Silent Fall

the truth.
    The nearby elevator opened with the ring of a bell. Dylan was surprised to see Catherine step out. She wore a pair of blue jeans and an oversize cream-colored sweater. Her reddish blond hair was swept back in a loose ponytail. She stopped abruptly when she saw the police officer, her expression a mix of relief and wariness.
    "Mr. Sanders?" Detective Richardson prodded. "I’m going to need you to answer my questions. Where did you go after Ms. Layton left?"
    "Nowhere."
    "Excuse me?"
    "I have to back up," Dylan said, realizing he needed to explain what had happened.
    "All right." The detective folded his arms across his chest as he waited for Dylan to continue.
    Dylan looked away from Catherine. He needed to focus on one problematic woman at a time. "Erica approached me in the bar. As I said, we’d worked together on a story a few months ago. I was surprised to see her at my brother’s wedding, because we haven’t had any contact in weeks. She handed me a glass of champagne and told me she needed to talk to me, but she didn’t want to do it in the bar because it was too loud and too public, so we took a walk along the path that runs in front of the lodge. After a few minutes I started feeling ill, dizzy, as if I were drunk or drugged. But Erica kept walking, leading me deeper into the woods. I became disoriented. I didn’t know how far we’d gone. I stumbled, and that’s the last thing I remember until I woke up about fifteen minutes ago, and I came straight back here. I believe Erica slipped something into my drink."
    "Hold on. You’re saying that Ms. Layton drugged you? Why would she do that?" the detective asked, tilting his head to one side, his brown eyes sharp and thoughtful. "I thought you were friends."
    "I thought we were, too. I don’t know why she would drug me. I vaguely recall her saying something to me about not having a choice, but the rest is a blur."
    "That’s quite a story," the detective said skeptically.
    "It’s the truth. That’s what happened."
    "So Ms. Layton was angry with you."
    "I don’t think I said she was angry."
    "Didn’t you?" the detective countered. "Why else would she slip something into your drink? That doesn’t sound very friendly to me."
    "She did not appear angry or upset when she approached me in the bar. The only emotion she exhibited was nervousness," he added, remembering how jittery Erica had been.
    "Your relationship wasn’t just business, was it, Mr. Sanders?"
    Dylan licked his lips, feeling as if a noose were being pulled around his neck. He needed time to think, but he doubted the detective would give it to him. "Do I need to get a lawyer?"
    "I don’t know. Do you?"
    "Look, I was drugged. I don’t know what happened to Erica -- if, in fact, anything did happen to her. If you don’t believe me, I’ll get a drug test," he said impulsively. He needed to prove his innocence, and this was the perfect way to do it. "I’ll get one right now."
    "You’d be willing to do that?"
    "Absolutely. I don’t have anything to hide."
    "If you didn’t have something to hide, I doubt you’d be asking for your lawyer," the detective said with a wry twist to his lips. He paused for another second and then nodded. "I’ll send one of our deputies with you to the local hospital. He can set up the tests. Excuse me for a minute."
    Dylan let out a breath as the detective went to confer with the deputy. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing to take a drug test, but he couldn’t think of a better way to prove he had been incapable of hurting anyone. Turning his head, he saw Catherine watching him from across the lobby. He walked over to join her.
    "Are you okay?" she asked with concern. "You have dirt in your hair, and you look like you’ve been up all night."
    He ran his fingers through his hair, creating a shower of needles on the carpet. "Obviously I’m not all right. What do you know about Erica?"
    "Was she the woman at the bar?"
    "Don’t play dumb, Catherine. You know something is going on. That’s why you’re down here. And you predicted Erica’s arrival, remember?"
    "Of course I remember. I never forget my visions," she said, her blue gaze meeting his. "I knew her face, but I didn’t know her name."
    "Didn’t you?" he challenged. "You said we were all connected. Why do I get the feeling you’re setting me up?"
    "Why would I do