Page 74 of Within These County Lines

He snickers. “Why do you care so much about Ra-Ra?”

“Ra-Ra?”

“That’s a nickname. My bad. Her real name is Dara. My stepsister.” He moves toward his dresser.

Xander and I exchange a look. “When did she go missing?”

Robbie shrugs. “It depends on who you ask. I think she just ran off.” He opens the top drawer and rummages inside. “Long story short is that she ruined my family. My dad married my stepmom when I was a kid. That’s how Dara became my stepsister. She was way older, but kind of chill, I guess.”

He puts a cigarette between his lips, then flicks a lighter. The flame sparks against his shadowed face. “But then she ran away. My stepmom lost her damn mind over it. She kept saying weird crap—like Dara was in the living room when she wasn’t there. Or she’d stare at the kitchen table and swear Dara was eating dinner with us. But the chairs were empty.” He taps his temple. “Crazy, right?”

My pulse thrums in my ears. “Where do you think Dara went?” I ask.

“Hell if I know.” He exhales a thick cloud of smoke. “I haven’t seen her since. And my dad kicked my stepmom out when she started blaming us for ignoring Dara. She said only men couldn’t see her.”

Xander tugs at my wrist. “Stetson, it’s like you,” he says. “Only certain people can’t see her. Just like how only a certain person can’t see you. She must be cursed like us.”

The muscles in my throat tighten. I take a step back, tripping over a mound of sweatpants.

“And what does her disappearance have to do with Pinehurst?” My voice shakes.

Robbie slams the drawer shut. “She worked there as a lifeguard,” he says like it’s nothing. “But I don’t think that had anything to do with her running away. Now go get me my beer.” He grabs my shoulder and pushes me toward the door.

I dig my heels into the carpet. “Wait. Where is your stepmom now? Can we talk to her?”

He scoffs. “I don’t know. You’re asking too many questions. Don’t mention this to anyone. If this isn’t what you’re after, then I can’t help you.” He swings open the door.

“But—”

Robbie’s face reddens. He stabs out his cigarette against the wall, smearing a black streak of ash across the paint.

“Come on,” Xander says, seizing my arm. “He’s drunk. I don’t want you getting hurt over this. We have enough to work with.”

I nod.

Xander grips my hand, steady and firm, just like at the archives.

We bolt.

Robbie thinks his stepsister’s story makes no sense. But for me, it’s all too clear.

Our feet hit the stairs in rapid thuds. We take the last three in a single leap and land with a loud smack against the living room floor. Whitley jumps from the couch, startled. Murray stands across from her.

“What’s wrong?” Murray asks. “Are you finally going to tell me if you’ve talked to Stetson?”

“I said I did, but he hasn’t responded,” Whitley says.

“Try again.” His jaw tightens. “I want to see him before summer ends.”

Whitley glares. “Maybe if you weren’t such a jerk at the beginning of summer, he’d talk to you himself.”

Murray grabs her arm. “Wait . . . he told you about that?”

Whitley shakes him off like a bug crawling on her skin. She falls in step beside Xander and me heading straight for the door.

We don’t stop or say goodbye. I have no intention of returning the bottles of beer we promised Robbie, mostly because they don’t exist.

Behind us, confused, Murray watches Whitley leave alone like she’s running from no one.