Silent Fall

Catherine. It’s always been about our fathers and our mothers, and the odd parallels between our lives. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I’m beginning to see that life isn’t just about facts. It’s not black and white. It’s filled with a million shades of gray and things that don’t make sense."
    She knew it had taken a lot for Dylan to realize that he didn’t have all the answers and that he wasn’t in complete control of his life or his destiny. But he was starting to accept his emotions and have faith in what he didn’t understand.
    For a moment they just sat on the pebbled beach, staring out at the water. She didn’t know if Dylan was searching for signs of her father, but she certainly was. He would have had to swim a long way to get out of sight, to be able to come to shore without their seeing him, but it wasn’t impossible. Maybe she was the one who needed faith.
    "We should go," Dylan said. "But before we leave the island, before we go back to face my father, I want to see if I can find anyone here who can tell me exactly how my mother drowned. Maybe one of the neighbors will know. Some of the people who live on the island have been here for years."
    "All right," she agreed. She got to her feet and ran her hands through her wet hair. Her clothes were still dripping, and she leaned over to wring out the edges of her shirt and pants. She retrieved her shoes and sweater from the deck, standing there for a moment to take another sweeping perusal of the area. She drew in a breath and tried to be really quiet. She didn’t want to reconnect with her father, but she had to see if she could get to him one last time. Her mind could call up his image. She could see him wrestling with Dylan, falling into the water, but there was nothing else. She couldn’t feel him inside of her. Maybe he really was gone.
    * * *
    Dylan shifted in his seat, his soaked jeans sticking uncomfortably to his legs, but being wet was the least of his worries. Despite his confident proclamation that Catherine’s father was dead, he wasn’t absolutely sure. Nor was he willing to let down his guard in any other way. They’d escaped one bad guy; who knew how many more were waiting in the wings? If there was anything he knew about Richard Sanders, it was that the old man got what he wanted, and he never gave up. But Richard had probably never expected the pro he’d hired to fail. They were both supposed to die on this island, far, far away from Richard’s life.
    Still, if Richard had wanted to distance himself from the crime, why hadn’t he sent them somewhere else, steered them in another direction? Why send them back to a house that he owned? Frowning, Dylan knew something wasn’t adding up, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
    Hell, maybe the plan had been to kill Catherine and frame Dylan once again. Perhaps he’d never been meant to die, just to be held responsible for the deaths of a bunch of innocent people. It was a sick thought, but his father had to be unbalanced to have lived the lies he’d lived for twenty-plus years.
    Not his father, he reminded himself. Richard Sanders was not his father. His ugly, nasty genes did not run through this body. Thank God for that.
    Glancing over at Catherine, he realized she was still feeling on edge, because her father -- her ugly, nasty father -- had tried to kill her. It was amazing that the shooter had turned out to be her father -- or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe, as Catherine said, the universe had thrown them together for a reason. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t imagine how she’d felt facing the man who’d killed her mother. But she certainly hadn’t shown fear. When he’d come down the path she’d been standing strong and tall. She hadn’t wavered in front of her father. She’d faced him head-on. Dylan was more than a little proud of her. It had to have taken every last ounce of courage she possessed to look her monster in the eye.
    Besides being proud, he was also more than a little grateful to her for saving his ass. If she hadn’t jumped in the water, pulled him out of Puget Sound, and given him mouth-to-mouth, he’d be swimming with the fishes right now -- or worse yet, with her insane father.
    They made a good team. It was going to be hard to say good-bye to her.
    Why should you say good-bye ? A voice inside his head asked. Because