Angels Fall

pressed the bruise.
    "A little. It doesn't bother me."
    "How long have you been taking the sleeping pills?"
    "Last night was the first one in nearly a year."

    "I lave you started back taking anything else since you were here last?"
    "No."
    "Any other symptoms?"
    "Like forgettulness, seeing things that aren't there? No."
    "Let me play devil's advocate for a minute, is it possible that this man you saw could represent your fear?
    You didn't see the face of the man who shot you. Not clearly. Or the trauma you experienced wiped that face out of your memory."
    "I don't think I saw him," she said quietly. "It was like snapping a finger. The door slamming open, me starting to turn. I saw the gun… and then… well, then he used it."
    "I understand." Briefly, gently, he laid a hand on hers. "You never, from what I understand, saw the other men who killed your friends?"
    "No, I never saw any of them." Only heard them, she thought. Only heard them laughing.
    "Have you considered that the figure at the window last night, potentially the man you saw by  the  river, is a manifestation of the fear and helplessness you experienced during the attack and after it?" Inside her belly something twisted. Disappointment, she realized.
    Simple disappointment that he didn't believe her after all. "You've been reading psych books."
    "I admit I have. Giving your fear mass and shape doesn't make you crazy, Reece. It could be a way of bringing it out so you can see it, experience it, resolve it."
    "I wish it were. But I know a woman died by his hands. I know he's watching me and doing what he can to break my nerve and undermine my credibility. She smiled a little. "It's not paranoia if they're really after you."
    Doc sighed.
    "I know what paranoia feels like. How it tastes in the throat. I'm not paranoid. I'm not manifesting my fear. I'm living it."
    "Another possibility, just hear me out. The first time you saw this man, and the violence, you'd just encountered Brody on the trail. The other incidents increased as your relationship with Brody developed. The more serious you've become, the more serious, or personal, the incidents. Is it possible your sense of survivor's guilt is putting up obstacles to your happiness?"
    "So I'm making myself crazy to sabotage my relationship with Brody? No. Damn it, I've  been  crazy. I know what it feels like, and this isn't it."
    "All right then, all right." He patted her hand. "We—how was it said?—eliminate the probable and whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth. We're going to draw a little blood, see how you're doing."

    REECE WENT BACK TO to Joanies for the second half of a split shift. Mac Drubber and Carl were plowing through pork barbecue subs. Mac held up a hand to stop her as he chewed and swallowed. "All, I got in some fresh Parmesan. Kind comes in a chunk."
    "You did?"
    "Thought you might want it. It's a little dear."
    "I'll come by later and get it. Thank you, Mr. Drubber." On impulse, she leaned down, kissed the top of his head. "Thanks, I don't deserve it."
    "Oh, now." A little pink rode along his cheekbones. "You got a mind for something we don't stock as a rule, you just let me know what it might be. No problem getting it in for you."
    "I will. Thanks."
    And first chance she got, Reece decided, she was going to make something special, something superb, and invite him over to Brody's for dinner.
    She walked into the kitchen in time to see Linda-gail slam a tub of dirty dishes next to Pete.
    "Uh-oh."
    "Trouble in paradise," Pete said out of the corner of his mouth.
    "Don't you mutter around me," Linda-gail snapped, whirling so her hair swirled out like a short red cape.
    "I'm not deaf."
    "Going to be unemployed you keep slamming things around." Linda-gail rounded on Joanie. "I wouldn't be slamming things around if your son wasn't a liar and a cheat."
    Her expression remained placid as Joanie continued to grill steak and onions. "My boy may be a lot of things not so complimentary, but I've never known him to be either of those. Mind yourself, Linda-gail."
    "Did he or did he not tell me he had to stay at the ranch last night helping out with a colicky mare? And was that or was that not a big, fat lie as Reuben was in here fifteen minutes ago asking me how I enjoyed the movie Lo took me to last night?"
    "Could be Reuben was mistaken. Could be a lot of things." Linda-gail lifted her chin. "You're his ma, and you've got to stand by him. But I won't tolerate being lied to or