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“True,” Ethan said, sounding deflated. “It just means we’ll have to dig deeper. Find out what his motive was.
Find out something to really nail him to the wall.”
“Yeah,” Emma murmured, but she felt exhausted. She was so close … but so far away.
She closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed at the task ahead of her. A teenage soccer star didn’t become a murderer out of nowhere. Something made Thayer Vega break.
When she opened her eyes again, she noticed Ethan’s glowing laptop screen. A Safari window was open to Sutton’s Facebook page.
“You’re on Facebook?” Emma smirked. “You don’t seem like the type.”
Ethan shot off the bed and closed the laptop. “I’m not, really. I mean, I have a page, but I don’t really post on it or anything. I was just thinking about leaving you a message on your—well, Sutton’s wall. But I don’t know.” He peeked at her cagily. “Would that be weird? Your friends don’t really know about … how we talk.”
Emma felt a rush of pleasure that they were even discussing their potential relationship. But then a pit formed in her stomach. She recalled how the girls had giggled about the prank today. She considered telling Ethan about the plan to ruin his poetry reading, but the thought nauseated her. She would just have to thwart the plan, plain and simple.
“Actually, Laurel knows about us,” Emma said instead.
She flushed instantly. Was what she said okay? Calling them us? It wasn’t like they were a couple yet.
“Does that bother you?” Ethan asked, a slight smile tugging the edge of his lips.
“Does it bother you?” Emma countered.
Ethan took small steps toward Emma and sat down on the bed beside her. “I don’t care who knows. I think you’re amazing. I’ve never met anyone like you.” Emma’s heart squeezed. No one had ever said anything like that to her before.
Ethan leaned forward, running his fingers across the nape of her neck. He kissed her gently, his lips warm and soft, and Emma instantly forgot about everything that’d happened since she arrived in Tucson. She forgot about just how excited she’d been when she stepped off the bus to meet her sister. She forgot how quickly the hopes of her and Sutton’s reunion were dashed. She forgot about the note threatening her to be Sutton—or else. She forgot about the investigation into Thayer, or whoever had killed Sutton. In that moment, she was just Emma Paxton, a girl with a brand-new boyfriend.
And I was just her sister, happy that she had found someone she truly cared about.
14
IF THE KEY FITS
That night Emma’s body tangled among Sutton’s light blue bedsheets as she tossed from one side to the other.
Sutton’s smattering of ratty stuffed animals were lined up at the foot of the bed and stared at Emma, their eyes glassy in the moonlight. They were so unlike Sutton, one of the only sentimental things Emma could find that her sister had kept from her past. They reminded her of the toys Emma had kept—a hand-knitted monster toy a piano teacher had given her for mastering a hard piece of music, and Socktopus, which Becky had bought for her on a trip to Four Corners. Sutton’s toys made Emma think of all of the time they’d missed, the memories they could have had of playing for hours together in a shared bedroom, making up secret worlds only the two of them understood. Hours they could never get back.
An owll called from the oak tree just outside Sutton’s window. Emma stared at the branches, noting that it was the same tree she’d used the night she snuck out with Ethan, and the same tree Thayer had used to break into Sutton’s bedroom. Suddenly, she jolted up with a start. The window was wide open. And a hulking figure stood in the corner of the room, his breath coming in jagged rasps.
“Did you really think it’d be that easy to get rid of me?” his voice said.
Even though he was in the shadows, Emma recognized him immediately. “Thayer?” she squeaked, the name barely escaping her mouth.
She scrambled back against the headboard, but it was too late. Thayer launched forward, his hands closing around her neck, his lips inches from hers. “You betrayed me, Emma,” he whispered, his hands tightening around her throat. His bottom lip grazed hers. “And now it’s time for your reunion with Sutton to become a reality.” Emma dug her nails into Thayer’s skin as her oxygen supply dwindled and her life seeped slowly from her.
“Please, no!”
“Goodbye, Emma,” Thayer sneered. His hands squeezed and squeezed … seemingly to the tune of Kelly Clarkson’s “Mr. Know It All.”
Emma shot up in bed. The same Kelly Clarkson song blared in her ears. She looked around. She was in Sutton’s bedroom, Sutton’s sheets clinging to her wet skin. Sunlight streamed through the window—it was, indeed, open. But the corner was empty. She touched her neck, and she didn’t feel any evidence that she’d been strangled. Her skin felt smooth. Nothing hurt.
A dream. It was just a dream. But it had felt so real.
It felt all too real to me, too. I looked hard at the corner, startled that Thayer wasn’t really there. It still shook me that I was carried along with Emma everywhere she went, even into her dreams.
Emma’s fingers trembled as she tugged her light blue pajama top down over her stomach and glanced around Sutton’s bedroom once more. The computer screen glowed with familiar images of Sutton and her best friends
—this particular photo was taken after a tennis team victory. The girls had their arms slung around each other and flashed peace signs at the camera. A German textbook lay open on Sutton’s desk along with a small book of poetry Ethan had given Emma the week before. There were no stuffed animals anywhere—the real Sutton had been too mature for toys.
