A screech of tires sounds in the distance, followed by a crash. I whirl around and stumble over a root sticking up in the path, breaking my fall with my palms. Bits of gravel groove into my skin, stinging like I’d just dried my hands with sandpaper. My cell phone falls out of my pocket and lands in the dirt, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
Instead of sobbing with pain, I cry out with relief. I have cell service again. This nightmare is one phone call away from being over. But then I notice the number on the screen.
I let out a long breath and reject Laurel’s call. I can’t deal with her anger right now—or her questions. A second later my phone buzzes with a text.
THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOU’RE DEAD.
Way to overreact, Sis, I think, and press DELETE.
8
A BRUSH WITH DANGER
“What are you doing?”
Emma’s head snapped up. When she saw the figure standing at the end of the aisle, backlit by the sun streaming through the frosted windows, her blood went cold. It was Laurel.
I waved my useless arms, wishing I could yank Emma away to safety. All I could see was the memory that had just been given back to me. That dark, spooky canyon. That text appearing on my phone. I’d dismissed it so carelessly at the time—as sisters, Laurel and I had probably threatened to kill each other hundreds of times. But given my current state, I had to consider that when Laurel wrote that text, it wasn’t just a passing expression of anger and frustration. Maybe she meant what she said. What if she had dropped Thayer off at the hospital and come back to kill me? It had been so dark on that mountain. So secluded. Anything could have happened, and no one would have heard.
Pushing to her feet, Emma shoved Laurel’s cell phone into the pocket of her shorts, praying that this wasn’t the moment that someone decided to send Sutton’s sister a text—Laurel had a very unique and very recognizable monkey squawk as her text ringtone. She kept Sutton’s phone in her other hand. “What are you doing?” Emma shot back, trying to harness Sutton’s brash, back-off attitude.
Laurel’s eyes flicked over Emma as if she knew she’d caught Emma doing something illicit and was trying to figure out what it was. “I heard you walked off the court because you weren’t feeling well,” she said in an even voice. “Like a good sister I came to check on you.”
Sutton’s phone was beginning to feel slippery in Emma’s palm. “I was a little dizzy,” she said, wary of Laurel’s intense gaze on her. “I came in here to get my extra water bottle and decided to sit for a minute.”
“Really?” Laurel asked, rocking back and forth on her heels. She said it overemphatically, and the weird smile on her face broadened. “Funny that you’re in front of my locker, then. Looking for something?”
Emma’s mind raced, flashing through the times Sutton’s killer had attacked her. The hands strangling her from behind. The light crashing down inches from her head, the writing on that chalkboard telling her to stop digging. If Laurel followed through with what she said in her text, then she was dangerous—really dangerous. And here Emma was, digging again—and finding a piece of evidence that could hurt Laurel. Emma looked around the cavernous locker room. If she screamed, would anyone hear her?
When Laurel stepped forward, Emma flinched, certain Sutton’s sister was making her move. But Laurel slid past her, spun the code to her locker, and opened the door. Emma’s heart pounded in her ears as Laurel rifled through her purse. Her eyes were on Emma the whole time. She’s looking for her phone, Emma thought. She knows it won’t be there, because she knows I have it. She’s just doing this to make me sweat.
“Well?” Laurel finally said, pulling out a hairbrush and raking it through her long blond ponytail. “I mean, I know I’m fascinating and everything—Thayer definitely thinks so.” A small smile flitted along her lips when she said Thayer’s name. “But shouldn’t you get your water and head back to practice?”
“Oh. Of course,” Emma said, but she didn’t move. It felt like Laurel’s phone, nestled in Emma’s back pocket, was on fire. Then Laurel turned her back to get a drink from the water fountain, and Emma quickly tossed the iPhone in Laurel’s bag. Amazingly, Laurel didn’t seem to notice.
Emma turned on her heel and scuttled around the corner to Sutton’s locker. Her fingers shook as she worked the combination and opened the door. She rummaged around for a moment, pretending to search, and retrieved the bottle of Evian that was thankfully sitting on the upper shelf. She tipped it back and guzzled it down, but the liquid did nothing to quench her thirst.
When she looked up, Laurel was standing at the end of the aisle, staring at her phone with wide eyes. Emma nearly screamed. For an agonizingly long moment Emma couldn’t remember if she’d clicked off Laurel’s text to Sutton and returned to the phone’s main screen.
“Huh,” Laurel said, frowning.
“What?” Emma asked shakily.
“I could have sworn I put this in the side pocket of my purse,” Laurel said slowly.
Alarms blared in Emma’s head. She knows you were digging! Run away, now! But her sneakers felt nailed to the floor. “I have no idea where you put your phone,” she mumbled, the words jammed in her throat.
“Of course you don’t,” Laurel simpered, rolling her eyes. She slipped the phone in her pocket, then sauntered toward Emma, her eyes blazing. Heat seemed to radiate from her body, her limbs coiled to strike.
“Boo,” Laurel whispered, touching Emma’s chest. Emma screamed and recoiled, shielding her body with her hands and shutting her eyes tight.