Hide and Seek (12 page)

Saturday afternoon, Emma stood a foot in front of Laurel’s door, her hand poised on the knob. Downstairs, she could hear Mr. and Mrs. Mercer bustling around, making last-minute arrangements for the party, but Laurel was nowhere to be seen. She was probably out with Thayer somewhere.

Twisting the knob, Emma stepped into the bedroom. The smell of Laurel’s tuberose perfume greeted her like a rush of heat. Two candles sat on Laurel’s desk, along with a cup full of mechanical pencils and a framed photo of five wild mustangs racing across a grassy field. The print was hotel-bland and oddly impersonal in contrast to the collage
of photos and tennis ribbons Laurel had tacked up on her wall. Right near her closet was a black-and-white shot of Thayer standing with his arm around Laurel’s shoulders in the parking lot of Sabino Canyon. It was slightly askew, and the edge of a different photo poked out from underneath it. Emma lifted it up to find a photograph of Sutton and Laurel with their arms wrapped around each other in a nearly identical pose to that of Laurel and Thayer.

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.

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.

Laurel slid her phone back into her clutch and gave Emma a sidelong glance. “You don’t seem like you’re in much of a partying mood tonight. Cheer up!”

Emma tried not to flinch. Laurel had arrived back at the house mere minutes after Emma had escaped from her room. Emma had watched her go into her bedroom and stand in the middle of the carpet, one finger tapping
her lip. Then she’d wheeled around and stared at Emma, who’d quickly turned and hurried into the bathroom as though she hadn’t been staring. Did Laurel know she’d been in there? Did she know what Emma had found?

Images of the bloody racket filtered through my mind as I stared at Laurel. Did she feel remorse? How could she pretend everything was okay?

Shrugging off Laurel’s comment, Emma followed Mr. Mercer up cobblestone steps and past a crystal fountain filled with orange-and-white goldfish the size of hamsters. She caught her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors just inside the lobby, barely recognizing herself. She’d chosen an emerald green cocktail dress and gold kitten heels from Sutton’s closet. The dress had still had a price tag attached; it had cost over $700. She’d slid into it tentatively, terrified she was going to rip a seam or get deodorant on it.

“
There’s
my birthday boy!” a familiar, husky voice rang out. Grandma Mercer, dressed in a black-and-gold ball gown that looked like something a woman of a certain age might wear to the Oscars, floated elegantly through the lobby. She grabbed Mr. Mercer’s arm. “Come, come!” she said excitedly, her mouth standing out in bright pink lipstick. “The place looks amazing!”

She shot smiles at Laurel and Emma, and then led them past plush white leather couches that surrounded a fireplace.
Brown-and-black-spotted cowhide rugs covered the rustic wooden floor. Grandma pushed two glass doors open, and they stepped onto a stone patio surrounded by acres of desert overlooking a dark blue man-made pond. The patio was already filled with guests. The men wore a mix of dark suits, linen pants, and crisp button-downs, while women were dressed in chic, jewel-toned cocktail dresses. The sun hovered over the horizon, dyeing the sky cotton-candy pink, and waitresses buzzed amid the crowd with cocktails.

“Kristin has outdone herself,” Mr. Mercer said in a she-shouldn’t-have sort of voice, but Emma could tell he was extremely pleased.

Grandma’s brow furrowed. “I helped,
too
,” she said sharply.

Instead of responding to his mother, Mr. Mercer focused on someone across the patio. Emma stood on her tiptoes, and a chill passed through her. It was Thayer Vega, looking effortlessly handsome in slim-cut chinos and a white oxford, his longish hair pushed back off his face. He was talking to his father and nodding adamantly.

Mr. Mercer’s face turned pale. He leaned close to Emma and Laurel. “Did one of you invite him?”

Suddenly, Mrs. Mercer sidled up between them. She looked beautiful in a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, and diamond studs glinted in her ears. “Is everything okay, sweetie? Isn’t this an amazing party?”

Mr. Mercer gave her a look. “What’s
he
doing here?”

Sutton’s mother followed his gaze, then set her mouth in a line. “Well, I invited the Vegas,” Mrs. Mercer said. It was obvious the effort it took to keep her voice calm. “Naturally they’d assume that meant Thayer, too. Now, please, just relax and enjoy yourself. We don’t want to make waves.”

Mr. Mercer’s face turned to stone. “I meant what I said, girls,” he said, his dark eyes flashing. “Promise me I can trust you.”

Emma threw her hands up in defense. “Of course.”

“You can always trust me, Daddy,” Laurel added sweetly, tucking a lock of pale blond hair behind her ear.

Almost immediately, Mr. Mercer was swept up by some of his guests, and Emma wandered toward the buffet table, which was stocked with every kind of food imaginable, from sliders to filets mignons, grilled vegetables to complicated-looking soufflés.

After popping a cheese cube in her mouth, Emma looked around to see if any of her friends or Ethan had arrived. Through the crowd, she spotted one of the Mercers’ neighbors gesticulating as she entertained a group of women. “And we invited Pastor Wilkins to that book club! Who knew an Oprah’s Book Club pick would be so racy!” she trilled. Two little girls sipped Shirley Temples by the bar, pretending they were adults. Then she caught a
glimpse of Mr. Chamberlain, Charlotte’s father. He stood with his arm around Charlotte’s mom, who wore a short leopard-print dress that hugged her flawless figure. Just then, Sutton’s father crossed the patio and thumped Mr. Chamberlain hard on the back. Charlotte’s dad said something into Mr. Mercer’s ear, and Mr. Mercer threw his head back with laughter.

Emma blinked. She hadn’t realized those two knew each other. She’d only met Mr. Chamberlain once, the very night she’d arrived in Tucson. He’d greeted her uncomfortably in the Sabino Canyon parking lot, like she’d caught him somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. She sensed something wasn’t quite right in the Chamberlain home, but Charlotte had never opened up, and Emma hadn’t wanted to pry.

“Sutton?” cried a voice behind her.

Emma swung around and nearly smacked into Charlotte, Madeline, and the Twitter Twins. Each was dressed in a gorgeous cocktail dress. Charlotte’s was red, which perfectly accented her peaches-and-cream skin, Madeline’s was a vampy purple-black, and the twins wore shiny silver and gold numbers that barely covered their thighs.

“Say
cheese
!” Gabby said, angling her camera to snap a photo. “I’m gonna tweet something about how fun fifty-fifth birthday parties can be—if you have the right attitude.” She winked.

Charlotte looped an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Are you having a good time?”

“It’s certainly beautiful here,” Emma answered, eyeing Sutton’s mother and father. They were now standing in front of a big table full of gifts. Mr. Mercer was shaking his head, a please-don’t-tell-me-these-are-all-for-me look on his face.

“Where’s Laurel?” Madeline scanned the crowd. Before anyone could answer, Madeline shrugged and disappeared, saying something about finding her. By the piqued look on her face, Emma could tell she was afraid Laurel was with her brother.

Gabby sank into one hip, watching Madeline go, too. “Whoa. Hover much? She’s tracking him like an ankle bracelet.”

“I bet it’s because of their dad.” Lili gestured across the patio. Mr. Vega was now standing with his wife, picking at a plate full of strawberries dipped in chocolate.

“You know what I heard?” Gabby whispered, her fingers still flying on her iPhone. “Mads’s dad is putting all kinds of pressure on Thayer to get caught up in school.
Plus
, he’s, like, grounded for life for putting them through hell when he disappeared.” She widened her eyes. “Why do you think Thayer vanished, anyway? Mads isn’t talking. Do you think he was the leader of a porn ring?”

“No!” Emma exclaimed before she could stop herself.

Charlotte looked curious. “Do
you
know where Thayer was?”

Emma clamped her mouth shut. “Of course not,” she said stiffly. “But he wasn’t doing
that
.”

Then, through the slowly melting ice sculptures, Emma noticed a boy in dark trousers and a light blue button-down shirt appear at the patio door. Her heart soared. “Ethan!” she called, waving him over.

Ethan looked back and forth before locating Emma. A broad grin crossed his face, and he advanced straight for her, not tempted by the waitresses with their trays of food or drinks.

“Hey,” he said, looking her up and down. “You look amazing.”

Emma kissed him on the cheek, feeling her stomach flip. “You look great, too.” She ran her hands through his still-damp hair. His skin smelled like Ivory soap.

Ethan said hello to Charlotte and the Twitter Twins, who greeted him like he was an old friend, then scanned the food spread, which now included a chocolate waterfall and at least ten different types of pies. He let out a low whistle. “This is pretty incredible.”

“They went all out,” Emma said proudly.

“I didn’t know so many people from Hollier would be here,” Ethan observed.

It was only then that Emma noticed many of her
classmates peppering the crowd. There were girls from the tennis team and their parents, including Nisha, who looked radiant in a short, white dress, and her dad. A girl from German class was hanging out near the bar with a couple of guys from the tennis team, and a bunch of girls Emma recognized from Sutton’s birthday party were giggling near the string quartet. Quite a few of them were staring at Emma and Ethan like they were the new “It” couple.

Emma took a glass of seltzer water from a passing waitress and shrugged. “I think Mrs. Mercer is on the PTA. Maybe she’s gotten friendly with other parents over the years.”

Ethan looked down. “Yeah, my parents were never really into that sort of thing.”

Emma squeezed his arm and gave him a quick kiss before pulling him into a quiet corner.

“I found something in Laurel’s room,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “I think it was the murder weapon.”

Ethan’s eyes widened as Emma told him about the tennis racket. “Did you steal it?”

“No. I was worried she’d notice it was gone. And now it has my fingerprints on it.”

Ethan turned toward the crowd for a moment, watching as a waiter passed with a tray full of fruit tortes. “This could be your proof,” he went on, his voice urgent.

“I know, but
how
?” Emma urged. “If only we could test that strand of hair, or some of the blood…but that would require telling the cops that Sutton is dead.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I guess I could write an anonymous note telling the cops everything, and then leave town immediately. That way if they try to pin it on me, I’ll already be gone. And I’ve gotten pretty good at starting over under a new name.” Emma let out a rueful laugh.

Ethan looked horrified by the suggestion. “But whoever killed Sutton might come after you for leaving—
or
for announcing to the world that she’s dead. And more than that, where would you go, what would you do? Your life is
here
. And it’s amazing.”

“
Sutton’s
life is amazing,” Emma corrected. But then her shoulders slumped. “You’re right, though. I have no idea what I’d do. I don’t have a life anymore. I don’t have
anything
anymore.”

She turned and looked at the view, taking in the low lights of the wading pool, the tranquil rocks, and the dazzling sunset. Melodic notes from the string quartet filled the air. She allowed herself one moment to actually savor this, to wish that this was
her
life.

Ethan leaned closer. “You have me,” he reminded her.

Emma wrapped her arms around him. “Thank goodness for that.”

When they pulled apart, Emma felt someone staring at her from across the patio. It was Laurel, who was talking to Madeline and standing
much
closer to Thayer than Mr. Mercer would have liked, though Emma didn’t see Mr. Mercer anyway. Laurel was staring menacingly at Emma, and a pang of fear gripped Emma.

Ethan noticed Laurel, too, and pulled Emma tight against him. But even Ethan’s protective grasp didn’t make her feel better. In fact, being around so many people was beginning to suffocate her. She placed a hand on Ethan’s arm. “I need to splash cold water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

Ethan nodded. “Want me to go with you?”

“It’s okay, I just need a minute alone.” Then she stepped across the patio and made her way into the foyer of the resort. A cowhide rug splayed out in front of a giant fireplace. Potted orchids sat atop carved-stone tables, and silver-framed pictures of important-looking people dotted the walls.

As she passed through a long hallway, a hushed whisper stopped her in her tracks. Two people were talking just inside one of the dark conference rooms. She would have kept going, but she recognized the raspy smoker’s voice immediately.

“Have you seen her again?” Grandma said. Her quiet words seethed with anger.

“Y-yes,” a voice answered shakily. Emma clapped a hand over her mouth. It was Sutton’s dad.

She peeked around the corner. Mr. Mercer and Sutton’s grandmother were standing at the front of the room, near a big, white screen. Sutton’s grandmother’s face was pinched. The top half of her body arched toward her son.