by Sara Shepard
“Should I drive you home?” Mr. Mercer asked as Sutton’s Volvo came into view. “You could leave the car here overnight.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll follow you.”
Mr. Mercer nodded, pressing the keyfob to his SUV. Two short bleeps rang out through the darkness. “I never thought she’d try to hurt you,” he said in a low voice.
“I know.” She didn’t blame Mr. Mercer for what Becky had done. He had just wanted what was best for Becky, and for Sutton, too. He’d probably had fantasies of his own about his daughter and granddaughter reuniting; of Becky finally coming home, healthy and happy and ready to be part of the family again. He’d been blinded to just how dangerous Becky really was. But he wasn’t the only one who’d been misled.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” Mr. Mercer said, frowning. “Becky’s unpredictable. She might skip town again. But Sutton, if you see her, if you even think you see her, tell me right away. All right?”
“Of course.” She clutched her car keys so tightly they dug into her palm.
Emma drove slowly on the way home, following his taillights. Her head pounded and her muscles still twitched anxiously as the adrenaline of the past hour dissipated. She passed under a pedestrian bridge designed to look like a giant rattlesnake arched high over traffic, its fangs bared. Usually the installation amused her, but today it felt ominous, as if any minute it would lean over and swallow her whole.
Becky could be anywhere by now. And even though the cops were on the lookout for her, she had always been good at not getting caught. Emma had seen it dozens of times as a little girl—the way Becky could disappear in a crowd, the way she slipped past prying eyes. She could become a ghost as easily as snapping her fingers.
Somehow I didn’t think she’d skip town. I had a feeling she would stay close. Too close.
Porch lights throughout the subdivision cut through the darkness that filled the streets. Emma had never noticed how many shadows there were, how many places for someone to hide. As they pulled up to the Mercers’ two-story adobe house, she made out a tall, broad-shouldered form moving in the yard.
Thayer, wearing hiking boots and cargo shorts, was raking smooth river stones into one of the new beds Mr. Mercer had built before his accident. A deep white scar spread across his knee from his surgery. As the cars pulled into the driveway, he straightened up and waved.
Mr. Mercer waved weakly back at him before heading inside. Thayer leaned on the rake, watching Emma as she slowly got out of her car.
“You’re really dedicated,” Emma said, trying to hide the strain from her voice. “Almost done, huh?”
Thayer frowned in concern and put his hands on her shoulders. “What happened?” he asked.
Emma looked away. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Sutton. I know you. Something’s going on. What?”
Emma’s lip started to tremble. Before she could stop herself, she leaned into his arms. The tears that she’d been holding back broke free and rolled down her cheeks. “It’s my birth mother,” she began.
And then the whole story came pouring out—Becky’s attack at the hospital, her escape, her tendency toward violence. Thayer turned her arm to look at the marks from Becky’s ragged nails and winced, then met her eyes.
“And they think she might come here?” he asked, looking stricken. “That she might attack you again?”
Emma took a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “They don’t know what she’ll do.”
“Why is she attacking you at all? You’re her daughter.” Thayer still hadn’t let go of her wrist. His fingers were warm and reassuring.
“She’s … sick,” Emma fumbled, not sure how much to admit. “It’s hard to explain. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”
Thayer narrowed his eyes at the street. “She’d better not come here.”
Gratitude coursed through Emma’s veins. “You’re such a good friend,” she murmured, squeezing him around the neck in a hug. Thayer held her close, his hands traveling up and down her spine. When Emma stepped back, they laughed awkwardly and then fell into a silence. The tinny laugh track of a sitcom came through a neighbor’s open window. Somewhere a few blocks away a dog barked.
Thayer shifted his weight. “Anyway. You should go get some rest.” He glanced back at the yard. “I’m gonna finish up here and head home. And, Sutton?” he added, suddenly serious. “You know you can always call me if you need anything, right? I mean, no matter how awkward things are between us, I’ll be here in a heartbeat if you need me. Okay?”
Emma looked into his deep-set hazel eyes, which had lit up with a soft intensity. “Okay,” she whispered. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and went into the house.
I tried to linger behind as long as I could, watching the boy I loved turn back to his work. Soon, though, the cord between me and my twin pulled taut, and I was dragged along after her.
22
IN HOT WATER
The next night, Emma and Ethan pulled into the parking lot of the Clayton Resort. The sprawling hotel was situated against the mountains on the outskirts of Tucson, far away from highways and city traffic and surrounded by the natural beauty of red boulders and flowering cacti. A thick forest of ironwood and mesquite enclosed the resort, protecting its patios and pools from any prying eyes—and providing the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to sneak into the hot springs.
I had broken into the hot springs dozens of times with the Lying Game clique. It was where some of our best pranks had been planned. It was also where my wonderful friends had grabbed me from behind, thrown me in the trunk of Laurel’s car, and driven me to the desert to choke me with my own locket chain.
Ethan had been asking to go for weeks, and after the scene at the hospital the day before, Emma’s need for relaxation had finally outweighed her reluctance to break the rules. Her body ached all over. The stress of the last few weeks had settled around her shoulders like a weight, leaving her back full of knots and her neck sore. The only thing she wasn’t so eager about was traipsing off into the desolate, scary desert, but Ethan was with her.
“You ready for this?” Ethan asked as they walked across the parking lot.
Emma hugged Sutton’s straw beach bag to her chest. She glanced around, trying to ignore the feeling that she was being watched. Every time she left the house she became hyperaware of all the hiding places around her, all the places Becky could be. “Uh-huh,” she said uneasily.
Ethan, who was in a pair of red swim trunks and a T-shirt printed with an old Japanese Godzilla movie poster, grabbed her hand comfortingly. Emma looked around to get her bearings, then led Ethan down a narrow, unlit deer trail. The resort’s lights twinkled occasionally through gaps in the trees, but otherwise it was dark. Scraps of clouds hung in the sky, concealing patches of stars. Emma’s skin felt prickly.
“I hate not knowing where Becky is,” she whispered.
Emma had filled him in on everything shortly after arriving home last night. Ethan had wanted to come over, but Emma put him off, claiming exhaustion. It was only partially true. She also didn’t want Ethan coming over when Thayer was still in the front yard. She hadn’t mentioned that Sutton’s ex was helping Mr. Mercer out, and she didn’t need Ethan getting all weird and jealous about it.
Ethan nodded. “Me, too. But I won’t let her hurt you,” he said firmly, taking her hand.
Emma bit down on her thumbnail, remembering the night at the movie studio when the note had appeared on her car. Whoever had left it had been listening to them talk—she was sure of it. That meant the murderer—Becky—knew that Ethan was in on her secret. Would Becky even hesitate to get rid of Ethan if she needed to?
The thought ripped through her like a bullet, and she stopped in her tracks. “Promise me that you’ll be careful,” she said urgently. “If you see Becky, don’t do anything brave or stupid. She’s dangerous. And I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“
You won’t lose me,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. As long as we’re together, she can’t hurt us.”
Emma swallowed hard. With Ethan’s arms wrapped around her so protectively, she almost felt safe. “Okay,” she whispered.
Careful, I thought. You can’t afford to let down your guard. Becky is stronger and smarter than she looks.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ethan asked. “About … suspects? What to do about Becky?”
Emma felt a pang of guilt. As much as she needed to focus on the investigation, she had let it consume their relationship. Ethan deserved a night off from playing Nancy Drew. “Let’s just be us for a little bit,” she said, and her heart warmed at the sight of his face lighting up.
“Sounds good to me,” Ethan said, kissing her lightly and melting the tension in her limbs. She leaned into him, loving the way their bodies fit together.
“Come on,” he murmured, taking a step back and pulling her along the path.
The springs were in a small clearing, landscaped with red rocks and lit by floodlights positioned discreetly in the surrounding trees. Steam rose invitingly from the surface. “It’s beautiful, right?” Emma said, turning to Ethan.
But he wasn’t looking around, admiring the landscape. Instead he was staring at her so intently that she blushed.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She stepped forward silently and touched his cheek, falling under the spell of the still, peaceful evening. Ethan closed his long-lashed eyes, and she traced the line of his jaw, the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips, his cheekbones.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, more urgently this time. Her lips opened against his as his hand coiled into her hair. All other thoughts were swept from her mind. She ran her hands beneath his T-shirt, up the rigid V of his stomach muscles, before pulling the shirt off over his head. He tugged at the tank dress she’d thrown on over her bikini, leaving it on the ground with his shirt.
Their breathing was shallow and quick. She took him by the hand. Slowly, gazing into his eyes, she led him into the springs. The water roiled against her, too hot, almost painful at first. They sat on the stone bench, backs to the side of the pool.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Ethan finally whispered.
She rested her cheek over his heart, feeling its strong pulse in his chest. “So are you,” she said. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Guys like me are a dime a dozen,” he teased. “What boy doesn’t love poetry and astrophysics?” She laughed softly, but then his eyes became serious. “Emma, you’re the special one. I can’t believe I’ve found you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“I’m glad you did,” she murmured. “And I am yours.”
He rested his forehead against hers, gazing directly into her eyes. He took a deep breath. “Emma … I love you.”
Emma’s lips parted. She pulled back, cupping his face in her fingers. “I love you, too,” she whispered. It was all she’d ever wanted—to be loved, to find someone who understood her. To find someone she could share everything with.
They stepped into deeper water. Emma wrapped her legs around Ethan’s waist, and he held her up, carrying her toward the source of the spring, where the water was warmest. She kissed him playfully—his neck, his shoulders, his mouth. His hand traced along the back of her head, moving restlessly in her hair, then drifted downward to find the knot tying her bikini behind her neck. He fumbled with it for a moment before she realized what he was doing.
“Wait,” she gasped, catching her breath. She put a hand on his chest. Suddenly she felt exposed, and nervous.
Ethan bit his lip. “Sorry,” he said, looking ashamed. He pulled his hands away from her. She stroked a damp curl out of his eyes.
“Ethan, I just mean … I want to, but not now. It’s too public.”
His eyes darted around the clearing, studying the rocks, the surface of the water—anything but her face. “Too public for … what?” he asked shyly. “What I mean is … do you want to … are you thinking of … I would love to—”
“Yes,” Emma interrupted him. “I would love to, too.” She’d been imagining her first time with Ethan ever since they started dating, though she hadn’t been brave enough to confess it until now. She hadn’t known if she was ready either. But now, knowing that he loved her, knowing that she loved him, she was suddenly sure.
“I want to share that with you,” she went on. “I’ve never … never done that before.”
“Neither have I,” Ethan said. He cupped her chin in his hand, and she looked up into his eyes. “When the time is right, it’ll be special for both of us.”
They kissed a little more after that, but slower, without the same frenzy. Between the warmth of the water and the feeling of Ethan’s embrace, Emma had completely relaxed. Overhead, stars shimmered in the clear desert sky. A chorus of crickets serenaded them from the nearby tree branches. This was a perfect idea, Emma thought. To let go of her fear for a few minutes, to forget about all of the heartbreak and fury and terror that Becky brought with her. What would she have done if she hadn’t been able to share any of that with Ethan?
But as much as I hoped that Ethan could protect my sister, I was far from certain. Becky was unpredictable and dangerous—and she was out there somewhere in the darkness. If she had tried to run down Thayer that night in the canyon, would she try to get rid of Ethan, too?
23
HELP FROM AN UNEXPECTED SOURCE
Ethan’s house was dark when Emma dropped him off. Some of the other homes on the block already had their Christmas lights out, the red, green, and white glowing colorfully against the adobe walls even though it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. One family had a herd of fake reindeer on their lawn, complete with a red-nosed Rudolph and a sleigh full of poinsettias. But Ethan’s bungalow was undecorated, even neglected. Paint flaked off the siding, and the porch had one rotten step Emma almost always forgot about. It creaked ominously under her feet.
“When can I see you again?” Ethan asked, his arms coiled around her waist.
“Tomorrow at school?” she teased. He kissed her on the nose playfully.
“Saturday?” he asked, hopeful. “We could rent a movie, or just look at the stars …” Emma smiled. That’s how they had met—Emma caught him stargazing while she was at Nisha’s party, the first night she was pretending to be Sutton.
“We have Charlotte’s party, remember?” she said. He wrinkled his nose a little, and Emma laughed. “Come on, Mr. Wallflower, don’t make me face it alone.” Ethan had never been big on parties, but she’d been hoping that getting to know Sutton’s friends better would warm him up to the idea.
“For you, anything,” he whispered. He gave her another lingering kiss, and then slipped through the door. She heard the lock snap shut behind him.
Across the street, the Catalina Mountains loomed. She couldn’t see it in the dark, but the entrance to the Sabino Canyon recreation area was in sight of Ethan’s porch. Just the thought of it made her skin crawl. It was where she’d waited for Sutton when she’d first come to Tucson, full of anticipation. It was also where her sister had spent the last night of her life. She shivered, feeling as if the canyon itself were watching her, a dark and malevolent presence. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but something about the area felt menacing. Maybe Becky was out there.
The sound of footsteps interrupted Emma’s thoughts. She froze, her hand on her car door. Just as she was getting ready to jump in and slam the locks down, Nisha stepped into the light. She was dressed in Hollier High sweatpants and a tank top that showed off her muscular shoulders. Her hair glinted almost purple in the darkness. She wore a pair of tortoiseshell Guess eyeglasses and no makeup. It looked as if she’d been getting ready for bed.
“Hey,” Nisha said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Emma exhaled, then laughed nervously. “You didn’t. I’m just a little on edge, I guess.”
“Fr
om hanging out with Ethan?”
“Yeah—I mean, no, of course not. For other reasons. But yeah, Ethan and I were hanging out.” Just saying his name brought a smile to her lips.
Nisha shook her head. “You guys are the weirdest couple of all time.”
“Why do you say that?”
The motion-sensor light in the Banerjees’ driveway shut off, and they were left in the dark. Nisha cleared her throat. “Sorry. Forget I said it. Anyway, I saw your car and just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I mean, after all the craziness at the hospital.”
Emma stared down for a moment, picking nervously at the fabric of her still-damp tank dress. “The woman who escaped yesterday is my birth mom. Your dad’s been treating her.” She shifted her weight and blurted out the thought that had been bothering her more than any other. “Nice genetics, huh?”
Nisha’s eyes were soft behind her glasses. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not really sure,” Emma replied. She was grateful for the darkness. It would have been too hard to talk about this if Nisha could see her face. “I mean, she’s obviously crazy. You don’t end up in the psych ward unless you’re crazy, right?”
“Crazy’s not exactly the word I’d use,” Nisha said carefully. “People have all kinds of problems that land them in treatment.”
“Well, whatever her problems are, I’m apparently one of them.” Emma sighed. “Nisha, would you mind not telling anyone about this? No one knows any of it—that I’ve met my birth mom, or what she’s like. It’s a secret between me and my dad.”
“Of course,” Nisha said. She paused, a shallow frown wrinkling her forehead. “Why did she call you Emma?”
Emma fidgeted, her pulse surging. “Um, it turns out Emma was the name she gave me as a baby,” she said, thinking quickly. “My parents changed my name when I was a few days old.”
Nisha nodded. “You got lucky. Emma sounds like an old maid. Sutton’s way better.”
Emma pursed her lips, but I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.
