Page 86 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“Maybe.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

“Coworker.”

“So why do you care?” His gaze sharpens, telling me he’s not just tossing out questions but seriously wants to know.

“I guess my damaged childhood makes me care too much.”

“Was there a time when you were lost?” He delivers the question with calculated compassion.

Fake or not, it hits a nerve in me. My chest tightens, and something deep inside me claws, as if it’s hauling itself out of the primordial ooze. “Maybe.”

“Ever talk to anyone about your life? You could talk to me. This is what I do for a living.”

“No. I’ve done just fine. But thanks for asking.” The tables are flipping, and I don’t like it.

“I don’t make these offers lightly.”

“You don’t randomly ask women to stop by your office for a one on one?”

“No.”

“Did you ask Nikki?”

He turns his glass a quarter turn. “I asked, but she said no. Too bad really. I could help her.”

Why is Nikki missing and Jeanne isn’t? Maybe Jeanne was someone people would miss, and cops would care about. “If I come by, what happens?”

“We talk.”

“About my terrible childhood?” I laugh. “That could take a while.”

“That’s a good place to start. That’s where most trauma stems.”

Talking to anyone about my past is a risk that I’ve never been willing to take. I vowed a long time ago to shut the door on the good olddays. But for Nikki, I could crack it very slightly for a second or two. Show just enough to him for dramatic effect.

A slow smile curves my lips. “Okay, I’ll bite, Dr.Bourbon. Do you have a card?”

“You’ll call?” He’s not as surprised as he seems. He’s wondering what angle I’m working. He might be a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. I’m on his radar.

“If I say I’m going to do something, then I will,” I say.

He reaches in his pocket and hands me a white card with raised black lettering. The address is in a nice part of Virginia Beach. His name isDr.Kyle Iverson.

Chapter Twenty-Two

LANE

Sunday, December 31, 2023

9:30 p.m.

My heart is pumping when I read Kyle’s full name underlined in bold black ink. There’s no mistaking who Stevie was talking about now.

Stevie had met Kyle in a Nags Head bar and agreed to meet him at his office.

Clearly Stevie is (or was) a false name. She isn’t the first woman to hide her identity, work for cash tips, and avoid using social security numbers or ID cards.

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