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“Wait!” Emma pointed at the photo. “When was this taken?”
Nisha inspected the photo and rol ed her eyes. “Can’t you read?” she asked in a smart-ass tone. “It says August thirty-first.”
Nisha placed her palm between Emma’s shoulder blades and shoved her out the door. She slammed it before turning to face Emma. “Attending team activities is what being on a team means. At least for those of us who care about supporting one another.”
“Even Laurel was there,” Emma said slowly, lifting her eyes to meet Nisha’s.
A haughty grin widened on Nisha’s face as she glanced over Emma’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil! We were just talking about you.”
Emma whipped around. Laurel stood at the end of the hal , a red plastic cup in her hand. “You were?” she asked, her gaze bouncing between the two of them.
“I was just tel ing Sutton about the ah-mazing time we al had at my back-to-school tennis sleepover a few weeks ago,” Nisha chirped.
Laurel’s cheeks flushed and her plastic cup made a crinkling sound as she squeezed it tighter. “Oh,” she said quietly. Her eyes flickered to Emma and then to the mauve carpet lining Nisha’s hal way. “Oh, Sutton, I’m sorry, I . . .”
“Is it real y that embarrassing?” Nisha slapped her arms to her sides. “You came, Laurel. I’d say you even had fun.”
Laurel’s mouth morphed from a smile to a frown to a wiggly line. “It was okay,” she whispered.
Nisha’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. She pul ed on her bedroom doorknob one more time for good measure and pushed past Emma and Laurel. She glanced at her father’s room, color draining from her face, and pul ed that door shut, too.
After Nisha disappeared down the hal , Laurel peeked at Emma sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Sutton. I know you and Nisha hate each other. But I thought the sleepover was mandatory. I didn’t know you and Charlotte weren’t going to come. Please don’t be mad at me.”
More giggles erupted from the den. The wind gusted outside, pressing up against the windows. Maybe the real Sutton would have been pissed to find out what Nisha had just told her—clearly Laurel hadn’t admitted she’d gone to Nisha’s tennis party because Sutton’s friends were supposed to be united in Nisha-hate. Sutton might’ve interpreted this as betrayal.
But Emma was delighted—relieved. Laurel attending Nisha’s tennis team sleepover meant she had an airtight alibi for the thirty-first. Neither she—nor Nisha—could have kil ed Sutton.
“It’s fine,” Emma said to Laurel, throwing her arms around Sutton’s sister’s neck so hard she knocked her off balance.
“Sutton?” Laurel said, her voice muffled in the sleeve of Emma’s flowy lavender top.
I twirled in an invisible circle next to the two of them. This was even better than clearing Charlotte and Madeline. My own sister was innocent.
Chapter 14
Double the Trouble
“What’s al that?” Madeline asked as she flung open the door to her house and stared at Laurel, Emma, and Charlotte on the porch. It was Saturday afternoon, and al three carried paint-spattered jeans, grubby T-shirts, and old sneakers.
“Our costumes for when we go home.” Laurel set the dirty clothes on the porch swing. “I told my mom that Char and I were volunteering with the Habitat for Humanity housepainting crew today. I said Sutton should come, too—I promised it would be a rewarding experience for her.”
“The lengths we go to free you, Sutton,” Madeline said dramatical y, batting a long black braid over her shoulder. Charlotte winked at Emma, and Emma giggled. She didn’t have to hold her breath around them anymore; they were Sutton’s friends, not her kil ers. She was so grateful she’d let Laurel have the last low-fat muffin this morning, and she’d given Charlotte a huge hug as soon as they’d gotten in her car. “Someone’s cheerful this morning,”
Charlotte had commented. “Are you in love?”
Now Emma glanced around. This was the first time she’d been in Madeline’s house, a bungalow with authentic adobe wal s, an old-school, pueblo-style fireplace, and a Mexican-tiled kitchen with cheerful red pendant lights. Outside the window was a stunning view of the Catalina Mountains; Emma could just make out a line of people hiking on one of the upper trails.
“C’mon.” Madeline grabbed a big bowl of popcorn from the kitchen island and padded into the den. Corduroy couches surrounded a large flat-screen TV in the corner. Scattered between wooden wal placards that said things like BLESS OUR HAPPY HOME and WE ARE FAMILY were framed photographs of Madeline and her brother, Thayer. Emma moved closer to the photos and tried to inspect them without Madeline noticing. There were pictures of Thayer in soccer gear. Thayer standing in front of a local Italian restaurant, pretending to take a big bite out of a large cardboard pizza sign. Thayer standing on top of a mountainous desert rock, dressed in a red T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. The wind blew his black hair into his warm, hazel eyes, and there was a whisper of a smile on his clear-skinned, strong-jawed face. Every shot showed him grinning at the camera except one: a photo taken of the group, going to a prom. Sutton and Garrett stood together, dressed in formal wear. Madeline was with Ryan Jeffries, who Emma recognized from school, and Charlotte was with a dark-haired guy Emma didn’t know. Thayer stood a little off to the side, his arms crossed over his wel -fitted tux. His eyes were narrowed and his face was hard, like he was trying to look debonair. Mysterious Boy Disappears Without a Trace, Emma thought, giving the photo a caption.
