Silent Fall

don’t know for sure that it was Erica who died. The idea that someone could have really killed her boggles my mind."
    "Because up until now you thought it was just a sick game. But it’s real."
    Catherine was on the money again. The setup, the frame, had seemed like an elaborate hoax, not the foreshadowing of an actual murder. He’d been worried about going to jail, but now he had to wonder if he would get out of this alive -- if either of them would. His gaze drifted back to Catherine. He never should have involved her. He’d had no idea what kind of danger he was dragging her into.
    Catherine set down her bagel, her eyes darkening with emotion. "Don’t worry about me."
    "I can’t help it. Erica is... dead." He finally forced himself to say the word. "We could be next."
    "Or whoever is behind this wants you to be charged with a real murder. Maybe they didn’t think the circumstantial evidence would be enough. And if that’s the case, I suspect that something related to you was left in the park to make sure you can be tied to the crime."
    He suspected Catherine was right. But the motivation was what bothered him. "You really think someone just wants me to go to jail? I don’t know. Why wouldn’t they kill me? They’ve already killed Erica."
    "If they want you to suffer, jail would be worse than death. It would last longer."
    "You should go home, back to San Luis Obispo, or stay with some friends."
    "I’d spend the whole time worrying about you, and being tormented by nightmares. I’m sticking with you, Dylan."
    "It’s too dangerous. You need to get out."
    "But I’m the conduit. I’m the one who’s getting the visions. I know I haven’t been very helpful so far, but maybe that will change."
    "You might not have the visions anymore. If Erica is gone, then the connection with her is broken."
    Catherine considered that for a moment. "I think the connection is with you. That’s why I first started getting the dreams after I met you. And besides you, I seem to have a link with the killer. So maybe I’ll be able to see him coming at some point. I guess we’ll have to wait and see." She paused, tipping her head toward the TV. "Hey, there’s the news break."
    Dylan pumped up the volume as the weekend news anchor, Blake Howard, forecast the upcoming stories: the latest developments in the Middle East, the details on a murder in Golden Gate Park, and the newest drug to prevent hair loss. "Shit. No name given." Dylan wasn’t really surprised. It was early yet, and the police liked to wait until next of kin had been notified.
    "At least we know we didn’t imagine it," Catherine said.
    "I wish we had."
    "So, do you know that guy -- the one on TV?"
    "Blake Howard? Unfortunately, yes."
    "Why do you say it like that?"
    "Howard is a pretty boy and an idiot. He’s a talking head; that’s it."
    "Tell me what you really think," she said with a smile.
    "Hey, you asked."
    "Are you jealous of him?"
    He snorted at the ridiculous question. "Hardly."
    "Don’t all news reporters want to sit at the anchor desk? Isn’t that your goal?"
    He hesitated at the simple question. At one time he would have said yes, but now he wasn’t so sure. He’d spent the last ten years chasing one promotion after another, his eye on that top prize, but he hadn’t considered exactly how he’d feel about desk duty until recently. "It’s certainly the money spot," he conceded. "Actually, Blake is at the lower end of the anchors. What everyone really wants is the five o’clock in the evening weekday newscast at the local station, or the six thirty news for one of the big networks. But I’m afraid I’d get bored waiting for the news to come to me. I like the freedom of chasing down a story, investigating the details, getting out on the streets, talking to the people who are directly affected. I don’t know if I want to give that up yet. Plus, I’d have to cut my hair, wear a suit, and suck up to the bosses, and that’s not really why I got into the news."
    Catherine smiled back at him with complete understanding. "You’re a little too rebellious for the anchor desk, huh?"
    "I tend to piss people off. I like to get right in their faces and shake ’em up."
    "I’ve noticed," she said dryly.
    "Hey, you’ve done the same to me," he returned. "You’ve gotten into my head. And I can’t shake you