Angels Fall

appreciate that. Well, Jackson's a big place." Reece slipped the sketch back in the folder. "Maybe I'll have better luck there."
    "Don't come whining back here if they scalp you over there,"Joanie called out. Then barked with laughter when Reece paled. "Serve you right if they did, not spending your pay here in the Fist. You be here at six sharp tomorrow morning, whatever you look like."
    ""Could always wear a hat. Mac suggested.
    "Thanks. Thanks a lot. I'm leaving."
    She sailed out. and made sure she was out of sight of the big trout window before she raked a hand through her hair. She'd make Linda-gail go first, hang back, get the lay of the land. She didn't  have  to get her hair cut. It was a choice, an option.
    A possibility.
    But going into Jackson was a good idea, and gave her the opportunity to pass out copies of the sketch. There hadn't been a single hit on it in the Fist. Excluding Liquor Store Jeff's claim that it looked like Penelope Cruz.
    If the woman had been traveling through the area, the odds were better she'd swung into a bigger, flashier place like Jackson Hole than the small, scraped knuckles of Angel's Fist. Now, since she had a little time to spare and didn't want to spend it obsessing about her hair, she walked down to the sheriff's office.
    It had been nearly a week since she'd asked Sheriff Mardson if he'd learned anything new. Of course, she'd been spending a lot of that week working, or in Brody's bed. But thanks to the distractions, Mardson couldn't accuse her of nagging him.
    When she walked in, Hank O'Brian was at Dispatch. He had a full black beard, a fondness for chicken-fried steak and a Shoshone grandmother who was a local legend for her pottery. At the moment. Hank was drinking coffee with one hand and pecking at his keyboard with the other. He glanced over. How you doing there. Reece?"
    "Good, thanks. How's your grandmother?"
    "Got herself a boyfriend. Tribal elder lost his wife a year or so back. Guy's ninety-three and sniffing around, bringing her flowers and candy. I don't know what to make of it."
    "That's sweet." But since he looked pained, she added, "And she's got you to look out for her. I wonder it the sheriff's busy? I just wanted to—"

    Even as she spoke, she heard the trill of laughter. Mardson walked out hand in hand with his wife. That was sweet, too, Rcece thought. The way people looked together when they  were  together. Mardson had an easy smile on his face, and Debbie was still laughing, swinging their joined hands a little as they walked.
    She was a pretty, athletic-looking blonde with short tousled hair and emerald green eyes. She wore snug jeans, chestnut brown cowboy boots and a red shirt under a faded denim jacket. A pendant at the end of a sparkling gold chain hung around her neck. A shining sun, Reece noted. Pretty. Debbie ran the outfitters On the Trail, next door to the hotel, helped arrange hiking tours with the hotel, sold fishing and hunting licenses. And was tight with Brenda. Sunday afternoons, she brought her two girls into Joanie's for ice cream.
    She sent Reece a quick, friendly smile. "Hi! I thought you were heading into Jackson Hole today."
    "Urn, well, yeah. Later."
    "I ran into Linda-gail yesterday. Big plans. Getting your hair cut? It's so pretty—but it gets in the way, I bet when you're at the grill. Still, men like long hair on a woman, don't they? Poor Rick," she said with another laugh. "I'm always having mine chopped off."
    "I like it just fine." He leaned down to peck her cheek, flicked a finger at the ends of her hair. "You're my sunlight."
    "Listen to him." Smiling, Debbie bumped Rick, arm against arm. "Sweet-talking. And after I came in to try to talk him into taking an hour off and taking a ride with me. Turned me down flat."
    "Not .ill of us can play hooky. This woman gets on a horse, and an hour lasts half the day. Something I can do for you. Reece?" Rick. asked her.
    ""I thought I'd stop by before I left, just to see if you found out anything new." She waited a beat, then pulled out one of the sketches. "On her."
    "Wish I could say I had. No reports in this area of a missing person matching her description. And nobody recognizes her. Not much more I can do."
    "No. Well. I know you ve done what you could. Maybe I'll have some luck in Jackson. I'm going to show the sketch around while I'm there."
    "I'm not going to tell you not to." Rick said slowly. "But you need to understand—and nothing against Doc—but that's a