Page 81 of The House Beyond the Dunes

I find his offer very charming. “It’s right across the street.”

“And dark.” He grabs a large flashlight and clicks it on. “I’ll see you to your front door.”

His determination is oddly comforting. “Lead the way.”

As I slide on my jacket, he opens the front door and steps into the cold darkness as if he’s accustomed to it. He grasps my elbow as we move down the dark steps. I’m more gun-shy than expected on stairs, and it’s nice to have backup.

We move slowly as my hand skims over the cold metal railing. The last riser on the steps feels slightly higher than the rest, and I stumble toward the wooden sidewalk. My grip tightens on the rail as his arm shoots out and grabs mine. I right myself, but when I’m steady on my feet, his hand doesn’t drop away. We follow the beam of light along the wooden sidewalk and across the sandy street toward my house. The porch light glows.

“Thanks for the assist,” I say. “I’m normally not so ...” I don’t know who I’ve been tonight.

“No problem.” His deep voice reverberates in my chest, and I’m very aware of his height, and his fingers still gripping my elbow. “Glad to be of service.”

I like the feel of his hands on me. His touch isn’t sexual now, but I want it to be. What the hell is wrong with me? I just survived a fall, I saw a man die, and I am nursing an injury. I should be in full-on hermit mode. The last thing I should care about is sexual attraction. Still, my pulse remains quick.

“Good night, Reece.”

He eases his grip on my elbow until it finally releases. I miss the connection. And I think he does, too. “Call me if you need anything.”

“As soon as the weather clears, I’ll leave, and then I won’t be here to drive you crazy.”

He chuckles. “It’s a bold move for you to come back to this house. It can’t be easy.”

“Easier than I thought. Weird, right?”

He nods. “Better get inside.”

As I walk up the stairs, I can feel his gaze trailing me. I fumble to press in the key code. I enter the numbers incorrectly, and a redXappears. Quickly I retype the code, and this time am rewarded with the green check. I glance back at Reece, raise my hand.

He smiles, turns, and follows the beam of light back to his house.

Inside, I close the door and turn on more lights until the entire space is as bright as high noon. The silence settles around me as I shrug off my jacket. I move to the kitchen and pull a water bottle from the refrigerator. I take a long gulp, surprised my mouth feels so dry.

Glancing toward the stairs, I find I’ve no desire to sleep in the main bedroom or any other on the second floor. The sofa wasn’t ideal last night, but I’d rather stay there again. Here I can stare out the skylights and enjoy the stars.

Kicking off my shoes, I recline on the couch and pull a throw blanket over me. Lying back, I expect to stare at the ceiling for hours. But my eyes are heavy, and soon they close.

I want to ignore Stevie Palmer’s diary. I don’t know who she is or why anyone wants me to peek into her life. But I appreciate that she cared about Nikki Kane. The girl was a forgettable, like me. When our kind falls in the cracks, few come searching for us.

But I sense there’s something more embedded in Stevie’s written words, and that unspoken truth is unsettling. I rise from the couch and dig the printout from my bag. Jeb went to prison for kidnapping and rape. Stevie had been taken from Nags Head and been the victim of that exact crime. Kyle hadn’t been accused of any crime, but violence runs along family bloodlines. Sometimes it skips a generation, and sometimes it rises out of the family tree’s roots and poisons all the fruit. Maybe Stevie thought Kyle might be another bad apple.God, Stevie, were the two men who raped you Jeb and Kyle?

Maybe Stevie saw Kyle’s picture and read my name in the Saturday morning article. Maybe she was triggered. Reece said the brothers looked a great deal alike.

As much as I would like to hide and get on with my life, Stevie is reaching out to me and goading me to help her find Nikki and maybe solve the injustice done to her.

“Stevie, I want to find you, but you’re going to have to give me more. And while you’re at it, explain to me who the hell are you, Stevie Palmer?”

My phone dings with a new text.

Chapter Twenty-One

STEVIEPALMER’SDIARY

Thursday, July 6, 2023

2:30 p.m.

I wish I could say that I spent the day looking for Nikki, but I didn’t. Like I often do, I let the abyss take me. I found a quiet place to park, pulled my blanket over my head, and fell asleep. In the inky blackness there was peace and rest from a constant shameful feeling that I was somehow failing.

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