Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(125)

“Colby, you and I both know it’s a bunch of kids playing pranks. Probably friends of Paul,” Ben tried to soothe her.

“Pranks? I don’t think stealing is a prank. And what about my missing persons report? Have you even tried to find Pete for me?”

Ben raked a hand through his hair in sheer desperation. “Pete Jessup is probably off on a binge. For all you know that old man stole your things to pay for his alcohol.”

Colby stopped again very abruptly, so that this time Ben did run into her and had to catch her shoulders to keep from knocking her flat. She slapped his hands away, a fine outrage smoldering in her. “Pete Jessup quit drinking when my father died, you turncoat! He’s been invaluable around here.”

“Colby,” Ben tried to calm her down, his voice persuasive and gentle. “The truth is you took in that homeless old coot out of the goodness of your heart. I doubt he did more than eat your food every day. He’s a broken-down cowboy, a drifter. He’s just taken off somewhere. He’ll turn up eventually.”

“You would say that,” she sniffed, truly aggravated with him. “It’s just like you to let sneaky thieves and the disappearance of an old man go by the wayside so you can mix with some rich idiots who are here to try to steal my brother and sister.”

“Colby, come on, they proved they’re relatives and they claim they have the children’s best interests at heart. The least you can do is listen to them.”

“You probably agree with them, don’t you? Paul and Ginny are not better off with that group. You don’t know anything about it, or them. Paul would end up just like them, so arrogant no one could stand him, and poor little Ginny would grow up thinking she was a second-class citizen because she’s female. They can all go straight to hell for all I care!”

Although it was early evening and still relatively light, the sky suddenly darkened as if a giant shadow were passing overhead. Black ominous clouds boiled up out of nowhere. A cold wind arrived on the wings of the dark mass, tugging sharply at Colby’s body. A shiver of apprehension blew straight down her spine. For a moment something touched her mind. She felt it, felt the struggle for entrance. It was so real she stopped moving and Ben nearly tripped over her again.

“What is it?”

Colby could see Ben was clearly uneasy as he turned in a slow circle to scan the surrounding area. He had his hand on his gun, unsure what was stalking them or where the threat was coming from, but he obviously felt it as well.

Colby stayed very quiet, not moving a muscle, like a small fawn caught in a poacher’s light. She immediately sensed she was in mortal danger. It wasn’t hostile toward Ben, but she could feel the malevolence directed at her. Whatever it was struck directly at her mind, seeking entrance. She took a deep slow breath and let it out, forcing her mind to think only of a wall—high, impregnable, a fortress nothing could enter. She focused completely on the wall, keeping it strong, impenetrable.

The thing seemed to withdraw for a moment, puzzled perhaps by her strength, but then it struck again, a hard thrust, spear-like, that seemed to pierce her skull and drive right for her brain. Colby uttered a soft cry of pain and dropped to one knee, holding her head even while she forced herself to breathe calmly. Her mind was strong, invincible, a wall so thick and high no one would ever break it down. Whatever malevolent thing was after her would not be allowed to breach her defenses.

She became aware, after a few minutes, of Ben’s large hand on her shoulder. He was bending over her solicitously. “Colby, what is it?”

Cautiously she lifted her head. The presence was gone, winging away from her, back toward the ranch house. “My head, Ben, I have the headache from hell.” She did too; it wasn’t a lie. She’d never experienced anything quite like the attack. She actually felt sick to her stomach, and she wasn’t certain she could walk without her head falling off. Whatever it had been was strong and terrifying.

Ben took her elbow and helped her to her feet. She was trembling; he could feel the continuous shivering beneath his hand so he held on to her. Colby didn’t pull away from him like she normally would have, and that worried him. “You want me to call an ambulance?”

Her emerald green eyes laughed at him even as they mirrored her pain. “Are you crazy? I have a headache, Ben. The mere thought of contact with the Chevez family gives me major headaches.”

“Your brother and sister are both members of the Chevez family, Colby. You would have been, too, if the adoption had gone through.”

Colby ducked her head, his words hitting her dead center in her heart. Armando Chevez had never adopted her. He had confessed his reasons on his deathbed, hanging his head in shame, tears swimming in his eyes while she held his hand. He had wanted his grandfather to relent, to accept him back into his family. Armando had known that due to the circumstances of her birth, if he adopted her, his grandfather in Brazil would never allow him to come back to the family. It had been too late then to push the paperwork through. Armando Chevez was ashamed that he had betrayed her unconditional love for him in favor of a family who had never answered a dying man’s letter. Colby had remained loyal and loving, nursing him, reading to him, comforting him right up until the day he died. And she still remained loyal to him. It didn’t matter that he had died before the adoption; Armando Chevez wasn’t her biological father, but he was her father all the same. In her heart, where it counted.