Silent Fall

beyond that, Dylan. I’m in. I’m all the way in." She looked directly into his eyes. "I know Erica is alive, and you didn’t kill her. I won’t stand by and let an innocent man go to jail."
    "I hope you don’t regret that decision," Dylan said.
    "Me, too."

Chapter Eight

    Dylan’s apartment was on the second floor of a three-story building in the Marina, just a few blocks from the Palace of Fine Arts. When they arrived they found his door wide-open. It appeared that the lock had been broken.
    "You’d better wait here," Dylan said, his voice grim. "There could be someone inside."
    "There’s no one there," Catherine told him, certain as she said the words. "They’re gone."
    Dylan shot her a quick look. "Well, just to be sure, I’ll go first."
    She didn’t bother to argue. Dylan had to trust his own instincts as well as hers. Despite his suggestion that she wait, she followed him inside. She was curious to see where he lived, if his home fit him. Her first impression was of a masculine yet warm space. In the living room were two soft brown leather couches, a matching reclining chair, and a big-screen plasma TV that took up most of the wall over the fireplace. Against the window was a desk holding a computer as well as a pile of newspapers and a stack of file folders. Dylan obviously brought his work home with him. On the walls were photographs of the city, many of which she suspected had been taken by Sarah. Sarah had also sent her some of her photographs. She was apparently thinking of making her longtime hobby a business.
    As Catherine moved around the room she noted the details. The apartment was comfortably messy: an empty cup on the coffee table, a basketball on the floor, a sweatshirt slung over the back of a stool by the kitchen counter. She liked the feel of Dylan’s home. It was casual, unpretentious, yet he had all the latest high-tech gadgets. It suited him. And nowhere did she see any sign of a woman’s influence. That wasn’t surprising. He was a private man, and he liked to control his environment.
    It was probably easier to leave if he went home with a woman rather than inviting her here. Not that she needed to be wondering about that part of Dylan’s personal life. It was certainly none of her business where he spent his nights, and in whose bed. But, of course, she wondered anyway, because she was ridiculously attracted to the man, and she knew he was not for her. He would rock her entire world, and then he’d go, and she was so tired of saying good-bye to people, especially to someone she wouldn’t be able to forget. Dylan definitely fell into that category.
    Focus on Erica, she told herself, watching as Dylan disappeared into his bedroom. She needed to try to connect with Erica. The woman had been here in this room. So why couldn’t Catherine feel her presence?
    It had to be that her mind was too cluttered. Her senses were much too aware of Dylan. She was having trouble letting anything else into her head. She took a deep breath, searching for some tiny hint of perfume lingering in the air, something that would link her to Erica, but nothing clicked.
    After a moment she entered Dylan’s bedroom, knowing it was probably not the best move but compelled to see where he slept. His king-size bed was unmade, the blankets tossed toward the foot of the bed, but while there were two pillows, only one showed the imprint of a head. Dylan had slept alone the last night he was here. She found that fact strangely comforting.
    Dylan shut the window and locked it. "I never leave this window open. I’m going to check the living room again, see if Erica left any clue behind."
    Catherine stared at the window for a moment, trying to picture someone climbing out or in, but again her brain refused to cooperate, and her gaze drifted back to the bed. As she focused on the light blue sheets and the soft pillows her pulse quickened, and she was suddenly afraid that the connection she’d been searching for was going to happen now. She knew Dylan and Erica had spent the night together six weeks ago. Had their one-night stand taken place here? The last thing she wanted was to follow Erica into Dylan’s bed. She could not stand the idea that she might envision them having sex together. But as much as she wanted to leave the room, she couldn’t force herself to move or even gaze away from the bed.
    In her mind she could see Dylan sitting