Silent Fall Read Free Page A

but in the abstract images she thought she could see a face haunted by fear, dark eyes filled with terror, a mouth pleading for help. And deep down she believed she was supposed to help, but she didn’t know how.
    Sitting on the edge of the bed, she let out a sigh as she studied her picture from afar. Calmer now, she tried to analyze what she’d done, the way she did every night, but the turmoil in her brain was as confusing as always.
    She’d been six years old when her life had changed forever, when her reality had become a nightmare, when the bad dreams had begun. The police had wanted to know exactly what she’d seen that night, but she couldn’t tell them. A therapist had given her paper and crayons and told her to draw, so she’d drawn, but the images hadn’t made any sense then, nor did they now. And since that day she hadn’t been able to stop drawing. Art had become her refuge, her passion, and her way of making a living. If she couldn’t paint, she didn’t think she could live.
    During the daylight hours she could draw beautiful pictures, landscapes, flowers, happy people -- but at night, after the dreams came, her paintings became monstrosities as she was driven to put brush to canvas in a desperate effort to free herself from the endless nightmares.
    She’d tried changing her environment, but that hadn’t worked. As a child she’d lived in eight different foster homes, and the nightmares had always found her. As an adult she’d tried three different cities and rented more than a few apartments before settling into her current beach cottage, but the dreams always returned.
    Of course, there were months when she slept undisturbed. She wished for the relief of those dreamless nights. The longest she’d gone without a nightmare was six years. She’d thought they were over. Then they’d returned, and she’d realized she would never be free until she did something....
    She had the sense that she was meant to act in some way -- only then would she be able to escape. But what was she supposed to do? She didn’t know. Nor did she recognize the abstract faces of the people she painted. They called out to her, but she couldn’t answer, because she didn’t know who they were.
    Although tonight she couldn’t help wondering if the face in her picture belonged to the woman who’d approached Dylan in the bar. There was a faint resemblance, wasn’t there? Maybe she was just imagining it. Or perhaps she’d painted the woman’s face because she’d seen her in her head, when she’d had a brief glimpse into Dylan’s future -- a future that seemed to include her. Not that she wanted to be included. She had a feeling Dylan was heading for trouble, and the last thing she needed was more trouble in her life.
    Getting up, she walked over to the window and drew back the curtain. Her room was located on the top floor of the three-story lodge and had a direct view of the lake several hundred yards below. The water shimmered in the light of a full moon. The tall pine trees that covered the hillside swayed in the breeze like giant monsters. A shiver ran down her spine. She believed in connections, in fate and destiny. Nothing happened by chance. There was always a purpose. A long-ago childhood psychiatrist had told her that sometimes bad things just happened, and she had to stop looking for reasons, but Catherine hadn’t believed the doctor then, nor did she buy into that philosophy now. Which was why she couldn’t ignore the fact that something was wrong.
    Crossing her arms over her chest, she felt a cold draft through her thin camisole top and silky shorts. She hoped her sense of impending doom didn’t have anything to do with Sarah. Her friend deserved to be happy after everything she had been through the past few years. And Jake and Sarah and their daughter were on their way to Hawaii, to the land of swaying palm