Luna nodded.
“Does she look like she’s dying?”
“No.”
“Then she’s not dying,” Michael said, although he looked mildly troubled himself when he locked eyes with Nesbitt. “She’s not, right?”
The doctor was used to Michael and Luna’s eccentricities. Max broke quite a few bones during his athletic high school years – and Ivy broke a few herself – so he was accustomed to their histrionics. “She’s fine,” he said. “The bullet ripped through tissue in her shoulder. She was probably lucky that she was crouching at an odd angle when whoever it was fired at her. I’ve sewn up the wound and she’s going to be absolutely fine.”
“I want a second opinion,” Luna said.
“Ignore her,” Ivy hissed. “When can I get out of here?”
“You can go home tonight as long as you promise to be careful and rest,” Nesbitt said. “In fact, I would recommend getting some dinner into you and then taking the painkillers so you can sleep for a good ten hours.
“Your brother is right, even with the painkillers you’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he continued. “You are not to lift anything at that nursery. You are to keep the wound free and clear of dirt. I also think you should probably have someone stay out at the house with you to make sure you don’t overextend yourself.”
“I’ll be doing that,” Luna said.
“You will not,” Ivy shot back.
“I’ll do it,” Max said. “I’m used to her being a hypochondriac.”
“I don’t want you staying there either,” Ivy said, grimacing when she attempted to cross her arms over her chest. “I don’t want any of you staying with me.”
“Ah, I get it,” Max said, cocking a challenging eyebrow. “You want Detective Studmuffin to tend to your wound. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? I don’t think you’re allowed to do that until your shoulder heals either.”
Ivy, stilled, glancing around as realization finally settled in. “Where is Jack?”
Max shifted, confused. “I … don’t know. He’s probably still out calming himself down. He’s kind of a basket case. Do you want me to find him?”
Ivy shook her head, her heart twisting and causing more pain than the bullet. “No. I know where he’s at.”
“Where?”
“He … left me.”
Six
“Tell me what we have.”
Brian Nixon jerked his head up at the sound of his partner’s voice. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the hospital with Ivy?”
“Ivy is in good hands,” Jack replied, his tone flat. “She’s being taken care of there. I need to know what’s going on here.”
Brian sighed, exasperated. Jack was a pig-headed mule on a good day. Someone going after Ivy was not a good day in his partner’s book. “We found the bullet on the ground next to the picnic basket. It’s cute that you two decided to have a picnic, by the way. You’re going to have all the busybodies in town atwitter because of that romantic gesture.”
Jack ignored the dig. “What about the shooter? Did anyone see the shooter?”
“We’re canvassing the neighborhood now,” Brian replied, tugging on his limited patience. He understood Jack’s concern. He wasn’t sure how much mania he could put up with, though. “That park is open, but the shot could’ve come from any direction. What direction do you think it came from?”
Jack searched his memory. “It came from the east.”
“That narrows it down,” Brian said, shifting his attention back to his computer screen. “We’re running the ballistics on the gun. It’s not going to come back tonight, though. If we’re lucky we’ll have it first thing in the morning. If we’re not lucky, it could take another day.”
“There has to be something to do,” Jack pressed.
“There is,” Brian said, choosing his words carefully. “Ivy needs to be taken care of. She was the one who was shot. Your only job for the rest of the day and tonight is to take care of her.
“I called the hospital,” he continued. “Jimmy said she was going to be fine and they were releasing her. Why aren’t you there to see her home?”
“Because finding out who shot her is more important than listening to her and Max argue about pizza!”
Brian held up his hands to ward off Jack’s imminent explosion. “You are a mess, son. You need to collect yourself. I suggest doing that before going back to Ivy. Take a walk or something.”
“She was standing right next to me,” Jack muttered. “She was right there and then … she almost wasn’t.”
“And I know what happened to you in Detroit,” Brian said, lowering his voice. “This has to be hard for you. She’s still the one who was shot. Pull yourself together and go to her. You’ll feel better when you see her.”
Jack wasn’t so sure. “Fine. I’ll leave. We’d better have those ballistics back first thing in the morning.”
“Hopefully Ivy will be able to kiss that surly attitude of yours away before morning,” Brian called to Jack’s retreating back. He didn’t get a response.
JACK didn’t return to the hospital. Even as guilt ate away at him for hours, he stayed away from Ivy’s house. Instead he returned to his home, switched off his phone, and drank himself to sleep. He had to be sure he didn’t dream. If she found him in his dreams, he would have no excuse. He couldn’t bear the thought of those clear blue eyes accusing him of doing wrong when he already knew in his wounded heart that he was making a huge mistake.
Jack found himself in Ivy’s favorite meadow when the dream claimed him, his heart rate increasing as he glanced around. There she was … sitting in her fairy ring. Her back was to him and she was resting her head against her knees as she sat on the ground and stared at the weathered tree that looked as if it had a wizened face carved into it.
Jack remained behind her, his heart clenching as he watched her.
