Lucky Stars (68 page)

“Already on it, Jack,” Angus replied. “We got the whisky and we got our stuff spread out in your dining room. Miles feels crap but still, he’s in with Cassandra now. She’s going to hypnotise him. See if he can pull up any memories of his blank spots.”

“Good,” Jack returned, disconnected without a good-bye and made his next call.

On ring four he heard a sleepy, “Jesus, Bennett, it’s after one in the morning.”

Jack didn’t delay.

“Tonight, Dempsey, I had a fucking conversation with the fucking ghost of fucking Caleb Caldwell.”

Dempsey was silent for a moment before he replied, “I’m guessing with your ample usage of the word ‘fucking’ this conversation didn’t go well.”

“No, it did not.”

“Do I want to know how you managed to have a conversation with a man who’s been dead for two hundred years?” Dempsey asked.

“Considering your profession, I can only assume your level of curiosity is elevated beyond that of others so yes, you probably would like to know. You also probably wouldn’t believe a bloody word I said.”

“I’m hanging in there with this supernatural shit, mate,” Dempsey reminded him.

“And you’re getting paid to do just that,” Jack’s reminded Dempsey then he went on, “Tonight, Caldwell shared he’s put some plan into action and whatever it is has already begun. And whatever it is puts Belle in danger. And before you ask, that would be
mortal
danger considering he declared her body will be broken by rock and sea.”

“Jesus,” Dempsey muttered.

“Indeed,” Jack clipped. “You told me there was nothing more to learn that would be of consequence, you’ve gone over it all. I want you to do it again and dig deeper.”

“Bennett, firstly, crazy as your story is, half of me believes it. The coincidences are too stark for there not to be some truth in this.”

“I’m obliged you think so, Dempsey, but, no offence, I also don’t give a fuck if you believe. Right now –”

Dempsey cut him off, “I wasn’t done. I just wanted you to know I don’t think you’re entirely mad.”

“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.

“Bad fucking timing,” he muttered, pulled out and put his hands to her hips as he listened to her gasp in protest, the sound driving straight through his dick.

He whipped her to her back, spread her legs then jerked them up with his hands behind her knees and he positioned.

He drove inside.

Moving her calves to round him, he fell forward. He planted one hand in the bed at her
side,
arm straight, the other hand he moved between her legs.

“Hurry,” he grunted as he thrust fast and deep and his thumb rolled.

“Oh God,” she moaned.

Lach’s
eyes moved over her. Her masses of hair were spread across the bed, her creamy skin was stark against the dark sheets and her beautiful face was extraordinary in its excitement.

Christ.

His need quickened exponentially and not just because he had things to do.

 
“
Hurry,
” he ground out, grinding deep and circling tight and hard with his thumb.

Her neck arched back, her nails dragged down his chest and she repeated, “
Oh God.
”

Finally.
There it fucking was.

Lach
moved his hand from between her legs, dropped to his forearm, let go of his control and kept thrusting deep, fast and hard until he found it.

When he came down, her mouth was on his neck, he was breathing heavily into hers and her hands were roaming the skin of his back. He gave himself a second to recognise he liked the smell as well as the feel of her just as he liked the sweet, light way her hands roamed his skin before he pulled out and rolled off.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“A minute, baby,” he muttered, moved until he was sitting on the side of the bed and he reached an arm out toward his jeans.

“Lachlan?” she called and he felt the bed move as she did then he felt her hand slide up his spine right before her soft body pressed against his back.

Her scent came back to him.

Jesus, she really smelled great.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to,
Lach
couldn’t allow himself to concentrate on her smell.

He had his jeans in his hand so he pulled his out phone, activated the screen, touched his thumb to it, slid it on the screen, tapped it and put it to his ear.

It rang three times before his sister hissed in greeting, “This better be good.”

Christ, he didn’t want to know what he interrupted.

“Lewis was murdered first,” he replied and at his words, the woman at his back gasped.

Shit, what was her name?

Emma. Right, Emma.

Emma was a pretty name but not right for her considering she was far beyond a pretty woman.

There was nothing on the phone for several seconds then Lorna asked in his ear, “What?”

“Lewis was murdered first. He told us he was murdered then he was suddenly in the eastern turret. Myrtle was murdered second.”

“
Lach
, what are you on about?”

“Lorna, Lewis was murdered first. We know this because Myrtle’s ghost joined him
after
he materialised in the turret. And the police records reported Myrtle’s body was found in Lewis’s room.”

“So?”

“So, she could have heard something and gone to his room.”

“Or she could have been dragged there,” Lorna suggested.

“Either way, the wee boy was alone up in that turret when he saw his mother tossed from the cliff by Caldwell.”

“Oh my God,” Emma whispered and he felt her body leave his back.

He ignored this as Lorna repeated, “So?”

“So, wee Myrtle wasn’t dead yet.”

“
Lach
–”

“As far as we can tell from the timeline Lewis gave us, he materialised directly
after
he was murdered. Moments later, he reported he saw Caldwell and his mother outside in the storm. Caldwell was looking over the cliff and Brenna was gone when Myrtle’s ghost joined her brother. If Caldwell was outside throwing Brenna off a cliff,
who
was inside smothering Myrtle?”