Silent Fall

given me that disc. They wanted me to see that Ravino and my father knew each other." Dylan stopped at a red light, hitting the steering wheel in frustration. "What makes me crazy is wondering whether going to my father is exactly what they want. I feel like a puppet. Someone else is pulling the strings, and I just keep dancing to their tune."
    "That’s a good point. Maybe we shouldn’t show up on your father’s doorstep."
    "I have to. I need to know one way or the other if my father is the puppet master. You’d better come in with me. I might need a witness -- or someone to stop me from killing him."
    "I’m more worried about someone trying to kill you. Erica is dead, Dylan. You could be next on the list. And if your father hates you..."
    "That’s why I want to take him by surprise. He’s not going to shoot me in his own home. Not with his girlfriend around, or his housekeeper."
    "I hope you’re right."
    Dylan turned off the busy commercial streets, driving through a neighborhood of tall, stately homes and mansions. He pulled up in front of a two-story Mediterranean-style villa with an ornate iron fence surrounding the property. He’d often felt like a prisoner behind that fence, and it took everything he had to park the car and turn off the engine. He’d been there only once in the past few years, and the last time was to swipe his father’s Metro Club card. He’d deliberately gone at a time when his father would be at work. The housekeeper, Mrs. Rogers, who’d always had a soft spot for him, had let him in on the pretense that he wanted to get some old photos of Jake and himself for the wedding.
    His father had probably figured out by now that he’d used his membership to get into the club, and it was possible Mrs. Rogers wouldn’t let him in the door. But he had to try. He had to confront his father. And he gave himself a mental kick in the ass for even hesitating. There was nothing Richard Sanders could do to hurt him now. They were both grown men. His father no longer had a physical advantage.
    "Beautiful houses often hide ugly secrets, don’t they?" Catherine murmured.
    "Yes, they do. I want to do this, but..."
    "I know," she said, an understanding gleam in her eye. "It won’t be easy. But you’re good at the tough stuff, Dylan. You can do it."
    "I don’t suppose you have any insight as to what will happen inside?"
    "Sorry. I guess we’ll both find out at the same time."
    "Which is now," he said decisively. "Let’s go before I change my mind."
    * * *
    "I’ve never been very good at meeting the parents," Catherine said as they got out of the car and paused on the sidewalk. "I never know what to say, how to impress them. And what I do say usually comes out wrong and stupid, and I embarrass myself."
    "This isn’t that kind of meeting, Catherine."
    "Are you good at meeting the parents?"
    "I don’t meet parents. In fact, I don’t usually ask if the woman I’m with has parents."
    "Really? That’s the first question I ask a guy. I guess I always thought one day I’d meet a man with a wonderful family, and they’d become my family, and everything would be good again." She cast him a curious look. "You never thought that way? Never wanted to replace your bad experience with a positive one?"
    "Too big a risk that the next experience would turn out just as bad." Dylan started down the path, moving more quickly with each step. She sensed he was gathering strength for the confrontation ahead.
    Dylan rang the bell, which pealed loudly through the house. A moment later an older woman opened the front door. She wore black slacks and a white button-down blouse, and her hair was sprinkled with gray. Her dark eyes filled with surprise when she saw Dylan. "Oh, my goodness. What are you doing here?"
    "Hello, Mrs. Rogers," Dylan said. "Is my father home?"
    "Yes, but he won’t want to see you. You have to go." The woman cast a quick look over her shoulder. "He’s still upset that you snuck in here a few weeks ago and used his membership card for the Metro Club. He almost fired me for letting you in. I need this job, Dylan. I’m too old to get another one. And your father, for all his faults, pays me well."
    "Don’t worry. I’ll tell him you tried to keep me out." Dylan pushed past the housekeeper. "Where is he? In the den?"
    Catherine followed Dylan into the entryway, offering the housekeeper an