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But it was over. Ethan had been caught, and it was only a matter of time before the cops found all the evidence they needed to charge him. So I couldn’t help wondering—why was I still here? I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but I’d always pictured something happening right about now. Pearly gates, or a long tunnel with a bright light at the end, or a cosmic escalator leading to some heavenly mall where my halo would double as a platinum card. But I was still here, still my sister’s silent shadow. Would I be here forever, haunting her until she died and joined me in the afterlife?
The door flew open, and Mrs. Mercer rushed in, followed by her husband. They’d obviously dressed in a hurry—Mr. Mercer still had on the ratty UC Davis T-shirt he often wore to bed, and Mrs. Mercer had pulled on sweatpants and a wine-stained blouse that looked like it’d been at the top of a laundry hamper. Thayer and Laurel both stood to meet them. Emma’s grandmother embraced Laurel tightly, her lips an anxious line in her face. Mr. Mercer, meanwhile, grabbed Thayer in a bear hug. Thayer looked embarrassed, but he patted Mr. Mercer on the back and smiled weakly.
Emma watched them from the sofa, her heart aching. For the first time, she thought she fully understood how they’d felt after finding out who she really was. She had done to them exactly what Ethan had done to her—she’d pretended to be someone she wasn’t. She couldn’t blame them for wanting her out of their lives.
But then Mr. Mercer let go of Thayer, his eyes shining as he sat beside Emma, and pulled her into an embrace.
For just a moment she went stiff in his arms. Then her body started to tremble, and she put her arms around his neck. Tears prickled her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“I know,” he whispered, rocking her back and forth. “It’s going to be okay.”
Emma didn’t know if anything would ever be okay again. Having Mr. Mercer’s shoulder to cry on was a comfort she didn’t deserve, yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
That was the thing about family. They were a comfort none of us deserved. I thought about the last angry words I’d said to my father, and the constant bickering with my mom while I was still alive. But they loved me anyway, no matter what I’d done.
Finally Mrs. Mercer settled on the couch next to Emma, her hands twisting around each other nervously. She gave Emma a lingering, uncertain look, then took her hand. Her blue eyes were serious and piercing.
“It’s not fair that you’ve been facing all of this alone,” she said softly. “I’m still struggling to understand it all . . . but I know you must have been terrified this whole time.”
Emma nodded, tears prickling her eyes again. “I wanted to tell you so badly.”
Mrs. Mercer squeezed her hand. “There’s a lot we’ll have to get used to. Do you think you can give us time to work through all these feelings?”
Emma frowned up at her. “Time?”
“We lost two daughters,” Mr. Mercer said, his voice breaking. “We don’t want to lose another.”
“We’d like it if you’d come stay with us. At least for the time being,” Mrs. Mercer said. “I know you’re eighteen, and maybe after all this you’re ready to move on. But we’d like a chance to get to know you, Emma. As yourself.”
Emma opened her mouth to reply, but words refused to form. She glanced at Mr. Mercer, and he nodded encouragingly. Quinlan sat quietly in an armchair, as poker-faced as ever, but she thought she could see a twinge of sympathy in the corner of his mouth.
“Of course she’s coming to stay with us,” Laurel said briskly. “I didn’t just save her ass in the middle of the woods so she could run off again.” She looked steadily at Emma.
Emma stared around the room at her family, all of them waiting for her answer. They may not have forgiven her yet—but they wanted to try. And if they could do it, maybe she could forgive herself.
“I’d like that,” she said, smiling through her tears.
I sat in their midst, surrounded by my family again. And I could feel their love for me, even across the divide between the living and the dead.
33
HOME
“There’s been yet another twist in the sensational case of the Tucson Twin Murderer,” Tricia Melendez’s voice reported from Sutton’s laptop. “On Wednesday night, eighteen-year-old Ethan Landry was arrested for kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder. The victim? Emma Paxton, Sutton Mercer’s twin sister, and, until Wednesday, the chief suspect in Sutton’s murder.”
Emma lay curled on Sutton’s bed Saturday morning, staring dully at the screen. She’d propped the computer on Sutton’s nightstand, where she could see it from the nest of pillows. She’d been watching since she’d woken up, clicking through different blogs and news agencies to hear twenty different versions of the same event—the fact that Emma Paxton had been cleared of all charges, and that Ethan Landry had allegedly killed Nisha Banerjee and Sutton Mercer.
In just a few minutes she’d have to move. She’d have to get up, even though her body felt like it was made of lead, and go downstairs to join the Mercers. That afternoon, Sutton would finally be buried—and finally be at peace.
Would I? I’d been imagining my funeral for months, but now that it was here, I wasn’t so sure. Would this last good-bye from my friends and family finally lay me to rest? Or would I linger in Emma’s shadow for the rest of her life, voiceless and powerless and utterly alone?
