Fallen Read Free Page A

at him. Curiosity had him heading to his computer, to read all recent references to the Michaels case that he could find. There was no shortage of online articles. It was a case that had captured media attention in South-west Florida.
    Two hours later, Gabriel’s curiosity had coalesced into excitement. The parallels were remarkable between Jessie Michaels’s death and Anne’s. This was his next project, without question.
    And maybe, just maybe, it could be the way to break his curse. Of course, calling it a curse was irresponsible, implying he had done nothing to be inflicted with his present condition. The more accurate thing to say was that it was his punishment— an ignominy that ultimately punished all the women he encountered. They became a devastating collateral damage, heaping more guilt upon his already oppressive self-disgust. While he could never regain his pre-fallen stature, he wanted peace. To live in the mortal world, without hurting anyone, without the painful bonds of his past mistakes and controlling addictions.
    He had to make amends, had to try to find answers.
    After a little more research, Gabriel composed an e-mail and hit Send.

ACQUITTAL IN MICHAELS MURDER CASE
    After nearly a year of investigation and case building by the city prosecutor, the murder of Jessie Michaels remains unsolved after the acquittal of Dr. Rafe Marino, the victim’s thirty-one-year-old boyfriend. Michaels was found dead in her home on July 14 of last year, stabbed multiple times with a bowie knife in the face and chest, rendering her unrecognizable. The crime shocked Naples with its ferocity and led to an unprecedented manhunt before the prosecution turned its attention to the forty-six-year-old victim’s significantly younger boyfriend.
    Sara Michaels tossed the newspaper aside without finishing the article. She’d read enough. Knew this story inside and out. It was the reason she was leaving Florida. And while she had told all of her friends and her coworkers that going to New Orleans was a temporary move, in her heart she questioned if she would ever have the strength to return.
    She’d sold this house, which thankfully had been bought in the eighties, before the real estate boom in Florida. So despite the sluggish current housing market, and the fact that her mother had been murdered in the master bedroom, she had still been able to sell it for a substantial profit. Money she needed, a nest egg she was grateful for, at the same time she despised that it had come to her at the expense of losing her mother. Glancing around, Sara ran her eyes over the tired beige carpet, the wicker furniture her mother had loved so much, the excessive plants and dried floral arrangements that crowded shelves and walls. She had already taken anything she personally cared about, and anything of real value. Her friend Jocelyn was going to dispose of what she’d left behind before the new owners took possession in two weeks.
    Sara hadn’t been able to wait. She had to get out. Now.
    Sliding her purse strap back up her arm, she took a deep breath, fought the growing sense of panic and hysteria. Tried to drive back the need to run, not walk, away from Naples, her life, her mother’s murder, and painful memories. She was leaving, fleeing to New Orleans really, but she could kid herself that it was logical to seek answers there. That emotion played the smaller factor in her decision.
    Yet she knew she was lying to herself, and they had told her in rehab that it was a pattern she needed to break if she intended to live a clean life, free from the grip of painkillers and tranquilizers.
    She wanted that fresh start. Now.
    Heading toward the front door, Sara reached back and grabbed the newspaper off the sofa, folding it up into thirds. Better not leave that lying around for Jocelyn or anyone else to see. That article sitting in this house revealed too much about her and her fragile state of mind.
    And the one big lie she told everyone else, but