“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.”