He rolled her off him, flicked the covers over her, slid out of bed and snatched up his jeans. Stalking to the bathroom, he quickly dealt with the condom, something which he and Belle were successfully experimenting with in order to enjoy it as part of sex. Something which he’d be glad to dispense with once she was safely on the pill.
He tugged his jeans on as he walked out into the landing, both of his dogs circling to him and the top of the stairs and back again as he moved.
He prowled down the stairs, unlocked the door and pulled it open to scowl at Mickey Dempsey who was standing at the top of Belle’s steps.
“I see Olive failed to inform you of this,” he clipped instantly upon catching the man’s eyes, “but Sundays Belle and I are not disturbed for any reason. I’ll deal with this omission directly with Olive later. I’ll deal with you now by telling you to hold whatever it is until tomorrow.”
Then without another word or allowing Dempsey to utter one, he stepped back and started to slam the door but Dempsey’s hand shot out and caught it.
“You’ll want to hear this,” he stated.
“Is the world ending?” Jack asked and he could see Dempsey fighting a knowing smile.
Through it, he answered, “No.”
“Then I don’t want to hear it,” Jack returned and put pressure on the door but Dempsey moved into the frame, blocking its closure with his shoulder.
“Not kidding, Bennett, you’ll want to hear this,” he said quietly and with not a small amount of gravity.
“Give me a hint,” Jack bit off.
“The third soul is not reincarnated in Cole.” He paused and held Jack’s eyes as he finished. “Caleb Caldwell is reincarnated in your brother.”
Jack felt his chest get tight just as he heard Belle say softly from the top of the stairs, “Oh my goodness gracious.”
He looked to his feet, clenched his teeth, felt a muscle tick in his cheek then he looked to Dempsey and stepped back.
“Come in, stay down here, thirty seconds,” he ordered. “Only then can you come up.”
Without waiting to see if Dempsey agreed, he turned, ducked his head in order not to give himself a concussion on the low hanging ceiling and, once he cleared the ceiling, took the stairs two at a time.
Belle was at the top wearing a becoming nightgown (another one of her own, something he learned recently after asking was all she ever wore) and looking astonished.
“That man, Jack,” she whispered as she lifted a hand and rested it on his chest, “I’ve seen that man.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jack replied. “That’s Mickey Dempsey. I told you I recruited his assistance after he wrote the article about Calvin Cole. He watched us and thus, I would assume, you.”
Her eyes grew unfocussed for a moment as she whispered, “Oh,” then they focussed on him and she stated, “Well, that explains that.”
It was lucky she was so endearing or he’d be even more pissed at that moment than he was. Instead, he was only mildly pissed and therefore he could gentle his voice when he asked her, “Now, I need you to get dressed and make coffee. Can you do that for me, poppet?”
She nodded. “Of course, Jack, I make coffee every day.” She paused then finished, sounding somewhat disgruntled as if she missed having the chore of making coffee, “Or I used to before I moved in with you and started to get waited on hand and foot.”
He was surprised at that juncture to find himself fighting back a smile.
She was blossoming and it wasn’t happening slowly. She trusted him. She trusted his love. She trusted in their future. And she knew he’d keep her safe. So he had the best of both because he had his cute, sweet, imperfectly perfect Belle and he had the Belle she gave him when he flipped on her switch.
Instead of smiling, he dipped his head, touched his mouth to hers, followed her to the bedroom, closed the door behind them and as she moved around getting dressed, he pulled on a long-sleeved, black t-shirt.
Dressed, he walked out, closed the door again and saw Gretl sitting outside the door.
Baron was sitting in the living room where he found Dempsey.
“Beautiful dogs,” Dempsey muttered.
Jack made no comment about his dogs.
Instead, he said, “Belle’s going to make coffee in a minute. But you’re going to explain now.”
Dempsey grinned. “I could use some coffee.”
Jack’s head cocked to the side. “Did you miss the ‘now’ part?”
“Right,” Dempsey muttered, moved to the window, glanced out over the rooftops to the obstructed but nonetheless lovely view Belle had of the sea then he turned back to Jack and crossed his arms on his chest. “This legend, Bennett, Addison, Caldwell, the children, the murders, it’s very well-known.”
“You disturbed my Sunday with Belle to tell me something I’ve known since I could process thought?” Jack asked, losing patience.
“What I mean is, it’s known widely. St. Ives. Penzance. Land’s End. Falmouth. Even as far as Newquay.”
Dempsey had covered a great deal of ground in the last few days.
He still was not telling Jack something he didn’t already know.
“It’s legend,” Jack agreed. “Legend with over two hundred years to travel widely. It’s known beyond Newquay, Dempsey. It’s written about in books. This doesn’t explain why you think Miles is Caldwell reincarnated.”
They heard the bedroom door open. Dempsey’s torso shifted to the side to catch a look out the door of the living room to Belle moving through the landing thus Jack’s body shifted to block his view.
Dempsey’s eyes shot to Jack and the grin came back.
“Protective,” he muttered.
“You’ll meet her soon enough,” Jack returned then went on. “And you’ve investigated her. If she was yours, you’d be the same bloody way. Now, focus. What did you find?”
“Ghost tale,” Dempsey got to the matter at hand, “told around campfires. Kids telling it to scare the hell out of other kids.”
“Dempsey,” Jack warned low.
“For centuries, Bennett,” Dempsey returned. “A shocking story, heartbreaking, brutal. So much so, there are not one but three local historians who’ve made it the focus of their field of study. And not only that, it was shocking, heartbreaking and brutal back in the day. It stunned local residents. Joshua and Brenna Bennett were popular, Brenna especially. She was adored. Her murder marked the locals. The fact that her children were taken made it worse. So there’s a good deal these historians could study. And they shared it all with me.”