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“Uh, hello?” Emma yelled over the rainstorm, trying to quel the nerves in her voice.
Detective Quinlan’s voice boomed on the other end.
“Evening, Miss Mercer. We got the blood results back from your car.”
Emma tensed. “W-what are they?” She braced herself, sure he was going to say the blood was Sutton’s.
“The blood is a perfect match for Thayer Vega,” Quinlan’s low voice pronounced.
Emma stopped short in the middle of the street, certain she’d heard him wrong. “Thayer? ”
“That’s right,” Quinlan said. “Any idea how it got there?
Mr. Vega certainly isn’t talking.”
“I …” Emma trailed off, not having a single thing to say.
She paused next to a spindly mesquite tree, trying to catch her breath. She felt completely blindsided.
“Sutton?” Quinlan prompted. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
Emma huddled under the tree, not that it provided much shelter from the storm. There was so much she needed to tell him. Did she dare? Could she somehow convince him this time that she was Sutton’s twin, but that she hadn’t wanted to steal Sutton’s life? Would he believe her if she told him Thayer had been sending her threatening messages— and that Thayer had killed Sutton? She doubted it. Sure, she had Thayer’s note from Sutton’s locker, the one that said he was going to snap, but while it was proof enough for her, it was unlikely the police would consider it definitive evidence.
“I-I’m sorry. I have no idea how it got there,” Emma answered finally. She shut her eyes, thinking. “Were there any other fingerprints on the car?”
Quinlan sighed. “Just yours and your father’s. He was a co-owner of the vehicle, correct?”
“Uh-huh,” Emma said distantly. She recalled Mr.
Mercer talking about how he and Sutton had restored the Volvo together.
There was a cough on the other end. “Well, since there’s no longer any reason for us to hold your car, you can come pick it up,” Quinlan said gruffly.
“Thanks,” Emma said, but Quinlan had already disconnected. She held the phone outstretched, staring at it as though it were an alien life form. Wind tossed a cold, wet leaf against her ankle. An engine whined in the distance.
The world was still turning as usual, but Emma felt utterly changed. Thayer’s blood. But … how?
I was as stunned as she was. I thought back over the memory I’d just regained. It didn’t make sense—Thayer was the lunatic after me, not the other way around. There was only one answer: I must have somehow managed to get into my car and hit Thayer before he killed me. I was glad for that—Thayer may have taken my life, but at least I got a piece of him on my way out.
21
MOTHER KNOWS BEST
That night, Emma rolled over in bed and looked at the bright neon green digits of Sutton’s alarm clock. It was 2:12
A.M. She’d been crying since a cab dropped her off at home, and her throat was so parched she could barely swallow. In all her life, she’d never felt so confused and alone. Not when she had to move out of Henderson and say good-bye to Alex. Not when she’d had to stay in the state home for an entire month when social services couldn’t find her a foster family. And not even when Becky had left her at her neighbor’s and had never come back to get her.
All those times were hard and sad, but when she left Henderson, she could still call Alex. When she was at the state home, she could play with the girl who shared her bunk bed. And when Becky left, she could cry to her friend’s mom and say she missed her.
But now she was living with a secret so big she was sure the weight of it would crush her. And with Ethan mad at her—so mad that he might never speak to her again—she had no one to turn to. She couldn’t tell anyone else who she really was. She couldn’t make a list of Things I Hate About Being Sutton or Things I Miss About Being Emma or even keep a journal, for fear that someone might find it and discover her true identity.
And the news about Thayer’s blood terrified her. Did that mean Sutton had hit him? What if that caused his limp?
Madeline’s voice echoed through Emma’s mind: He’ll never be able to play soccer again. It was his biggest love
—the thing he was best at—and now his future is ruined.
Maybe there was a motive here. What if Thayer was so furious at Sutton for hurting him that he got her back … by killing her?
Emma flopped back into Sutton’s down pillow, the soft feathers molding perfectly to the shape of her head.
Everything felt so impossible. Why was she doing all this?
What was the point? Maybe she should take off again and leave it all behind. If she wanted to run, now was the time.
With Thayer behind bars, he couldn’t track her every movement. She could finally be free. She was eighteen.
She could get her GED, declare residency somewhere, and apply for in-state tuition …
But even as she thought it, Emma knew she wouldn’t leave. She was living the life of someone she wanted so desperately to know, trying to get justice for her sister. She would never be able to forgive herself if she just gave up, because giving up meant that the person who had murdered Sutton, who had robbed Emma of the chance to get to know her twin sister, would walk free.
It was unimaginable that my murderer would get away with it. I couldn’t accept that, and I hoped Emma would have the strength to stick around—even though I also knew it was getting more and more dangerous for her to be here.
Emma flung the covers off her legs and padded across the bedroom. She unlocked the door and tiptoed down the dark hallway, descending the stairs and narrowly avoiding the stack of magazines Laurel had left on the bottom step.
