Moonlit Novella

Chapter Seven

When she reached the bar, she didn’t sit right away.

Mercer sat with one forearm resting on the polished wood, his other hand wrapped around a short glass of something amber. He didn’t look at her directly, just lifted his eyes to the mirror behind the bar and caught her gaze there.

His voice was low. “Greer.”

That was all he said before shifting his gaze back down. She watched the way the twinkling lights wove through his eyelashes, casting shadows down his face.

Graham poured a drink and slid it toward her. She took it with a faint smile and finally sat down, leaving a seat between her and the Chief.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The quiet hum of conversation filled the Hollow Pint, warm and familiar. Ivy let it settle her. Settle the nerves still frayed from the lake, the woods, the swaying shadows.

She took a slow sip. The whiskey burned as it trailed down her throat.

“You’re shaking,” Mercer said, eyes flicking to her glass.

Following his gaze, a tremor rippled across the surface of her drink.

“I know.”

He didn’t press, he only watched her in that way of his: still, quiet, calculating.

After another long moment, she offered, “Guess I’m still on edge after tonight.”

He gave a slight nod, taking a sip of his own drink.

She laughed softly, then added, “Started convincing myself every shadow in the woods was following me.”

Mercer paused mid-sip. His brow furrowed.

“You were in the woods?”

“I-,” She started, “Technically… I was at the lake.”

He exhaled through his nose, half in frustration, half disbelief. “After you left the crime scene?”

“I mean, I didn’t plan to go there,” she said quickly. “I was just walking. Then I wasn’t. I was at the pier.”

Mercer turned toward her, jaw tight.

“You’re saying you didn’t even realize where you were going?”

“Not until I was already there.”

Something shifted behind his eyes. Not alarm, more like recognition.

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and muttered, “That’s not good.”

Ivy studied him. “So it’s not just me?”

He didn’t answer that.

Instead, he said, “If that happens again, don’t keep it to yourself.”

She scoffed lightly. “And say what, exactly? ‘Hi, Officer. I’m being followed by shadows and forget how I got here’?”

He looked at her, steady. “I’d rather know before someone gets dragged in the lake.”

The words hit harder than she expected. She didn’t respond right away.

She thought of the weightless, off-balance feeling she’d had on the shoreline. Like the world had tipped sideways. Like something had been watching her. Like something was waiting.

It had felt just like that night.

And maybe, if someone had taken her seriously back then, if someone had listened when she said something wasn’t right… maybe Lily wouldn’t be gone.

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

She hadn’t saved her sister. She couldn’t change that.

But maybe she could help someone else.

You owe it to her, she thought. Or at least to someone.

Mercer’s voice cut through her thoughts. “What brought you to Ashford Hollow?”

“I needed a change,” she said automatically.

“That’s vague.”

“It’s true.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do before this?”

She hesitated, then answered, “I was a journalist.”

“Print?”

“Mostly. Crime, missing persons.”

Mercer gave a quick exhale, half laugh, half grunt. “That tracks.”

She glanced at him. “How so?”

“You show up at a crime scene. Ask questions like it’s muscle memory. Don’t flinch. And now you’re wandering into the woods because something felt off.” He tipped his glass toward her. “Sounds like a reporter.”

“I didn’t come here chasing a story,” she said.

“But you found one anyway.”

The words sat between them. Not accusatory, but true.

She looked down at her drink, turning it slowly in her hands.

“I want in on the case,” she said quietly.

Mercer didn’t react right away. He took a slow sip, then set his glass down.

“No.”

Ivy blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She leaned forward, voice calm but firm. “Nathaniel Carr’s been missing two days. You have no body. No witnesses. No solid leads. You need help.”

He didn’t answer. But the hesitation in his silence told her enough.

“And you think you’re the help I need?” he asked finally, voice low.

“I think I have something you don’t.”

He gave a tired scoff. “Let me guess—‘a different perspective’?”

“Exactly that.”

He turned toward her, resting an elbow on the bar. “And what do you think you’ll see that trained officers haven’t?”

She paused. She didn’t bring up Lily. Not out loud.

But the answer came anyway.

“Things that don’t fit. Things that don’t make sense if you’re looking for logic. Things that only stand out if you’re used to seeing chaos up close.”

“And what, you think this case will make your career?” He looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“I think it could help find a missing man.”

Mercer studied her.

“You ever worked a case?”

“No.”

“Any formal training?”

“No.”

He leaned back, unimpressed. “Then why the hell should I trust you not to get in the way?”

“Because I know how to ask the right questions,” she said. “And I’m already here. Whether you like it or not.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned away, rubbing his jaw.

“This conversation’s over.”

Ivy didn’t push.

She let the silence settle between them.

Then she said, “Okay.”

Mercer glanced at her, surprised.

“Okay?”

“You’re not going to let me in. I get it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still going to dig. The only difference is whether I do it with your help or without it.”

Mercer exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. For the first time tonight, the easy, unreadable facade cracked just slightly.

His fingers tapped once against his glass before he turned fully toward her, hazel eyes darkening.

“You don’t tell me how this is gonna go,” he said, voice low, “I decide that. Not you.”

Ivy met his gaze.

“Then decide.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply, before looking at her again.

“You want in?” he muttered. “Fine.”

Ivy straightened slightly, “Fine?”

“Fine,” he repeated, almost like he already regretted it. “But let’s get something straight. I don’t work with you. I let you be here. And the second you make this harder than it already is, you’re done.”

Ivy nodded, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t finished.

“You don’t go anywhere alone. You don’t chase leads without me. And if I find out you’re sneaking off playing detective on your own, this deal is over. Understood?”

Ivy fought the grin threatening to surface, but the look on his face kept her in check.

“Understood,” she said.

Mercer studied her for another long moment, then picked up his glass, took a slow sip, and set it down with a quiet clink against the bar.

“You’re gonna be a goddamn headache,” he muttered.

Ivy just smirked.

Probably.