Silent Fall

done.
    She wasn’t in Erica’s head anymore. She was in his. She was looking through the eyes of a killer. And she knew he wasn’t done yet.

Chapter Eleven

    "Stop!" Catherine screamed.
    Dylan hit the brake so quickly she would have struck the windshield if she hadn’t been wearing her seat belt.
    "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.
    She tugged off her seat belt, jumped out of the car, and made it to the edge of the bushes before she threw up. A moment later she felt Dylan’s hand on her back as she got rid of the evil, sick taste in her mouth the only way she knew how.
    "Are you all right?" he asked when she was done.
    She wiped her mouth with the edge of her sleeve, more than a little embarrassed. "I’m okay. I wish you hadn’t seen that."
    "I’ve seen worse."
    "We can go now."
    "Catherine --"
    "I just want to get out of here." Maybe if she left the park she could put some distance between herself and him.
    Dylan kept his hand on her shoulder as he walked her back to the car. Within minutes they were exiting the park. Catherine blew out a breath of relief at the sight of storefronts and apartment buildings.
    "I’m sorry about that," she muttered, afraid to look at Dylan. "And utterly humiliated."
    "Don’t be. You were thinking about Erica, weren’t you?"
    She didn’t know how to answer the question. She couldn’t tell him what she’d seen. It was too horrible, and what was worse was how she’d envisioned the scene.
    "I don’t want to believe it’s her," Dylan continued. "If I’d seen her with my own eyes, maybe I could, but right now it just seems impossible. It’s unimaginable that she’s dead."
    "Yeah, I know," she said. But she had seen Erica, and the woman’s image was indelibly imprinted on Catherine’s brain. She didn’t know if she would ever forget Erica’s face. Why hadn’t she been able to find her before her death? Why hadn’t her visions brought her to the park earlier? Catherine felt so angry, so frustrated, so helpless... and so dirty. The stench of evil still lingered in her senses. She’d been in his head. She’d felt his joy. God, he was sick. And maybe so was she.
    She dug her fingernails into her thighs, feeling the sharp sting of pain. She wanted that pain. She wanted to punish herself or him. Someone deserved to hurt. Someone besides Erica.
    Dylan grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. He held on tight until they pulled up in front of his grandmother’s house. Then he finally let go. They made it into the house without incident, but Catherine couldn’t forget the fleeting thought that had run through the killer’s mind -- that it was time to move on to the next target. Was that target Dylan? Was the danger about to come closer?
    He turned on the light in the hall and set the flashlight on the table. Catherine walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. It would be dawn soon, a new day, time to start over -- again. She couldn’t wait to see the sunrise. Maybe everything would be different in the morning. Perhaps she just thought she was awake when in fact she was in the grip of another nightmare.
    But Dylan felt real as he came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her head. "Can I help?" he asked.
    She shook her head, her throat too tight to speak.
    "Let me try." He forced her to turn around, but he didn’t let go of her, his hands sliding to her hips. "I could distract you. I have a couple of ideas."
    The thought was more than a little tempting, but she felt too... dirty. "I need to take a shower."
    "What’s wrong, Catherine?" His sharp gaze bored into hers. "I’m not as good as you are at reading minds, so you’ll have to fill me in."
    "I can’t tell you."
    "Well, now you have to tell me, because I can’t stand secrets."
    She should have known better than to wave that red flag in front of Dylan.
    He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and wished things were simpler between them. "Don’t." She tried to pull away, but he had her trapped between him and the kitchen counter.
    "Then talk."
    "I saw Erica’s body on the ground. The blood from a bullet hole in her forehead dripped down her body. I think he shot her in the heart, too."
    He drew in a quick breath. "You saw that in your mind? No wonder you got sick."
    "It wasn’t just the