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Emma winced at the memory. “Yeah, but then when she came looking for you, you jumped up in a heartbeat. You ditched me.”
“She was my date!” Ethan raised his palms to the air. “I had to be polite! And even after I went back to her, I just asked more questions. At the end of the dance, she was like, ‘I’m not the girl you want.’ And it’s true.”
Emma snuck a peek at him. A sincere, earnest look flooded Ethan’s face. “I know you have your doubts,” he continued softly. “But I can’t let you go. I can’t stand by and just be friends.”
He reached over and took Emma’s hands. A tingly sensation snapped through Emma’s insides. As she stared into Ethan’s bright, loyal eyes, the tightly closed fist inside of her slowly began to open. Screw al her baggage. Screw worrying about getting hurt or emotions clogging up the investigation. Ethan was the most amazing guy Emma had ever met. What was the point of living if she didn’t take some risks every once in a while? And maybe, just maybe, this was something Sutton would have wanted for her, too, if she were stil alive: to go after Ethan, even if the prospects were scary, even if she was putting herself out on a limb. Sutton would encourage her to go after what she wanted anyway.
Of course I would. Of course I was.
Leaning forward, Emma brushed her lips softly against Ethan’s. Ethan slid his hands up to her shoulders and kissed her more deeply. Emma’s whole body sparked and came alive. Their mouths fit perfectly together. Her head started to spin. For the first time in her entire life, Emma just let go.
“Yes!” I cheered next to them. It was about time!
Snap.
Emma broke from Ethan, her heart shooting to her throat. She whirled around to see if one of the girls had fol owed her outside. But the front porch was stil and unoccupied. No one lingered by the garage. Snap. Emma grabbed Ethan’s hand. “Do you hear that?”
The sounds were coming from the house across the street. It was situated at the top of the hil , but something scuttled in the smal ravine at its base. Emma tilted her head to the side, listening. “Did you see anyone when you drove up?”
“No.” Ethan stood slightly in front of Emma, shielding her. He clutched tightly to her hand. “Maybe it’s whoever lives there.”
“At three in the morning?” Emma whispered.
“Maybe it’s just someone on a walk,” Ethan suggested.
“Or . . .”
Footsteps crunched closer. Twigs snapped. A leaf crackled. Emma squinted across the street, petrified. She heard a slight cough . . . and smel ed a faint whiff of coconut sunscreen.
Her hand flew to her mouth. She thought of the elusive figure that had loomed near Ethan and Emma on the tennis courts and on the bench outside the gal ery. The squeak of sneakers as someone darted around the corner outside the nurse’s office. Al those times she’d felt like someone was watching her. . . .
“Ethan,” Emma said nervously. “I have to get out of here.”
She ran across the Mercers’ lawn with Ethan close on her heels. A figure stepped up the ravine, but Emma stil couldn’t see who it was. This suddenly felt like a nightmare; al she wanted was to wake up. Her movements felt slow and languid, like she was trying to slosh through mashed potatoes. She lunged across the final few feet of the driveway. Her hand was on the door, turning the knob. Once she was inside, Ethan spoke through the wood. “Lock the door,” he said, his voice shaking.
Emma punched the lock and chained the bolt. Breath shuddered through her chest as she watched Ethan sprint to his car, gun the engine, and take off down the street. Emma col apsed onto the Mercers’ staircase, clutching her knees to her chest. Someone had been out there. She paced into the den, only slightly comforted by the sight of her friends sleeping, completely unaware of whoever was lurking outside. Emma’s eyes flickered across the room, taking in the objects that’d become so familiar—the porcelain cactus, the framed photo of Sutton and Laurel at the Grand Canyon, the ikat-print ashtray that sat on the coffee table, even though no one in the family smoked. A shadow moved across the porch light and cast an outline against the drawn blinds. Emma froze. This couldn’t be happening. She pressed her body flat against Sutton’s navy-and-white striped sleeping bag. She’d locked the front door, but what about the rest of the house?
Emma lay stil , listening to the sounds of her friends breathing, counting their inhales and exhales. Moments turned into minutes. She scrunched her toes against an itchy wool throw blanket and counted to one hundred before jumping up, hopping over Laurel and Charlotte, and padding back into the hal way. The marble was cold against her bare feet as she crept up the steps. She needed to lock the window in Sutton’s room—the one that was so easily accessible by the oak tree outside. She might not be able to reach the lowest branch from the ground, but anyone over six feet could.
At the top of the steps, she peered into the shadowy doorway at the end of the hal . Her feet inched across the carpet. She clutched Sutton’s thin pajama pants and tried to slow her breathing as she stepped into the darkness of Sutton’s room. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms as a cool breeze swirled around her body.
The window was wide open.
Moonlight spil ed across Sutton’s light blue sheets and the glossy magazine next to her bed. Emma took a smal step backward and thudded into something warm and hard. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled against the hand that suddenly wrapped over her mouth. Another hand was on her waist, pul ing her body tight and holding her stil no matter how hard she tried to break free.
