Page 71 of Within These County Lines

“We don’t know that for sure,” I say, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“Know what?” Whitley asks.

I pause and wait for Amanda to leave the kitchen before speaking again. “Did you know his stepsister went missing?” I ask, nodding at Robbie across the room. “Because that’s a hell of a detail to leave out.”

She shakes her head. “Amanda told me her friend’s sister worked at Pinehurst. She said they might have a story for me. That’s it.”

I don’t hesitate. “Wait here.” I chug the rest of my beer, set the empty bottle on the counter, and push through the crowd toward the flip cup table.

Xander follows close behind, silent as a shadow.

Robbie stands at the edge of the table. His lanky arms are nearly as long as his legs. A sunburn spreads across his freckled shoulders beneath an American flag tank top.

“Hey, are you Robbie?” I ask, wiping the foam from my mouth with the back of my arm.

“Yeah, man,” he says, barely looking at me. “What’s up?” He pours a tiny amount of beer into a plastic cup as he prepares for the next round of the game.

“I’m Stetson.”

“Cool.”

His disinterest tightens my jaw. I begin counting the players to calm myself. Across the table, a guy with a mullet gives me a thumbs-up. “Yo, Murray!” he shouts. “You in?”

My body goes rigid. The hair on the back of my neck prickles before I even turn.

Murray is right next to me.

His overgrown buzz cut is longer than I remember. I shift my counting from players to his strands of hair, but my brain stalls like I’m looking at a math equation I can’t solve. He stares straight ahead, right through me as if I’m some nameless freshman in a crowded hallway.

I tell myself it’s not his fault. He doesn’t know I’m here. But somehow, the humiliation still swallows me whole.

“You want me to mess with him?” Xander asks. “I can tie his shoelaces together. Or put hot sauce in his drink.”

A grin tugs at my mouth. “I appreciate the offer,” I say. “But we need to stay focused.”

“I didn’t offer you anything,” Robbie says, his expression darkening. “Do we have a problem?”

Someone switches the music from country to rap and ups the volume by several notches. The bass shakes the floor and forces me to lean in to hear Robbie over the noise.

I rake a hand through my hair. “Your friend Amanda . . . she said I could ask you about Pinehurst . . . about your stepsister.”

Murray’s voice is too close behind me. He laughs about another drinking game, and his hot breath collides with the nape of my neck, weakening my knees.

Robbie’s head jerks back. His bloodshot eyes drag over me. He sighs, and the scent of beer and barbeque chips lingers between us.

I step back. “Do you know the Pomers?” I press. “They’re family friends of mine. Their son went missing at Pinehurst.” My heart pounds as I pick my next words carefully. They could send this conversation in any direction. “I’m trying to help reopen his case.”

“Nice,” Xander says. “Play the sympathy card. Make him feel bad!”

I shoot him a side-eye.

“I’ve heard of them,” Robbie says as he stacks cups on the table.

“Oh, good. So—”

“So, what?”

“Well, I was hoping—”