Wicked Places (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 4) (9 page)

“I don’t snore.”

“You do when you sleep on your back,” Jack countered. “Why do you think I always want you sleeping on my chest?”

“Because you like to cop a feel in your sleep.”

“See, there’s that mind again,” Jack said. “You’re always thinking.”

“Where did your friends go?” Ivy asked, glancing around. While all six of them initially followed Jack and Ivy to the second campsite, she suddenly realized they were alone.

“They lost interest when Hayden announced it was a werewolf,” Jack answered. “They’re probably all asleep.”

“That was … nice of them.”

“I’m glad they didn’t hang around,” Jack said. “I liked seeing you in action with Hayden. You were really good with him.”

“I told you already, kids just seem to like me.”

“They’re not the only ones,” Jack said. “Come on. Now a repeat nap is sounding like the perfect way to wear ourselves out so we can fall asleep. We’ll be too keyed up otherwise.”

“Well, as long as you have a practical reason, who am I to argue?”

“
W
e’re going fishing
, honey,” Jack announced the next morning, moving to Ivy’s side as she cleaned up the breakfast remains.

Ivy arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to congratulate you?”

Jack scowled. “I want to know if you want to come with us,” he said. “I love fishing. You know that. We do it in our dreams all the time.”

Ivy pressed her lips together and glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Apparently Jack and Ivy’s conversation wasn’t one for the record books. “Watch what you say,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his expression earnest. “I got used to being able to talk openly about that stuff around Max. I won’t do it again.”

“Thank you,” Ivy said. “As to your question, though, no. I can’t go fishing.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t kill an animal,” Ivy replied, unintentionally shuddering. “I would feel guilty forever if I did that.”

“We go fishing all the time when we’re asleep,” Jack pointed out, keeping his voice low. “You always pick bright pink lures to match your hair.”

“Those aren’t real fish,” Ivy pointed out. “Even though those dreams feel real, in my mind I know I’m not really killing animals so I can play along and make you happy.”

“I don’t want to leave you here,” Jack admitted.

“I’m fine,” Ivy said, her eyes widening. “You do realize I entertained myself all the time before you came along, right?”

“I don’t like to think about the dark times before we were together,” Jack teased, pushing Ivy’s hair away from her face and giving her a soft kiss before sobering. “I’m not worried about you entertaining yourself. I’m worried that you don’t particularly seem to like the other women – and they’re the only ones who will be here this afternoon.”

“I like them fine,” Ivy protested.

Jack lifted his eyebrows to almost comical heights.

“Fine,” Ivy conceded. “I probably wouldn’t choose to spend time with them on my own. I am determined to be nice to them because it’s important to you, though, so you have nothing to worry about. I promise I won’t pull anyone’s hair or call them a nasty name.”

“You are so adorable sometimes,” Jack said, cupping the back of Ivy’s head. “The thing is, I’m not particularly worried about you being mean to them. I’m worried about them trying to isolate you because … well … they’re like chickens. They’re likely to pick one outsider to peck to death.”

“I had absolutely zero female friends growing up so I’m used to that.”

“See, that just makes me sad,” Jack said, pulling Ivy to him and hugging her. “I’ll blow off fishing and we can go back to that Call of the Wild place. You never got to shop like you wanted the first time.”

“We can go back to Call of the Wild whenever we want,” Ivy reminded him. “It’s less than an hour away from Shadow Lake. I think you should go fishing with your friends and have a good time.”

“But … what are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably go kayaking.”

“Alone?”

“Jack.” Ivy made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

“Fine, go kayaking.” Jack gave in. “Please don’t go too far out … and be careful. I will be inconsolable if something happens to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Ivy said. “Didn’t I prove to you yesterday that I’m queen of the kayak?”

“You’re queen of everything,” Jack said, giving Ivy another kiss before separating. “Wish me lots of fish. I’ll be responsible for dinner tonight.”

“That’s good,” Ivy said. “I won’t eat fish and I certainly won’t clean them.”

“Wow, I finally found something you can’t do,” Jack teased. “I’m shocked.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it,” Ivy argued. “I said I wouldn’t do it.”

“That’s just semantics, honey,” Jack said. “I still like you anyway. Don’t worry.”

I
VY
lasted exactly
five minutes at the campsite before she excused herself for the afternoon. Between Maria’s constant complaining, Melissa’s constant pouting, and Lauren’s constant whining, she was at her wit’s end. There was a reason Ivy never had female friends: She was convinced she didn’t speak the same language.

When Ivy wanted to complain, she picked a fight and made sure the war she wanted to wage was worth winning. When Ivy wanted to pout … well, she pouted. She just refused to do it for hours – and subsequently days – on end. A few hours of morose self-reflection was generally all Ivy could handle. As for whining, Ivy never considered herself to be much of a whiner. She would rather duke it out than prey on the pity of others.

Ivy was halfway to the main cabin when she decided to change course. As much as she wanted to kayak, she needed to check on something else first. She moved past the campsite from the night before, smiling and waving at Shannon as she headed toward the trees.

Ivy stepped lightly, studying the ground as she investigated the small parcel of land for clues. She was so intent on her task she almost jumped out of her skin when a small figure hunkered down next to her.

“Is that a werewolf print?” Hayden asked, awed. “I told you!”

“Hayden! Don’t you dare wander away after last night,” Shannon warned, grabbing her son’s hand and giving him a dirty look. “You’re in enough trouble as it is after freaking everyone out last night.”

“Aw, Mom,” Hayden complained. “I was just talking to Ivy. Look. She found the werewolf print.”

“Did you really find a werewolf print?” Shannon asked, dubious.

“No,” Ivy replied, her mind busy. “I did find a shoe print, though. Hayden, is this where you saw the werewolf?”

Hayden nodded. “I don’t think werewolves wear shoes.”

“No,” Ivy agreed, patting him on top of his head. “People do, though. You listen to your mother and stay close to camp.”

“What are you going to do?” Shannon asked.

“Follow the shoe print,” Ivy replied. “I’m dying to see a werewolf live and in person.”

Ivy wasn’t an expert tracker by any stretch of the imagination, but she managed to follow the shoe print with relative ease as she walked through the woods. In the back of her mind she could hear Jack ranting and raving when he found out what she’d done, but she couldn’t turn back now so she was going to have to live with the consequences of her decision. She saw a big fight in their future.

Ivy was initially worried the prints would lead to the clearing, and then she would have a hard choice in front of her. She didn’t think she could return to that spot after seeing Kylie Bradford’s body. Jack had promised to call the police to get an update on the case later that evening, but in her heart she knew that Kylie didn’t accidentally fall and hit her head. Someone killed her and left her to be discovered. They created the macabre tableau for one reason: to get attention.

Ivy followed the footprints for almost twenty minutes before they disappeared into heavy growth. She took a deep breath and pushed through the dense line of trees, exhaling heavily when she found herself in an open expanse with a tiny shack in front of her. She glanced around, confused. She realized too late she wasn’t alone.

“Are you lost?”

Ivy swiveled quickly, taking an inadvertent step back when she caught sight of the behemoth of a man standing behind her. Jack was tall, so she was used to looking up, but this man was … mammoth. His hair was blondish red and long, running into a wiry beard that hung low and was shot through with gray. His eyebrows were like spark plugs – the hair going in eighty different directions – and the look on his craggy face was cross.

“I … um … .”

“Well, speak up,” the man said, looking Ivy up and down. “You don’t look lost.”

“I’m not lost,” Ivy said, forcing her mind to calm as she debated her options. “You’re the werewolf, aren’t you?”

The man took Ivy by surprise when he chuckled. “That’s a new one. Most people just call me by my name … or ‘hey you.’ If you want to call me a werewolf, though, more power to you. If you’re looking for the state campground, it’s back that way about a mile.”

“I thought this was state land,” Ivy said.

“Most of it is,” the man replied. “My family has owned this acreage for more than fifty years, though, and no matter how much those jerkwads from the state bother me, I’m not selling it. They’re going to have to wait until I die.”

“My name is Ivy Morgan. I live over in Shadow Lake.”

“Morgan, huh? Are you any relation to Michael Morgan?”

Ivy almost fell over she was so surprised. “He’s my father,” she said. “I … how do you know my father?”

“I bought that bush over there at his nursery about two years ago.”

Ivy scowled. “His nursery? That’s my nursery.”

“He said it was his,” the man said. “I don’t suppose it matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s nothing to get your panties in a wad about.”

“Don’t talk about my panties,” Ivy challenged.

“Why? Are you even wearing any? You don’t look like the type of woman who bothers wearing them.”

Ivy knit her eyebrows together, her previous fear shifting to the side to make room for irritation. “And you look like the type of man who hasn’t seen panties in his entire life,” she shot back. “How would you know?”

The man laughed, the sound a low rumble emanating from his belly. “You’re funny. I’ll give you that.”

“What’s your name?”

“Andrew Devlin,” the man replied. “Tell your father I said hello when you see him again. You should probably get back to the campground if you know what’s good for you. The police have been out here the last few days and something fishy is going on in these woods. You shouldn’t be wandering around alone.”

“I’m nowhere near done talking to you,” Ivy said. “I know all about the body that was found. I’m the one who found it.”

“Is that right?” Andrew asked, arching an eyebrow. It looked like a caterpillar was trying to escape from his forehead.

“Yes,” Ivy said. “Were you at the campground last night?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Did you look at a little boy in a tent?”

“Hey, I’m not some kind of weird pervert,” Andrew snapped. “I don’t go after little boys.”

“That came out wrong,” Ivy said, holding her hands up. “A little boy at one of the campsites claimed a werewolf was looking at him last night. I think he was talking about you.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Because I followed the footprints you left in the dirt at the edge of the woods and they led me here.”

“Ah, well … I guess that explains why you came this far out,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “I went over there to look around. The cops were making such a ruckus I wanted to see if I could hear anything. I didn’t mean to scare that kid … and I wasn’t looking at him. I was standing off to the side and I saw him poke his head out. He looked at me and then he started yelling loud enough to wake the dead. I got out of there right quick.”

“I figured he was confused,” Ivy said. “I didn’t know anyone lived out here.”

“That’s because I keep to myself and stay out of other people’s business.”

“Did you hear anything the night Kylie Bradford was killed? It would’ve been three nights ago.”

“Listen, I like to keep to myself, but if I heard a girl screaming I would help,” Andrew replied. “The police have already been here questioning me. I don’t have anything to tell you or them.”

“Do you think it was an animal?”

“I don’t think there’s an animal mean enough in these woods to do anything of the sort.”

“I don’t either,” Ivy admitted. “I think someone at that campground killed her and then mutilated her in an effort to make it look like it was animals to cover his tracks.”

“I think whoever did that might not have even cared if people thought it was animals,” Andrew countered. “If someone is sick enough to carve up a teenage girl, he was probably proud of himself and wanted to show off his … art.”

Ivy made a face, although she couldn’t argue with him. She’d been thinking the same thing herself. “Have you seen anyone strange running around these woods?”

“Just you.”

“Well, I guess I should let you get back to … whatever it is you do out here,” Ivy said. “Try not to scare the kids again. You’re too old to lurk. If you want to visit the campground, you’re more than welcome to visit us.”

“I don’t like people,” Andrew charged. “Why would I want to visit you?”

“I think you like people just fine,” Ivy said. “I think what you’re really worried about is that people won’t like you.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I’m the same way.”

Andrew’s expression was thoughtful for a moment. Finally, he blew out a long-suffering sigh and gestured for her to follow him. “As long as you’re out here, I have something to show you. I was going to call the police myself once I discovered it … but I think you’ll save me the trip to town to use the phone.”

“You don’t have a phone?”

“I have no one to call,” Andrew said. “Come on. It’s not very far away. I have a feeling you’re going to want to see it anyway.”

“You said you’re not a pervert who goes after kids,” Ivy said. “You’re not a pervert who goes after women, are you?”

Andrew chuckled. “You’re funny,” he said. “You’re safe with me. Trust me.”

Ivy wasn’t sure why, but she did trust him. “Just be aware, I bite and I hit if someone tries to back me into a corner.”

“Well, I’m definitely looking forward to that,” Andrew deadpanned.