Ghostly Game (GhostWalkers #19) Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
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“She’ll need her asthma medication. I’m going to rest again before I work on the blockage in her lungs. This isn’t going to take away the asthma, Gideon, but it will make things much easier on her,” Paul said. He sounded tired, but not at all the way he’d been before. “Don’t let her talk. Get the information from her and just give it to them. She can tell them tomorrow or the next day. Keep in mind her internal organs have taken a beating. She had internal bleeding as well as other injuries. They meant to kill her, Gideon.”

Gideon was certain they had planned to kill her from the moment they’d taken her. “Thanks, Paul. I appreciate everything you’ve done for her. I know it isn’t easy on you.”

Please tell him thank you from me.

“Rory wants me to thank you as well, Paul. Get some rest.” Gideon leaned over Rory after Paul left the room. “You need to go back to sleep. Paul says Whitney did place some kind of an obstruction in your lungs, and he’d like to see if he can remove it. It won’t take away your asthma, but it will certainly improve your ability to breathe. You’ll have to be in much better shape than you are now for him to do that, Red. And under no circumstances are you to speak aloud.”

I need to tell Larrsen what those men believe I have. And I think I might have it.

Gideon brushed back her hair. They hadn’t washed the congealed blood out of it. They hadn’t had time. That was for another day. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

They kept asking about a notebook. Over and over. At first, I thought they had something to do with Whitney, so it didn’t make any sense. They kept hitting me over and over. The man that felt angry and kept silent began cutting me with a knife. That only confused me more, because I realized it was a cop. It was Detective Ramsey.

Rory fell silent. Just that little bit of effort to speak to him telepathically had exhausted her, as Paul had predicted.

Gideon continued to stroke back the hair from her face, his fingertips lingering in the mass of cherry-colored strands. Her eyes had been closed, but she struggled to open them, lashes going up for just a brief moment so she could look straight at him.

You shouldn’t touch my hair, Gideon. I’m a mess. It’s disgusting.

Her lashes drifted down again. He couldn’t help smiling at her reaction right in the middle of telling him something important she wanted to convey to the detectives.

Nothing about you is disgusting, Red. When the doc gives me the go-ahead, I’ll wash your hair for you. Tell me what you think you have that these men want from you so you can sleep. Paul wants you to rest as much as possible.

She didn’t answer him right away. He could feel her drifting. At least she was breathing easier. Paul insisted she still have the oxygen flowing to her. The mask, not just a simple nosepiece, and Gideon made certain it was securely in place. He sat beside the bed, not prompting her to say anything more, just waiting. If the detectives needed the information, they could wait as well.

A half an hour later, Mack returned to the room with the three detectives. “Anything?”

“She fell asleep, but she definitely has information she wants to relay. She said they kept asking her about a book. Over and over. At first that confused her. She didn’t understand who they were or what kind of book or what they were talking about. One was very angry, and he beat her and cut her with a knife when she couldn’t answer. But then she said she began to associate the question with Detective Ramsey. She said they kept asking the question over and over in various ways. Three of the four men questioned her.”

“About a book?” Wilson exchanged a look with the other two detectives. “Peter Ramsey preferred to write everything by hand in a notebook rather than use a tablet. He was old-school when it came to that. Afterward, he typed up his reports, but when he was working, he liked to arrange his notes a certain way. He always used a brown notebook that resembled a diary.”

“Did she say anything else?” Abbott prompted.

“She thought she might know where it was, but she didn’t tell them that. She drifted off before she could tell me,” Gideon said.

Wilson looked frustrated. “What did the doctor say about her condition? I read his report, and she’s very lucky to be alive.”

“He said to let her rest as much as possible. He still has more work to do on her,” Gideon said. “Rory was very insistent she tell you what she thinks, but she drifted off before she could let me know. I’ll call when I’ve got something for you.”


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