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anything. I'm sorry."
    "Well, thanks anyway."
    "No problem." She walked quickly to the parking lot, feeling the detective's gaze follow her every step. He was suspicious of her—because of her connection to Dylan, possibly, or because he sensed that she'd lied. She would have to be more careful in the future.
    As she got into her yellow VW Bug, she couldn't help wondering again what on earth had happened in that cabin. The detective obviously didn't want to say, but it must have been bad, and possibly loud enough for someone to hear.
    She hoped she wasn't putting her faith in the wrong person. Dylan had to be innocent. She needed to find him, look into his eyes, hold his hand, see the truth in his soul—if he'd let her.
    Although she hadn't spent that much time with him, one thing she knew for sure: Dylan was very private and guarded. He was a man who was used to asking questions, not answering them. She understood that. She had her own emotional walls, walls she had the terrible feeling Dylan could breach—if she let him, but she wasn't about to do that. No one had gotten into her heart in a very long time, and that was the way it was going to stay.
    * * *
    "When will I get the results?" Dylan asked as the lab technician finished taking his blood. He'd already deposited a urine sample, covering all the bases.
    "Tomorrow for some of them, a few days or even longer for the rest. DNA can take weeks, depending on the lab's workload."
    "DNA," he echoed, his heart skipping a beat.
    "That's right," the tech said as she pulled out a cotton-tipped stick. "One last swab."
    "Can't you do the test from the blood?"
    "Yes, but this works just as well, and we don't have to take more blood."
    Damn. Why hadn't he realized that the tests would include DNA? He could have just helped set himself up. He glanced down at his hand. The cut he'd acquired sometime during the night was about an inch long. Had Erica cut him and planted the blood in her cabin? It seemed too devious a plan for someone like her to concoct. She wasn't a rocket scientist. She barely had a high school education. Someone else had to be calling the shots.
    After the tech took the swab, she said, "You're good to go."
    Dylan stood up and grabbed his coat off a nearby chair before heading out the door. He was relieved to have that over with, but he had no idea what to do next, how to go about defending his innocence when it was becoming clear that someone was going to a lot of trouble to make him look guilty of something.
    Catherine was waiting in the hallway. She jumped to her feet, giving him a wary smile. "How's it going?"
    "I'm done. It will take some time to get the results. They should prove I was incapacitated last night, too out of it to do whatever they think I did."
    She nodded. "I hope that's the way it works out."
    He frowned at the doubt in her voice. "You don't sound too confident."
    "I'm sorry. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and I'm confused by everything that's happened."
    "Me, too. Speaking of confused, what the hell happened to you back at the squad car? What were you talking about? Little girl, lots of blood," he reminded her. He'd thought about her comment all the way to the hospital and wondered if it had anything to do with him or with Erica.
    "That wasn't about you," she said quickly. "I'm sorry if you thought it was."
    "So who was the little girl?"
    "It doesn't matter."
    "It was you, right?"
    "Yes. It was a long time ago, but some memories don't go away."
    "What happened?"
    "I don't want to talk about it," she said with a dismissive shake of her head.
    "But—"
    "No buts," she interrupted. "You like to do that— turn the attention away from your own life—but you can't this time."
    "Hey, according to you our lives are now intertwined. Which brings me back to the vision you had a few weeks ago. What else did you see?"
    "I've already told you what I saw."
    "Have you?" he challenged. "I remember that night you read my tea leaves. You were gung ho