Page 112 of The House Beyond the Dunes

I hand the phone to Joey. “For you.”

His brow arches. “Imagine that.”

He takes the handheld in the back room, and I oversee the bar, refilling a few drinks, chatting up the customers. This goes on for an hour, and then Sully walks in and takes a seat at the end of the bar.

I fill a mug with beer and set it in front of him. I’m glad to see him. “Sully.”

“I hear you’ve been asking around,” he says.

I grab a rag and wipe the bar around him. “You know what they say about idle hands. They’re the devil’s plaything.”

“Every time I see you, you’re in constant motion.”

“Make hay while the sun is out.”

He stares at me over the rim of his mug. “Any leads on Nikki?”

“No.”

His skin is a deep tan with hints of red on his cheeks, a sign he was in the sun all day. I imagine him on a rooftop, shirtless. Glistening with sweat.

“Sorry to hear that,” he says. “I asked a buddy in Virginia State Police to check in on Pete. His knee is in a cast. He can’t drive for the next six to eight weeks.”

“Too bad.”

I meet his gaze. “I had my first session with Kyle Iverson tonight. He kindly worked time in his schedule for me.”

His features harden. “What?”

“Went by his office and had a counseling session.”

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “You were alone with him?”

“I was. Guy has a huge print behind his desk of a house on the northern beaches. Says he owns it.”

Silent, he’s staring at me and considering what he’s heard.

“And I booked a second session with him for next week.”

“That’s not smart, Stevie.” It’s a restrained, dangerous statement.

I force a smile. “I even brought up Nikki, so if there’s any doubt in his mind about my motives, I cleared that up.”

His gaze is fixed on my face, studying and analyzing every expression. “Stay away from him, Stevie,” he warns.

Stubbornness is my greatest asset and my worst enemy. “Not until I find Nikki.”

He sips his beer and sets the mug down precisely in the center of the napkin. “Stay away from him.”

I don’t want to talk about Iverson or the past or the future. Now is such a good place to be. “Ah, Sully, do you care about me?”

His eyes blaze. “I don’t want to add you to the missing persons list.”

“I’ll be fine.” I lean forward, deciding I might find this man very acceptable. “It’s a slow night, Detective. Why don’t we get out of here? If memory serves, you live nearby.”

He’s frustrated or maybe puzzled by me. Not sure why he cares so much about my lost soul, but he does. Maybe he’s like me, or maybehe has a thing for underdogs, or maybe he’s just a detective to his core and peeling back the layers is habit for him.

But under all that, I sense his desire for me. We’ve already proven we know our way around the sheets.

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