Emma had scrambled to figure everything out about Sutton on the spot—who her friends were, who her enemies were, what she liked to wear, what she liked to do, who she was dating. She’d come to Tucson simply to find a family member—a foster child, she was desperate for family, any family—but now she was mired in solving her sister’s murder. It had been a relief to rule out Sutton’s closest friends and sister, but Sutton had made a lot of enemies … and any number of people could have been her killer.
And Thayer was one of them. Like so many other people in Sutton’s life, what Emma knew about him she’d cobbled together from Facebook posts, gossip, and the Help Us Find Thayer website his family had created after Help Us Find Thayer website his family had created after he’d skipped town. There was something dangerous about him—everyone said he’d been mixed up in some kind of trouble and had a horrible temper. And according to the rumors, Sutton had something to do with his disappearance.
Or maybe, I wondered, staring at the wild-eyed boy in my room, Thayer had something to do with mine. A memory popped into my head. I saw myself standing in Thayer’s bedroom, the two of us locked in a bitter stare-off.
“Do what you want,” I spat, wheeling toward the door.
Thayer looked hurt, then his eyes flashed with anger. “Fine,” he snapped. “I will.” I had no idea what the fight was about, but it was obvious I’d really pissed him off.
“What’s the matter?” Thayer assessed Emma now, crossing his arms over his toned, soccer-player chest. His knowing expression was identical to the one in his MISSING
poster. “Scared of me?”
Emma swallowed hard. “W-why would I be afraid of you?” she asked in the toughest voice she could muster, the one she used to reserve for butt-grabbing foster brothers, borderline-personality foster moms, and creepy guys loitering in the dodgy neighborhoods she’d grown up in after our biological mother, Becky, ditched her. But it was all a front. It was almost 3 A.M. on Saturday. Sutton’s friends, who were downstairs for a post-Homecoming sleepover, were fast asleep. So were the Mercer parents.
Even the family’s huge Great Dane, Drake, was snoring away in the master bedroom. In the eerie calm, Emma couldn’t help but think of the note she’d received on Laurel’s car her first morning in Arizona: Sutton’s dead. Tell no one. Keep playing along … or you’re next. And the strong, terrifying hands that had strangled her with Sutton’s locket at Charlotte’s house a week later, threatening her once again to keep quiet. And the imposing, shadowy figure she’d seen in the high school auditorium just after an overhead light fell inches from her head. What if Thayer was behind all that?
Thayer smirked as though he was reading her mind.
“I’m sure you have your reasons.” And then he leaned back and stared at her like he could see right through her—like he was why she was here, pretending to be her dead sister.
Emma looked around, assessing her options for escape, but Thayer grabbed her arm before she could put any distance between them. His grip was hard, and she let out an instinctive, piercing scream. Thayer clamped a hand over her mouth. “Are you insane?” he growled.
“Mmm!” Emma moaned, struggling to breathe through Thayer’s suffocating hold. He was standing so close that Emma could smell his cinnamon gum and see the tiny freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. She struggled against him, panic welling in her chest. She bit down hard on his hand, tasting earthy, salty sweat.
Thayer swore and stepped back, letting Emma go.
She spun away from him. His elbow crashed into a sea-green vase on Sutton’s bookshelf. It tipped over, plummeted to the ground, and shattered into dozens of tiny pieces.
A light flipped on in the hall. “What the hell was that?” a voice called. Footsteps sounded and, seconds later, Sutton’s parents burst into the room.
They moved to Emma’s side. Mrs. Mercer’s hair was mussed and she wore a baggy yellow nightshirt under a robe. Mr. Mercer’s white undershirt was messily tucked into blue flannel pajama bottoms and his hair stood out straight from his head in silver-flecked spikes.
As soon as the parents noticed the intruder, their eyes widened. Mr. Mercer inserted himself between Emma and Thayer. Mrs. Mercer wrapped a protective arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her close. Emma sank gratefully into Sutton’s adoptive mother’s embrace, rubbing the five angry marks that had popped up on her skin where Thayer had gripped her.
I had mixed feelings about my parents protecting Emma from Thayer. Were they simply worried because she’d screamed … or was it because of something more sinister about Thayer himself, something they knew about him from a past run-in?
“You!” Mr. Mercer bell owed at Thayer. “How dare you?
How did you get in?”
Thayer just stared at him, a hint of a smirk on his face.
Mr. Mercer’s nostrils flared. His square jaw was set menacingly, his blue eyes blazed, and a vein stuck out on his temple, visibly throbbing. For a second, Emma wondered if Mr. Mercer assumed Sutton had invited Thayer into her room and was mad that his daughter let a boy in at three in the morning. But then she noticed the way Mr.
Mercer and Thayer were crouched, as if ready to fight. It felt like something dark and hate-filled hung in the air between them, something that had nothing to do with Sutton at all.
More footsteps pounded up the stairs. Laurel and Madeline appeared in the doorway, having come from the den where the sleepover was taking place. “What’s going on?” Laurel grumbled, rubbing her eyes. Then she caught sight of Thayer. Her light eyes opened wide and she covered her mouth with trembling fingers.