Angels Fall

somebody was prowling around out here. I figure there was."
    "Thanks." She opened the door, shifted to smile at him as she got out. "Thanks. Pete."
    "Nothing to it."
    There was to her. Maybe the cops didn't believe her, but Pete did. And Brody, Linda-gail, Joanie. Doc Wallace suspected she was manifesting, but he was trying to look out for her. Mac Drubber probably thought she needed a few screws tightened, but he'd bought Parmesan because she wanted it. She had a lot of people on her side. And another angle to pursue.
    She found Brody on the back porch, drinking a Coke and reading a paperback. He glanced up, and as he was obviously please with what he saw, a smile flitted at the corners of his mouth. "How'd it go today?"
    "From bad to better. Doc's happy I've gained some weight, and proposed the possibility that my orange-hatted man is a manifestation of my fears and survivor's guilt—but is willing to be open-minded, if I am. Mr. Drubber ordered me some fresh Parm, and Pete gave me a thumbnail rundown on the romantic lives of a couple of guys in town."
    "Been busy."
    "And then some. Lo lied to Linda-gail about his whereabouts last night."
    "He's been known to play it pretty loose with the ladies." Brody laid the book aside. "You think Lo's a killer?"
    "He'd be the last I'd have picked. Damn it, I like him, and my friend's in love with him. But isn't it, traditionally, the least likely who's the one? Isn't that how it works?"
    "In fiction, and only in good fiction if it makes sense. Lo bangs the ladies, Slim, but he doesn't choke them to death."
    "And if one threatened him in some way, pushed him until he snapped?" She crouched by Brody's chair.
    "Reuben had a hot affair with a violent ending with a married woman last winter."
    "From Lothario to the Singing Cowboy?"
    "'It should be possible to find out where he was last night. He didn't start painting at Joanie's until eleven. And Brenda's brother didn't show at all."
    "So you've decided on your suspect list because you're not sure where these three guys were last night—at the time in question."
    "I have to start somewhere. Fighting back. Substantiate where they were, take them off the list. Can't substantiate, keep them on."

    "And, what, work your way through every man in the Fist?"
    "If necessary. I can cross some off. Hank—the bushy beard and his build is huge. I'd never have missed that. Pete, because he's too little. We talked about this before, right after, but never really focused on it."
    "No, I guess we didn't."
    "So, anyone over, say, sixty-five, under twenty. This wasn't an old man or a kid. Anyone with a beard or mustache, considerably over or under average height and weight. I know he might not be in the Fist—"
    "Yeah, I think he is."
    "Why'"
    "You didn't hear a car last night. How'd he get away from the cabin without one?"
    "Walked?"
    "Maybe had a car far enough away not to be noticed. But, if this is someone from outside, he'd have to be in and around enough to get your routine, to know when you're out of your place, at work, here. Somebody would notice and, however innocently, comment. Comments get around."
    "They do," Reece agreed. "They really do."
    "And nobody's stayed at the hotel for more than a week since April. No single men for more than two. Some of the cabins have rented, but again not for long and all to families or groups. Could be a family man or part of a group, but it doesn't play as well for me."
    "You've done some research."
    "One of my things. Could be camping," Brody continued, "but he'd have to come in for supplies. Even if he went somewhere else for them, he'd have to come in to get a handle on your routine, to do what he's done. If he came in more than once, he gets noticed. So. going with that reasoning, he's one of us."
    "Brody. I don't want to call the police in again unless it's… let's be dramatic. Unless it's life or death."
    "Just you and me, Slim."
    "I like you and me."
    "Funny. So do I."

    SHE DECIDED TO offset the stir-fry of the night before with a manly meal of pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans and biscuits. While the potatoes cooked and the chops marinated, she sat down at the kitchen table with her laptop.
    The list came first, every male in Angel's Fist she could think of who fit her very wide profile. Along with the names, she keyed in the basics she knew of them.

    William (Lo) Butler, late twenties. Lived in Angel's Fist most of his life. Knows the area well,   understands tracking, hiking,