Silent Fall

hell of an enemy.
    * * *
    Dylan woke a little after nine thirty in the morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so late, but then again, he’d gotten only about three hours of sleep the night before. He was actually surprised he’d slept at all with so much going through his mind.
    Getting up, he jumped in the shower, reviewing what he needed to get done. First things first -- strong coffee. He needed caffeine, and he needed it badly. After throwing on some clothes, he headed down the block and picked up coffee, tea, bagels, and the morning newspaper. He also called Mark from a pay phone to update him on what was happening. When he returned to the house all was quiet, so he figured Catherine was still asleep.
    He entered the kitchen and turned on the small television set on the counter, eager for his morning news fix. Unfortunately it was just about eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning, and the only news was on the national cable channels. He opened the newspaper, skimming the front-page headlines. There was no report of a murder in Golden Gate Park, which wasn’t surprising, since the paper had probably already gone to press before the police arrived at the scene.
    Damn . He wanted to know if that woman in the park was Erica. He had some friends on the police force whom he often used to get the news, but he was leery of announcing his presence in the city, especially to the cops. However, he might take a risk and call the station. They’d be preparing the story for the evening news.
    He hoped it wasn’t Erica in the park, but he was starting to trust Catherine’s instincts as much as his own, and she was so certain, how could he doubt her? He was lucky Catherine had been with him last night. He could have made a huge mistake by getting out of the car and putting himself at the scene of the crime. He was still kicking himself for acting on instinct instead of thinking things through. He was usually practical, logical, thoughtful -- well, maybe not always. He did have a tendency to act first, think later, but not when the stakes were this high and this personal. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
    He glanced up as Catherine entered the kitchen. His stomach clenched at the sight of her. It had been a long time since he’d had such a powerful reaction to a woman. They’d been together almost every minute of the last two days, but a few hours away from her and he almost felt as if he’d missed her. How stupid was that?
    Frowning, he picked up his coffee, trying not to look at her, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d taken a shower and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a tank top, both of which molded nicely to her curves. Her reddish blond hair was still damp from her shower, the ends curling around her face. Her blue eyes were bright and sparkling, and he appreciated the absence of fear. She’d recovered from the night before. He wished he could say the same about himself.
    "How are you doing?" she asked. "Did you get any sleep?"
    "An hour or two. How about you?"
    "The same. I must admit I’m always relieved to see the sun come up. Is that tea?" she asked, tipping her head toward one of the paper cups on the table.
    "Decaffeinated, some sort of herbal thing."
    Her smile broadened. "Thank you. That was thoughtful."
    "Yeah, well, I didn’t want to hear you complain."
    "When have I complained?"
    "I’m sure you would have."
    "You’re in a grumpy mood."
    "I am not," he snapped, knowing he was taking his restlessness out on her. He had two choices: yell at her or kiss her, and at the moment yelling was probably safer.
    She sat down across from him, took a sip of her tea, and pointed to the newspaper. "Anything about Erica?"
    "No. And there’s no local news on this morning." He checked his watch. "Although there should be a news break coming up at eleven, with the sound bites for what will be on at five. We’ve got about ten minutes."
    She pulled a bagel out of the bag and covered it with cream cheese, then took a bite. "Mmm, good," she muttered as she swallowed. "I’m always starving in the morning All the dreams, probably. I think I burn up more calories when I’m asleep than when I’m awake." She paused, studying his face. "You wish I hadn’t stopped you from barreling into the bushes last night, don’t you?"
    He shook his head. "No, you were right. I’m just frustrated that I