She wasn’t aware she had spoken the objection out loud until Rawls responded.
Rawls shrugged and absently picked up a chocolate chip cookie. “But it doesn’t matter whether you believe it’s possible or not. There’s no harm in tryin’. Worst-case scenario is status quo. Best-case scenario—you won’t have to worry about your heart’s viability for a very long time. Think of it as an experiment. You can measure the data, study the effect. You know the condition of your heart. You’ll know whether Kait is successful or not.”
Well, he obviously knew her better than she’d realized, since he was appealing to her scientific curiosity.
As Rawls raised the cookie to his lips, his hand suddenly jerked hard to the right. The cookie went flying, hitting the wall to Faith’s left with so much force it shattered.
Stunned into silence, Faith stared at the wall and then stumbled over for a closer examination. Four feet up from a sprawling pile of golden crumbles, a smear of brown grit was embedded in the wall. The cookie had hit the wood with enough force to embed some of its remains.
She shook her head in disbelief. What in the world was going on with the man? It was past time to find out. Pivoting, she turned to face him.
His face had turned white, as bleached as bone, and tension emanated from him like a static charge. The frustration that carved his face into deep ridges and valleys softened the demand in her voice.
“Okay, enough of this. Tell me what’s going on.”
* * *
Chapter Seven
* * *
RAWLS GRIMACED, HIS head pounding. She hadn’t believed in metaphysical healing. How likely was it she’d believe in ghosts or that he was being haunted? Yeah—not very likely. At least he had proof that his translucent troll wasn’t a result of his oxygen-deprived mind since the results from Pachico’s experimentation were noticeable to other people.
“It was an accident. A muscle spasm,” he said, surreptitiously scanning the room for his ghostly stalker, but Pachico had vanished.
While Pachico’s ability to manipulate physical objects was rapidly improving, the effort appeared to drain him. After each incident, he’d disappeared. Too bad the departures didn’t last long.
Faith pressed her lips together and shook her head emphatically. “I know what a muscle spasm looks like, Lieutenant Rawlings, and that wasn’t one. You deliberately threw the cookie at the wall. Why?”
“Look, it was an accident. Leave it at that.” Turning, Rawls headed for the door. He needed to get out of there before his ghost reappeared and directed its animosity toward Faith.
They’d been lucky so far. Pachico’s test objects had been harmless. But there was a block of kitchen knives next to the cookies. How long before Pachico grew bored with the innocuous experimentation and graduated to something more lethal? The camp was full of weapons—everything from guns and knives to flash grenades and explosives.
“Rawls!”
He kept walking.
How the hell was he supposed to protect the camp from an enemy that nobody else saw or heard? His only advantage was that invisible connection leashing Pachico to his side. At least this tie between them prevented the bastard from roaming the camp at will, wreaking havoc left and right.
To keep the camp and the people in it safe, he needed to distance himself. Avoid everyone. He’d grab some supplies and hit the woods, deprive the bastard of the opportunity to harm anyone. Pachico wouldn’t appreciate the isolation, which was bound to make the excursion uncomfortable, but hell—the damn ghost could hardly kill him. He’d lose his ride into the physical world.
Maybe . . . or maybe not.
Rawls frowned. He shouldn’t assume anything. He had no clue what the parameters of this situation were. For all he knew, his death would dissolve the tether anchoring Pachico to his side, leaving the bastard free to harass people at will.
His best bet was to wait for Wolf to return and hope like hell the big bad Arapaho knew how to drive Pachico back to that translucent otherworld. Which meant he needed to hang out close enough to the helipad to intercept their cagey host the moment the chopper landed, but far enough away so that Pachico couldn’t target any of his unsuspecting friends.
“Running away won’t solve anything.” Faith lifted her voice.
It would solve one thing. It would keep Faith safe. It would keep everyone in the camp safe until he came up with a better idea.
“Now, Doc. Don’t go getting all hot footed on us,” Pachico said from behind him.
Damn it . . . he’d hoped to be gone before the bastard reappeared.
“You can talk to me. I might be able to help.” Faith’s voice rose entreatingly.
“Go ahead, tell her what’s going on. Better yet, I’ll do it.”