Silent Fall

time you talk to your cop buddy, tell him that there’s another person who has a good reason for wanting Erica dead, and that’s Joseph Ravino. She helped the police put him in prison. He could easily want revenge, not to mention the fact that it would probably weaken the case against him if she weren’t alive to testify about their affair or her conversation with Ravino’s wife. Instead of focusing solely on me, they should work that angle."
    "I’ll pass it along. Unfortunately, Ravino’s being in jail means he couldn’t have personally committed the crime."
    "He didn’t personally kill his wife either. He just made sure the Botox she injected into her face would kill her."
    "Allegedly," Mark said.
    "Well, the one thing I know for sure is that I didn’t kill Erica. That means someone else did."
    "Aside from the senator, do you have any other ideas?"
    Dylan hesitated. "I recently uncovered a link between my father and Ravino. They both socialized at the Metro Club."
    "What are you saying? You think your father is involved?" Mark asked, amazed. "I know you two don’t have a good relationship, but a frame for murder? Your father is an upstanding citizen."
    "On the outside he is, but you don’t know the real man," Dylan said heavily.
    "But murder? Is he capable of that?"
    Dylan didn’t even hesitate. "Absolutely. I’ll be in touch, Mark, and I’ll have my computer, so if you need to get hold of me send me a message."
    Dylan hung up the phone. He couldn’t believe the drug test had come back negative. The noose around his neck was drawing tighter. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be free; he had to make use of every second.
    * * *
    "That’s it," Dylan said as he finished updating Catherine on his conversation.
    "That’s a lot," she replied, worry in her eyes.
    He tipped his head. "Which means I need to find a way out fast. I’ll be in the den."
    "Do you want my help?"
    "No, there’s nothing you can do."
    Catherine wasn’t surprised he declined her offer. Since she’d shared her vision about his mother, Dylan had cooled toward her. He didn’t like that she’d seen that tender moment between him and his mother. It went against the grain. He saw his mother as an evil woman who’d abandoned him, and her vision had poked a hole in his picture. He didn’t want to change his attitude. And he didn’t want her reading his mind. She should have kept her mouth shut.
    Every boyfriend she’d ever had she’d eventually scared away. She’d tried to keep her visions to herself. She’d tried to act normal, like everyone else, but then came the moment when she inadvertently revealed something that was uncomfortable or disturbing. Dylan probably wanted to send her packing. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he made the suggestion -- but she wasn’t going to leave. Whether he believed she could help him or not, she knew she was supposed to be here. And she wasn’t going to run from the fear, not anymore. If Dylan could face his problems head-on, then so could she.
    With Dylan holed up in the den, she decided to explore his grandmother’s house. If she could find any clues to the relationship between Dylan’s parents, it might help her understand the family dynamics.
    Starting in the kitchen she went through every drawer, trying to open her heart and her brain to the vibrations and the memories. Dylan’s grandmother’s spirit was still within these walls, a woman who had ties to everyone in the family. Even though she’d never admitted to Dylan that she’d known of her son’s abusive attitude toward his grandson, perhaps she had. Perhaps somewhere in this house that knowledge would be evident.
    Catherine made her way through each room, eventually ending up once again in the master bedroom. It was the one place in the house that called to her more than any other. She took out the photo album she’d discovered the night before and went through the pictures again, settling on the wedding photograph. Now that she’d seen Dylan’s father in person she had a better reference for the differences and similarities between the man in the photograph from thirty-something years ago and the man she’d seen today.
    Richard Sanders had his arms around his bride. He looked like someone in love, as did his wife. Dylan’s mother was slender and petite, with golden