Page 21 of The House Beyond the Dunes

Kyle came in and out of my life in twenty-five days, but he’s left a mark on me. The trauma of the fall still reverberates and likely will for years. And his death has infected my blood and saturated my marrow. Like it or not, we are connected forever.

Returning to the beach house could help with my memories. Maybe not like a light switch flipping on, but brain neurons might spark images that will coalesce into a recognizable picture.

The remote Carova Beach location feels as if it’s a million miles away. I could call the property manager and ask her to collect my things.That would save me a trip to the house. But I realize now that I need to see it.

If Detective Becker can be believed, Kyle’s death has been ruledundetermined. Which I suppose means the house technically is not a crime scene. It’s been only a day since I was there, so hopefully the front door keycode hasn’t been changed. This is going to be a quick operation. Grab my things, look around the house, and face what happened.

Kyle’s death was a senseless accident. People die unexpectedly all the time.

It was no one’s fault, right?

Chapter Six

LANE

Saturday, December 30, 2023

11:00 a.m.

Second thoughts catch up to me as I’m driving toward the interstate. I swing by the coffee shop where I work and enter through the back entrance. The rear space is small, filled with boxes of cups and napkins, and a couple of chairs. It’s the place employees retreat to when they want a quick bite to eat or a coffee.

In the back room, there’s also a landline. It’s a throwback, but the owner keeps it because there’s always an employee who didn’t or forgot to pay their phone bill. The receiver feels like a heavy relic, but it has a dial tone. And beggars can’t be choosers.

I’m calling the number Kyle gave me if something went wrong, and I’m assuming it’s for the property manager, Devon.

I’d rather not tell Devon I’m coming, but with Detective Becker lurking around, it’s wise to warn her. All I need is for someone to see me enter the house and alert the cops. Detective Becker could spin my return in any number of bad ways.

The smell of roasted coffee winds its way toward me as I dial the number. A woman answers on the first ring.

“Vacation Home Management. This is Devon.”

“Devon, this is Lane McCord.” I fumble for a familiar point of reference. How do I describe myself?

“Ms.McCord. How are you?” There’s a pregnant pause, suggesting the woman is aware of what happened. Likely everyone on the island has heard about Kyle’s death by now. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to return to the cottage today and collect my things.”

Devon pauses again. “I can get whatever you left. It’s not necessary for you to make the trip.”

“I’d like to return. I want to see the house again and make sense of what happened.” Auditory, visual, and sensory cues are powerful memory stimulants.

“Sure, sure. I get it.”

“I’m leaving Norfolk now.”

“Of course. Are you staying the night?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I want to collect my things and leave.”

“We’ve got weather coming in, which will drive the tide close to the dunes. You should be able to get in and out easily as long as you don’t delay.”

“I’ll leave now.”

“I’ll be on the lookout for you. I live close to Dr.Iverson’s cottage. I answer this number day or night.”

“Thank you, Devon. I appreciate it.” I search for words that don’t sound insensitive. “What’s the status of the place?”

“The main entryway is put back as it was before yesterday. I planned to stop by tomorrow to strip the beds and clean out the refrigerator.”

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