Page 60 of The House Beyond the Dunes

“There’s no such thing as happily ever after.”

He shrugs. “Happy endings happen. Some swear by love at first sight.” He sounds a little wistful, making me wonder how many ex-girlfriends or ex-wives he has.

“Not to me.”

“How did you meet Kyle?”

The abrupt change forces me to downshift. “I told you, he was a regular at the coffee shop where I work. He asked me out.”

“Was he always a regular at the coffee shop?”

“No. He started coming in the shop in late November, early December.”

“And he just asked you out, and you said yes?” His voice echoes in the open landing.

“It’s not the Dark Ages, Detective. Why wouldn’t I go out with a man that asks me out?”

“How long have you worked at that shop?”

“Two months at that location.”

“You transferred from the Virginia Beach store, correct?”

His attention to detail is creepy. “This shop is closer to home.”

“Tell me about your first meeting with Kyle.”

I move farther away from the stairs, deciding I’m safer. “Kyle came in at the end of my Saturday shift. The shop was almost empty. He bought his coffee and came up beside me while I was cleaning up the cream and sugar station. I caught him staring at me.”

“Must have creeped you out.”

“Maybe. But then he laughed and made a joke about not being able to take his eyes off me. We chatted, and then he left.”

“But he came back.”

“Yes. He was nice, and I liked the company. Being alone over the holidays isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

“Plus, he made good money.”

My patience is thinning. “I didn’t get a chance to pull up his online banking account. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Funny you should mention that, Lane. I did. I discovered that Kyle’s finances were a house of cards.”

“What do you mean?”

He slowly moves down the stairs, his hands at his sides. I follow, but I hold the railing. “This fancy world he built was smoke and mirrors. That house across the street and this one are almost one hundred percent mortgaged. He owed over two million dollars. Guy lived large and on credit.”

Maybe that explains why he didn’t do anything to save the woodland house. “I wasn’t chasing his money.” But maybe I was a little. I’d liked being taken care of.

He rests his foot on the bottom step and draws in a breath, as if mentally regrouping. I can almost hear his mind flipping through questions.

“Okay, he was broke,” I say. “That should eliminate one of the motives you’re trying to assign to me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not trying to pin anything on you, Lane.”

“Then what more do you want?”

Detective Becker turns from the last step and faces me. “You were in foster care, right?”

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