Page 69 of The House Beyond the Dunes

I stare at another note written in the margin.

You can’t forget me, Lane.

The repeated command swims on the page. I’m sitting in Kyle’s office chair staring at the handwritten words. Whoever is sending me copies of Stevie’s journal has an agenda. Someone either cares about Stevie and Nikki or is screwing with me.

But why me? I’ve never met either woman.

I spend the next hour reading and rereading Stevie’s journal. She strikes me as an independent spirit who’s loyal to friends, but I still don’t recall meeting her once. “Who are you?”

An overwhelming sense of sadness washes over me as I stare at the oddly precise handwriting of a woman who might not even be real.

Bourbon. Who are you?Is Stevie trying to tell me Bourbon is my Kyle? Did Stevie see the notice in the paper about our fall and then decide to reach out to me? It explains why the entries started arriving after the fall.

I thumb through the pages again, trying to create an image of Stevie in my mind. I see someone hard, seasoned, streetwise.

Bang!The noise startles me, and I quickly hurry through the house to my overnight bag. I shove the pages inside and zip it closed before I turn to the side door. It’s open. The wind has caught it and is shoving it against the doorframe again and again.

Bang!

Heart racing, I grab the knob and pull the door closed. As I twist the lock, I stare at the boardwalk leading to the beach. On the boardwalk I see wet, sandy footprints running up to this door. I don’t see any steps retreating or in the house.

My mind jumps immediately to Earl. I saw him less than a mile from here, and he knows where I’m staying. Rubbing my arms, I scan the first floor for any more signs of sandy footprints. I see none.

But the silence in the house pulses in my chest, squeezing my heart. Who came up on the deck? Are they still around the house? I open the door again and inspect the keypad. There are traces of sand on the numbers. I close the door and throw the dead bolt.

All the doors in the house are keyless entry. According to Kyle, all have the same code. How many other doors lead into the house? There’s one at the north end of the deck, one off the laundry room, and the sliding glass doors feeding out to the deck. Plenty of ways to get into the house other than this door. I stand still, listening to the wind beating against the house. No floors creak. But this house has never felt truly empty since I arrived. It’s filled with an energy I can’t explain.

Gripping my phone, I consider a 9-1-1 call. The rescue squad is close, but a call to them will alert Detective Becker, and I’ve no desire to see him again. There’s something about him that’s deeply unsettling.

Rushing to all the main-level doors, I check the locks and discover them all secure. From the kitchen, gears grind, and I move to the kitchen utility room, where I know there’s a dumbwaiter that Kyle used to send our luggage up. It’s not a huge space, but it’s big enough for a small person.

Again, my breath stalls as I turn the handle. The door opens to the empty shaft. The dumbwaiter is supposed to be kept on this floor to prevent anyone from accidentally entering and falling. Kyle warned me about it when we arrived, as he pulled my luggage from the space.Don’t want you to fall,he said.

The eerie prophecy rattles in my head as my thumb presses the green button. A motor clicks on and wheels grind as the small compartment slowly rises from the carport below. I stand back, watching as the small cage arrives at my floor and then stops. Who sent the dumbwaiter down to the ground-level floor?

Locking the dumbwaiter door, I leave the utility room and cross to the front of the house. Outside I see Reece moving down his front stairs to his truck.

Damsel in distress doesn’t suit me. Still, pride aside, he’s the closest thing to an ally I have up here. I hurry down the front steps. “Reece.”

He looks up, his eyes narrowing. “Everything all right?”

“Not sure.” My heart races. “There are footsteps circling the side door. And it was open. And the dumbwaiter was lowered to the ground level. I locked both doors, but now I’m not sure if someone is in the house.”

His jaw pulses. “Let me have a look.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

He moves toward the house, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. He moves in the side door, pauses. “Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

“I can come with you.” I’ve been alone most of my adult life and can take care of myself, but searching this house alone leaves me deeply unsettled.

“Better you stay put.”

Reece’s booted footsteps move up the stairs and along the second-floor hallway. I hear him walk into the rooms, opening and closing doors. The longer he searches, the more foolish I feel.

When he descends the stairs, he shakes his head. “Nothing upstairs.” He opens and closes more closet doors, and when he moves into Kyle’soffice, I follow. Having Reece in here feels wrong. I can almost sense Kyle’s displeasure oozing from the walls.

He opens the closet behind Kyle’s desk, and my heartbeat slams against my ribs. He clicks on the light and stares into the space. Nothing but freshly painted walls and two of Kyle’s sweaters dangling from hangers.

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