?”

  “I just want to see something.”

  “What?”

  Ivy heaved out a sigh. “I’ve gotten flashes from killers before. I want to see if I can make it happen again.”

  Jack hated that idea. “I don’t like it when you can magically see through the eyes of a killer.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear. I want to try anyway.”

  “Okay, but I want you to tell me why first.”

  “Well, for starters, I’m hoping to figure out if it’s a man or a woman. I usually can’t see the face of a killer – mostly because I get tossed in his or her shoes for the vision – but I can get a feeling for what type of person they are. That will help with your investigation, won’t it?”

  Jack exhaled heavily as he took a grudging step back. “I don’t like it because it gives you nightmares.”

  “Won’t you be there to help me keep the nightmares at bay? I thought that was part of the job description when I agreed to marry you. I’m going to be upset if it’s not.”

  “Ha, ha.” Jack rolled his eyes and planted his hands on his hips as Ivy stepped into the small circle. “Anything?”

  Ivy tugged on her limited patience. “Give me a second.” She pressed her eyes shut and inhaled, holding her breath for ten seconds before exhaling. She did it again … and again … and again. She extended her arms and allowed a hint of … whatever it was she had … to whip past her fingertips. Ivy wasn’t comfortable calling it magic, but she also didn’t know what other word to use.

  As the magic built, the power ignited her soul and the only thing she could do was keep breathing. In and out. In and out. The sound served to lull Jack’s edginess a bit and before he realized what was happening he closed his eyes right along with her.

  “Anger.” When Ivy finally spoke, it jolted Jack back to reality.

  “Who’s angry?” Jack queried. “The killer is angry?”

  Ivy nodded, her eyes remaining shut. “Yes. Whoever it is – and I honestly can’t decide if it’s a man or woman because the anger is too brutal to wrap my head around – but whoever it is, he or she is really angry.”

  Jack chewed on the answer for a long beat. “Does it feel personal?”

  “Isn’t anger always personal?”

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes killers are angry at a type. Like take Ted Bundy, for example. He focused on a certain type of woman. He fixated on young women with dark hair parted down the middle. Why? Because a girlfriend who looked like that broke up with him and he was furious.”

  Ivy pursed her lips. “Did he kill the girlfriend?”

  “No. He killed substitutes. So he was angry at the time of the killings, but he wasn’t angry with the women he was killing. He was furious at the woman who broke up with him.”

  “Oh. I think I understand.” Ivy shifted from one foot to the other and concentrated harder. “The anger is very specific. It’s focused on one person.”

  “Shannon?”

  “I don’t sense anything specific to Shannon. It could still be me.”

  Jack’s stomach clenched. “It’s not you. There’s enough going on in Shannon’s world that I think the focus is her.”

  “What if it isn’t, though?” Ivy forced open her eyes and shifted so she could face Jack. “What if someone wanted to hurt me, but they shot Shannon instead because it was the only option?”


  “I hate this game, but I’m going to play it because I think you need to hear a rational reason for why it’s not you,” Jack replied. “Let’s say that someone came here to kill you.” He moved Ivy so she had no choice but to stand in front of him, her back to his chest, and allow him to manipulate her body.

  “Even without the scope there’s a clear shot through the trees because they haven’t filled out yet after the winter months,” he said. “Shannon would’ve been walking from the driveway toward the house. She wasn’t wearing a hat. Even from here, no scope to make things clearer, it would’ve been obvious that she didn’t have pink hair.

  “When you add to that the fact that the killer moved in closer for the second shot, I think it’s very clear that Shannon was the target,” he continued. “Let’s say the killer recognized that she wasn’t you and was actually hoping to bag you, though, why kill Shannon and tip you off that someone was coming? Wouldn’t it be easier to leave her be and wait for you to show up?”

  “I guess I didn’t think of that,” Ivy admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “What if it was an accident, though? What if the shooter really had no idea he wasn’t getting the right woman?”

  “What scenario does that work under?” Jack challenged. He was talking for himself as much as her. He needed to hear it rationalized. “The only way that could be true is if someone put a hit out on you. Anyone who has ever met you knows about the pink hair.”

  “And you’re sure no one would want to take a hit out on me?”

  “Why would they?”

  Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not always well liked.”

  “Well, you’re loved by me.” Jack smacked a kiss against her cheek. “I don’t care who you’ve messed with in the real world, though. You haven’t done anything that would warrant someone paying money – and we’re talking thousands of dollars here – to kill you. Who have you ticked off to that level?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve had a hand in putting several people in jail over the past year. Maybe someone wants revenge.”

  Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. “If someone is paying to kill you I can guarantee that whoever did the hiring mentioned your hair. That would be the first thing someone would mention about you because it’s so memorable. Shannon had to be the target.”

  Ivy relaxed a bit. “What you’re saying makes sense.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m still not convinced I wasn’t the target.”

  Jack let loose with a mock growl as he hugged her close. “You’re not the target.”

  “Then how come you want me to text you when I’m at the nursery? If I’m not the target, isn’t that a lot of wasted effort?”

  “Yes, but you’re my woman and I want you safe. If I’m a bit overprotective, well, you’ll have to deal with it.”

  Ivy giggled when he mockingly chomped on her ear. “Do you have any idea who hated Shannon enough to kill her this way?” she asked after a moment of quiet cuddling.

  “No, honey, not yet.” Jack gave the nape of her neck a kiss before releasing her and holding out his hand. “Come on. I promised you breakfast at the diner before I drop you off at the nursery for the day. The same rules apply about the texts, by the way. What just happened was not a clever way for you to get out of them.”

  Ivy made a face. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jack poked her side. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “I’m hungry, too.” Ivy scampered down the small incline and pointed herself toward Jack’s truck. “You helped me work up quite the appetite last night.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “And you rarely miss.”

  BRIAN WAS ALREADY SEATED at the diner when Ivy and Jack slid onto the booth bench across from him. He had to bite back a sigh when they shared a few excited whispers and two kisses. He should’ve realized they would be all over one another after a long night of fighting.

  “I see you two made up.”

  Ivy shifted her eyes to him and grinned. “We didn’t fight. What makes you think we fought?”

  “You didn’t fight?” Brian cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re a cynical man,” Jack replied, accepting the coffee and tomato juice the waitress delivered before asking if they wanted their usual orders. Jack and Ivy were regular visitors – especially for breakfast – and they were both creatures of habits.

  “I would love my usual,” Ivy said. “I also want a side order of blueberry pancakes.”

  “That sounds good,” Jack said. “I’ll do the same except make my side order French toast.”

  “You want your usual and French toast?” The waitress was clearly surprised.

  Jack nodded. “We worked up very big appetites last night.”

  “Oh, geez.” Brian slapped his hand to his forehead and shook his head. “You two are just … too much.”

  “I think we’re just enough.” Jack slung an arm over Ivy’s shoulders and reclined on the bench. “How was your afternoon, by the way? I know I left you high and dry yesterday. Did you track anything down?”

  “Nothing of note,” Brian replied, sipping his coffee. “I did some runs on Shannon’s family, none of whom live in the immediate area, and I can’t find any motive there. She has no life insurance policy and there’s not enough in savings to make it worth it for Victor to want to off her.”

  Ivy wrinkled her nose. “I thought you said he was devoted to her. Why would he want to kill her if he was devoted to her?”

  “It might have been an act,” Jack answered. “I’ve seen killers who mime real emotion very effectively. Most of the time they’re bad at it, but occasionally you do stumble across a master manipulator.”

  “You made it sound as if you believed him, though,” Ivy prodded. “Is that not true?”

  “I can’t rule anything out,” Jack clarified. “Even though I want to believe him – because I’m sure I would be worse off than him if something happened to you – that doesn’t mean I can look the other way.”

  “You would be a broken shell if something happened to me, right?” Ivy teased. “You would walk around in your bathrobe for the rest of your life and people would lament how happy you used to be. I know I’m supposed to be the bigger person and say I don’t want that for you – that you should be happy no matter what – but I would rather see you a broken man in my absence.”

  Jack grinned as he leaned over and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not a fan of playing this game because it gives me acid reflux, but I don’t want anyone but you. That’s true for now and forever. Without you, I probably won’t even bother to put on a bathrobe. I’ll just be the naked dude in the corner eating his own hair.”

  Ivy giggled. “Cute.”

  “Yes, you’re both so cute I want to throw up,” Brian drawled, rolling his eyes. “Good grief. I thought you guys were going to be exhausted from all the fighting you did last night. Instead I find you giggling and fawning all over each other. What gives?”

  Jack reluctantly pulled back from Ivy. “We didn’t fight.”

  “You didn’t?” Brian was understandably dubious. “I thought for sure you were going off to face a firing squad when I left you.”

  “It turns out my future wife is brilliant and can read people,” Jack supplied. “She understood I made a mistake by not telling her about Holly’s visit. She also understood that Holly was trying to stir up trouble rather than tell the truth.”

  “Well, I can vouch for that.” Brian studied Ivy for a long moment. “You always were good at reading people. Still, are you telling me you weren’t at least a little bit angry?”

  Ivy held her hands up and shrugged. “I might have been a little angry at first.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that being angry served no purpose,” she continued. “If I believed everything Holly said – which I don’t because it doesn
’t make sense given everything I know about Jack – but if I believed her anyway, that would mean I was living a lie. I don’t happen to think I’m living a lie.”

  “You’re definitely not,” Brian said. “I can promise you that my partner is just as moony about you when you’re not around as when you are.”

  “Did you hear that?” Jack smirked. “I’m moony.”

  “You’re something.” Ivy patted his knee under the table and opened her mouth to tease him a bit. The comment died on her lips when the diner door opened to allow a familiar figure entrance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Jack snapped his head in the direction of the door and scowled. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, now I have to look.” Brian glanced over his shoulder, his back stiffening when Holly met his curious gaze. “She’s dedicated. I’ll give her that.”

  “She’s not even trying to pretend she’s normal,” Jack complained, shaking his head and refusing to meet Holly’s curious stare as she maneuvered past the booth and opted for a table on the other side of the aisle. “I just can’t even … there are no words.”

  Ivy drank from her juice glass and risked a glance at Holly. She wasn’t surprised to find the woman staring directly at her. “I think she wishes she had knives in her eyes so she could stab me with them.”

  Jack cast Ivy a fond look. “You’re cute even when you’re glaring at the woman I occasionally slept with almost two years ago.”

  Ivy’s smile slipped. “How come you phrased it like that?”

  “Because she’s the devil and there’s no way I’m calling her anything else.”

  “Can’t we just call her your stalker?” Ivy asked. “I mean … she’s kind of your stalker now. That’s the best word to describe her. It’s gone from weird and awkward to desperate and nasty, and now it’s landed at ridiculous and pathetic.”