The Cousins(82)

“That seems extreme,” Allison said.

“Well, not, like, a person,” Archer amended, scratching behind Sammy’s ears. “Or another dog, obviously. Or a cat. I would kill a rodent, though. One that was already sick and going to die anyway.”

“Take note, Sammy.” Allison sat beside Archer as the dog crawled into his lap. “If you’re ever tormented by a diseased rat, your champion is here.”

She gazed at the crowds milling along Cutty Beach and clustered around two small bonfires. For the past few years, Archer’s friend Jess Callahan, who lived in the house closest to the beach’s crescent-shaped center, had held her birthday party here. Jess’s older brother was on the Gull Cove Island police department, and he was their insurance that as long as they didn’t let the party get out of hand, they’d be left alone. Chris Callahan even dropped off a couple of kegs before leaving for his shift at the station.



“Three cheers for Gull Cove’s finest,” Archer had said at the time. Now, he observed, “I think we’re the only ones here who aren’t drunk.”

“Probably.” Allison knew why she wasn’t drinking—and why she was behind a rock with her brother and a dog instead of joining the festivities—but she wasn’t sure about Archer. “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Well. You weren’t entirely wrong, before the Summer Gala, when you reminded me that I have a habit of turning into a drunk asshole.”

“I didn’t say exactly that,” Allison said. “And I apologized, remember? I was just nervous before such a big night. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s true, though. I’ve been overdoing it,” Archer said. “Every party is the same. I think I’m only going to have a couple of drinks and the next thing I know, I’m out of my mind.” Sammy flopped onto his back, legs in the air, and Archer obliged by rubbing his belly. “Maybe I just want to see if I can have a good time without it.”

“And are you?”

“Not really, no.” Archer grinned crookedly. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Allison wasn’t, either. She hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but she also hadn’t wanted to not come. She knew Matt would be here, and she didn’t want to stay away because of him. Part of her thought that maybe she’d even talk to him, finally, and tell him about the baby. But as soon as she arrived at the party she realized it was a lost cause. Matt was stumbling around and asking everyone if they’d seen Kayla, too drunk to remember that she worked the late shift at Donald Camden’s office on weekends.



“The waves are out of control,” Archer said.

“It’s the cold weather,” Allison said, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands as a particularly strong gust of wind whipped around them. “Makes the tidal patterns wild.”

Archer was only in a long-sleeved T-shirt, and he shivered. “I left my sweatshirt in the car. I’m gonna grab it.” He got to his feet, Sammy dancing around him. “Are you coming, buddy?” he crooned to the little dog. “Yes, you are. You’re such a good boy.”

“You’re a sap,” Allison said, laughing.

“You need anything?”

I need to go home, Alison thought, but she said, “No, I’m going to look for Adam.” Maybe he’d be willing to leave the party for fifteen minutes and take her back to Catmint House. She’d managed to make an appearance for close to an hour, and that felt like a minor victory.

She scanned the crowd as she walked, keeping a cautious eye out for Matt, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither were her older brothers. Allison circled the crowd around the bonfires twice, but she couldn’t find them. Archer had returned at this point, his sweatshirt draped across his shoulders and a cup in one hand as he talked to Rob Valentine. Only Adam, Anders, and Matt were missing. She would have thought they’d left for the night if Adam’s BMW and Matt’s bright green moped weren’t still in the beach parking lot.

Unease pricked at Allison as she walked farther down the beach, the surf crashing loudly against the shore. She hoped her brothers weren’t going to pick a fight. She was still angry with Matt about how he’d acted in Arabella’s Coffee, but two on one wasn’t fair.



She reached the edge of the party area, a cluster of rental cabanas that created a dividing line between another, rockier stretch of beach. People often used them as a hookup spot, but they were deserted. She passed them, wincing as the wind whipped sand into her face.

Past the cabanas, a pier jutted into the ocean, small rowboats bobbing against its side. And here, finally, Allison caught sight of two figures standing at the pier’s edge. She recognized Adam’s height towering over Anders’s smaller frame, and quickened her pace.

They were staring at the churning waves, oblivious to her approach. “You see anything?” she heard Adam call over the howling wind.

“No. And we won’t. Not with this undertow,” Anders said.

“Jesus Christ, Anders.” Adam’s laugh sounded harsh and on edge. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

The brief exchange, coupled with her brothers’ laser-like focus on the raging water, made the hairs on the back of Allison’s neck stand on end. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Adam and Anders were talking about, and nearly turned to go back to the party. But something made her pause, and reach out a hand.