Page 32 of The House Beyond the Dunes

I yawn, blink back the fatigue soaking into my bones. My eyes feel like sandpaper. Time to summon the energy, get my stuff, and leave. There’s no reason to hold on to this place. Whatever I thought I’d find isn’t here.

But logic doesn’t quiet the feeling that I should remain a little longer. I wonder if lying back on the mattress will trigger a memory. Touch sensation can be effective. Grabbing fistfuls of the coverlet, I stare at the mirrored white ceiling. I barely recognize my pale face and my body that now seems too thin.

This bed is seductive and feels so much better than the lumpy mattress in my apartment. Softness, coupled with the stress of losing Kyle and yesterday’s frenetic pace, oozes through me. The adrenaline that’s been fueling me for days is suddenly crashing. Getting on the road now feels like a huge task. I was foolish to think I could make this long drive after yesterday’s fall. I’m recovering from trauma and should be in my Norfolk apartment. I should get up and leave the place where Kyle died, but before I realize it, it all turns to black.

When I startle awake, moonlight drifts through the window. I bolt upright, then regret the sudden move. A headache pounds behind my eyes, and my hip and ribs burn. I grab my phone and glance at the time.

9:02 p.m.

I’ve slept six hours.

“Damn it.”

Darkness hovers outside as rain hits the roof. I rise and walk to the window. I notice several lights are on in the house across the street. Aman’s shadow passes in front of a window. As if sensing me, he pauses and looks toward this house, this window.

He’s as curious about me as I am him. If he’s familiar with the neighborhood and this house, he must know what happened here. Does he think I’m staying in the death house because I’m a thrill seeker or simply clueless? Staying here isn’t a sane choice. It’s one thing to poke around, but another to fall into a dreamless sleep just thirty feet from the spot where my boyfriend fell to his death.

Fat raindrops fall on a black truck parked in the driveway across the street. It has Virginia plates. Common enough here. Still, this feels a little like the outside world has followed me.

I shrink back, sorry now I didn’t grab my phone and purse and leave immediately. Whoever lives here must know about Kyle and me.

Rubbing the tension banding the back of my neck, I close the curtains. Crossing to the bed, I smooth the untidy coverlet. There are now no more traces of me being here or in Kyle’s life.

I tuck my phone in my pocket and grab my purse and overnight bag. Turning off the lights, I hurry down the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. Drawing in a breath, I close my eyes as I grip the railing.

Kyle and I had stood here. My hand had pressed against his chest, his heartbeat pulsing against my fingertips.

And then ... weightlessness and the crash.

My foot eases toward the edge of the top step. Energy vibrates around me, as if someone is standing behind me. My eyes snap open.

I move down the stairs to the front door and open it. Lightning cracks, and the rain droplets transform into a wall of water. Maneuvering down the beach in the dark would have been dicey at best. But with the rain ...

I want to go home and forget about this place. But leaving now is not an option. Like it or not, I’m stuck here until morning.

Chapter Nine

LANE

Saturday, December 30, 2023

9:30 p.m.

Dropping my purse and bag by the living room couch, I make my way to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. I’m trapped, nervous, and starving. Why am I so hungry? Kyle had kidded me about my sparse meals. Now he’s dead, and my appetite has come roaring back.

Instead of going for luncheon meats, I grab a sleeve of hamburger patties. It’s cold outside, and I need something warm. I fish out all the condiments, veggies, and a packet of buns. “Bless you, Devon.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance as I’m searching cabinets for a pan. I glance toward the vaulted roof and the trapezoid window. Lightning cracks across the dark sky.

“One. Two. Three.” I count as I did as a kid. My mom had a thing about thunderstorms. She’d take me outside, and we’d lie on a blanket as the sky darkened. She loved to watch the flashes of lightning and feel the roar of thunder. The louder the better.

I was terrified. I’d beg her to go inside, but she’d only laugh.You don’t need to be scared until I’m scared.The problem was my mother was never afraid.

Drawing in a breath, I turn the electric range on and let the pan heat up. Another explosion of lightning flashes bright. One. Two. Thunder booms. Just two miles away now. Getting closer, though the storm system sounds like it is right on top of the house.

I drop the burger in the pan, listen to the sizzle and snap as the meat sears. Choosing one of the bottles of Merlot on the counter, I dig through several drawers before I find a wine opener. I uncork the bottle. Devon has stocked the house with a couple of Kyle’s favorite wines. I like them, but these were all his choices. I sip, savoring the mellow flavor, and then flip the burger.

The overhead lights flicker. Once. Twice. And then they stabilize. It never occurred to me that I’d lose power out here, but of course it’s very possible in a storm. With no electricity, it not only would be dark but would turn cold very quickly. I’ve no idea if the house comes equipped with a generator, and if it does, I have no idea how to make it work.

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