Dark Secret

this time she really was alone.

Colby approached on foot, not trusting Domino's reaction with the birds and the odor. She kept her rifle with her, but used her handgun, firing into the air to frighten off the vultures and to alert the Everett riders she needed their help.

She circled the area, careful not to disturb anything, looking for tracks to tell her what had happened. She knew before she even reached the body that it was Pete. He had been dead for days. It looked as if he had been on the ledge up above and had slipped and fallen. The back of his head must have hit the small boulder near where he lay. There was blood on the rock and plenty of it staining the shirt across his shoulders.

Colby saw the broken pieces of a whiskey bottle scattered around. She closed her eyes, suddenly tired, her throat choking on unshed tears. For a brief moment she rested her hand on Pete's arm. Immediately she snatched it away, backing away from the body, looking around her, very, very afraid.

She felt it, the instant she touched him: she knew it had been no accident, knew Pete had been murdered. She didn't know who or why, only that someone had killed him. The aftermath of violence was still haunting the ground, the rocks, especially the body. Colby examined the area carefully, wanting to read the messages the earth might give her, yet she didn't want to disturb the crime scene.

She moved away from the body, back to Domino, and buried her face against the animal. For once he remained steady, unmoving, as if he knew he was consoling her with his presence.

Colby? Her name shimmered in her mind. Warmth seeped into the coldness of her body. Pequena, I feel your pain. I cannot come to you. Share it with me. Let me help you.

The words were there, velvet soft. Real. She heard them. Knew Rafael's voice. Felt his presence. She also felt the tremendous effort he was making to reach her across what must have been a great distance. It should have shocked her, but she was accepting. She was different. He was different. For the first time in years she wanted to throw herself into someone's arms in a storm of weeping. She didn't even mind that he called her 'little one.'

4

'This doesn't look good, Colby,' Ben said as he walked over to where she was sitting on a large, round boulder. 'I'm sorry, honey, I know you loved that old man. I should have listened to you.' He put his hand on her slender shoulder, an awkward attempt at comforting her.

'It isn't your fault, Ben. He must have already been dead when I reported him missing.' Colby rubbed her pounding temples as she looked up at the sheriff. 'It wasn't an accident, was it?'

Ben sighed heavily. Colby had always been as transparent as glass. He could see her grief, the heaviness in her as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. 'We're treating it like a homicide until we know different. I took pictures of the scene; we've finished that finally. I know it's been a long morning for you, but we had to get this done before we could move the body.'

'I can read the signs, Ben. He didn't fall off that cliff. He was hit from behind. The blood splatters aren't consistent with a fall. And his body isn't beat up enough. His knees hit the dirt first, like his legs went out from under him.' A sob welled up out of nowhere and she looked away from him, pressed a hand to her soft, trembling mouth.

Ben swore softly. 'It looks bad. You and the kids need to be careful, Colby. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it.'

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Colby jumped down from the rock and paced away from him, swiping at the tears running unchecked down her face. 'Who would do something like this to him, Ben? He was in his seventies. He couldn't hurt a fly. He didn't have any money. Why would someone do this?'

'Go home, honey, let me take care of this. You need to be with the kids.' Ben was suppressing his own anger. This hit far too close to home. Someone had murdered Pete, there was no denying the fact. Ben had examined every inch of the cliff. Someone had been up there all right, and they'd started a small rockslide to make it look as if Pete had slipped over the edge, but he lay right where he had been killed. Ben would have staked his reputation on it. Colby was a good tracker and she was right about Pete going to his knees before he fell backwards.

Ben had examined the old man's fingernails. There wasn't a speck of dirt to indicate Pete had clawed at the mountainside if he had slipped. And the patterns of blood splatters just weren't consistent with Pete falling and hitting his head. The body had been torn up by the birds, which didn't help the crime scene, but Ben had found other disturbing lacerations on Pete's body that he hadn't discussed with Colby. There were teeth marks-human bite marks-as if someone had tried to cannibalize the body after Pete was dead. He was certain the bites were made after death. It was bizarre and terrifying when they rarely had major crime in their area. Colby had to have seen those disturbing bites, but he wasn't going to force her to admit it. Ben swore again as he glanced at Colby's small figure. 'Go home, honey, I'll call you when I know more.'

Colby nodded, suddenly shivering. What had Tony Harris and the other ranch hand really been doing on her property? What were Everett's rider and one of the Chevez brothers doing so far from the homestead? Had one of her neighbors actually murdered Pete? Who would benefit from such brutality? She shoved a hand through her hair, dreading telling Ginny and Paul.

'Colby, you can't do anything more for him. Go on home. You're just torturing yourself by sticking around.' Ben was adamant. 'It will be a few days before the body is released. I promise I'll call you and help with the arrangements. in the meantime, stick close to the house-no more riding around in the middle of nowhere by yourself.'

Colby nodded slowly, turning heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Ben was right, she couldn't bring Pete back and there was no sense in putting off telling the kids. Paul probably already knew; he had a scanner. He would have seen the sheriff and his crew coming onto the ranch. She swung into the saddle and resolutely started home.

Deep beneath the earth, locked in the rich soil, Rafael lay helpless to comfort her. The blood tie ensured he could touch her mind and know her thoughts at will. She needed him, needed him to hold her, to comfort her. She was trying to be very brave for her brother and sister. She was weeping. Deep within her heart, in her soul, she was weeping. Her sorrow was so strong it had penetrated his rejuvenating sleep, waking him to share her suffering. His chest hurt, the weight of her anguish pressing like a heavy stone into his heart. He ached for her, ached to hold her, comfort her.

It was a singular experience for him to feel for another being. Real emotion. He had forgotten the feeling. It humbled him to think of her and her lone fight to keep her word to her stepfather. She was alone and afraid. She was fighting an unseen enemy. She didn't know what they wanted, or why they were attacking her, but she was valiantly ready to defend her ranch and her beloved brother and sister. Rafael concentrated on keeping the link open between them. Her mind was complex. It had natural safeguards, barriers he was still working to break through. But she was the one. His lifemate. Her blood called to his. Her soul cried out to his.

Rafael shared her heart and soul. His duty was to see to her health and happiness above all other things. Above his own happiness. He was beginning to understand what that meant. Trapped by the high price of his immortality, he lay waiting, needing to be with her, helpless to comfort her. Right now it mattered more that he comfort her, than that he possess her. He needed to hold her safe in his arms. He learned many hard lessons while he lay in the ground. And he learned each of the lessons from his unknowing lifemate.

She spoke softly, lovingly to her brother and sister, a world of confidence in her voice when deep inside her mind Rafael could hear her frightened screams. She took time with each of them, answering questions, reassuring them, endlessly patient when she knew she had a long list of chores that had to be accomplished before nightfall regardless of the tragedy. Through it all she continually asked herself if she could have found Pete sooner, if she could have somehow saved his life.

She worked hard, one task at a time, treating each job the same whether the chore was difficult or easy, whether she enjoyed it or hated it. She was quick and efficient and always thinking ahead, mentally checking off the list. To Rafael it was the longest, most difficult period of his life. He lay helpless, trapped in the earth, his body