Angels Fall

me. or knock over a lamp. Don't worry, I'll pay for it. Anything to give me a minute to pull myself back?"
    "Maybe."
    "I can smell the lake. You can just see it through the trees. I feel better when I see water. Maybe I should live on an island, except I think that might be too much water. I have to babble for a minute. You don't have to listen.
    "I've got ears." he reminded her, then veered off to take the easiest route to his cabin.
    He approached it from the rear where it was tucked in the trees and sagebrush. She imagined he could see the ring of mountains from any window.
    "It's a nice spot. You have a nice spot." But her mouth went dry as he opened the back door. He hadn't locked it. Anyone could come in through an unlocked door.
    When she didn't follow him in, he turned. "You want to stand outside and talk to Rick? The sheriff?"
    "No." Screwing up her courage, she stepped through the doorway behind him.
    Into the kitchen. It was small, she noted, but laid out well enough. He cleaned like a man. A terrible generalization, she thought, but most of the men she knew who weren't in the business cleaned kitchen surfaces only. Do the dishes—maybe—swipe the counters and you're done.
    There were a couple apples and an overripe banana in a white mix-ing bowl on the stone gray counter, a coffeemaker, a toaster that looked older than she was and a notepad.
    Brody went immediately to the coffeemaker, filling the tank, measuring the grounds before he'd taken off his jacket. Reece continued to stand just inside the door as he flipped it onto brew, then reached in a cupboard for a trio of white stoneware mugs.
    "Um, do you have any tea?"
    He shot a drily amused glance over his shoulder. "Oh sure. Let me just find my tea cozy."
    "I'll take that as a no. I don't drink coffee; it makes me jittery. More jittery." she amended when he cocked a brow at her. "Water. Water'd be fine. Do you leave the front door unlocked, too?"
    "No point in locks out here. It somebody wanted in. they'd just kick the door down or break a window. When she actually paled, he angled his head. "What? You want me to go check the closet, look under the bed?"
    She simply turned away from him to unshoulder his backpack."I bet you've never been afraid a day in your life."
    Got a rise out of her, he thought, and preferred the edge of insult and anger in her tone to the shakes and quivers. "Michael Myers."
    Confused, she turned back. "Who? Shrek?"
    "Jesus, Slim, that's Mike Myers. Michael Myers. The creepy guy in the mask. Halloween ? I saw it on tape when I was about ten. Scared the living shit out of me. Michael Myers lived in my bedroom closet for years after that.
    Her shoulders relaxed a little as she pulled off her jacket. "How'd you get rid of him? Didn't he keep coming back in the movies?"
    "I snuck a girl into my room when I was sixteen. Jennifer Ridgeway. Pretty little redhead with a lot of… energy. After a couple hours in the dark with her, I never gave Michael Myers another thought."
    "Sex as exorcism?"
    "Worked for me." He moved to the refrigerator, got her out a bottle of water. "Let me know if you want to try it."
    "I'll do that." Sheer reflex hail her catching the bottle he lobbed lightly to her. But she nearly bobbled it, and her shoulders went to stone again with the brisk knock on the front door.
    "That'll be the sheriff. Michael Myers doesn't knock. Want to do this in here?"
    She looked at the manhole cover—sized kitchen table. "Here's good."
    "Hang on a minute."
    When he went to answer, she twisted the top off the bottle and gulped down cold, cold water. She heard the low murmurs, the heavy tread of men's boots. Calm, she reminded herselt. Calm, concise and clear.
    Rick came in. nodded at her with his eyes level and unreadable. "Reece. Got some trouble, I hear."
    "Yes."
    "Let's sit down here, so you can tell me about it."
    She sat, and she began, struggling to relay the details without bogging it down, without skimming over anything relevant. In silence, Brody poured coffee, set a mug in front of Rick.
    As she spoke she ran a hand up and down the bottle of water, up and down, while the sheriff took notes, watched her. And Brody leaned back against the gray counter, drinking coffee, saying nothing.
    "Okay, tell me, you think you could identify either one of them?"
    "Her, maybe. Maybe. But I didn't see him. His face, I mean. His back was to me. and he had a hat. I think they both had on sunglasses. She did, at first. She had brown hair,