Page 100 of The House Beyond the Dunes

Dropping to my knees, I shift my attention to the carpeted floor. It’s beige, like the carpet in Kyle’s office, but the shade is slightly different. No one would notice unless you’re looking for it.

I reach for the corner and pull and pluck at the carpet strands, hoping to lift the section. But it doesn’t budge. I grab a letter opener from Kyle’s desk and burrow it into the corner, scraping the baseboard as I tunnel the metal tip between the carpet’s edge and floor. Finally, the smallest edge breaks away from the floor.

This bit of success fuels me. My heart pounds hard as I continue down the baseboard, not caring that I’m marring the baseboard’s fresh paint. When I reach the end, enough carpet is lifted so I can grab the frayed edges and pull. The carpet tears away from the floor as I yank until the four-by-four strip is free of the baseboard. I’m a little breathless when I lean back on my heels and toss the carpet piece into the office.

The floorboard is intact and has been sealed with a coat of polyurethane. But under the shiny coating is a dark-brown stain that stretches out toward all the corners. The blemish reminds me of a darkened version of the bloodstains in Reece’s bathroom. The blood, if that’s what it was, must’ve soaked through the old carpet and splashed on the walls. What kind of injury would cause this?

My cheeks flush as heat floods my face. I was alone in this house with Kyle for one hour. We ended up at the top of the stairs. I was standing nose to nose with him. His back was to the stairs.

Closing my eyes, I trail back to that moment.

“Don’t be like that, Lane,” Kyle says.

I stop at the top step, blink as my vision shifts and my head swirls. Panic cuts through my body.

“It’s a beautiful afternoon.” He approaches me like I’m a skittish colt. “Let’s have a drink on the back deck.”

I grip the railing. I need to leave here now.

“Come on, don’t pout. I thought you wanted to make love.” He holds up his hands. “Look, we’ll have a drink, loosen up, and just relax. Take it slow like you want.”

My fingers curl tighter around the metal.

“A drink will loosen you up, turn the tide,” he insists. He takes me by the arm and pulls me away from the stairs. We’re standing face-to-face. And I’m mad.

“You’re treating me like a child.”

He shrugs. “Did I hurt you? Did I do anything that upset you?”

“No.” Having him on top of me set off a flurry of panic. “You’re putting this all on me.”

“Because you’re not being reasonable.”

The doorbell rings, chiming through the house. On its heels a fist pounds. Stiffening, I pick up the carpet and sweaters, toss them back in the closet, and close the door.

Rising, I push back my hair and close the office door behind me. I move toward the front door, and through the glass panels I see Devon. Shit. Girl talk is the last thing I need now.

Smiling, I force my shoulders to relax and open the door. “Devon.”

She holds up a plate sporting coffee cake covered in clear cling wrap. “I brought a peace offering.”

“A peace offering. I don’t understand.”

“I saw Reece. He said you’re moving a little slow.” Her grimace teeters toward amused. “That’s my fault.”

The two are talking about me. Great, I’m now the subject of their pillow talk. “No one forced me to drink.”

Smiling, she moves past me inside. I’m tempted to ask her to leave, but I’m curious about what she and Reece were saying about me. I give her the space to enter.

“You do look a little pale,” she says.

“What can I say? I’m a lightweight.”

She walks into the kitchen with the authority of an owner. She shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a faded blue T-shirt that readsBLINK IFYOUWANTME.

She opens the correct drawer immediately, selecting a long knife, and then from the cabinet above grabs two plates.

I sit on a barstool by the kitchen island. The cake does look rich and delicious. “How did you make this so quickly?”

---