Page 35 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“He is ... was.”

“Yeah.” I kept telling myself we had all the time in the world to get to know each other.

Reece shifts, clears his throat. “Call if you need anything.” He fishes in his pocket and hands me a flashlight. “Just in case.”

“Thanks. I know there are flashlights here, I just haven’t found them yet.”

“Well, until you do. Remember to call if you need help.”

“You do the same.”

That prompts a half smile.

I watch as he jogs across the street toward his house, which is partially lit up. An oasis of light in a sea of darkness.

Clicking on the flashlight, I close and lock the door behind me. As I turn, the beam of light sweeps over the foyer and the stairs. Reece must be the guy Detective Becker spoke to. It makes no sense that Kyle and I were fighting. We never fought. Not once. Why would we have been fighting after an hour in the house?

You need to take it easy, Lane.

Easy over what?

I move to the base of the stairs and sit. The flashlight beam grazes up the marble stairs. Looking up to the landing, I slowly lie down on the cool marble floor. The darkness swirls around me as I roll on my left hip, wince as pain shoots through me, and curl up my legs.

Kyle is staring back at me. His right eye socket is blown. Blood is pooling around his head, staining his navy-blue pullover. His remaining gray eye briefly registers anger and frustration. And then it glazes over.

“What happened to us?” I whisper as if he’ll answer.

My left hip is throbbing, and I roll onto my back. The darkness weighs on my chest, and it’s tough to pull in a full breath.

I move into the kitchen following the trail of light. My burger is cool now, and my appetite is gone. But there’s little to do in the dark, so I eat and then set the plate in the sink when I’m done.

Looking out the front window, I see Reece standing in his own living room. His hands are on his hips, and he’s shrugged off his coat and is wearing only a white T-shirt. His gaze rises to mine.

I cut off my flashlight. My phone dings with a text from the number I now know belongs to Reece.Don’t forget to call if you need help.

It’s a gotcha text. He caught me snooping.

Yep, Lane is a creeper who can’t stop staring at strangers. Nothing like making a solid first impression.

I could ignore the text, but what’s the point?

No amount of hemming and hawing will make me look less like a stalker.Will do.

Instead of obsessing, I shift my thoughts back to Stevie Palmer’s diary.

Chapter Ten

STEVIEPALMER’SDIARY

Monday, July 3, 2023

6:00 a.m.

When I wake up, I’m in a strange bed. Most might panic, but not me. I give it a second, realize there’s a man snuggled up behind me with his arm draped over my waist. His erection is pressing against my backside.

How do I untangle myself and get out of here without waking him?

He hauls me closer to him. “Good morning.”

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