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.
“Hey!” Allison shook Adam’s shoulder as she yelled in his ear, and he jumped a mile. “What are you guys doing?”
Anders turned, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Taking care of a problem.”
Once I’m through the gate, I park my bike behind a thick tangle of honeysuckle shrubs and approach the driveway leading to Catmint House, considering my next steps. I can’t exactly waltz up to the front door all Hey, hi, could you spit into a cup for me? Just need a little DNA and I’ll be on my way.
Even thinking the words makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. Sane people don’t break into mansions looking for evidence that their grandmother is an imposter. I kept asking myself, as I pedaled here, if there might be an explanation for the lack of a birthmark on my grandmother’s hand.
Maybe she had it lasered off?
I’d asked about laser removal when I got teased mercilessly as a preteen. “You should be proud,” my father said. “Your grandmother was. She wouldn’t remove part of herself to please other people.” Which was actually good advice, for once, but my mother agreed to let me consult with a few plastic surgeons. They all said the same thing: the color was too dense and too deep. It might fade a little, but it would never go away completely.
Maybe she was wearing makeup?
But then why the gloves? Why the gloves, always, even on a hot summer day?
Maybe you just missed it.
I hadn’t, though. I know that birthmark like the back of my hand, and that’s exactly where it should have been on her. It’s the only characteristic my grandmother and I share, and it wasn’t there. I’m sure of that.
The lush landscaping of the grounds lets me skirt behind bushes all the way up the driveway and then around to the back of the house. Then I pause, looking at the sun-drenched yard. It’s surprisingly big, given how close to the cliff Catmint House looks from a distance, and not as well maintained as the front. The grass is too long, the bushes too wild, and the flowers are unkempt and overgrown. I can hear the roar of the sea crashing against rocks behind the house, and the faint cries of seagulls circling above.
What am I doing?
I start to back up, suddenly horrified with myself. I’m trespassing, is what I’m doing, with the intent to break into a house whose owner explicitly told me to stay away. I could get arrested for this, and for what? I should just tell somebody my suspicions and leave it to the police, or whoever, to sort everything out.
And then I see it: a first-floor window barely five feet off the ground, half open. It almost looks like an invitation.
I creep forward until I’m beneath the sill, then raise myself on tiptoes to peer inside. It’s a beautiful room, with crown molding and an elaborate chandelier, but it looks as though it’s being used for storage space. It’s empty except for piles of boxes, rolled-up rugs, and chairs stacked neatly one on top of the other. The hallway behind the open inner door is silent and dim.
Am I really going to do this? Can I do this? I curl my palms around the sill, debating. I haven’t worked out here like I did while I was swimming competitively, and it doesn’t take long to lose muscle strength. But I’ve always been good at pull-ups.
I take a deep breath and hoist myself up, surprised at how easily I rise. My feet scramble for purchase on the side of the house and I almost lose my grip, but I manage to get one arm up and over the windowsill, which gives me enough leverage to