Page 90 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“Moody. Kept to himself.”

“He ever hurt anyone?” I ask.

“He had a temper, but he kept it in check.”

“What about Earl? I mean, what’s his story?”

“He doesn’t have a job but gets by dealing drugs. Nothing big-time, but enough to make him very protective of his stuff.”

I’m not going to psychoanalyze Earl. He’s mean. Stay clear. End of story. “Could you take me up to the forest and woodlands? I’d like to really see the house where Kyle grew up.”

She shakes her head as she finishes off her glass, reaches for the bottle, tops off mine, and refills hers. “The house is falling in on itself. I’m not sure it’s even safe.”

It hadn’t looked sturdy, but it’s still standing, and there’s something about it that stirs questions I can’t put into words. “Agreed.”

“Why do you want to see it?” she asks. “It’s nothing special.”

“All this is a piece of Kyle. I need all the pieces to see the man.”

“Why?”

“I saw him die,” I say softly. “That’s a connection I can’t break.”

Devon sips, staring at me. “I don’t think you’ll ever know Kyle. None of us did.”

“You must have known him better than most.”

“We had a connection when he was up on the 4x4, but once he left for the city, he forgot all about me. We’ve not spent any real timetogether in the last decade. He did hire me when I needed the work, so I guess that’s saying something.”

I can feel her sadness. Kyle had moved on from her, and she hated being left behind. “That couldn’t have felt good.”

“It’s my fault, not his.” She raises her chin. “He asked me so many times to join him in the city, but I’ve no use for crowded streets and gridlock.”

“You dated Kyle?”

She draws in a deep breath. “That was a long time ago. When we were practically kids.”

This is a small community, and romantic relationships are bound to form. Still, I’ve no desire to hear the details, which I suspect Devon would share with a little prodding. “How often did Kyle come up here?”

“At least once a month, sometimes twice. He loved the solitude.”

“He must have loved this place during the summer.” I think about Stevie seeing him on July Fourth weekend. “He only mentioned this place to me a day before we left.”

Devon sips her champagne, and bubbles rise to the top of the glass. “Ask me anything about Kyle, us, or growing up here. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

I raise the glass to my lips, pretend to sip. “Did he ever mention a woman named Stevie Palmer?”

She stills. “He mentioned her once or twice. How do you know her?”

That’s not the answer I’m expecting. Reece had never heard of her, but Devon has. “I don’t know anything about her. That’s why I’m asking. She’s a mystery.”

Devon studies me a beat longer, as if she’s trying to figure out if I have an angle. “She’s kind of ... complicated.”

I told Reece about Stevie’s journal, but telling Devon doesn’t feel right. “What does that mean?”

Devon chuckles, finishes off her glass, and reaches for the bottle. “She’s batshit crazy.”

I think back to another entry. Is Stevie crazy? Have I missed something in her diary?

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