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ANGELS FALL
By
Nora Roberts
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Also byNora Roberts
HONEST ILLUSIONS
PRIVATE SCANDALS
HIDDEN RICHES
TRUE BETRAYALS
MONTANASKY
BORN IN FIRE
BORN IN ICE
BORN IN SHAME
DARING TO DREAM
HOLDING THE DREAM
FINDING THE DREAM
SANCTUARY
HOMEPORT
SEA SWEPT
RISING TIDES
INNERHARBOR
THE REEF
RIVERS END
JEWELS OF THE SUN
CAROLINAMOON
TEARS OF THE MOON
HEART OF THE SEA
THE VILLA
FROM THE HEART
MIDNIGHT BAYOU
DANCE UPON THE AIR
HEAVEN AND EARTH
FACE THE FIRE
THREE FATES
CHESAPEAKEBLUE
BIRTHRIGHT
REMEMBER WHEN (WITH JD ROBB)
KEY OF LIGHT
KEY OF KNOWLEDGE
KEY OF VALOR
NORTHERN LGHTS
BLUE DAHLIA
BLACK ROSE
BLUE SMOKE
RED LILY
Writing as J. D. Robb
NAKED IN DEATH
GLORY IN DEATH
IMMORTAL IN DEATH
RAPTURE IN DEATH
CEREMONY IN DEATH
VENGEANCE IN DEATH
HOLIDAYIN DEATH
CONSPIRACY IN DEATH
LOYALTY IN DEATH
WITNESS IN DEATH
JUDGMENT IN DEATH
BETRAYAL IN DEATH
SEDUCTION IN DEATH
REUNIONIN DEATH
PURITY IN DEATH
PORTRAIT IN DEATH
IMITATION IN DEATH
DIVIDED IN DEATH
VISIONS IN DEATH
SURVIVOR IN DEATH
ORIGIN IN DEATH
MEMORY IN DEATH
BORN IN DEATH
G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Publisher Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,375 Hudson Street .New York .New York 10014.USA
Copyright 2006 by Nora Roberts
All rights reserved.
Published simultaneously inCanada .
ISBN 0-399-15372-1
Printed in theUnited States of America
BOOK DESIGN BY AMANDA DEWEY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictiousl,. and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses,
companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at
the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for
changes that occur after publication, further the publisher does not have any control over and does not
assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
For Mom
SIGNPOSTS
Everywhere is nowhere.
—Seneca
REECE GIL MORE smoked through the tough knuckles of Angel's Fist in an overheating Chevy
Cavalier. She had two hundred forty-three dollars and change in her pocket, which might be enough to
cure the Chevy, fuel it and herself. It luck was on her side, and the car wasn't seriously ill, she'd have
enough to pay for a room for the night.
Then, even by the most optimistic calculations, she'd be broke.
She took the plumes of steam putting out of the hood as a sign it was time to stop traveling for a while
and find a job.
No worries, no problem, she told herself. The littleWyoming town huddled around the cold blue waters
of a lake was as good as anywhere else. Maybe better. It had the openness she needed—all that sky
with the snow-dipped peaks of the Tetons rising into it like sober, and somehow aloof, gods.
She'd been meandering her way toward them, through the Ansel Adams photograph of peaks and plains
for hours. She hadn't had a clue where she'd end up when she started out that day before dawn, but
she'd bypassed Cody, zipped through Dubois. and though she'd toyed with veering intoJackson , she
dipped south instead.
So something must have been pulling her to this spot.
Over the past eight months, she'd developed a strong belief in following signs and impulses. Dangerous
Curves, Slippery When Wet. It was nice that someone took the time and effort to post those kinds of
warnings. Other signs might be a peculiar slant of sunlight aimed down a back road, or a weather vane
pointing south.
If she liked the look of the light or the weather vane, she'd follow, until she found what seemed like the
right place at the right time. She might settle in for a few weeks, or, like she had inSouth Dakota , a few
months. Pick up some work, scout the area, then move on when those signs, those impulses, pointed in a
new direction.
There was a freedom in the system she'd developed, and often— more often now—-a lessening of the
constant hum of anxiety in the back of her mind. These past months of living with herself, essentially by
herselt, had done more to smooth her out than the full year of therapy.
To be fair, she supposed the therapy had given her the base to face herself every single day. Every night.
And all the hours between.
And here was another fresh start, another blank slate in the bunched fingers of Angel's Fist.
If nothing else, she'd take a few days to enjoy the lake, the mountains, and pick up enough money to get
back on the road again. A place like this—the signpost had said the population was 623—probably ran
to tourism, exploiting the scenery and the proximity to the national park.
There'd be at least one hotel, likely a couple of B and B's, maybe a dude ranch within a few miles. It
might be fun to work at a dude ranch. All those places would need someone to fetch and carry and
clean, especially now that the spring thaw was dulling the sharpest edge of winter.
But since her car was now sending out thicker, more desperate smoke signals, the first priority was a
mechanic.
She eased her way along the road that ribboned around the long, wide lake. Patches of snow made dull
white pools in the shade. The trees were still their wintering brown, but there were a few boats on the
water. She could see a couple guys in windbreakers and caps in a white canoe, rowing right through the
reflection of the mountains
Across from the lake was what she decided was the business district. Gift shop, a little gallery. Bank,
post office, she noted. Sheriff's office.
She angled away from the lake to pull the laboring car up to what looked like a big barn of a general
store. There were a couple men in flannel shirts sitting out front in stout chairs that gave them a good view
of the lake.
They nodded to her as she cut the engine and stepped out, then the one on the right tapped the brim of
his blue cap that bore the name of the store—Mac's Mercantile and Grocery—across the crown.
"Looks like you got some trouble there, young lady."
"Sure does. Do you know anyone who can give me a hand with it?
He laid his hands on his thighs and pushed out of the chair. He was burly in build, ruddy in face, with
lines fanning out from the corners of friendly brown eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a slow,
meandering drawl.
"Why don't we just pop the hood and take a look-see?"
"Appreciate it." When she released the latch, he tossed the hood up and stepped back from the clouds
of smoke. For reasons she couldn't name, the plumes and the fuss caused Recce more embarrassment
than anxiety. "It started up on me about ten miles east, I guess. I wasn't paying enough attention. Got
caught up in the scenery."
"Easy to do. You heading into the park?"
"I was. More or less." Not sure, never sure, she thought and tried to concentrate on the moment rather
than the before or after. "'I think the car had other ideas."
His companion came over to join them, and both men looked tinder the hood the way Recce knew men
did. With sober eyes and knowing frowns. She looked with them, though she accepted that she was as
much of a cliche. The female to whom what lurked under the hood of a car was as foreign as the terrain
of Pluto.
"Got yourself a split radiator hose," he told her. "Gonna need to replace that."
Didn't sound so bad, not too bad. Not too expensive. "Anywhere in town I can make that happen?"
"Lynt's Carage'll fix you up. Why don't 1 give him a eall for your'
"Lifesaver." She offered a smile and her hand, a gesture that had eonie to be much easier for her with
strangers. "I'm Reece. Reece Cilmore."
"Mac Drubber. This here's Carl Sampson."
"Back East, aren't you?" Carl asked. He looked a fit fitty-something to Reece, and with some Native
American blood mixed in once upon a time.
...
Januszek66