Silent Fall

sight of her," she said, knowing she had to finish it. Dylan needed to know all of it. "I was in his head, the killer’s head. I felt his satisfaction at the success of his job. I felt his evil run through me." She was afraid to look into Dylan’s eyes, terrified she would see contempt or dislike or revulsion. But he was quiet for so long she finally had to lift her gaze to his. His eyes were thoughtful, speculative, but not condemning. "You don’t believe me, do you?" she asked. "After everything I’ve told you, you still think I’m conning you?" Anger took the place of embarrassment. "How can you think that?"
    "Whoa, slow down. You’re hitting me with way too many things at once."
    She tried to push past him, but his grip on her tightened. "I believe you, okay?"
    "You’re just saying that."
    "I never just say anything," he told her. "You should know that about me by now."
    "And you should know that I don’t lie."
    "I do know that. It’s hard for me to accept your extrasensory abilities, but I’m trying."
    "It doesn’t matter if you accept them or not. I’m the one who has to live with them."
    "You’re not evil," he said.
    "No, I’m just crazy."
    "So am I."
    "Hardly. You’re normal and almost damn perfect."
    "You are rattled if you’re calling me perfect now."
    "I just wish the visions would let me help someone. It’s so frustrating to see people die, and I can’t stop anything from happening. Why can’t I be tuned in to nice people instead of murderers?" As she asked the question, she realized she knew the answer, and before she could hide her expression Dylan’s gaze narrowed.
    "You know, don’t you?" he said. "You said the visions started when you were a little girl, and the only thing I know about that little girl is that at one point she was surrounded by blood and then taken away in a police cruiser."
    "I can’t go there, not now. I need to get some sleep, and so do you. It will be morning in a few hours, and God only knows what’s coming next." She slipped from his embrace.
    "You won’t always be able to run from me, Catherine."
    His words came after her, but she didn’t stop moving until she’d reached the upstairs bedroom. She shut the door and sat down on the bed, trembling from the force of her emotions. Dylan didn’t know it, but by running away she’d just done him a huge favor. She might not be able to protect the people in her visions, but she could protect Dylan. The last thing he needed was to get sucked into her nightmare.
    * * *
    "It’s done. She’s dead," the man said as he kicked his feet onto the coffee table in front of him and leaned back against the couch. He could hear waves crashing on the beach not far from his motel room. The steady beat echoed the now calm thump of his heart. It had been only a short while, but already he missed the adrenaline rush. He could still see her face, her eyes widening with the realization that she was about to die. He wished he could have taken a little longer with her, but she wasn’t a pleasure kill. She was a job -- a job he’d done well. "The police have already found the body," he continued. "It should be on the news tomorrow."
    "It took you long enough."
    "I got the job done. That’s all that matters."
    "Half the job. There’s still more to come."
    Another murder? He wasn’t surprised. The plan had always been fluid. As long as he got paid he didn’t care how many other people died. And he’d always liked San Francisco. Not that he stayed anywhere long. He’d lived in too many towns to count, and had been called by a lot of different names. The man he’d once been had vanished years ago, and he didn’t miss him one bit.
    It bothered him that he was even thinking of that man now. A lifetime had passed since he’d tried to live up to expectations, to fit into a world that wanted to control him. Now he was his own man. He took the jobs he wanted. He called the shots, and he got paid well for what he did.
    "When do you want him to die?" he asked.
    Silence met his question. Finally the answer came. "I want him to suffer more. I want him to be afraid, to realize there is nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. He’s trapped. And soon he will die... like everyone else."
    There was passionate lust in the voice that gave him his next instructions and the name of his victim. Dylan Sanders had made one