nose, Jude pressed a raspberry against his neck. The baby started to giggle. “Daddy’s sorry he said a bad word, Wolfie.”
“Getting back to your point about cloak and dagger, I think you’re right. It is a bunch of crap, but if asking the right questions is the only way to deal with the spirit, then it’s what we’ll have to do.”
Jude was a simple man. When he was hot, he drank something to make himself cooler. If he was hungry, he ate. If he was horny, he got the job done. The idea of playing coy or hard to get never crossed his mind. “I still think it’s a bunch of bull.” He dropped Cope a sexy wink. “What’s the second idea you had for getting this ghost to talk to us?”
Cope bit his bottom lip, color blooming on his cheeks. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”
“Da!” Wolf shouted.
“I can’t tell if that’s a vote for or against.” Jude snorted.
“Anyway.” Cope raised an eyebrow at his husband. “The hymn lyrics made me think of the Transformer movies.”
“You’ve completely lost me. What the hell do lyrics about Jesus have to do with movies about an eighteen-wheeler that can transform into a robot?” Jude had a moment where he actually wondered if his husband was losing his marbles.
“The character Bumblebee uses song lyrics as a form of communication.”
Jude let out a sigh of relief. Cope hadn’t gone off the deep end after all. “Okay, I’m with you. But for the fact that this spirit doesn’t seem to be doing that. It’s just sending you, and Jamie, the same sets of lyrics again and again.”
“That thought had crossed my mind as well. Right now, the only thing we know about the spirit is the fact that it seems to be attached to the typewriter and that another owner experienced the same set of circumstances thirty years ago. The only thing I can do is go back to the machine and see if we can work out a way to communicate.”
“Do you think you can try to communicate with this spirit safely? Should I take Wolf to spend the night with Tennyson and Ronan?” Jude took a deep breath. Neither was a question with a simple answer. “It’s my job to protect both of you. The other night when the spirit kept you from leaving the office, I didn’t even know you were in jeopardy.”
“I don’t know.” Cope was getting damned sick of answering seemingly every question with those three words. The best answer he had was that there were no easy answers.
“I’m coming with you.” That’s all there was to it. “I’ll sit with my back against the open door while you try to communicate.”
“Okay, let’s give that a try.” Cope didn’t sound convinced it would work.
“What are you thinking could go wrong?” Jude was sure Cope had a list as long as his arm.
“Each time the spirit tried to make contact with either me or Jamie, we were alone.”
“Jamie was alone because he lived alone, and you were alone because I wasn’t hanging all over you. Do you think that matters?”
“I don’t know.” Cope gave his head a shake. “We don’t know anything at the moment. Let’s eat and put the baby to bed. We can figure out what to do next after Wolfie falls asleep.”
“Da!” Wolf slapped his pudgy hands on the empty highchair tray.
“His Highness demands more Cheerios.” Cope started to laugh.
Jude added more cereal to the baby’s tray and Wolf dug in with both hands. Snapping a few pictures of his happy son, Jude vowed he would find a way to keep his family safe.
19
Copeland
Cope’s hands were shaking. The first night he’d sat down to work at the typewriter they’d trembled with anticipation. He’d felt the words he intended to write pulsing through his veins. Tonight, anxiety, rather than giddy excitement, pounded through his entire body.
Wolf had been a bit fussier than usual when Jude and Cope had put him down for the night. Cope wondered if the baby somehow knew both of his parents were on edge.
“Okay, now what?” Jude was hovering near the office door. He was clenching his hands and pacing in a nervous gesture.
“I’m going to put paper in the machine, and we’ll see what happens.” With hands that were a bit steadier, Cope rolled a piece of typing paper and set the page guard against it. He folded his hands in front of him and waited.
Nothing happened.
“Both times the ghost writer started typing,