Silent Fall

couldn’t count on him to save her.
    Well, she’d wanted to get out of her dreams and into the real world, and she’d gotten her wish. But there had to be a way to use her visions to help herself. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine where they were going, what would happen next.
    The car stopped for a minute. She held her breath. Had they arrived? A moment later the car started moving again. They’d either been at a traffic light or a stop sign. Had they passed either on their way to the house from the ferry? She couldn’t remember.
    Panic began to set in despite her best effort to remain calm. She pushed it back. She couldn’t let the fear overwhelm her or she’d have no chance of surviving. The car sped up as if they were leaving a more populated area, getting out on the open road. They were going faster now. The person driving knew exactly where he was headed.
    A few moments later the car swerved to the right, then to the left in a series of sharp turns. They were on a winding road, noticeably climbing. She could hear the intense whine of the motor, feel the upward tilt. There was a huge mountain on the island. Was that where they were now? And what was going to happen at the end of the trip?
    Helplessness engulfed her as she considered the possibilities. Her mind created every possible worst-case scenario. The man might open the trunk and shoot her in the head before she could move. He could wrap her body in the sheet she appeared to be lying on and dump her over the side of the mountain into the water below. She could die without anyone knowing.
    "Dylan," she whispered. "You have to find me. I don’t think I can do this by myself."
    His confident voice came into her head: I’m coming. Don’t give up. Just get me there.
    Get him there? How could she do that?
    And then she realized the power she’d always had: the power to enter other people’s minds. She’d never tried to use it. She’d always let it use her. She’d been afraid to go into the evil, afraid she’d lose herself there and never come out. But she’d have to take that chance.
    Closing her eyes again, she drew in a deep breath. She’d been in the killer’s mind before. She just had to get back there. Opening her heart and her mind, she listened....
    This was a stupid-ass way to kill someone. A nice clean shot to the head and he could be having lunch by now. She’d be dead, and so would her pal. But, no, he had to play out some ridiculous scenario with so many possibilities for failure. He didn’t like it. He’d stayed alive and free this long by following his own instincts. But he needed the cash owed to him, so he’d do what he’d been told -- exactly as he’d been told.
    He pressed down on the gas, and the car shot forward. The turnout was just ahead. So was the rest... the small cottage, the bird feeder on the front deck, the stone chimney, the sweeping vista of the water. It had to happen there, he’d been told, so that was where it would happen.
    It wasn’t a bad place to die. She was lucky. Well, not that lucky, he thought with a laugh.
    * * *
    Dylan saw an image in his head. A hummingbird danced around a bird feeder that hung on the front porch of a cottage clinging to a cliff on the sea’s edge. He saw a stone chimney, a path leading to the water, a long, rickety pier.
    His eyes flew open and he started the car. He’d been to that place with his mother many times. They’d gone to visit someone -- a man. His breath caught in his throat. Was the man his father? Was he being drawn to the place where it had all begun?
    It made sense that there was a method to the madness. The plan had been so well orchestrated up until this point. Why would it change now?
    But wasn’t he just continuing to march to the beat of someone else’s drum? He could be walking into a trap. They could be waiting for him. In fact, he’d bet they were waiting for him. He had to be smarter.
    Driving down the road, he searched desperately for signposts, memories from his long-ago past. How on earth was he going to find that house on this big island?
    Think , he ordered himself. Make something happen .
    There was a hill that led to the cottage. That narrowed it down. He saw the mountain rising before him like a beacon calling him home. He heard Catherine’s voice telling him to turn one way, then the other. Somehow he would find