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

  “You overreacted and cut him out of your life and now you’re feeling sorry for yourself,” she continued. “Does that about sum it up?”

  “No.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me how it happened while I pour you a soothing cup of tea,” Felicity prodded. “I might slip a mood elevator in there, but that can only help right now.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes but launched into her story anyway. She didn’t come to her aunt because she wanted the woman to take Jack’s side. She came to her aunt because she needed a sounding board that wasn’t Max, Michael, or Luna. When she was done, Felicity was more sympathetic.

  “Well, I’m not going to pretend that Jack did the right thing,” she said. “If you ask him how he feels about all of this, he’s probably going to say he did everything wrong. Still … .”

  “I knew you were going to take his side,” Ivy hissed.

  Felicity ignored her niece’s outburst. “Still, Jack went through a horror that you cannot possibly relate to.”

  Ivy wordlessly gestured to her shoulder.

  “Yes, a flesh wound that took seven stitches to close up is the same thing as several gunshot wounds to the chest, isn’t it?”

  Ivy made a face. “I’m not saying it’s the same thing.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Ivy was frustrated. “He promised he wasn’t going to break my heart.” The tears she’d managed to avoid all day threatened to return. “He promised not to purposely hurt me.”

  “Do you honestly think that’s what he’s doing?” Felicity asked, squeezing Ivy’s hand to offer her reassurance. “Do you think Jack feels so little for you that he just tossed you away without a second thought?”

  “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “Then you’re an idiot,” Felicity said, refusing to mince words. “Jack is so enamored with you he can’t see straight. He has been since you two sparred at your very first meeting. He fought his attraction to you as long as he could – failed miserably during the process – and then gave in because he was tortured without you.

  “On your very first official date a cop was shot and Jack watched him die on the pavement,” she continued. “He was already shaken up before you were injured. How do you think he felt watching you hit the ground right next to him?”

  “Probably better than I felt.”

  “You’re being a complete and total pain,” Felicity grumbled. “Jack panicked. He didn’t know what to do, so he panicked. It happens sometimes. I know you’ve put Jack up on some kind of a pedestal, but he’s entitled to make a few mistakes. You’re not exactly perfect yourself, my dear.”

  “I wouldn’t have left him if he was shot.”

  “You’re not haunted by the same memories Jack is,” Felicity reminded her. “You saw his dreams. You saw what he survived – and how he tortured himself with the memories. Don’t you think he’s doing the same thing now?”

  Ivy worried her bottom lip with her teeth, conflicted. She’d been pushing those very thoughts out of her mind because it was easier to hate Jack than have empathy for him. If she understood his plight, if she gave in to the sympathy, then she would be right back where she started. “It hurts to think about him.”

  “I’m sure it hurts him to think about you, too,” Felicity said. “He has guilt about your shooting plaguing him. He blames himself because whoever did this is going after you to punish him. He’s dealing with a lot more than you are right now.”

  “He still broke my heart.”

  “Or perhaps he merely delayed your happy ending,” Felicity suggested. “You two are not going to be able to stay away from each other no matter what. Jack may think he’s protecting you, but he’ll be back because you’re the only thing keeping him sane.”

  “Well, that’s a sad commentary on his mental fortitude.”

  “You make me laugh, girl,” Felicity said, snickering. “We both know that you’re going to forgive Jack once he gets his head out of his rear end. Instead of working against him, why don’t you try helping him so you can get this nastiness behind you and have a better picnic.”

  Ivy stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “Ivy, I think you’re missing a very important piece of this puzzle,” Felicity said. “The gun used to shoot Jack … and the police officer in Bellaire … and you … was thought to have burned up in the same fiery car crash that claimed Jack’s former partner.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I called Brian because I wanted information on your shooting,” Felicity replied, not missing a beat.

  “So you knew about all of this before I told you? Why did you make me go through the entire story again?”

  “Because I wanted to see what kind of spin you put on it. You could be a human carousel.”

  “Oh, whatever,” Ivy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “If that gun was supposed to be destroyed, how did someone get it?”

  Felicity internally chuckled. Ivy was finally thinking things through clearly. “That’s one of the important questions we need answers to,” she conceded. “The other one involves Jack’s partner. This is obviously retribution for what happened in Detroit. Someone is sending Jack a message, although we can’t be sure what it is yet. So, what we need to ask ourselves is who loved Jack’s partner enough to want revenge?”

  “Huh.” Ivy was lost in thought. She hated it when her aunt was right. “How can we find out the answers to those questions?”

  Felicity’s eyes twinkled. “I was hoping you would ask that. I have an idea.”

  JACK sucked in a deep breath and then punched in Laura Simmons’ phone number. He hadn’t seen the amiable woman since her brother shot him and left him for dead in the street. She didn’t come to see him in the hospital – although he didn’t blame her for that – and he didn’t go to Marcus’ funeral.

  They met several times throughout his three-year partnership with Marcus, mostly at family barbecues and the like. She’d always been pleasant, if a little scattered, and a few times Jack worried she developed a crush on him. He didn’t think that would be a problem this time.

  “Hello.”

  “Laura?”

  “Yes, this is Laura. Who is this?”

  Jack had only a split-second to decide if he was going to retreat. When Ivy’s sad face flitted through his mind, he forced himself to be strong. “It’s Jack Harker.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for a full thirty seconds. Jack was almost convinced she hung up on him when she found her voice. “I … wow, Jack. It’s been a long time.”

  “It has,” Jack agreed. “I … um … how have you been?” As much as he wanted to get straight to the point he knew he would turn Laura off if he immediately started grilling her on the disposition of her brother’s body and what happened to his personal belongings.

  “I’m okay,” Laura said. “It’s been … difficult … but I’m managing. How are you? I heard you moved.”

  “I did,” Jack said. “I moved to a small town called Shadow Lake. It’s in the northwestern part of the lower peninsula.”

  “That sounds … very different … from what you were doing down here.”

  “I needed something different,” Jack said. “I needed a change. I needed a place where the pressure was lessened.”

  “Did you find that in Shadow Lake?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you,” Laura said. “Listen, Jack, I probably should’ve come to see you in the hospital after what happened. After Marcus died, it didn’t seem right and my mother was having trouble understanding everything the cops were saying. She didn’t believe he could possibly be guilty. It was a horrible time.”

  “I understand that, Laura. I didn’t expect you to visit me. I wasn’t really in the mood to see people.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t. I still should’ve made the effort to come and see you. It was just too hard.”

  “It was hard on all of us,” Jack said, his disc
omfort rising. This was not what he wanted to talk about. “Laura, I didn’t just call to catch up on old times. I need to know what happened to your brother’s body after the explosion.”

  Silence.

  “Laura?”

  “That’s a really strange question, Jack.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack offered. “There’s been a spot of trouble up here … two shootings in fact … and the ballistics came back as a match for Marcus’ gun. I need to know how that’s possible.”

  “I’m not sure I have an answer for you, Jack. I never even wondered about what happened to his gun. I always assumed it burned up with him in the fire.”

  “I did, too,” Jack said. “It doesn’t seem to be the case, though. What about Marcus’ body?”

  “You don’t think he’s behind this, do you?” Laura asked. “I can assure you that he died in that fire. They ran dental records.”

  “I don’t think it’s him,” Jack clarified. “I’m just getting all of my ducks in a row.”

  “Well, he was cremated,” Laura explained. “He was burned pretty badly and they recommended we not see him … so we didn’t. We had him cremated and my mother put his ashes in an urn. It’s on the mantle above her fireplace.”

  “And you have no idea what happened to his gun?”

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t.”

  “Well, I didn’t expect you to know,” Jack said. “I had to give it a shot, though. I’m sorry to have bugged you. I’m glad you’re doing okay. I hope things continue to get better for you.”

  “You, too.”

  Eleven

  “This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.” Ivy glanced around her aunt’s small living room with a disgusted look on her face. “Seriously? How can you possibly think this is a good idea?”

  Felicity reminded herself that Ivy was recuperating from a trauma – the one to her heart more painful than the one to her body – and continued lighting candles in a circle around her niece. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Than a séance? Yeah, I think I can come up with a few.”

  “What are they?”

  Ivy stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “If you can come up with a few ideas that are better than a séance, I would love to hear what they are.”

  Ivy licked her lips. “Well … we could drive down to Detroit and question Marcus Simmons’ family members.”

  “That sounds like a great way to get shot … again.”

  “They’re the ones who will know what happened to his things,” Ivy pointed out. “They’re the ones who know any girlfriends … or friends … who would care about Marcus enough to kill in the name of his memory.”

  “Have you considered that one of those family members might be the guilty party?”

  “Huh.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Felicity said, biting her cheek to keep from laughing. Ivy was a smart girl, but when she decided she didn’t want to do something she was something of a terror. “We can’t go knocking on random people’s doors. Some of those people are in legitimate mourning. No matter what their son did, they weren’t responsible for his actions.”

  “Fine.” Ivy crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Someone might also know who you are on sight and shoot you,” Felicity added. “They probably won’t miss a second time.”

  “I said fine,” Ivy snapped. “It’s just … we haven’t done this since I was fourteen and you chaperoned that sleepover. Do you remember what happened that night?”

  Felicity smiled at the memory. “I believe your friends accused me of being a witch and you got angry and kicked them all out,” she said. “Then we ate ice cream and watched The Shining.”

  “Yeah, I’ve always loved that movie.”

  “It’s a classic,” Felicity agreed. “I remember that night being fun, even if you did have a minor meltdown.”

  “According to you I always have a minor meltdown.”

  “Oh, sometimes they’re not minor,” Felicity said. “That’s why I think you should probably calm down a little bit and give Jack a chance to get over his own meltdown before you heap more of yours on him.”

  “I get it. You love Jack.”

  “I don’t think I’m the only one,” Felicity shot back, her eyes twinkling.

  “I don’t love Jack,” Ivy protested, flabbergasted. “We’ve only known each other for a month.”

  “And yet your hearts have already joined. I find that … refreshing.”

  “I think you’re delusional,” Ivy retorted. “I don’t love Jack.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t,” Ivy said. “I’m attracted to him. There’s a difference.”

  “Fine,” Felicity conceded. “You don’t love Jack. You’re merely on your way to loving Jack. I stand corrected.”

  “I really dislike you sometimes.”

  Felicity smiled. “Shall we get this show on the road? If you’re going to freak out, I’d at least like you to see a ghost before you do it.”

  “Oh, whatever,” Ivy muttered. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Felicity settled herself on the floor across from Ivy, grabbing her niece’s hands and making a circle with their arms. “Did you believe in dream walking before it happened?”

  Ivy faltered. “No.”

  “You have magic inside of you, Ivy Morgan,” Felicity said. “You just have to let it out. If you didn’t believe in dream walking, but it turned out to be real, isn’t there a chance there’s something else out there after death?”

  “I guess,” Ivy conceded. “I really don’t want to meet a murderous ghost, though. It’s going to be really hard to be nice to the guy who shot Jack.”

  “Who says you have to be nice to him?”

  “I don’t think being mean to him is going to get us anywhere,” Ivy said.

  “Oh, good point,” Felicity said, squeezing Ivy’s hands. “Now, close your eyes. Try to relax. Don’t think about anything but Marcus Simmons.”

  “Oh, well, great. Now I want to throw up.”

  “Zip it, Ivy.”

  Ivy sighed, resigned. She did as her aunt asked and closed her eyes, shifting uncomfortably for a few minutes until her mind started to wander. The scent of the candles combined with her aunt’s calming presence allowed her busy mind to relax.

  “Marcus Simmons, we’re calling to you,” Felicity intoned. “We command that you cross over to this side.”

  Nothing happened.

  Felicity tried again. “Marcus Simmons, if you’re out there, you need to come to us,” she said. “We have questions only you can answer. You owe this world something. We’re here to collect.”

  Ivy internally snickered. That sounded ominous. She was just about to give up and suggest going for ice cream when the candles around them started flickering. She was supposed to have her eyes closed, but the unmistakable “sizzle” forced her to make sure they weren’t accidentally going to burn her aunt’s apartment to the ground.

  “Aunt Felicity?”

  “Shh,” Felicity admonished. “He’s here.”

  “How do you know that?” Ivy was curious. She didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary in the room.

  “I know,” Felicity said. “I … .” She cocked her head to the side, wrinkling her nose. “Do you feel that?”

  Ivy decided to completely give herself over to the process. She pressed her eyes shut again, reaching out with her mind until … that was impossible. Ivy’s eyes flew open, fear coursing through her. “Aunt Felicity … .”

  “I felt it, too,” Felicity said, calming Ivy with the sound of her voice. “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay, though. Ivy felt another presence. Something was in the room. Something was watching them. Without thinking about what she was doing, she jerked her hands away from Felicity and rolled out of the circle, her face ashen.

  “Why did you do that?” Felicity chided. “We were getting somewhere.”

  “I know we were getting somewhere,”
Ivy hissed. “I felt … her.”

  Felicity stilled. “Her? I thought Jack’s partner was a man.”

  “Marcus Simmons was definitely a man,” Ivy said. “What we just came in contact with was not, though. It was something else.”

  “Are you sure?” Felicity was dubious. “I didn’t get close enough to feel a gender. How did you?”

  “I have no idea,” Ivy said, pushing herself to her feet. “I just know that I’m done … doing this … and I’m going home.”

  “Ivy, we can’t give up now,” Felicity pressed. “That ghost was drawn to us for a reason. She might have the answers we’re looking for.”

  “I don’t care,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “I … I’m sorry. I can’t do this. It’s too much.” She turned on her heel and hurried out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her and not risking a backward glance at her disappointed aunt.

  Felicity watched her go with quiet contemplation. Perhaps Ivy was even stronger than she originally thought. If Ivy could feel something she couldn’t, that meant Ivy was more advanced than anyone realized.

  “Well, that’s mighty interesting,” Felicity muttered. “Too bad she couldn’t hold off her meltdown until we actually contacted a ghost. She always ruins my fun.”

  “DO you have anything?” Brian asked, dropping a deli bag on Jack’s desk and moving to his own before settling.

  Jack eyed the bag suspiciously. “Did you spit in my food?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have the girl who made it spit in it?”

  “No,” Brian replied. “Thanks for giving me the idea for next time, though.”

  Jack sighed as he yanked a hand through his messy hair. He had nervous energy and he’d expended it by tugging his hands through his hair every thirty seconds for the past two hours. “I feel like I’m going in circles.”

  “Laura Simmons didn’t give you anything?”

  “She said her brother was cremated and that she had no idea his gun was even missing until I told her about the shootings here,” Jack replied, digging into the bag. He wasn’t really hungry on the surface, but his growling stomach told him he should eat something. He bit into the roast beef sandwich and made a face.