Angels Fall

by Nora Roberts

  work. I bused tables, did food prep on weekends, during the summer and holidays. I loved it. I loved them."

  She could see it now, as it had been then. The bustle in the kitchen, the clatter outside the swinging door, the voices, the smells.

  "It was my last night. They were giving me a little going-away party. It was supposed to be a surprise, so I was fooling around in the kitchen to give them time to set it up. There was screaming and gunfire and crashing. I think I went blank, just for a minute. You didn't hear screaming and gunfire in Maneo's. Not in a nice family restaurant. Sheryl Crow."

  "What?"

  "On the kitchen radio. It was Sheryl Crow. I grabbed for my cell phone—that's how I remember it. anyway. And the door swung open. I started to turn—or maybe I started to run. In my head, when I think about it, or dream about it, I see the gun, and the dark gray hooded sweatshirt. That's all. I see that and I'm falling, then the pain erupts. Twice, they said. Once in the chest, and the other bullet grazed my head. But I didn't die."

  When she paused, he glanced toward her. "Keep going."

  "I fell back into the closet. Cleaning supplies. I'd been putting away cleaning supplies in the closet, and I fell back inside. The cops told me that later. I didn't know where I was. I came out of it, a little. Felt numb and cold and confused."

  She rubbed her hand between her breasts again. "I couldn't get my breath. This weight on my chest. This awful pain, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't get air. The door was still open, not all the way, just a few inches. I heard voices, and at first I tried to call out for help. But I couldn't. Lucky I couldn't. There was crying and screaming, and laughing."

  She lowered her hand, very deliberately, into her lap. "Then I didn't think about calling for help. I only thought about being quiet, very quiet, so they wouldn't come and check. They wouldn't come kill me."

  "Something crashed. My friend, my line cook, fell on the other side of the door. Ginny. Ginny Shanks. She was twenty-tour. She'd just gotten engaged the month before. Valentine's Day. They were getting married in October. I was going to be her maid of honor."

  When Brody didn't speak, Reece closed her eyes and let the rest come. "Ginny fell. I could see her face through the crack of the door. Bruised and bloody where they must have hit her. She was crying, and she was begging. And our eyes met, just for a second. I think they did. Then I heard the gunshot, and she jerked. Just once, like a puppet on a string. Her eyes changed. A fingersnap, and the light was just gone. One of them must have kicked the door, because it shut. Everything was black. Ginny was just on the other side of the door, and there was nothing I could do for her. For any of them. I couldn't get out. I was in my coffin, buried alive, and we were all dead. That's what I thought."

  "The police found me. And I lived."

  "How long were you in the hospital'"

  "Six weeks, but I don't remember the first two it all, and only patches of the next. But I didn't handle it very well."

  "Handle what very well?"

  "The incident, surviving it, being a victim."

  "What would be the definition of handling well being shot, left for dead and seeing a friend killed?"

  "Responding to therapy, accepting there was nothing I could have done to avoid or prevent any of it, eventually being grateful to have been spared. Finding Jesus or throwing myself into life's pleasures until I wrung them dry." she said impatiently. "I don't know. But I couldn't cope with it, or didn't cope with it. Flashbacks and night terrors. Sleepwalking, bouts of hysteria, then bouts of lethargy. I'd think I'd hear them coming for me, see that gray sweatshirt on strangers on the street. I had a breakdown, hence the psych ward."

  "They put you in Psych?"

  "I checked myself into a pyschiatric hospital when I realized I wasn't getting better. I couldn't work, I couldn't eat. I couldn't anything." She rubbed her temple. "But I had to leave because I realized how easy it would be to stay in that controlled environment. I had to stop taking the pills because with them I pretty much stayed blank, and I'd been blank for large chunks of time too long already."

  "So now you're just neurotic and anal."

  "That would be about right. Claustrophobic, obsessive/compulsive, with some occasional paranoia and frequent panic attacks. Crappy dreams, and I do sometimes wake up thinking it's all happening again, or could happen again. But I saw those two people. I didn't project. I didn't imagine. I saw them."

  "Okay." He veered off to the side of the road. "We'll walk from here."

  She got out first and. bracing herself, pulling the map out of her pocket. "I went to get this when I was pissed, thinking you'd sicced the doctor on me. I went upstairs, got this out because I was going to come out here on my own."

  She opened the map, handed it to him.

  "I don't remember doing that, marking it up. I don't remember, but that doesn't mean I imagined what happened yesterday. I must've had a panic attack during the night, and I'm blocking it out."

  "Then why are you showing it to me;"

  "You ought to know what you're dealing with."

  He studied the map briefly, then refolded it. "I saw your face yesterday when you came running down the trail. If you imagined seeing that woman killed, you're wasting your time in the kitchen. Anybody with that vivid an imagination should be in my line of work. You'd outsell J. K. Rowling."

  "You really do believe me."

  "Jesus. Listen up." He shoved the map back into her hands. "If I didn't I wouldn't be here. I've got my own life, my own work, my own time. You saw what you saw, and it's not fucking right. A woman's dead, and somebody ought to give a shit about it."

  She closed her eyes a minute. "Don't take this the wrong way, okay?" So saying, she stepped up to him. wrapped her arms around him, pressed her lips lightly to his.

  '"What would be the wrong way to take that?"

  "As anything other than sincere gratitude." She swung her pack over her shoulder. "Do you know the way?"

  "Yeah, I know the way."

  As they stepped off the road, she gave him a quick glance. "That's the first time I've kissed a man in two years."

  "No wonder you're crazy. How was it?"

  "Comforting."

  He snorted. "Some other time. Slim, maybe we'll go for something a little more interesting than comforting."

  "Maybe we will." Now think of something else, she ordered herself. "I ran down to the mercantile on one of my breaks this morning and bought your book, Jamison R.Brody."

  "Which one?"

  "Down Low. Mac said it was your first, so I wanted to start with that. And he said he really liked it."

  "So did I."

  She laughed. "I'll let you know if I do. Does anyone call you by your first name?"

  "No."

  "What's the P stand for?"

  "Perverse."

  "Fits." Now she wet her lips. "They could have hiked through from any direction."

  "You said you didn't see any packs, any gear."

  "I didn't, but they could have left it farther back, out of my line of vision."

  "There weren't any tracks, Reece, in any direction, but for Rick's going in and out. Look." He crouched. "See here? I'm no Natty Bunippo, but I can handle the basics. My tracks from this morning, and Rick's. Ground's pretty soft."

  "Well, they didn't fly in on the wings of a damn dove."

  "No. But if he knew anything about tracking, about hiking, he could've covered his tracks."

  "Why? Who'd look here for a dead woman no one saw him kill?"

  "You saw him. And maybe he saw you right back."

  "He never looked around, never looked across."

  "Not while you were looking across. You ran, didn't you? And left your stuff sitting on the rock. Maybe he caught a glimpse of you taking off, or just saw your pack on the rock. Two and two make four pretty quick. He covered up. It took us two hours to get back to my cabin. Another thirty minutes easy before Rick would've gotten out here. More like another hour because he talked to you
first. Three hours? Hell, you could cover up an elephant march through here if you knew your ass from your elbow."

  "He saw me." And her throat slapped shut on the idea of it.

  "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Either way, he was careful. Smart and careful enough to take his time, cover up any sign he'd been here, or she had."

  "He saw me. Why didn't I think of that before?" She passed a hand over her face. "He'd already dragged or carried her away, or weighed her down and tossed her in the water, by the time I got to you."

  "I'd go for the first option. Takes time to weigh down a body."

  "So he carried her away."

  Reece stopped, because there was the river rushing by ahead of the line of trees, the tumble of rocks. The blade of it cut through the canyon so the walls seemed to fly straight up. As if we were in a box, she thought, with the lid off to the spread of sky.

  "From here," she murmured, it's all so… alone here. The river, the presence of it, cuts you off from everything. And it's all so beautiful, why would you care?"

  "A good place to die."

  "No place is. Once you've been close enough, you know no place is a good place to die. But this is so stunning—the trees, the rocks, the walls, the water. It would've been the last thing she saw, and she didn't see it at all. She was so angry. I think she didn't see anything but him and her own rage. Then there would've been the fear, and the pain."

  "Can you see where you were from here?"

  She walked out, closer to the river. Cooler today, she thought, and not as bright. The sun wasn't as strong and the clouds were thicker— streams and rolls of white over the blue.

  "There." She pointed up, over. "I stopped there, sat there and ate a sandwich, drank some water. The sun felt good, and I liked hearing the water. I saw the hawk. Then I saw them, standing here."

  She turned to Brody. "Like we are. She was facing him, like this, and he had his back to the water. I said before I didn't think she saw anything but him. I guess he was only seeing her, too. I watched her more, because she was more animated. A lot of movement."

  Reece threw her arms out, demonstrating. "Drama. You could feel the heat of her across the river. She was steaming. But he seemed very controlled. Or his body language was. Am I making this up?" She pressed her fingers over her eyes. "Am I remembering what happened, or projecting?"

  "You know what you saw."

  The absolute calm in his tone had her dropping her hands, and quieted the flutters in her belly. "Yes. Yes, I do. She was winging her arms around, jabbing her finger at him. I'm warning you. It seemed like that. And she shoved him."

  Reece planted her hands on Brody's chest, pushed. "I think he fell back a step." she said drily. "If you wouldn't mind getting into character."

  "Okay." He obliged.

  "He went like this." Reece crossed her hands, flung them out. "I thought. Safe! Like the umpire's signal."

  "Baseball?" He felt a trickle of amusement. "You thought baseball?"

  "For a second. But it was That's it. I've had enough. Then she slapped him."

  When Reece swung her hand. Brody caught her wrist. "I get the picture."

  "I wasn't going to hit you. He took it, the first time, then she hauled off and hit him again. That's when he pushed her down. Go ahead."

  "Sure." Brody gave her a shove, and though it pushed her back a little, it didn't take her down.

  "It must've been a lot harder than that. No." She lifted her hands when he smiled and feinted another shove. "I'll just go with it." She glanced back to gauge the distance to the rocks. Reenacting the crime didn't mean she had to knock herself silly. "Wait. She didn't have a pack on." Reece shrugged hers off, tossed it aside, then dropped to the ground.

  "She must've fallen harder, and I think she hit her head—bumped it, anyway—on the ground, or maybe on the rocks here. She stayed down a minute. Her hat fell off. I forgot that. Her hat felloff, and when she shook her head—like she was a little dazed—there was a glint. Earrings. She must have been wearing earrings. I wasn't paying enough attention."

  "I'd say you're wrong about that. What did he do? Move toward her?"

  "No. No. She got up, fast, lunged at him. She wasn't afraid, she was pissed. Seriously pissed. She was screaming at him— I couldn't hear, but I could see. He tossed her down. Not a shove this time. And when she fell, he straddled her."

  Reece got down, looked up at Brody. "Would you mind?"

  "Sure. No problem." He planted a foot on either side of Reece.

  "He held out a hand. I think, but she wouldn't let up. She propped up on her elbows and kept at him. Her mouth was moving, and I— in my head—heard her screaming and bitching. Then he got down."

  "He more than sat on her, put his weight down to hold her," she said when Brody crouched. "Oh." She wheezed out a breath when Brody followed directions. "Yeah, like that. Nothing playful, nothing sexual— at least from my view. She was slapping out at him, and he held her arms down. No. don't!" Panic spurted into her when Brody clamped his hands over her wrists. "I can't. Don't."

  "Take it easy." He kept his eyes on hers as he loosened his grip, shifted his weight. "I'm not going to hurt you. Tell me what happened next."

  "She was struggling, twisting under him. But he was stronger. He yanked her head up by the hair, rapped it down hard. Then he… then he put his hands around her throat. She bucked, tried to throw him off, she grabbed his wrists, but I don't think she had much left in her. Wait… he pinned her arms down with his knees, to stop her from hitting out. I forgot that, too. damn it."

  "You remembered it now."

  "She kicked out, trying to get some leverage. I guess. Her feet hammered against the ground, and her fingers dug into the ground. Then they stopped. Everything stopped, but he kept his hands around her throat. He kept them there, and I ran. Get up, okay? Get up."

  He merely shifted so he sat on the ground beside her. "Any chance she was still alive?"

  "He kept his hands around her throat." Reece sat up, brought up her knees and pressed her face to them.

  He said nothing for a few minutes, just let the river run beside them while clouds shitted shadows over rock and water. "I figure you're the glass-half-empty type."

  "What?"

  '"Glass is probably more than half empty because it's cracked and what's in it's leaking out. So you see this happen and you think, Oh God, guilt, guilt, despair. I saw a woman murdered and couldn't do anything to stop it. Poor her, poor me," he continued. "Instead of thinking, I saw a woman murdered, and if I hadn't been where I was when I was, no one would have known what happened to her."

  She'd propped her chin on her knees to study him while he spoke, and now cocked her head. "You're right. I know you're right, and I'm trying to look at it that way. Still, you don't strike me as the glass-is-half-full type."

  "Half full, half empty, what the hell difference does it make? If there's something in the damn glass, drink it."

  She laughed. Sitting where a woman had died only the day before, Reece felt the laugh rise in her chest and break free. "Good policy. Right now, I wish to God it held a nice chilly Pinot Grigio."

  After pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, she pushed to her feet. "Reenacting it left signs. Footprints." she said as he rose. "Dents in the ground from the heels of my boots, flattened dirt, handprints. You don't have to be Natty Bumppo to see a couple of people were here, fought here."

  Brody walked off a few feet to break off a fanning branch of willow and began sweeping it over the disturbed ground. "He's smart," he said as he cleared off the tracks. "He drags or carries her out, out of sight of the river, the canyon, then he gets a branch like this from another area, comes back, makes sure neither of them dropped anything. Have to keep your cool."

  He straightened, studied the ground. "Pretty clean. Natty might be able to see something, but I'm an amateur. Could be, maybe, you bring in a team of crime-scene experts, they'd find a stray hair, but what's that going to prove?"

  He
tossed the branch aside. "Nothing. All he has to do is cover the tracks leading out. Plenty of places to bury a body around here. Or, if it were me and I had a car, I'd toss it in the trunk and drive somewhere else. Somewhere I could take my time digging a hole deep enough the animals wouldn't uncover her."

  "That's not cool. It's cold."