Silent Fall

me," he scolded.
    "You were coming right back."
    "We have to be careful, Catherine. Do I really have to tell you that?"
    "No." In truth, she’d been so caught up in her memories and the desire to get dressed before Dylan returned that she’d forgotten to lock the door after him. But she wouldn’t do it again. He was right: She needed to stay focused. The stakes were getting higher each day, and it wasn’t just Dylan’s life on the line; it was her own.
    Dylan put two sodas down on the dresser and tossed a couple of bags of chips and two candy bars on the bed. "It’s not the most nutritious meal, but if you get hungry you won’t starve. You can pretend the Cheetos are carrots."
    "I don’t have that big an imagination."
    "When did you become a vegetarian?"
    "In my early twenties. I got on this food kick for a while. I thought that if I cut out certain kinds of products I could stop my dreams. It didn’t work, but I felt healthier and stronger and more able to deal with the nights, so I just kept it up. However, I do have a weakness for chocolate." She grabbed one of the candy bars and unwrapped it, taking a quick bite of the chocolate-coconut bar. "Mmm, this is one of my favorites."
    "I must have read your mind," Dylan said.
    She smiled at him, appreciating the light tone. Things had gotten too heavy in the past hour, and they both needed a break.
    Dylan sat down in the chair by the table and popped open a can of Coke. He’d barely taken a sip when his cell phone rang. He opened it and read the number. "It’s my station."
    "Don’t answer it."
    "I wasn’t planning to. But it occurs to me that if I’m not going to use the phone I should get rid of it. I kept it before, thinking Erica might call, but that won’t happen now, and I don’t want to risk anyone being able to track us through the phone signal. I’ll do it tomorrow, when we’re on the move again." As he finished speaking the phone started ringing again. "That’s my friend Jeff. I’ll let it go to voice mail; then I’ll turn it off."
    Dylan set the phone down on the table. Thirty seconds later it rang again. He checked the number one more time. Then he glanced at his watch. "I know why everyone is calling. The ten-o’clock news just ended."
    Catherine’s heart skipped a beat. "You think you were on it?"
    "I’m guessing yes." He got up and turned on the television set. He flipped through various channels, but there were only a few to choose from, and none was showing the news. He turned off the television and sat back down at the table.
    "I wish we knew what was said," Catherine murmured.
    Dylan opened up his computer. "I’m glad I brought this along. I can check the Web site for a recap, and if my friends don’t reach me by phone I’m sure they’ll e-mail." A moment later Dylan let out a low whistle. "Twelve messages -- all in the last fifteen minutes."
    "Who are they from?" She moved across the room, peering over his shoulder at his in-box.
    Dylan clicked on the first message. "This is a reply from Rita, Blake Howard’s assistant. I e-mailed her earlier to ask about the Metro Club. Here’s what she said: ‘Yes, Blake belongs to the Metro Club, but I asked him if he’d be willing to sponsor you and he just laughed. Sorry! Maybe you can find someone else. I just heard that the police want to talk to you about the murder in Golden Gate Park last night. What’s going on, Dylan? Are you in trouble?’ "
    "So, Blake is tied to the Metro Club, Ravino, your father, and Erica," Catherine said, with a surge of excitement.
    "Along with a hundred or so other people," Dylan reminded her.
    "Yes, but most of them don’t dislike you. As far as we know, anyway."
    "True. It also appears that the cat is out of the bag about my connection to Erica." Dylan clicked on the next e-mail. "This one is from Julie Bristow; she’s the one you met at the station, the fact-checker: ‘Hey, Dylan, I had forgotten that Erica Layton was your source in the Ravino story. Now I know why you were so interested in her murder. But what’s up with you being named a person of interest? That’s ridiculous. I know you didn’t do it. And I’ll try to help you prove it. What do you need me to do? I have a friend who’s a great PI. I’m sure he’d also be willing to help.’ "
    "Maybe Julie could find out whether Blake Howard and