Silent Fall

that he realized she’d witnessed his conversation, he seemed discomfited by her presence. He probably preferred to keep his hateful attitude toward his son a secret.
    "Would you like a drink, some coffee?" Rachel asked. "Where on earth is Mrs. Rogers? I’m surprised she didn’t offer you anything."
    "We’re fine," Dylan bit out.
    "They’re just leaving," Richard added.
    "In a minute," Dylan countered. "You want me out of your business, then stay out of mine," he said to his father.
    "I don’t give a damn about anything that concerns you. Why would I? You were a terrible son, a huge disappointment. Nothing has changed."
    Catherine felt her hands clenching into fists as she was assailed with the urge to punch Richard Sanders right in his stuck-up face. "Dylan is not a disappointment," she interjected. "He’s an incredible man, and you’re lucky to have him as a son. If you don’t know that, you’re a fool."
    Richard spluttered with shock, his face turning red. "How dare you --"
    "I dare because this is a good man, and you should see him for who he is."
    "So now you’ve brought a woman to fight your battles for you," Richard said with a sneer in Dylan’s direction. "How very impressive."
    "At least I have a woman who’s willing to stand by me. My mother walked out on you."
    "She didn’t walk out. I threw her out."
    "That’s not what you said before," Dylan countered.
    "It’s what happened."
    "Why?" Dylan asked. "Why would you throw her out?"
    "That’s my business," Richard retorted. "And it was over a long time ago. Now, we’re done. Get out."
    "I will find out what happened to my mother. Hell, I may even find her and ask her myself," Dylan said. "But first I’m going to figure out how you’re connected to Erica Layton and Senator Ravino. If you’re involved in Erica’s disappearance, you’d better get yourself a lawyer."
    "You’re the one who will need a lawyer if you come back here, Dylan. As far as I’m concerned, I no longer have two sons. I only have one."
    Dylan uttered a harsh, bitter laugh. "Actually, you don’t have any. Jake doesn’t care about you. He didn’t invite you to his wedding. Did you notice that?"
    "He invited me. I chose not to come," Richard said. "But you and I -- we’re through. You’re an adult. Live your life and stay out of mine."
    Richard turned on his heel and walked down the hall. A moment later a door shut.
    "I’m sorry. He’s been a little tense lately," Rachel said nervously, darting a quick look after Richard. "I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said. He’s always talking about how proud he is of his sons."
    "Son, maybe," Dylan said. "Why has he been so stressed? What’s going on with him?"
    "Some problem at work, I guess. He didn’t say, but he hasn’t been sleeping well."
    Catherine wondered if Richard’s insomnia had something to do with framing his son for murder.
    "Who’s the woman you were asking Richard about?" Rachel inquired.
    "Erica Layton. Has Richard ever mentioned her?"
    Rachel shook her head. "I don’t think so. You’d better go before he comes back out here."
    "I’ll go," Dylan agreed. "You should consider leaving, too. He’s not a good man. Sooner or later he’ll show you his true colors."
    Dylan let his words sink in, then opened the front door and motioned for Catherine to precede him. She muttered a quick good-bye to Rachel and left the house. She could feel Dylan’s tension as they walked to the car. She knew he was putting on a front, and he had to be hurting inside. He’d just never admit it.
    When they reached the car she gazed back at the house and saw a curtain flutter in a downstairs window. Someone had been watching them leave -- Rachel or Dylan’s father? Was Richard Sanders as innocent, as uninvolved as he claimed? Or was the recent stress he’d been suffering due to an elaborate plan to get his son out of his life once and for all?
    "Are you okay?" Catherine asked. "Maybe I should drive."
    "I’m fine. The last thing I want to do is sit in the passenger seat and twiddle my thumbs."
    "You could play with the radio," she said lightly.
    Dylan didn’t crack a smile, just got behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. She took the passenger seat, flipping the locks down once they were inside. Despite his desire to drive, he made no move to start the car.
    "I