Silent Fall

her.
    I’m coming, Catherine. Hang on .
    * * *
    The car stopped. The trunk opened a moment later. Catherine blinked, momentarily blinded by the sunlight. She couldn’t see much beyond the hand that grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the trunk. She hit the ground, landing on her knees. He hauled her to her feet, his grip tight on the arm he pulled behind her back, facing her away from him.
    She strained to see him, but he was standing behind her now, one hand on her arm, the other on the back of her head. She could feel the size and power of him. He was tall, broad, strong, and there was a hint of whiskey on his breath.
    "Move," he said, shoving her forward toward a path that went off to the side of a house.
    It was the house she’d seen in her head, or his... .
    This was the place where he was going to kill her. She stumbled, trying to slow down the inevitable, but he pushed her along.
    "I’ll shoot you right here if you don’t keep going," he growled, his voice low and hard next to her ear.
    She recoiled at the sound of that voice, so loud, so intense. Pain shot through her as he gave her arm another vicious twist. At the end of the path they reached the pier. It extended out over the water a good dozen or so feet. It was old, the boards showing signs of weather and age. She tried to look around, to seek help from a neighbor, but there was no other house, no other person anywhere in sight.
    She was alone with a killer.
    He shoved her onto the pier, taking her right up to the edge. The water was ten feet below, the waves lapping at the columns that supported the dock. It was cold, windy. Her hair blew across her face. She reached up with her free hand to push it back.
    "Just tell me why," she said. "Tell me who you’re working for. If I’m going to die, I deserve to know who wants me dead."
    "Stalling. Women always like to stall," he said.
    Something caught in her chest. His voice again -- it was so familiar. She’d heard it in her head, but had she also heard it somewhere else, somewhere real? She itched to see his face.
    "Just tell me, what’s it to you?" she asked. "You’re working for someone else. You don’t have to protect their secret. I’ll be dead, right? What does it matter what I know?"
    Squawking birds flew by, two of them diving into the water. In the sudden commotion he eased his grip on her arm.
    Catherine yanked herself away, turning around, facing him head-on.
    Her heart thudded to a stop. She couldn’t breathe.
    It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him.
    He stared back at her. He was now pointing a gun at her head. But as he looked at her something in his eyes, his dark eyes, fluttered and caught. He knew her, too.
    The moment she’d been dreading her entire life had finally arrived. He’d come back to kill her.
    "You," she whispered. "Is it you? Are you my father?"
    "Catherine?" His voice revealed his shock. He hadn’t known. Why hadn’t he known? "No." He shook his head. His hand wavered slightly, but still he didn’t lower the gun. Her back was to the water. He stood between her and the only way off the pier. There was nowhere to run. So she wouldn’t try. Instead she would take her moment of truth.
    "You killed her, didn’t you? You killed my mother and you tried to kill me."
    He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She saw the answer in his eyes.
    The images from the past suddenly rushed back into her head.
    They were fighting, screaming terrible things at each other. He called her mother a witch and a whore. He told her that she was crazy, that the devil was inside her.
    Â  She said he was the devil, the one filled with evil. He took out the large kitchen knife. She put up her hands, terror on her face.
    "No," she screamed. "Don’t do it."
    The knife plunged into her chest. Blood spurted everywhere. She stared at him in shock. "Die, demons, die," he cried over and over and over again.
    Catherine ran. She knocked into the door on her way out. She heard him call her name. She had to hide before he killed her, too.
    "You killed my mother," she said again, facing him now with more anger than fear. "She saw you for what you were, and you couldn’t stand that."
    "You’re just like her, aren’t you?" he said with a sneer. "I knew you were out there somewhere. I should have gotten rid of you before this."
    "How can you talk about me like I’m nothing to you? I’m your child. Your