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For a long moment, Emma stood there, studying Laurel’s and Sutton’s smiling faces. They looked for all the world like best friends.
I squinted hard at it, too, trying to remember when it had been taken. The end of school last year? After a tennis tournament? Maybe even earlier than that—Laurel and I looked so happy. I had no idea what had happened to change that. Maybe we’d grown apart when I’d found cooler friends. Or maybe it really did all come back to Thayer.
The hinges on Laurel’s desk squeaked as Emma opened a drawer. Inside was a hot pink eraser in the shape of a heart, rainbow-colored paper clips, and a stapler. Bic pens rolled forward. Scraps of notebook paper lay in piles. Emma picked one up. Mads, one of them said. I need to talk to you about something and it’s really important. Laurel had underlined really three times. Something happened this summer, and I need to get it off my chest. The guilt is eating me alive. Laurel. It was dated September sixth, a week after Sutton disappeared.
Emma dropped the note like it was a hot frying pan. Laurel couldn’t possibly have considered confessing what she’d done to Madeline, could she? Or was she going to tell Madeline that she’d seen Thayer? Either way Laurel clearly hadn’t gone through with it.
Stuffing the note into her back pocket, Emma searched under the bed, under the mattress, and inside the closet. Nothing. She was about to retreat when she saw blue athletic tape trailing out from beneath an armchair—the kind of tape she and Laurel used to wrap the handles of their tennis rackets. Emma crouched and saw a racket nestled beneath the cushions. She pulled it out, then turned it over in her hands. The racket’s dyed-red strings were bent so badly in the middle, Emma was surprised they hadn’t broken. When she touched one of them, some of the red flaked off. It wasn’t red dye—it was blood.
Emma’s fingers trembled at the edge of the racket. The frame was bent as well, as though someone had thrown it hard against something—or someone. Leaning in closer, she saw a long, dark piece of hair twisted along the frame—the same exact color of her own hair. Was that Sutton’s hair? She fought the urge to be sick. Was Emma holding the murder weapon?
She dropped it fast. Now her fingerprints were on it, too. She remembered what Ethan had said after she’d told him who she really was: If you run now, everyone will think you did it.
Maybe that was exactly what Laurel intended: for Emma to find this. For her to touch it. For the down-and-out twin to be framed.
Creak.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Emma shot up just as the door swung open. Mr. Mercer appeared, a startled look on his face. “Sutton?”
“Uh, hi,” Emma said, running a hand through her hair, her heart beating hard. She stepped in front of the fallen racket.
Mr. Mercer leaned against the doorjamb, one eyebrow raised. “Does Laurel know you’re in here?”
“Um.” Emma’s mind flew in a zillion directions, trying to find an excuse. “I was just looking for a bracelet Laurel borrowed. I wanted to wear it to your party.” She shrugged and lifted the palms of her hands. “But no luck,” she said. “I guess she’s wearing it today.”
Mr. Mercer checked his watch. “Speaking of which, I guess I’d better get ready, too.” He patted the door. “I can’t be late to my own party, huh?”
Emma forced a smile. As soon as Sutton’s father turned away, she kicked the racket back beneath the chair like it was any old tennis racket and not a possible murder weapon. Her stomach churned as images of Laurel bashing in Sutton’s head swirled unbidden in her mind.
And they were swirling in my mind, too. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to call to mind the memory of Laurel pummeling me to death…but there was nothing. Just as I was about to give up, an image flashed in front of me: Laurel and me perched on a rocky cliff overlooking Sabino Canyon—the same cliff I’d taken Thayer to. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’d asked her. Her light eyes scanned the canyon’s walls, and a sly smile appeared on her face. And then, she said, clear as day, It’s the perfect place to disappear.
15
THE BIRTHDAY SURPRISE
Emma climbed out of Mr. Mercer’s car and watched him hand his keys to a blond valet in a red and gold uniform. “Welcome to Loews Ventana Canyon, Mr. Mercer,” the valet intoned, gesturing to the hotel behind them.
“Thanks.” Mr. Mercer nodded, then strode toward the resort entrance as though he’d been here a hundred times. He probably had—and likely Sutton had, too. But to Emma, this place was all new. Bentleys, high-end Mercedes, and shiny Porsches filled the parking lot. The resort itself was made of clay-colored stone, and it seemed to blend into the cacti-speckled mountain behind it. Two large fire cauldrons flanked the entrance, and Emma could see a sleek marble lobby through the grand double doors. Small-town Girl Goes Five Star, she headlined in her mind. It made the day spa in Nevada where she’d worked as a towel girl look like a ramshackle car wash.
A prickle of a memory edged my vision. I saw myself and my friends taking a yoga class on the grounds. I could tell it was summer, because all of us were sweating and it was only 7 A.M. At the end of the class, when the instructor had everyone lie down and clear their minds, mine had swarmed with whirling thoughts. I couldn’t tell what I’d been worrying about, though. Two-timing Garrett with Thayer? My jealous little sister? Did I know I was weeks—maybe even days—away from my death?
“We’re just getting here now,” Laurel said into her phone as she and Emma entered the lobby. She was on with Mrs. Mercer, who’d come hours earlier to put the finishing touches on things. Grandma had gone with her and was probably rearranging the table linens and silverware.
