Wicked Winter (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 8) Page 3

  Jack increased his pace, Brian struggling to keep up with his partner’s long strides. It took everything he had for Jack not to break into a run when he caught sight of Luna talking to an officer next to the sculpture that decorated the sitting area in front of the store.

  “Luna?”

  Luna jerked her head in Jack’s direction, relief washing over her. “I’m so glad they called you.” She threw her arms around Jack’s neck and gave him a warm hug. “They said they called you, but they wouldn’t let me talk to you so I couldn’t absolutely be sure.”

  Jack absentmindedly patted Luna’s back in a soothing manner. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see her. The desperate need to see Ivy simply consumed him to the point where he could think of nothing else. “Where’s Ivy?”

  “I don’t know what she was thinking,” Luna said, flashing a rueful smile at Brian after separating from Jack. “She reacted fairly quickly when the woman walked through the door and announced someone was shooting. She pushed me behind one of the cosmetics counters and then crawled to the window to look out.”

  Jack inhaled heavily through his nose. “She got closer to the window to look out?”

  Brian scorched Jack with a warning look. He understood his partner’s distress but there was no reason to fly off the handle … at least not yet. “Did she see anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Luna replied. “She was extremely focused. She told me to call 911 to make sure someone had called in the emergency. She was really tense for a few minutes and then she relaxed a bit and I thought the worst part was over. I thought the shooters had either been caught or there was some sort of error.”

  “Where is Ivy?” Jack repeated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear the story. He did. He needed to hear it. He simply needed to be able to put his hands on Ivy first.

  Luna pretended she didn’t hear the question. “A man suddenly showed up in the doorway. He had one of those knit ski masks on and a gun … I swear it was the biggest gun I’ve ever seen. I don’t know much about guns, but I think that one was designed to kill a lot of people.”

  “It’s okay,” Brian said, rubbing the back of her shoulder. “What happened then?”

  “He saw me,” Luna replied. “I was so stunned I didn’t do a very good job of hiding myself. He seemed surprised … and then resigned. He was lifting the gun in my direction when Ivy picked up one of the purses from the display by the window and hit him.”

  Jack’s heart dropped as he pressed his eyes shut. That sounded exactly like his very brave girlfriend. He wanted to choke that bravery out of her at the present moment, even though he knew the inclination was unreasonable. His heart pounded in recognition of what could’ve happened next, though, and that’s all he could think about. “Where is Ivy?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “What did the man do when Ivy hit him?” Brian was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “He just stared at her a moment,” Luna replied, taking on a far-off expression. “He stared at her and I almost think he felt sorry for what he was doing. That’s what I read in his eyes. He didn’t raise the gun or anything but … he didn’t back down either. Then, the next thing we knew, another man appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m not sure what happened next because it’s all a blur,” she continued. “I know I heard a gunshot. The man standing close to Ivy fell to the ground. She reacted out of instinct, I think, and went to him. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she asked him why he did it. He died very quickly … and then she waited for the police to come.”

  Jack was convinced his heart was about to shred. “Where is Ivy?” He practically exploded this time, clutching his hands so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white.

  “Jack?”

  Jack heard her voice before seeing her small frame, jerking his head toward the store and finding his fiery brunette scurrying in his direction. Jack took three long strides and collected her in his arms, burying his face in her hair as she buried her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Jack stroked the back of her head as he tried to calm himself, afraid that if he immediately opened his mouth he would burst into tears. When he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t fall apart, Jack asked the obvious question. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “She wasn’t injured.” The police detective who stepped out of the store behind Ivy was young and attractive, his strong jaw rigid as he took in the scene. “You must be Jack Harker.”

  “And you must be Detective Crawford,” Jack said, keeping Ivy pressed against his chest as he looked the man up and down. “Do you know what happened here?”

  Crawford blinked several times in rapid succession. “There was a shooting.”

  Jack scowled. “I figured that out myself. Do you know why there was a shooting?”

  “We’re still trying to ascertain that,” Crawford replied. “Ms. Morgan, I wasn’t done questioning you before you raced off. Do you mind coming back inside the store so we can complete our interview?”

  Ivy wasn’t keen on doing anything of the sort – she desperately wanted to go home and take a long bath before crawling into bed for the next twelve hours – but she offered a resigned nod. “I’m sorry. I just reacted when I heard Jack’s voice.”

  “That’s totally understandable.” Crawford said the words but no kindness touched his eyes, something that frustrated Jack to no end.

  “I’ll come with you, honey,” Jack offered, resting his hand on Ivy’s slim hip.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Crawford said. “I would like to talk to Ms. Morgan without you influencing her answers.”

  “And why would I influence her answers?”

  Crawford shrugged. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to help yourself. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s obvious you care about her.”

  Jack bobbed his head. “I love her more than anything,” he agreed, pasting a pleasing smile on his face even as he had to fight the urge to pound his fist into the other police officer’s face. “That’s why I’m going to listen and not say anything. I realize this isn’t my case … or place … but I want to be close to her.”

  Crawford ran his tongue over his teeth as he flicked his gaze between Jack and Ivy. “Fine. I’m going to allow it because she seems steadier now that you’re here. If you try to insert yourself, though … .”

  Jack held up his hand in a placating manner. “I won’t.”

  “Okay.”

  Jack slipped his arm around Ivy’s shoulders and followed Crawford into the store, his gaze landing on the bloodstain near the front of the display window, fighting the urge to imagine Ivy leaning over a dead man as she tried to ease his passing. He wanted to fold Ivy into his arms and protect her from seeing the terrible tableau, but that wasn’t an option so he merely rubbed his fingers over her back.

  “You were telling me about the second man’s entrance,” Crawford prodded. “What can you tell me about the way he looked?”

  “Nothing,” Ivy replied dully. “They were both dressed in all black – black jeans, shoes, hoodies, shirts, and masks – and I couldn’t see their faces. All I can say about the second man is that he was probably about five-foot-ten. I didn’t see his eyes or get close enough to see the color of his skin through the mask holes. I’m sorry.”

  “How do you know he was five-foot-ten?”

  “Because Jack is six-foot-tall so the shooter looked a little shorter,” Ivy answered automatically.

  “That’s very good reasoning.” Crawford flashed a smile. “Your mother said you talked to the man before he died. What did you say?”

  “I was kind of in shock, but I knew when I pulled his mask back that he would die,” Ivy replied. “He had blood at the corners of his mouth and I know from watching television that means internal injuries.”

  “Television isn’t always correct, but I get what you’re saying,” Crawford
said. “Continue.”

  “I just asked him why. He didn’t answer the question, though. He struggled to form a word, and when he finally spoke it was only to say the one thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “Mitchell. That’s all he said. Mitchell.”

  Crawford pursed his lips. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Jack jolted at the question. “Why should it mean something to her? She didn’t know the guy. He was clearly giving a hint as to the man who shot him, the man who I’m guessing was his partner up until he was double-crossed.”

  Crawford held up his hands to calm Jack. “I wasn’t accusing her of anything.”

  “That’s not how it sounded to me,” Jack shot back.

  “It’s okay, Jack.” Ivy let loose with a weary sigh as she wrapped her fingers around Jack’s wrist. “Just let him do his job. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

  Jack ran his fingers over the ends of Ivy’s hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He forced a tight smile for Crawford’s benefit. “That was uncalled for. It was a long drive over here. I kept imagining the worst and … .”

  “I told you she was fine when I called,” Crawford pointed.

  “Hearing it and seeing it for myself are completely different things,” Jack argued. “You have to understand that I thought she was shopping with her mother. Granted, I thought she was probably having a miserable time because she hates shopping, but I didn’t think anything like this was possible.”

  Crawford’s expression softened. “I get that. She’s alive, though. She acted in a brave manner to keep her mother safe. For the record, I don’t believe she had anything to do with this. I simply have to ask.”

  “And what do you have so far?” Jack asked. “I’m curious if you’ve made identification.”

  “We have,” Crawford confirmed, bobbing his head. “The deceased’s name is Dorian Jackson. He lives on the other side of Traverse City – the side closer to Shadow Lake, if that matters – and he’s a married father of two.”

  “Father?” Ivy felt sick to her stomach as she leaned into Jack. “Why would he come to the mall right before Christmas and start shooting?”

  “How many people were hurt?” Jack asked, legitimately curious.

  “Fourteen people were hurt, although no one critically except for Dorian himself,” Crawford volunteered. “Most of the injuries were incurred when people panicked at the gunshots and ran over one another. One person was hit in the face with flying glass but only got minor lacerations.”

  “I guess that’s something,” Jack muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “As for why Mr. Jackson did this, I don’t have an answer,” Crawford volunteered. “His wife is on the premises and we’re asking her questions. So far we’ve only been able to ascertain that they were having financial problems. We haven’t gotten into the nitty-gritty of it yet.”

  “I know this is a busy time and I don’t want to be a bother, but I would appreciate it if you kept me updated on any big developments,” Jack said. “As far as we know, Ivy is the only one who saw the second shooter up close.”

  “But I can’t identify him,” Ivy argued, her blue eyes going wide.

  “The shooter doesn’t know that,” Crawford supplied. “I’m glad she has you close to watch over her since she doesn’t live in town. Is her home situation safe?”

  “Very safe,” Jack replied without hesitation.

  “Do you live together?”

  “Close enough,” Jack answered, calm. “She won’t be alone. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “That’s good,” Crawford said. “As for the request, I understand your worry. I doubt very much that the shooter will be able to track down Ms. Morgan’s identity, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry. I’m sure I’ll be in touch with both of you.”

  Jack forced a smile even though it went against his very nature given the circumstances. “That’s all I ask. Thank you very much.”

  Four

  “Come on, honey. I have a bath running for you.”

  Jack was worried about Ivy over the duration of the ride home. Brian took Luna back in the cruiser, promising to walk her to the house and deliver her to Michael’s waiting arms while Jack drove Ivy’s car. Ivy spent the entire trip staring out the window, lost in her own head, and Jack was at a loss about how far to push her.

  Once they hit Ivy’s house, Jack offered to get her something to eat, but Ivy wrinkled her nose and politely declined. Her stomach was too unsettled for food and all she really wanted was a bit of time to herself to decompress.

  Ivy followed Jack into the bathroom, widening her eyes when she realized he’d gone all out and lit candles.

  “I got one of these exploding ball things for you, too,” Jack said, offering up one of the large bath bombs from her collection under the sink. “It’s lavender and chamomile. I looked in that book of yours in the bedroom and I think it’s supposed to be relaxing.”

  Ivy was absurdly touched that he went to such obscene efforts to make sure she was comfortable. “Thank you.” She took the bath bomb from him. “This seems very … romantic.”

  Jack arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, as much as I love a nice romantic evening at home, I thought you would probably want to take this bath on your own.”

  Ivy didn’t go so far as to let loose with a relieved sigh, but she did smile. “Thank you. That sounds … great.”

  Jack cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know this is hard for you,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m not going to push you. I promise. Just … try to relax. I don’t want you tying yourself up in knots over this. It wasn’t your fault and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop what happened.”

  “In my head, I know that,” Ivy admitted. “My heart can’t help but put up a fight.”

  “That’s because your heart is strong and beautiful,” Jack said. “Despite that snarky mouth, you always want to find the good in people. I saw your face when you heard that Dorian Jackson was a father. You’re desperately searching that busy brain of yours for an acceptable reason for him to do what he did.

  “Maybe he was desperate … and his family was going hungry,” he continued. “Maybe he was being threatened by some evil megalomaniac, right? Oh, don’t bother denying it, honey. I know the way your mind works.”

  Ivy managed a sheepish grin. “Am I that transparent?”

  “You’re that sweet and dedicated to helping those in need,” Jack clarified. “Ivy, I want you to get your answers, but you need to brace yourself in case they don’t come. Sometimes there is no reason for a person to do something cruel or stupid … and yet they’ll do it anyway.”

  “I know that.” Ivy licked her lips. “Maybe it’s because of the time of year or something, but I want to believe the best about people. I can’t help it.”

  “I don’t want you to change so if that’s what you want to believe, then do it. Just … try to relax. Take a long bath and then we’ll go to bed. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “Yes, because one night is all I’m going to need to forget that a man died in my arms,” Ivy muttered.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Jack argued. “I simply meant that I want you to rest and then hopefully eat tomorrow morning. That’s all I’m looking for, honey.”

  “I know.” Ivy was instantly apologetic. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or accuse you of anything. I’m simply … discombobulated.”

  Jack smirked. He couldn’t help himself. “Only you would use a word like that after the day you’ve had.” Jack leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Take your bath. I’ll make you a mug of tea. Then we’ll go to bed.”

  “It’s not very late,” Ivy pointed out. “That seems unfair to you.”

  “Honey, I just want to hold you,” Jack countered, gently brushing her hair away from her face. “I was so afraid when I got the
call, and even though I knew that Detective Crawford said you were fine, my mind ran away with me during the drive over there. I’m tired, too.”

  Ivy pressed her lips together and nodded as Jack shuffled toward the door. Before he could disappear, she called out. “Jack?”

  “What, honey?”

  “I love you.”

  Jack’s expression softened. “Honey, I love you more than anything. We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be okay.”

  JACK FOUND Max sitting on a stool next to the counter when he shuffled into the kitchen to start a kettle to boil. He didn’t so much as blink in surprise when he caught sight of the man.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Checking on my sister,” Max replied without hesitation. “How is she?”

  “Traumatized.”

  “You’re going to need to expand on that,” Max noted, his expression unreadable. “Is she so traumatized she needs her big brother to stand guard beside the bathroom door, or is she only traumatized enough that I need to run to the market and buy her chocolate cake and a gossip magazine?”

  Jack barked out a laugh, the simple act relieving some of the pressure from his chest. “Neither, although now that you’ve mentioned that, cake sounds really good.”

  “I could go buy some,” Max offered.

  Jack shook his head. “Ivy isn’t hungry. Her stomach is upset. She’s taking a long bath and then I’m going to force some chamomile tea down her before we go to bed.”

  “It’s like six o’clock.”

  “I don’t care,” Jack said. “She needs to put some distance between her mind and this day and sleep is the only thing that will help.”

  “Are you going to take her on a dream date?”

  Jack shrugged, noncommittal. “We’ll see what happens when I get her in bed,” he answered. “If she wants to dream walk, we’ll dream walk. I’ll pick a quiet place, maybe take her on a picnic, and see how things go.”

  “If you really want to relax her, you’ll take her morel hunting,” Max suggested. “She would spend five hours straight doing that when she was a teenager and it always put her in a good mood. She likes being in the woods. She thinks easier there.”