Wicked Games
An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 17
Lily Harper Hart
HarperHart Publications
Copyright © 2020 by Lily Harper Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Lily Harper Hart
Books by Amanda M. Lee
1
One
Probation was a nightmare.
That’s all Ivy Morgan could think as she used a metal stick with a pointy end to pick up garbage along the highway that stretched between Shadow Lake and Alden. Well, not the only thing. Ivy also wondered why criminals — and she counted herself amongst that group — were allowed to have pointy sticks in the first place.
What if they stabbed one another?
What if they stabbed an animal?
What if they stabbed the county worker who was tasked with watching them?
There were so many what-ifs in Ivy’s head she couldn’t decide which one took precedence. She was so busy watching the other people she was working with that she could think of nothing else. So, basically, she picked up trash in a haze ... and wondered how she’d allowed her life to get here.
In truth, she was well aware how she’d gotten herself into this situation. She’d used her magic, broken into a house, saved a woman, and put her fiancé’s case in jeopardy with her actions. Technically she couldn’t regret what had happened — she’d saved a woman, after all — but she felt as if she were being punished for something that wasn’t entirely her fault.
That made her bitter.
“Take a twenty-minute break,” a voice announced at the front of the group, drawing Ivy’s attention. There, Greg Decker stood with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t technically an employee of the court system. She’d learned that the first day. He was an independent contractor. It was his job to make sure those assembled fulfilled their duty to society. He watched, barked orders, and mostly kept himself separate ... including long bouts of him staring at his phone in the shade.
It wasn’t that he thought he was superior or anything, at least in Ivy’s mind. He was pleasant, answered questions, and wasn’t overly aggressive. Ivy was convinced she would end up with some militant drill sergeant barking orders. That’s why she was pleasantly surprised when she met Greg. That didn’t exactly mean that her community service was anything other than a drag. She was desperate to fulfill her mandated hours, though, and then move on and focus on other things.
That was easier said than done.
“Did you bring lunch?” The woman who sat next to Ivy on a fallen tree trunk was young. She was barely out of her teens, bright-eyed and gregarious, and she boasted a bubbly nature that made Ivy like her ... even when she occasionally fantasized about gagging her.
Ivy shook her head. Jack Harker, her fiancé, suggested she pack something because the shift along the highway was going to be long. She’d opted against that because she knew her stomach wouldn’t allow her to settle enough to eat. This was her first day of trash pickup — although she’d volunteered her services in several clerical positions before this to fulfill her community service requirements — and she was a nervous wreck. The last thing she could think about was food.
“I’m okay.” Ivy flashed a smile for the girl’s benefit. She barely looked old enough to be in the adult court system. “It’s Angel, right?”
The girl nodded as she pulled a peanut butter sandwich out of her bag. “Angel Hall.”
“Where are you from?” Ivy was mostly looking for dull conversation to get her through the rest of the afternoon. Angel didn’t strike her as dangerous — although, to be fair, none of the people on the trash team struck her as violent offenders — and Ivy was anxious for something to take her mind off the next few hours.
“Traverse City.” Angel flashed a pretty smile as she held up her sandwich. “Are you sure you don’t want half? I would hate to think of you going hungry for the rest of the afternoon. We’re getting into the rough stretch.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Ivy reassured her. “We only have three hours left. Then the shift is over. I can make it. I’ll eat at home.”
“Uh-huh.” Angel’s expression was thoughtful as she bit into her sandwich and regarded Ivy. “This is your first day, huh?”
“I’ve been doing other things,” Ivy replied hurriedly. “They’ve had me doing paperwork at the county court and filing at the juvenile lockup house near Bellaire.”
“Clerical gigs, huh?” Angel pursed her lips. “Those are the coveted positions. How did you get those?”
Ivy’s mind immediately went to Jack. In addition to being her future husband — a position he relished — he was also a detective with the Shadow Lake Police Department. He had a stellar reputation and a lot of respect. Ivy had no doubt he tried to keep her isolated from others as much as possible when it came to her community service assignments. Even he had a limit to his powers, though.
“I’m not sure.” Ivy flashed a smile she didn’t really feel. “I’m here now, though.” She looked around, uncomfortable. “Have you been with this group long?”
Angel shrugged. She didn’t seem particularly bothered about her circumstances. Ivy wished she could be that relaxed. “This is my second week,” she replied. “I was with another group before this. They were quiet, too.”
Ivy studied the girl’s face, curious despite herself. Jack warned her not to question the people she served with too zealously because he didn’t want them to feel as if Ivy was invading their personal space, or perhaps digging into information that she had no business knowing about. It made sense when they had the conversation. Still, Ivy couldn’t help herself. “What did you do to get here?”
If Angel was bothered by the question, she didn’t show it. Instead she happily munched on her sandwich and waited until she was done swallowing to answer. “Drunk driving. It was absolutely stupid ... and reckless ... and I don’t know what I was thinking.” She shook her head. “I was at a party and I made the mistake of having more than I should have. I could’ve called an Uber — which is totally what I should’ve done — but I was so drunk that I thought I was fine. Has that ever happened to you?”
“Honestly, no.” Ivy sent Angel a rueful smile. “I’ve never been much of a drinker. If it’s any consolation, I can see that happening, though.”
“Well, it was moronic. I should’ve just Ubered to the party and then Ubered back. Instead, I went to the party, convinced myself that I would just have one drink, and completely fell off the rails. I had no business on the road.”
Ivy decided to adopt a philosophical approach. “At least you realize that now.” She hesitated and then barreled forward. “Was anybody hurt?”
Angel shook her head. “No. I got really lucky. I barely made it three blocks before the cops stopped me. I know it s
ounds weird, but I’m actually glad I was caught. It was a wake-up call of sorts. I can guarantee I’ll never do that again.”
Ivy was relieved to hear it. “That’s good.”
Angel took a moment to study the woman beside her. Ivy was striking, high cheekbones and a full set of pouty lips setting off a beautiful face. Her hair was long and brown, pink highlights setting it off, and she resembled a model more than a chain gang member ... at least by Angel’s way of thinking. “What did you do?” She almost looked nervous about asking the question, which made Ivy believe she’d heard the same set of advice that had made her antsy before starting off with the group.
“I broke into a woman’s house,” Ivy replied, focusing on her green capri pants. She’d given a lot of thought to how she was going to respond should the question be asked and she opted for the truth. “There was a woman tied up inside, and instead of calling the police to rescue her, I broke in and set her free myself.”
Angel was scandalized. “You got busted for that?”
Ivy held out her hands and shrugged. “I broke the law.”
“But ... you saved a woman’s life.”
That was the argument Ivy made when she was trying to keep from getting punished. Unfortunately for her, in order for Jack’s case to remain on track for prosecution, she had to take her licks. Since a murderous woman with mental problems would be free to roam the streets if she didn’t accept her punishment, Ivy had knuckled down ... and felt sorry for herself ever since. She didn’t want to admit she was feeling put upon, but it was written all over her face whenever Jack took a moment to make sure she was okay.
“That is just ... so wrong.” Angel shook her head and then, to Ivy’s surprise, snapped her fingers to get the attention of two women who were sitting on the ground about seven feet away. “Did you guys hear why this chick is here?” She jerked her thumb in Ivy’s direction. “She actually saved a woman who was being held captive and got punished for it.”
The older of the two women on the ground didn’t look surprised. “No good deed goes unpunished,” she intoned, shaking her head. She had pretzels she was munching on as she thoughtfully studied Ivy’s face. “Wait. I think I read about some of this in the newspaper. This was in Shadow Lake, right?”
Ivy nodded. “Yeah. It was all over the newspapers.”
“That totally sucks.” The woman raised her fist into the air. “Don’t ever let ‘The Man’ keep you down.”
“Don’t get excited, Betsy,” Greg called out. His back was toward the woman, but he was obviously aware something was happening. “You know what happens when you get excited.”
“Yes, small children scream and shout,” the other woman called out. She looked to be in her thirties and was more blasé about the entire thing. “Perhaps we’re fine with that because we don’t like small children, Greg. Have you ever considered that?”
“It’s Mr. Decker to you, Alison,” he yelled back. “We’re not friends. I’m your boss.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Alison rolled her eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I love community service?”
Ivy pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. She didn’t figure jocularity was a good look when she was supposed to be repaying her debt to society. Still, she found she instinctively liked the women ... even if Jack repeatedly warned her it was a bad idea to get close to people serving with her.
“This is Alison Bertrand,” Angel offered by way of introduction. “She’s here for credit card fraud.”
“I got two credit cards in my mother’s name to help her pay her bills after she was injured in a car accident,” Alison explained. “She got mad when she found out what I did and reported me so she wouldn’t have to repay the bills ... even though I was already paying the bills.”
Ivy hesitated. “That’s ... awful. I’m so sorry.”
Alison shrugged. “What are you going to do? My mother says she thinks this will help me build character. She thinks I need to learn values. Honestly, the only thing I’ve learned from this is that next time I’m going to let her lose her house.”
“I can see that.” Ivy flashed a smile even though she was determined to keep a straight face throughout. “That really sucks. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“You and me both.” Alison dug in her lunch bag and pulled out a sandwich. “It doesn’t matter. Two more weeks of this and I’m done. Then I can go back to my life and pretend I don’t need therapy to deal with my mother.”
“Um ... .” Ivy wasn’t sure what to say. Thankfully, Angel didn’t give her a chance to think too hard about things before continuing the impromptu meet-and-greet.
“This is Betsy Crawford,” she stated, gesturing toward the older woman, who continued to munch on her pretzels. “She got a lot of probation — like a freaking lot — because she had four more pot plants than what is allowed under Michigan’s new law.”
Ivy furrowed her brow. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“To be fair, I had the plants long before the law went into effect,” Betsy explained. “It’s honestly not a big deal. I’m retired so I wasn’t doing anything anyway. My life is pretty much the same, except I can’t watch Real Housewives of Atlanta when I’m getting stoned and now I have four fewer plants.”
“Oh, well ... .” Ivy found she was at a loss again.
“I’m a total pothead,” Betsy offered in a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not sorry about it or anything either.”
“I don’t blame you. Pot is ... awesome.” Ivy smirked as Betsy pumped her fist again. In truth, she had no problem with those who wanted to smoke pot as long as they weren’t driving at the time. She didn’t figure it was any of her business. “What about the others?” She inclined her head toward a group of men who were eating together across the way. “What are they in for?”
“I don’t know about the two guys on the end,” Angel replied. “They’re new and I haven’t gotten their stories out of them yet. As for the other two, the one on the right is Marvin Martin. He’s in his fifties I think — at least he looks it — and he was picked up for shoplifting.”
Ivy couldn’t contain her surprise. “Really? I thought that was something women did.”
“You’ll find that you can’t really rely on stereotypes when it comes to criminality,” Betsy noted. “Not everybody is what they appear to be. I mean ... would you peg me as a stoner?”
To Ivy, that appeared to be a trick question. The fact that Betsy was wearing a shirt with a camouflage peace sign anchored in the center, flanked by a pot leaf and a bunch of musical notes, was a dead giveaway to her. It was hardly important to the conversation, though. “Absolutely not.” This time the smile she flashed was legitimate and she managed to relax a bit. Even if she never saw these women again after her service was complete, at least she had people to talk to as she worked ... and she didn’t feel nearly as much fear as she had before sitting down to lunch. “And the other guy?” She inclined her head toward the final man.
“Jason Fortin,” Angel offered on a sigh. She’d taken on a dreamy expression. “He’s ... really hot, huh?”
Ivy wrinkled her nose. “Um ... .” Convinced she’d heard the girl wrong, she turned to Betsy for answers. The older woman boasted a full-on smirk as she shook her head.
“Ignore her,” Betsy supplied. “She goes gooey whenever Jason is as much as mentioned.”
“Jason?” Ivy was still behind. “Who is he?”
“Jason Fortin,” Angel explained, as if Ivy should magically know the name. “He went to my high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman.”
Ivy quickly did the math in her head. “So ... that makes him twenty-two?”
“Yeah.” Betsy made a face as she pinned Angel with a quelling look. “Jason has so many motor violations they’ve yanked his license ... and he still keeps getting motor violations.”
“You mean speeding tickets?” Ivy was understandably confused. “I didn’t think that was something that could lan
d you in jail. I mean, unless you killed someone in an accident or something.”
“Well, Jason is a special case,” Betsy explained. “He’s ... an over-achiever of sorts.”
“He is,” Angel agreed, letting loose another sigh. “Isn’t he handsome?”
To Ivy, the young man looked like a string bean with an extra-large head. He wasn’t overly built. He wasn’t undersized or anything, but Ivy was convinced he didn’t work out. He had a narrow waist, uninterested eyes, and shaggy hair that was in desperate need of a haircut.
“He’s ... awesome,” Ivy said after a beat. Honestly, what else was she supposed to say? Even though Angel seemed easygoing and pleasant to be around, Ivy didn’t want to upset the girl. “I bet you guys will have beautiful children.”
“You laugh, but I would totally go for that.” Angel kept her eyes on Jason a moment longer and then turned back to Ivy. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive. It’s really pathetic. On my part, I mean. He’s perfect. I’m the pathetic one.”
“Oh, geez.” Alison rolled her eyes. “You have got to let this go. He’s the pathetic one. You’re so much better than him.”
“He’s ... amazing,” Angel countered. “You have no idea how amazing he is. You’re not seeing him at his best here. This isn’t his natural habitat.”
As if on cue, Jason belched loudly across the way, eliciting a high five from the two men Angel couldn’t identify. They laughed like teenaged boys and started discussing different types of burps.
“I’m sure he’s a scholar,” Ivy said dryly, earning a snicker from Betsy. “I just think you could do better.”
Wicked Games (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 17) Page 1
