Silent Fall

didn’t mince words. "Don’t tell me you’ve waited for the phone to ring?" He suspected she had too much pride for that.
    "When I was young and stupid," she admitted. "But not anymore."
    "You don’t have a high opinion of men, do you?"
    "Not the ones who have been in my life. I’ve never met one yet who would stick around when things got tough."
    "Maybe you haven’t met the right man."
    "Are you suggesting that would be you?"
    "No," he said quickly, although he had to admit he’d always liked a challenge, and he’d love to prove Catherine wrong. If he wanted to stick, he could. At least, he thought he could. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t know if he had it in him to stay with anyone. Because it wasn’t just the staying part that bothered him; it was all the rest of it -- the emotional investment, the intimacy, the sharing of thoughts and feelings, the constant pressure, the incessant need to make someone happy. Shit ! Who wanted that?
    Shaking the distracting thoughts from his mind, he slipped his key card into the lock and opened the door. His room was not at all as he’d left it, which had been neat and in order. He’d arrived at the hotel the day before only an hour before the wedding ceremony and had used the room simply to change his clothes.
    So who had messed up his bed, tossing around the covers, the blankets, and the pillows? Who had moved his computer out of its case and onto the desk? Who had unzipped his overnight bag and strewn his clothes on the floor? Someone had been in his room. Why? To search for something or to plant evidence?
    "So, are you normally a slob?" Catherine asked.
    "I didn’t leave the room like this. Someone was in here."
    "It appears that way. What were they looking for? Or do you think it was the police who came in here?"
    "Possibly. But the only thing of value is the computer. And it's still here. I’ll have to go through my files, see if anything was opened."
    He repacked his overnight bag, slipped his computer back into its leather travel case, and surveyed the room one last time. Just to be extra careful, he opened all the drawers and the closet and even glanced under the bed, hoping not to find anything of Erica’s in the room. Once he checked out, the room would certainly be searched. Of course, what he couldn’t see were possible fingerprints. "If Erica came in here and touched things, her prints could be all over and would certainly hurt my alibi."
    "Just because she was here wouldn’t prove you were. And the fact that you got a new key from the manager supports the idea that your key was taken."
    "I agree, but I can see how the sheriff might be able to build a circumstantial case against me. Everything that happened last night was plotted out beforehand. Someone took a lot of time and forethought to set me up."
    "Maybe we should wipe down the tables and the doorknobs and other surfaces," Catherine said, striding into the bathroom. She grabbed two towels off the rack and tossed one to him as she reentered the room. "At least we can make sure they don’t find her prints here."
    Dylan nodded. "Good thinking. Have you done this sort of thing before?"
    "Maybe," she said, giving him a cryptic smile. "But that’s not important now, is it?"
    "You’re a very interesting woman. I like a good mystery, you know."
    "Then you must be loving your life right now."
    "I like a good mystery when it doesn’t involve me," he amended. "I’d rather be the detective than the victim or the villain."
    They worked quickly, wiping off all the furniture and doorknobs; then Dylan tossed the towels in the tub and doused them with water -- for what reason he didn’t know, except that it seemed like a good finishing touch. When he returned to the room he picked up the phone by the bed and punched the number for the front desk. "I’m checking out of room three oh four," he said when the clerk answered. "I’ll leave the key in the room." He gave one last look around as he hung up the phone, remembering the one item he had not located. "Erica must have taken my car keys, unless I lost them in the woods. But I did see my car in the lot when we pulled in, so she didn’t take it."
    "How will you get home?"
    "I’ll figure that out later. I guess I’m good to go."
    "My room is just down the hall," she said as she opened the door.
    Catherine’s room was set up the same as his, but her bed