Angels Fall

time."
    "That's assuming she's the same one Reece saw."
    "Well, sure." Denny looked perplexed. "Who else could it be? Sheriff thinks it is."
    "Mind if I take a look at the photos?"
    "I dunno. Doc. The sheriff—"
    "I've seen dead bodies in my time, Denny. Could be I'd recognize her. Maybe I treated her at some time or another. And it's my sketch Rick's using to determine she's one and the same."
    "Yeah, I guess. Hank," he added as the dispatcher walked in.
    "Anything brewing but bad coffee around here? Hiya, Doc."
    "Hank. How're the knees?"
    "Ah, not too bad."
    "They'd be better if you took off twenty-five pounds. Not going to do that eating those doughnuts you've got in that sack."
    "Man's got to keep his energy up in a job like this."
    "Sugar high's not energy." Doc adjusted his glasses as Denny came out of Rick's office with the file. Opening it, Doc pursed his lips in what looked like a combination of interest and pity. "Looks like man
    and nature were both unkind to this girl."
    "Got the shit beat out of her, that's for sure. Was raped," Denny added with a grim nod toward the photos. "Sheriff didn't show Reece all the crime-scene pictures. Didn't want to upset her more than he had to. See there? How her wrists and ankles are all raw and bruised? Had her tied up."
    "Yeah, I see."
    "Hauled her away from the river. Truck, camper, RV, something. Kept her tied up and did what he wanted with her until he was finished. Dumped her in the marsh after. You recognize her, Doc?"
    "No. I can't say I do. Sorry, Denny, wish I could be more help. I'd better go see to my patients. Hank, you go easy on those damn doughnuts."
    "Aw, Doc."

    HE DID SOME thinking on his walk home. About his conversation with Mac, about the photographs he'd studied. He thought about the town, and how long it had been his. How he liked to think he kept his finger on the pulse of it and his ear tuned to its heartbeat.
    He let himself in the front door he hadn't locked in two decades. Instead of going back to his office, he walked to the living room phone. Willow would deal with any early patients or walk-ins, he thought. He made his call, then popped a cherry Life Savers to take the coffee off his breath before he saw his first patient of the day.

    A LITTLE after twelve, Brody was pacing around Doc's living room. Doc's instructions had been to come by at noon and make himself at home. Interrupting the middle of his day, Brody thought, when the book was not just moving but actually racing.
    If he'd wanted a break in the middle of the day—which he damn well didn't—he'd have preferred to take that time at Joanie's. Have some lunch, see Reece.
    At least he assumed he'd see Reece. She hadn't called to say she was still out of a job, and her car was parked in its usual place. Still, he'd like to see for himself.
    Not that he was looking after her, he assured himself. Just checking, that's all. If the doc hadn't been so damn cryptic on the phone, Brody figured his curiosity wouldn't have been piqued. And he'd be at his keyboard.
    His female lead was pushing him through the story. Almost dragging him through it, snapping at him to keep up, for God's sake. And to think he'd originally conceived her as a victim. A couple scenes onstage, a terrible death, then gone.
    Well, she hadn't taken that lying down.

    He wanted to get back to her. But since he was across the lake anyway, he'd get back to Maddy after he stopped off to grab a bite and see Reece. He probably should suggest to Reece that she stay at his place again tonight.
    He should probably let that alone, he corrected. Let her go back to her own apartment before things got messy and she was, unofficially, living with him.
    He'd been careful to avoid that stepping-stone to lifetime commitment with other women. No need to stumble over it now.
    He wandered to the window, wandered away again. Wandered to a bookshelf, scanned titles. As always, he was a little jolted to see one of his own books, his own name emblazoned on the spine. After skimming a finger down that spine, he wandered some more.
    The photographs scattered around the room caught his attention. Idly he picked one up, one of Doc and the woman who'd been his wife for aeons, it seemed to Brody. Outdoorsy shot, camping gear, Doc holding up a string offish while the wife grinned.
    They looked nice together, Brody decided. Happy. Though if his gauge of the ages was on, they'd been married a couple decades when the picture was snapped.
    He picked up