Hushed by Kelley York Page A

he thought Archer was a murderer, why bring him all the way out here? And how did he answer? He could lie. Say he went home, fell asleep… But it wouldn’t have answered the question ‘why would you lie about it to a cop ?’ He couldn’t get his tongue to cooperate.
    Evan exhaled. “Okay. Then tell me this… Do you know why someone would kill him?”
    That he could answer. “Drugs. Money.” He kept his gaze straight ahead, willing the tremor from his hands. It didn’t work. “He was a useless human being. You said yourself—he’s not exactly a saint.”
    “That doesn’t mean I think he deserved to die.”
    “He hurt people…”
    “How?” Evan pressed. “How did he hurt people, Archer? What did he do that made him such a monster he deserved to die?”
    “He hurt Vivian ,” he snapped, rising from his chair. “Him and his fucking friends… They touched her and they screwed her and Brody sat there and laughed, all right?” And nobody knew. Nobody knew because there’d been no proof and it was Brody’s word against Vivian’s, and it seemed so cruel that no one wanted to believe a couple of teenage boys would do such a thing to a little girl.
    The patio felt too enclosed. He had to get away.
    The sand was icy beneath his bare feet as he moved away from the cottage. There was no one to be seen in either direction, and the darkness was rolling in fast now, the sun a single orange-yellow sliver on the horizon. He stopped at the edge of the water, letting the stinging tide lap at his feet.
    Evan followed, but stopped a few feet behind him. He said nothing. Maybe he didn’t know what to say; maybe he was angry or horrified. Maybe in Evan’s eyes, he was the monster for taking a life. But he didn’t—couldn’t—understand. He hadn’t seen Vivian after the fact. The bruises where they held her down, the dead look in her eyes… If he had, maybe he’d get it.
    “Will you tell me what happened?” So soft it was nearly lost under the sound of the tide.
    Archer turned, squinting through the hair the breeze kept brushing into his eyes. “Why should I?”
    “Because I asked.” Evan stared at him. “And because I deserve to know why I lied for you.”
    Archer’s chest hurt. His head hurt. He hugged himself and turned away again. His secrets were his . Not to be shared, because no one would understand. But Evan had lied for him, possibly condemned himself to consequence if the truth of Richter’s death ever came out. Yeah, he owed it to him.
    “…When we were kids, Marissa, Viv’s mom, went out of town for a few weeks on a business trip. Brody was older, he was left in charge.” Never mind he was a complete moron. Even Archer had to admit, back then he hadn’t been that bad. “He threw a party. Nothing big, just a group of his buddies. They got plastered, wasted, fucked up—whatever.
    “Vivian told Brody she was going to tell on him to their mom. Some of the guys thought the key to her silence was taking her hands and shoving them down their pants. Taunting her with threats to tell her mom she liked it. They found it funny . It escalated from there. And Brody just… sat there. Sat there and laughed like seeing his sister raped was no big deal.”
    Archer fell silent, partly trying to steady his nerves, partly trying to gauge Evan’s reaction. He wished he could find the words to articulate that killing Brody and his friends would never make him feel as guilty as failing to protect Vivian had.
    The silence wasn’t very telling, so he continued.
    “I kept her at my place the rest of the week until her mom got home. She was…God, she was… broken . If you’d seen her… It was the worst week of my life. She didn’t want to leave the house. She couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I had to force her to tell her mom. She was afraid if she did, Brody’s friends would do it all over again. By then, though…there was nothing. No evidence. The bruises were already gone. Of course Brody denied it