Wicked Fog (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 6) Page 3

  “Thank God!” Maisie barreled past Ivy and threw her arms around Jack’s neck, causing him to release Ivy’s hand as he caught her. Her face was red and sweating when she burrowed her face into the hollow of his neck.

  Ivy pursed her lips as she studied Maisie, annoyance bubbling up as she fought to contain her temper. In addition to being one of the few full-time municipal workers in Shadow Lake, Maisie Washington was also something of a … free spirit. In Ivy’s mind that was a kind way of saying she gave more rides than an Uber driver, but now wasn’t the time for petty observances. Maisie had made her interest in Jack apparent several times, which left Ivy feeling agitated even though she never considered herself a jealous person.

  “What happened?” Jack asked, struggling to extricate himself from Maisie’s spider-like embrace.

  “It’s terrible,” Maisie said, her chest heaving as she dug her fingernails into the back of Jack’s neck and held tighter. “I’ve never seen anything this terrible. I’m going to have nightmares … which means I’m going to need someone to stick close as I sleep or I’ll be too exhausted to work.”

  “Yes, and then how will people be able to check out books?” Ivy challenged. “We’ll have a run on suicides because we won’t be able to make it without your fine library leadership skills.”

  “Ivy.” Jack’s tone was low and full of warning, but Ivy ignored him.

  “Hey, Maisie, I think you might get more action from Jack if you just whip your shirt completely off instead of trying to get him to look down at your cleavage that way,” Ivy said. “He’s going to give himself a hernia trying to dislodge you if he’s not careful.”

  “Will you help me instead of cracking wise?” Jack challenged.

  Ivy arched an eyebrow but remained where she was. “So, what happened, Maisie? Did you promise someone a roll in the cornstalks only to have them dump you in the dirt because they were afraid of crabs or something?”

  “Of course not,” Maisie snapped. “I was just helping put the finishing touches on this year’s display when … I saw it.”

  “Saw what?” Jack asked, widening his eyes as he tried to use brute force to remove Maisie’s hands from his neck. She was deceptively strong and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Ivy, I’m not joking. Help get her off me.”

  “Oh, no,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “You’re big and strong and you’re supposed to be a paragon of strength and virtue for the Shadow Lake residents. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you doing your job.”

  Ivy turned her attention toward the scary tableau, extending her index finger to the long picnic table in the middle of the clearing and touching the dark wood. It was coated with some sort of sticky paint to make it look as if it was splashed with blood, and whoever designed this year’s scene stuffed clothing with hay and made terrifying scarecrow people for each chair. Even though the sun was bright, Ivy couldn’t stop herself from shivering when she felt someone staring at her back. She turned quickly, scanning the area behind her and finding nothing but another part of the display.

  “Ivy!” Jack was getting desperate and he finally grabbed Maisie around the waist and yanked her away from him. Since his arms were longer than hers, he had a distinct advantage. Maisie’s face twisted when Jack placed her on the ground and took a step away from her. “Stay.”

  “Good doggy,” Ivy absentmindedly intoned, her eyes trained on the cornstalks. She was convinced she felt someone staring at her moments before. She peered into the thick stalks, though, and didn’t register even a bare hint of movement.

  “No one is talking to you, Ivy,” Maisie said, rolling her eyes. “I’m trying to talk to Jack.”

  “And I’m willing to listen as long as you keep your hands to yourself,” Jack said. “My services as a police officer are open game. The rest of me is not.”

  Maisie jutted out her lower lip. “Ivy has sucked all of the fun out of you. You know that, right?”

  “How would you know?” Ivy scoffed, her eyes moving from the stalks to the wooden crucifix at the edge of the clearing. One of the odd straw men was hanging from it, too. They’d added a weird mask to this one, though. The others had garish bags over their heads. This figure looked to have a flesh-toned mask somehow perched on the hay to make it all the more unsettling. “Jack was only in town for a month before we started dating. That’s hardly enough time for you to ascertain that he’s fun. I mean … I know you move fast, but even you can’t move that fast.”

  “Hey!”

  Ivy refused to turn her eyes away from the scarecrow figure even though Maisie’s anger was palpable. There was something about the scarecrow that bothered her, although she couldn’t immediately put her finger on it.

  “Maisie, let’s turn back to the problem at hand,” Jack suggested. “No, you stay right there. Why were you screaming?”

  “Oh, that,” Maisie intoned, leaning forward a bit so Jack would have a clear view down the vee of her shirt. “I accidentally ran into that scarecrow over there and some of the blood fell on me. I thought it was real.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jack worked overtime to rein in his temper. “So you screamed for no good reason?”

  “I had a good reason,” Maisie said. “I was afraid.”

  “Yeah, Jack, she needed a strong man to protect her,” Ivy said, reaching over to touch the scarecrow’s shoe. It was a Nike brand sneaker, which seemed like a terrible waste considering the elements would ravish it within days. The shoe was almost even with her midriff and the toe was caked with red liquid. “Her plan worked, too. We came running.”

  “Yes, well, I could’ve done without you sticking your nose into police business instead of letting Jack do his job without a chaperone,” Maisie shot back. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust Jack around me.”

  “I trust Jack just fine,” Ivy said, the need to see what was under the shoe momentarily overwhelming her. “It’s you I don’t trust.”

  “Ivy, what are you doing?” Jack took a step in Ivy’s direction, her fascination with the scarecrow finally catching his attention. “Do you see something?”

  “Uh-huh.” Ivy’s heart rolled when she finally got the shoe off, this morning’s breakfast threatening to make a return appearance when a human foot swam into view. “Jack … .”

  “I think you know that Jack is going to get bored with you,” Maisie said, refusing to give up the fight. “It’s only a matter of time. Everyone knows you’re weird and men don’t like weird. They like me, not weird.”

  “I’ll never get bored with her,” Jack said, instinct taking over when he saw Ivy’s knees begin to buckle. “Ivy!”

  The last thing Ivy’s mind managed to register was something stopping her body from crashing to the ground – and she had the distinct impression that it was Jack’s arms, even though she couldn’t see his face. Then blackness took over … along with something else.

  IT WAS dark before it was light.

  Ivy wasn’t unconscious as much as she was in someone else’s head. She couldn’t explain the phenomenon. One second she was listening to Maisie hit on Jack and the next … well … the next she was somewhere else entirely.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Ivy heard the words, but she couldn’t pinpoint a location for the individual uttering them. The blackness she initially slid into was gone, but the whiteness replacing it was no better. It was light, but there was no definition to cling to.

  “Hello?”

  No one immediately answered, and then the voice returned. This time Ivy was certain it belonged to a man.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  That’s when Ivy remembered the foot. The sight of the mounted scarecrow was so off-putting, so realistic, that she couldn’t stop herself from checking closer. Her heart hammered as she unlaced the shoe and pulled. She fully expected to find nothing but straw remaining when the shoe came free. That’s not what she found, though. In hindsight, she realized that the pictures of straw flitting through her head were wishfu
l thinking. Part of her knew the tableau was real before she had confirmation.

  “Who are you?” Ivy asked, swallowing hard. She felt nauseated and couldn’t help but run her hand over her stomach as she tried to remain focused. She knew she wasn’t in a real place and this was only happening in her head, but the urge to vomit was overwhelming and she wasn’t sure she could fight it.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  The man repeated the refrain over and over. Ivy couldn’t find a shadow to associate with another presence in all of the light. Instead it was just a voice saying the exact same thing over and over.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “I can help you,” Ivy called out. “I … who are you?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Ivy lost the battle for control of her stomach, and when she opened her mouth to ask another question, her breakfast omelet spewed out instead of words. That’s when she bolted to a sitting position in the cornfield and threw up all over Jack’s shoe.

  “Ivy?” Jack’s face was a mask of concern as he cradled her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just upchucked on his Chuck Taylors. “Honey, are you okay? Look at me.”

  “Oh, geez,” Maisie muttered, edging closer. “What a drama queen. She just couldn’t take the fact that you were more interested in me than her. Look at her face, though. She looks like a sweaty pig.”

  “Shut up, Maisie,” Jack barked, running his hand over Ivy’s forehead. “She’s burning up. We have got to get her to the hospital clinic.”

  “Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about?” Maisie asked. “By the way, you have noticed that’s a real human foot sticking out from that scarecrow, right?”

  “I noticed,” Jack replied grimly.

  “Shouldn’t you worry about that instead of Ivy?”

  “No.” Jack was grim as he balanced a confused and violently ill Ivy against his chest and leaned forward so he could dig in his pocket for his cell phone. “Hold on, honey.” He punched in his partner’s number and then pressed the phone to his ear. “Brian, it’s Jack. I’m in the middle of the corn maze thing with Ivy. There’s a body on a cross … no, a real body … and Ivy just passed out. She’s throwing up and feverish. I have to get her to the clinic, but you need to get someone over here to control the scene.”

  Jack was silent for a moment before continuing. “I can’t wait. I need to move Ivy now.”

  As if on cue, Ivy leaned forward and vomited again. This time she hit Maisie’s expensive boots, earning a screech for her efforts.

  “Omigod!”

  “Come on, Ivy,” Jack said, slipping his arms under her legs and hoisting her up. “I’m getting you help right now, honey. Hold on.”

  Four

  “Max!”

  Jack was focused when he emerged from the corn maze, Ivy cradled against his chest as she rested her head on his shoulder. Sweat poured from her brow and her stomach felt as if a legion of scorpions were stinging her from the inside.

  Max glanced up from the blonde he was conversing with, his brow furrowed as he locked gazes with Jack. “What was the screaming about? Did someone mistake one of those straw guys as a real person? I knew that would be a bad idea.”

  “There’s a real body in there,” Jack replied, grim. “I called Brian, but I can’t wait for him. Ivy is sick. I have to get her to the clinic.”

  Max wasn’t prone to histrionic fits, although he did delve into dramatic ones when he wanted attention from time to time. His expression when he shifted his eyes to Ivy was troubled. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I have no idea,” Jack said. “She … touched the body and then fell over. She lost consciousness for about sixty seconds, and when she woke up she started throwing up.”

  “Nice.” Max clearly wasn’t as worried as Jack. “What did she have for breakfast?”

  “The same thing I did,” Jack snapped. “We got omelets at the diner. She’s burning up, Max. I’m not kidding around.”

  Max finally sobered and closed the distance, extending his hand to press against Ivy’s brow when he reached them. “You’re right. How do you feel, sis?”

  “I’m on fire.” Ivy’s voice was raspy. “I think I might be dying.”

  “Don’t ever say that,” Jack choked out, picking up his pace as he hurried past the curious onlookers. The clinic was downtown, on the other side of the police station, and it would take more time to load Ivy into his truck than it would to carry to her to the front door. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Maybe you should give her to me,” Max suggested, falling into step with Jack. “Don’t you have to stay and secure the crime scene?”

  “I won’t leave her,” Jack said, his eyes stormy. “You wait at the maze until Brian shows up. Don’t let anyone in or out.”

  “But … .” Max was understandably conflicted.

  “That’s an order,” Jack barked. “Come to the clinic as soon as you can.”

  With those words, Jack broke into a run. He left a dumbfounded Max in his wake and he hurried toward the clinic. All he could think about was Ivy, and he was determined to make sure she came out of … whatever this was … no worse for wear.

  “HER FEVER is coming down.”

  Jack rubbed his forehead as he paced the spot next to Ivy’s bed an hour later. Max waited for Brian before heading to the clinic as instructed, but the worried man couldn’t take watching his sister restlessly sleep on the bed for more than a few minutes before he excused himself to the lobby to call his parents. Jack had been alone with Ivy since then, worry plaguing him as the doctor and nurses buzzed around her prone form.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I have no idea.” Dr. Martin Nesbitt graced Jack with a sympathetic look. He was well aware of the close relationship Ivy and Jack shared. He wished he had better news. “Our biggest concern was getting her fever down. If this keeps up, she should be back to normal in less than an hour.”

  “That’s good, right?” Jack was bordering on desperate.

  “That’s very good,” Nesbitt confirmed. “The fever was our biggest worry. It spiked high out of nowhere. You’re sure she wasn’t sick earlier, right?”

  “She was fine,” Jack replied. “She was in a good mood. She was … going on and on about the corn maze and how much she loves Halloween.”

  “I forgot that about her,” Nesbitt said, resting the back of his hand on Ivy’s forehead. “She’s resting more comfortably now.”

  “Does that mean she’s going to wake up?”

  “She’ll wake up.”

  “She’s not in a coma, right?”

  Nesbitt cocked an eyebrow. “Son, you need to calm down,” he said. “Ivy is going to be fine. She’s strong. She’s always been strong.”

  “Then what is this?” Jack practically exploded. “She was absolutely fine until she wasn’t.”

  “Calm down, Romeo,” Max chided, striding into the room with his father on his heels. For his part, Michael Morgan looked calm but worried when he caught sight of his only daughter. “I know you and Ivy are tragically co-dependent, but I’m sure she’s going to be fine.”

  “You can keep saying that all you want, but I’m not going to believe it until she wakes up,” Jack hissed.

  “Okay, you two, that will be enough of that,” Michael said, holding up his hands to placate the boys. He’d started to think of them as something akin to brothers thanks to the way they interacted. He was genuinely fond of the police officer, but the last thing he needed was an explosive showdown between the two men when Ivy looked so frail. “Give me a rundown on what’s happening.”

  Jack licked his lips and nodded as he dragged a restless hand through his hair. “We were at the corn maze and heard someone scream,” he replied. “We ran in and found Maisie Washington in the middle of the maze and she was upset because she thought real blood dropped on her.”

  Max snorted. “She was probably just looking for attention.”

  “Tha
t’s what I thought,” Jack conceded. “I was trying to deal with Maisie while Ivy walked over to this … scarecrow thing … on a cross. I thought it was one of the other hay people. I think she did, too.

  “For some reason, though, she jerked the shoe off the figure and it was a human foot,” he continued. “The next thing I knew she dropped like a stone. She was out for about a minute and then started throwing up.”

  “Yes, Maisie wouldn’t stop talking about Ivy ruining her boots after you left,” Max intoned. “She said she was going to send a bill.”

  “I’ll send my foot up her behind if she tries anything of the sort,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could it be food poisoning?”

  Nesbitt shook his head. “I mean, anything is possible I guess, but I’m not leaning toward that,” he said. “Jack had the exact same breakfast and food poisoning doesn’t come on like that. I’m honestly not sure what it is.”

  “It has to be something,” Jack argued. “She’s healthy. She … was fighting with me two minutes before.”

  “I told you that would happen,” Max muttered, earning a cuff from his father.

  “Now is not the time, Max,” Michael said. “If you’re still acting like this when your mother gets here, she’s not going to be nearly as pleasant as I am.”

  “Where is Mom?”

  “She’s over with your aunt at the shop,” Michael replied, referring to Felicity Goodings’ magic store a couple of towns over. “They’re both on their way.”

  “Well, that should be a barrel of laughs when those two mother hens hit the room,” Max said. “Ivy will have no choice but to get out of bed or they’ll smother her with heaving bosoms.”

  “Max … stop talking,” Michael warned. “Sit in that corner and zip your lips.” He watched his son sheepishly sit in a chair before focusing on Jack. “I’m sorry. When he gets nervous, he babbles. It’s not always pleasant babbling either.”