“Brilliant,” Jack muttered, for the first time after what he witnessed tonight wondering if Dempsey was right and he actually was mad.
Entirely.
Before Jack could fully assess his sanity, Dempsey continued.
“And I also have to remind you, mate, these murders happened two centuries ago. It was lucky I was able to find what I already found. You know I’m thorough and I promise you, I was no less thorough with this. There’s nothing else to be found.”
“Dig deeper,” Jack ordered.
“Jack –” he used Jack’s nickname for the first time and he did it sounding conciliatory.
Jack was in no mood to be pacified.
“Tonight, we tore Caleb Caldwell out of my brother,” Jack shared and heard Dempsey’s surprised grunt but kept talking. “When we did, we questioned him. We got nothing except for the fact that he was very certain he would best me. He was very certain because he told us he’d already set the plan into motion. Miles has told us that he’s lost time. Caldwell has been able to take control of him and he has. Miles is going to work with the people I’ve hired to deal with the bloody supernatural part of this madness. You are going to see if there’s some connection of the now to the then. Something he did back then, someone he worked with, something he used Miles in this time to do, something we missed, something that could harm Belle.”
“All right, Jack, I’ll dig deeper,” Dempsey agreed quietly.
“Don’t delay,” Jack returned.
“Can I finish out the night sleeping?” Dempsey asked.
“Yes. It would be better that you were fresh when you get down to it,” Jack allowed before concluding, “Goodnight, Dempsey.”
“’Night, Jack.”
Jack disconnected then made his final call.
“Mate, we’re drinking whisky but we’re still working,” Lachlan said by way of greeting.
“Call Lewis,” Jack ordered.
“Sorry?”
“Lewis. Call him. Speak to him. Find out everything he knows about that night. Anything he remembers about his mother, father and Caleb Caldwell. If he saw Caldwell in the village and who he might have seen him with. If he heard any talk. Anything.”
There was a pause and Jack would understand he was seeking privacy when he spoke again in a low tone. “Uh, Jack, I get you’re freaked but I also don’t have to remind you that wee one was murdered.”
“You don’t,” Jack agreed tersely.
“Belle wanted us to go gentle with the children,” Lachlan reminded him of something else he hadn’t forgotten.
“Then go gentle as you ask him all I’ve told you to ask him.”
“Jack –”
“He’ll tell you,” Jack interrupted. “He’ll want to help Belle. Be kind. Have a mind. But do it.”
There was another pause before Lachlan agreed, “Right, mate. I’ll get Lorna and we’ll do it tonight.”
“Excellent. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Jack disconnected again, pulled in a deep breath and on his second one, decided there was nothing more he could do.
This did not make him feel better.
Then he walked through the cottage, disrobed in Belle’s bedroom and slid into bed beside her.
She wrapped herself around him immediately.
This made him feel better.
“Is Miles all right?” she whispered and at the sound of her voice he knew she’d never been asleep but, as was her way, remained in bed to give him some time.
“He’s fine.”
“Did everything go okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” he lied.
“Jack, you got here ten minutes ago and came to bed just now. Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Belle. I’m fine. Miles is fine. Everything is fine.” He pulled her closer. “Now, I’m exhausted and I need to sleep.”
Although it was wrapped warm around him, she held her body stiffly for long moments before she asked softly, “You wouldn’t lie to me?”
In the more than three weeks since Jack broke through her grief, she’d been happy. There had been dramas. He’d seen a shadow pass over her eyes on occasion and he knew her thoughts were dark. Twice, he’d seen her run her hand over her belly, her face set in wistful nostalgia. And it was not pleasant nostalgia, it was melancholic. He gave her these times, times she needed to process the grief for their lost child. Times, unfortunately, she would likely always have if, eventually, less frequently.
But mostly, she’d been content, her giggles coming more often, her smiles regular.
And there was nothing Jack wouldn’t do to make certain Belle remained happy.
Including lie.
“No, my love, I wouldn’t lie to you,” he whispered, gathered her closer in his arms and urged, “Now, sleep.”
It took her another moment before her soft body yielded against his and she whispered, “Okay, honey.”
She trusted him and he hoped to Christ nothing would happen to make her realise that this once, just this once, for her happiness, he didn’t deserve it.
“Goodnight, poppet,” he murmured.
“’Night, Jack.”
Jack stared at the ceiling as he listened to Belle’s breathing so he heard when it deepened and evened and he felt it when her body melted in sleep into his.
And he kept staring at the ceiling for long hours after that.
So long, he was awake when she woke.
Exhausted, beyond concerned and feeling a feeling he didn’t like that was worse than both, powerless, he still turned to her when he felt the sleep leave her. Then he put his hands and mouth on her and as he did, he took off her nightgown and panties.
But without any sleep, exhausted, when she was ready, he made her do all the work. He shifted her over him, guided himself inside and sat up. Holding her moving body in his arms, his head tipped back, his hand cupping hers tipping it down so her mouth was on his as she rode him until she gave it to herself and kept riding him until she gave it to him.
And later, pretending all was well, he had breakfast in her small kitchen with her eccentric mother and father then he packed his Belle and his dogs in his car and he took them home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Last One Down
Lachlan
Lach had just rammed deep into her sweet, hot, very wet snatch when the thought assaulted him.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered.
“Don’t stop,” the woman on her knees before him, her face in the bed, begged.