Angels Fall

and not care about them."
    She secured her seat belt, tested it. "Don't you care why I was in a psych ward?"
    "Are you going to tell me your life story now?"
    "No. But I figure since I've pulled you in this far, you should know part of it."
    He pulled away from the curve to start the drive around the lake and out of town. "I already know part of it. The sheriff did a background check on you."
    "He—" She broke off, made herself think it through. "I guess that would be a logical step. Nobody knows me, and suddenly I'm yelling murder."
    "Did they ever catch the guy who shot you?"
    "No." Automatically her hand came up to rub absently on her chest. "At least, they think they identified one of them, but he OD'd before they could bring him in and question him. There was more than one. I don't know how many, but more than one. There had to be."
    "Okay."
    "Twelve people. People I worked with or cooked for and cared about. All dead. I should've been dead, too. It's one of the things I think about. Why I lived and they didn't. What's the meaning of that?"
    "Luck of the draw."
    "Maybe. Maybe it's just that cold." Was there comfort in the cold? she wondered. "They didn't get but a couple thousand. Most people use credit cards when they go out to dinner. A couple thousand, and whatever was in wallets, purses. Some jewelry—nothing special. Wine and beer. We kept a good wine cellar. But that wasn't why they died. Nobody would have stopped them, nobody would have put up a fight. Not over some money, some wine, some watches."
    "Why did they die?"
    She stared at the mountains, so powerful, so wild against the milky blue of the sky. "Because the people who came in wanted it that way. For the fun of it. Thrill kills. I heard the cops say that. I'd worked there since I was sixteen. I grew up in Maneo's."
    "You worked at sixteen. You must've been a wild child."
    "I had my moments. But I wanted to work. I wanted restaurant 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 bo a surprise, so I was tooling 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 Sheryi 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