Page 127 of The House Beyond the Dunes

A scream rises in Devon’s chest but trickles out as a sorrowful moan. “No.”

Detective Becker pulls me into the house and grabs a throw blanket from the couch. He wraps it around me, and for a moment his hands linger on my shoulders. “You’re crazy.”

“No argument,” I say.

“Are you injured?”

“No. Other than the hip.”

A silence settles us as we wait for the rescue squad. Within minutes, the local rescue crew’s sirens wail in the darkness.

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” I say. “She forced me.”

He nods. “I know. It’s okay.”

I want Devon to live. I want her to confess to the police what Kyle has done. I want her to tell everyone where Nikki and Stevie can be found.

Rescue vehicles roll into the driveway, and seconds later the emergency crews thud up the stairs. Three days ago, they’d arrived for Kyle and me.

Detective Becker holsters his gun. “You sure you’re okay?”

Jitters rock my body. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Not my first rodeo.” The casual comment surprises me. I can’t believe I’m holding it all together so well.

He cocks his head. “That’s something Stevie would say.”

“You know Stevie? She never mentioned you.” I think back over the diary entries. Sully had mentioned a nameless detective friend of his. Was he referencing Becker? And then a tumbler clicks into place. “Are you Sully?”

He nods. “Donald Sullivan Becker.”

“You two were together.”

His eyes meet mine.

Heat warms my cheeks.

“Yeah, I knew her.” His voice sounds ragged.

“Knew. Past tense. Is she okay?”

He holds my gaze, but it’s impossible to read his stony expression. He clears his throat. “She sent her diary to me. She wanted me to give it to you when the time was right.”

The first entry arrived after the fall. “What was so right about that time?”

“I didn’t realize Kyle had planned a weekend away with you up here. I fucked that up. And then I received a call from the responding officer up here. Seemed a thousand years passed between the moment he told me about the fall and that you were alive.”

“Were you working with Stevie? Was she a cop?” But before he can answer, more questions tumble out. “In her last entry, she suggested she might vanish. What does that mean?”

His gaze lingers on my face. “This isn’t the place to have this discussion.”

“Later,” I insist.

Lights flash outside, spraying the interior with blue and red. “I need to talk to them. We’ll finish this later.”

Detective Becker opens the front door, and the paramedics push through carrying their equipment and a stretcher.

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