The approaching car bounces over the rocky earth and the tires kick up a cloud of dust. “Hey!” I cry, waving my arms again. But as the vehicle moves closer, I drop my arms to my sides. Why would a car be driving down this dead-end road? And why do those headlights look familiar? Is it my car? Is the mystery driver back?
Only, the headlights aren’t the same shape as mine. Still, I recognize them from somewhere. I shoot up straight as the car accelerates with a growl, aiming straight at me, covering ground at breakneck speed. It’s going to run me over! I realize, shooting off the path. Just like someone ran Thayer down.
My mind is suddenly spinning. The next time I see you, you’re dead. Could it be Laurel? Has she lost her mind?
I whirl around and sprint farther into the desert. The engine responds, roaring louder and veering off the path, too. A voice is calling out, but I can’t hear it over the rev of the engine and the pops and bursts of the tires crunching over cacti and sending rocks flying. I’m running as fast as I can, but the car is gaining speed until I can feel its heat and velocity on my heels. The headlights pour golden beams in front of me and I can see my pumping arms in shadow.
“Please!” I scream, twisting around. I try to see who the driver is, but it’s too dark—and my eyes are filled with tears. “Please stop!”
The car is just a few feet from me now, about to take me down. All at once, a screeching sound shatters the air. And then, the car stops. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see the window rolling down. They have a gun! is all I can think, and I zag around a barrel cactus to get away.
“Sutton!” a voice screams.
I stop. I know that voice. I turn to see my dad hanging out the window. I blink. My heart starts to slow. “D-Dad?” I stammer, slowly walking back to him.
But something’s wrong. My dad’s face is drawn. The moonlight catches flecks of gray in his dark hair. His eyebrows meet in the middle, and he glares at me like he’s disgusted by my very presence. I hardly recognize the way he’s looking at me. My dad climbs out of the car, springing forward like an angry rattlesnake. His hand wraps around my arm. Hard.
My mouth falls open. “Daddy,” I whimper, staring down at my wrist where already five red welts are beginning to form. “Let go. You’re hurting me!”
But he doesn’t let go, instead continuing to look at me with a rage-filled, searching look, like he’s so angry with me he can’t even find his voice. “What did you see?” he finally spits out.
“N-nothing!”
But my dad squeezes my wrist harder. I stifle a gasp, sharp pain radiating through my arm.
“I know you saw something. Why else would you guys run?” My father’s voice is suddenly so eerily calm that it takes a second for the words to register.
I know you saw. My pulse ratchets up as I put the pieces together. This was why Thayer had dragged me away from the overlook and practically pushed me down the trail. He saw my dad doing…something—something that scared Thayer. Something that Thayer thought I shouldn’t see.
And that’s when I notice there’s dust all over him. Desert dust. The same dust that covers me from my race through the canyon. A chill passes through me, and the sound of the footsteps pursuing me and Thayer through the canyon echoes in my head. Someone had followed us. Someone had hit Thayer.
But it seems impossible that it could have been my father chasing us. He loves me. He brought me peanut-butter ice cream when I fell off my bike. He taught me how to serve a tennis ball. He spent hours helping me restore my vintage racing Volvo—the same Volvo that just nearly killed the boy I love.
But the man who’s clutching my wrist so hard I fear it might break is someone I don’t know at all. Someone capable of hurting me. Someone capable of anything.
“Let me go!” I scream.
My father just wrenches me toward the car. I try to break away from his grip, but he’s too strong. My legs kick against the ground, digging in. Adrenaline takes over as I lunge forward and elbow my father in the chest.
“Sutton!” he screams, releasing me.
I turn and bolt. My legs are on fire as I tear across the desert. My feet kick up sand and dirt as I race away from him. My hair flies across my face, and I try to push it away from my eyes. Not that it really matters. I can’t see where I’m going, anyway. And it doesn’t matter. All I have to do is run and run and run until I’ve lost him. If I have to run forever, I will.
But from the sound of the engine revving behind me, I realize with sickening dread that I don’t have forever. Not anymore. Not if my dad runs me down, just like he ran down Thayer.
17
HIT AND RUN
Dirt crunched beneath Emma’s feet as she raced along a desert path. What she wanted, right this second, was to be as far away from Mr. Mercer as possible. She’d seen that look before, in the angry eyes of foster dads. With everything else going on, the last thing she needed was to do battle with him, too.
But maybe my sister’s battle was with my father. I desperately hoped that I’d misinterpreted the memory I’d just seen. Maybe my dead-girl brain was playing tricks on me. Maybe it was just a dream I was remembering. My dad had never looked at me like that in his life—had never, ever grabbed me or hurt me. Never. And yet that night he had.
Soon the sounds of the party faded away, and all Emma could hear was her thudding heartbeat and the sandy gravel under her feet. Slowly, she replayed everything she’d heard between Mr. Mercer and his mother, their cutting argument echoing in her mind. Mr. Mercer was having an affair. Was it serious?