Silent Fall

shoulders. She didn’t look pregnant, but if she was, he might as well face it head-on.
    "All right, talk," he ordered, never one to shy away from a problem. Whatever it was, he’d deal with it.
    Erica hesitated, her gaze darting around the room. "Not here. It’s too crowded. Take a walk with me."
    He didn’t want to go anywhere with her, but he also didn’t want to have a private conversation in a public place. Nor did he want to worry his brother or upset the wedding reception by getting into what could be a volatile conversation with Erica. She wasn’t exactly the calmest, most reasonable woman he’d ever met. Even now her fingers tapped nervously on the top of the bar, and she kept glancing around as if she were afraid someone was watching her, watching them.
    Maybe he was off base. Maybe this wasn’t personal. Erica had a way of getting herself into trouble without really trying. He’d learned that about her when she’d helped him link a state senator to murder. He owed her for that. The least he could do was listen to her now.
    "Does this have to do with Senator Ravino?" he asked, lowering his voice.
    She licked her lips. "Of course not. He’s in jail, awaiting trial."
    "I know, and you helped me and the police put him there. Has he tried to contact you? Are you feeling threatened in some way?"
    "The police say I’m in no danger, but I know the senator better than anyone. He has a lot of connections outside prison."
    "What do you need from me?"
    "I need to talk to you," she said, sounding desperate. She slid off her stool. "Are you coming?"
    "All right." He finished the rest of the champagne and stood up.
    "There’s a path we can take," Erica said as they walked out of the bar and through the lobby of the lodge. "It winds along the mountain, and there’s a spectacular view of the lake."
    "How do you know that?"
    "I got here earlier. I had a chance to explore." She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher and then led him out a side door.
    Nestled in the High Sierras and surrounded by tall ponderosa pines, the Woodlake Mountain Lodge was perched on a steep hillside overlooking the glistening waters of Lake Tahoe. Adjoining the main building of the lodge were a dozen small, rustic cabins.
    "That’s my cabin over there." Erica pointed to a nearby building. "I didn’t want to drive down the mountain after dark, so I got a room. Are you in the main lodge?"
    "Yes. Why did you come here, Erica? You could have contacted me in San Francisco. You know where I live." It didn’t make sense to him that she would have come all the way to Tahoe to talk to him.
    "Let’s go this way," she said, taking a path to the right. "I knew I would have to surprise you, or you’d find an excuse to avoid me."
    "You should have waited until after my brother’s wedding. This is a big day for him."
    "You don’t care about weddings, Dylan."
    "When they involve my brother, I do."
    She rolled her eyes. "Right," she said, a cynical note in her voice.
    Dylan stopped abruptly, losing patience. "Look, whatever you have to say, just say it. It’s getting dark, and I don’t feel like getting lost in the woods with you."
    "Let’s walk to the end of the path. There’s a bench. We can sit." She proceeded without waiting for him to answer.
    The cement walkway was lined with small lights every ten feet or so, but as the path turned into dirt the lights disappeared and dark shadows surrounded them. He tried to call out to Erica to stop, but she was moving at a good clip, and his tongue felt thick in his head. He must have had more to drink than he’d realized.
    Where the hell was the bench Erica wanted to reach? His legs felt strangely fatigued, and the scenery began to spin in front of his eyes. It took everything he had to put one foot in front of the other. What was wrong? A sick, queasy feeling swept through him. He stumbled and almost fell, but he caught himself at the last minute. He put his hand on the trunk of a nearby tree to steady himself.
    "Erica," he mumbled, forcing the word out.
    She turned to stare back at him, but she made no move to come to his side.
    "Help me." He tried to lift his arm, but it was too heavy.
    "This is your fault, Dylan," she said. "I had no choice. I had nowhere else to turn."
    No choice? What was she talking about?
    "It always comes down to every man for himself. You said so yourself, Dylan. Now it’s my turn to