And then, finally, I thought of my dad operating on his patients, his hands steady, meticulous, and precise. I could only imagine that they had been just as capable as they forced the light from my eyes, and the life from my body.
27
THIS MEANS WAR
When Emma pulled into the Mercers’ driveway a half hour later, she was relieved that Mr. Mercer’s SUV was nowhere in sight. She dreaded coming back, but she dreaded more what might happen if she didn’t. She opened the front door and dumped Sutton’s keys next to a stack of envelopes on the shiny black table in the foyer. Then she padded past the photographs that lined the hallway—Sutton and her father posed on vacations and family outings, always smiling. What a crock. Had he been thinking about Raven the whole time? And what had the checks he’d written her been for? Jewelry? Hotel rooms?
Or was it hush money to keep Raven quiet about what he’d done to me?
“Sutton?” Mrs. Mercer called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
Emma stopped in the hall, trapped, as Mrs. Mercer emerged from around the corner. Emma ducked her head, feeling like everything she’d just found out was written all over her face.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, her voice way higher than usual.
Mrs. Mercer’s hair was piled on top of her head with bobby pins holding up the pieces near her ears. Other than a streak of blush on her high cheekbones, her face was free of makeup. She’d changed from work clothes into black jogging pants and a fitted zip-up sweatshirt with an Adidas logo on the chest. Tiny pearl studs still dotted her earlobes. She’s so beautiful, Emma thought sadly. And such a good mom. Why would anyone want to cheat on her?
That was the question I kept asking myself, over and over.
“Are you okay, sweetie? Dad says you’ve been studying hard with the girls all week,” Mrs. Mercer said, the smile melting from her face. “You look pale. The stomach bug didn’t come back, did it?”
Emma’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “Oh, I’m fine. I just have this German test tomorrow. It’s going to be really tough. And so much of my grade is riding on it.” She tapped a fingernail against the railing. “I just need to lock myself in my room tonight and study. Do you mind if I eat upstairs, just this once?”
A smile spread across Mrs. Mercer’s face. “Of course I don’t mind. You know how proud your father and I are of your test scores so far this term.”
Emma fiddled with the strap on her bag. The Mercers had made such a big deal about Emma’s high test scores, lifting her grounding for shoplifting from Clique to attend Homecoming. Mr. Mercer, in fact, was the one who convinced Mrs. Mercer that their daughter should be rewarded for her hard work. But it had all been an act. Mr. Mercer knew the girl getting the test scores wasn’t his daughter. He was probably just rewarding her for going along with being Sutton.
“I’ll be in my room.” Emma raced up the stairs two at a time. She shut Sutton’s door behind her and collapsed onto the bed, listening to the front door open and slam, open and slam. First Laurel came in, then Mr. Mercer. High, happy voices sounded downstairs. To Emma, they were like nails on a chalkboard. All she could think about was that phone call from the roadside motel, the breathing on the other end.
When a loud knock sounded on Sutton’s door, Emma shot up. Before she could say a word, the knob turned with a click, and the door creaked open.
“Sutton?”
Emma took in Mr. Mercer’s face. His dark eyebrows lifted. Drake stood behind him, smelling of some kind of sickly sweet dog shampoo.
“You’re back.” Mr. Mercer held a plate of pasta slathered in tomato sauce. “I heard you were eating up here.” He stood in the doorway. “Studying hard?”
Emma watched him. Surely he knew she wasn’t really studying. But he was playing it cool, a smile on his face, a proud look in his eyes. “Uh-huh,” she mumbled.
Mr. Mercer nodded. “It’s amazing how you’ve improved since school started. A whole new Sutton.”
Emma stared at Sutton’s quilt, resisting the urge to be sick. I’m a whole new Sutton because you killed the original, she thought bitterly. Are you happy that I’m doing exactly what you want? Are you glad you can continue your little affair in peace, you horrible murderer?
All at once, she couldn’t deal with him being in here another second. She jumped up from the bed, grabbed the plate and silverware, and turned her back. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, spitting out the words. Then she kicked the door closed on him, and turned the lock with an audible click.
That’s right, Sis, I thought. Get him out of there.
Once she was sure Mr. Mercer had returned downstairs, she grabbed Sutton’s laptop and googled local Super 8 Motels. The second number listed looked familiar—she could have sworn it was the one that showed up on the caller ID in Mr. Mercer’s office. Taking a deep breath, she dialed.
Someone answered on the third ring. “How may I help you?” It was a bored voice. The TV blared in the background.
Emma took a breath. “Can you connect me to Raven Jannings’s room?” she asked in a barely audible whisper.
The concierge let out a yawn on the other end. “Sure thing,” he said. “Please hold.”
Emma’s chest clenched. She’d guessed right. And suddenly, she knew she was right about everything else. The woman breathing on the phone call had to be the same woman Mr. Mercer was seeing. The same woman Thayer had caught him with on the night of Sutton’s death. The same woman Grandma Mercer had called toxic.