Page 122 of The House Beyond the Dunes

Warm water splashes over me as the tip of the waterlogged fabric hits Devon in the face. It’s enough to leave a red mark and startle her. She staggers back and lowers the gun a fraction. I lunge toward her, slinging the T-shirt around the gun like a bullwhip. The end wraps around her arm, and I quickly coil the moist fabric around the gun still clasped in her hand.

The shock on Devon’s face is almost comical. We are practically nose to nose and bonded by wet fabric and hatred.

Her confusion contorts with rage. She tries to jerk up the gun, but my bone-deep determination fuels my strength. My fingers dig into the shirt and twist the gun’s muzzle toward Devon and away from me.

“You bitch!” Devon screams.

Within the wet bundle, her index finger must still be near the trigger guard. I can feel her muscles and arm moving as she struggles to reach the trigger. I don’t know how long I can hold her, but I know as soon as I release my grip, she’s going to shoot me dead.

Whatever shock she suffered after my initial attack wanes quickly, and she regains her focus. I use the last of my strength and press my body into her, inching the muzzle closer to her face. She pushes back. A moment of satisfaction flickers on her face, and I know she’s found the trigger. I shove my body into her.

In the next second, the gun fires. The sound explodes by my head, and thebangis deafening. The ringing in my ears sounds like emergency sirens.

Fresh, bright red blood splashes Devon’s face. She stares at me with utter disbelief. I brace for a countermove, but her legs give out slowly, and she drops to her knees. I’m still gripping her hands, forcing me to lower with her.

Our faces are inches apart, and I can see now that the bullet struck the side of her face. The flesh covering her jaw is torn and jagged. The bullet has entered her jaw, likely torn into bone and teeth, however, I don’t see an exit wound. The pain must be excruciating.

Eyes locking, I see raw hatred reflected in her eyes. She can’t speak, but she’s not letting go. I wait, wondering which of us will pass out first.

Pressing my face against hers, I know I’m sending searing pain through her body. She immediately releases her hold on the gun as her eyes roll back in her head. I tug the gun free of her hands and the wet, blood-soaked shirt.

Slowly, her eyes glaze. Crimson trails down her face and seeps into her flannel shirt. She must be in terrible pain. Good.

I stagger to my feet, grimacing as I step back. The moans rising out of Devon sound more animal than human, but I fully expect her to rally and come after me.

Her confession has answered many questions, but it’s left several unanswered.

Where is Nikki?

Where is Stevie?

And why do I feel like Stevie is alive and very close?

Chapter Thirty

LANE

Monday, January 1, 2024

3:00 p.m.

My ears are ringing loudly, and I can’t really hear anything but the buzzing. But the noise is fueling me, prodding me to reenter the house. My naked body is covered with gooseflesh and blood that splashes my face, breasts, and belly.

I check my body for wounds. There’s so much blood. Pain on my left side. God, have I been shot, too? But I slowly realize there are no injuries beyond the ones I suffered on Friday.

Devon has not risen. The flesh of her face is torn, her lip a fleshy mess. As I pull back, she grabs my arm with more strength than seems possible. She can’t speak, but I feel her fury.

Nausea rolls over me. I jerk free, hobble into the house, and rush to my phone on the counter. I set the gun down as I snatch up my phone. My hands are shaking, and the heat in the house doesn’t touch the cold burrowing deep in my bones.

“Where are you, Detective Becker?” Has the weather slowed his progress? I focus on the phone and press the 9. Before I can hit 1-1, the front door bursts open. It’s Reece.

He takes one look at me, and his fury turns to concern. “What happened?”

Three days ago, he found me bloodied and broken at the bottom of the stairs. He’d been close to save me then, knowing Kyle was a monster. Is he here to save me from Devon?

“I’m calling 9-1-1.”

He takes the phone and ends the call. “What happened?”

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