But even as the words spilled from Emma’s mouth, a different type of woman came to mind. Manic Becky. Mad Becky. She pulled out Jane Eyre and looked at the cover. It was the same edition she’d had when she’d first read the book, back in Nevada when she was twelve. On the cover was the twisted face of the madwoman Mr. Rochester hid in his attic: her eyes scrunched shut, her face pale, her mouth open in a scream. The image was an archetype of mental illness. Emma remembered how she used to look at that face and shiver with fear—but also something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Now she understood what it was: recognition. Bertha Mason’s face reminded her of her mother.
She shut her eyes, pushing away the memories. Her mom had been under a lot of stress. It didn’t make her a murderer. What motive would she have for killing Sutton?
I hoped Emma was right. I’d dreamed of meeting my birth mom since I was a little girl. The idea that she could have wanted me dead left me with a deep, hollow ache. I fumbled again at the elusive memory—had I met Becky? Had something happened between us? But it remained maddeningly out of reach.
“Forget I mentioned it,” Ethan said quickly. He pulled Emma tight to his chest. She just stood there, shell-shocked. “Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I don’t know anything about your mom. It’s a stupid idea.”
She buried her face in his sweatshirt, listening to the thud of his heart as the sunset blazed bright pink over the mountains. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself before, but Becky had looked deranged as she drove past the café. She was suddenly glad it had been Thayer with her and not Ethan. If Ethan had seen her, she couldn’t have denied the possibility that Becky could be dangerous.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, his fingers playing lightly with her hair.
“Anything.”
“Do you think you’ll get to stay here? You know, after Sutton’s case is solved?”
Emma paused. It was something she’d fantasized about since the first moment she’d discovered that she had a twin. She had never fit in anywhere before—even her best and most well-intentioned foster parents had never made her feel like part of a family. Now she had the loving family she’d always dreamed of … but would all that change when they found out how many lies she’d told?
“I hope they’ll understand why I did this, when it’s all said and done,” she said quietly. “I’d hate to leave them.”
“I’ve been thinking.” Ethan sounded almost shy. “We’re both eighteen. Other than finishing up school, we’re free to do whatever we want. So if for some reason your living situation with the Mercers doesn’t work out, we could … I mean, maybe we could get a place.”
She blinked. His cheeks burned scarlet even in the dark. For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d understood him.
“Together,” he added. “As a backup plan, I mean. I don’t want to rush you into anything. But it’s not like my mom would really miss me.” A sad look came over his face, then he met her eyes again. “And Emma, I couldn’t stand it if you left. If I lost you.”
Emma smiled bashfully. She wasn’t sure she was ready to move in with anyone, but the fact that he’d been thinking about their future together brought a warm glow to her heart. She traced the contour of his cheek with one finger, then leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
The world glittered behind her closed eyelids. She wound her fingers into his thick hair and pulled him closer. His breath made her skin hum with excitement. She had never realized how much she longed to be touched by someone who truly cared about her. She had never realized how little she had been touched at all. Now that Ethan was in her life, she sometimes felt as if the only thing keeping her grounded was the promise of another kiss.
I knew the feeling. Thayer used to have that effect on me.
A rustling came from the weeds behind the church steps. Emma looked up. “What was that?”
Ethan tilted his head. “What was what?”
Emma stared at the church’s facade, and then strode across the dry street to look around it. Nothing. The desert stretched out beyond, empty except for a few scattered cacti. If someone had been spying, he’d slipped away.
Ethan put an arm around her shoulder and squinted into the sunset. But it no longer seemed beautiful to Emma. Somewhere out there, a killer was watching her every move. Somewhere her sister’s body lay undiscovered, unmourned.
She turned to Ethan. “I’m pretty wiped out. We’d better get home and rest up for the big flag football game tomorrow.” She reached for his hand. “You’re still coming, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ethan promised. The sand crunched beneath their feet as they walked past the busy part of the town, where tourists were buying handkerchiefs and Stetsons.
Sutton’s Volvo was at the far end of the parking lot, but Emma spied the note folded under her windshield wiper immediately. Her heart seized in her chest. She ran for the note and snatched it off the glass. The muscles in Ethan’s face were taut as she unfolded the note.
“Oh my God.” Emma gasped, looking around the empty desert. The message was in the same familiar handwriting that had greeted her on her first morning in Tucson, the same scrawl that had announced her sister was dead, and she had to play along or she’d be next.
You should thank me. Before you came here you had nothing. Now you have everything you want. Just don’t slip up. Sutton thought she could have everything she wanted, too.