Page 70 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“Nothing,” he says.

“Why was the closet painted?” I ask.

“The closet? I don’t know.” The door clicks softly as he closes it.

“You can smell the fresh paint, right?”

“Yes.”

“Devon was in the house cleaning after the accident. Would she have rolled paint as well?”

“Maybe. Ask her.”

“Seems odd. Everything else is as I remember it.”

Reece’s brow furrows. “I couldn’t say. When I responded to your fall, it was the first time I’d been in the house since the final walkthrough after closing. And once the paramedics pronounced Kyle dead and pulled you out of here, Detective Becker chased me off. I haven’t been back until now.”

Someone took my pills and deleted my pictures. “I’ll talk to Devon.”

“Show me the footprints.” Disbelief hovers under the words.

He’s not calling me a liar, but he’s now wondering if I’m crazy or just make up stories. “Out back.”

We cross through the main room to the door that is still securely locked. Outside the wind blows hard, sweeping across the walkway, swirling sand over the sunbaked wood.

“I don’t see footprints,” he says.

I move past him to the door and twist the lock. The door opens, and I step out into the wind, searching for traces of the footprints I know I saw not ten minutes ago. “They were here. I saw them.”

“Right. I’m sure you did.”

“I saw them. The door was open and banging in the wind.”

“Okay. Sure.” He studies me, but his expression doesn’t reveal any of his thoughts.

I glare at the walkway. “I know what I saw.”

“The wind is pretty fierce. Footprints don’t last.”

It feels like Reece is humoring me. He must think I’m a hysterical mess. “You think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all, Lane. You’ve been hurt, and now you’re alone in this house. The quiet can get to people. Makes sense you’d be on high alert.”

High alert. That’s not right. I’m searching for Stevie, Nikki, and the missing seconds. “I know what I saw.”

“I hear you.”

He’s still not sure how to take me, and suddenly I’m annoyed with him and myself. “Right, well, thanks for coming. Didn’t mean to sound a false alarm.”

His eyes are full of caution. “No worries. You sure you’re okay?”

I twist the lock closed and pull on the doorknob. “I’m fine.”

He stands close, and I smell the scents of lumber and salt air on him again.

My annoyance melts. I don’t want to be alone. I’ve had my share of isolation since last summer. Sure, I might have been surrounded by people in the coffee shop or at school, but I’ve come home to an empty apartment and silence every night. It’s by choice. I’ve had too much on my plate, and there’s been no time for anything beyond work and school. But right now, I have no school or work, and I want to have a real conversation that doesn’t involve a coffee order or school assignment. I did plenty of talking with Kyle, and I miss that. “Can I at least offer you a coffee? A drink?”

His silence mingles with all the other silences that have been stalking me for months. “Sure, a coffee would be good.”

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