Emma drove slowly on the way home, following his taillights. Her head pounded and her muscles still twitched anxiously as the adrenaline of the past hour dissipated. She passed under a pedestrian bridge designed to look like a giant rattlesnake arched high over traffic, its fangs bared. Usually the installation amused her, but today it felt ominous, as if any minute it would lean over and swallow her whole.
Becky could be anywhere by now. And even though the cops were on the lookout for her, she had always been good at not getting caught. Emma had seen it dozens of times as a little girl—the way Becky could disappear in a crowd, the way she slipped past prying eyes. She could become a ghost as easily as snapping her fingers.
Somehow I didn’t think she’d skip town. I had a feeling she would stay close. Too close.
Porch lights throughout the subdivision cut through the darkness that filled the streets. Emma had never noticed how many shadows there were, how many places for someone to hide. As they pulled up to the Mercers’ two-story adobe house, she made out a tall, broad-shouldered form moving in the yard.
Thayer, wearing hiking boots and cargo shorts, was raking smooth river stones into one of the new beds Mr. Mercer had built before his accident. A deep white scar spread across his knee from his surgery. As the cars pulled into the driveway, he straightened up and waved.
Mr. Mercer waved weakly back at him before heading inside. Thayer leaned on the rake, watching Emma as she slowly got out of her car.
“You’re really dedicated,” Emma said, trying to hide the strain from her voice. “Almost done, huh?”
Thayer frowned in concern and put his hands on her shoulders. “What happened?” he asked.
Emma looked away. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Sutton. I know you. Something’s going on. What?”
Emma’s lip started to tremble. Before she could stop herself, she leaned into his arms. The tears that she’d been holding back broke free and rolled down her cheeks. “It’s my birth mother,” she began.
And then the whole story came pouring out—Becky’s attack at the hospital, her escape, her tendency toward violence. Thayer turned her arm to look at the marks from Becky’s ragged nails and winced, then met her eyes.
“And they think she might come here?” he asked, looking stricken. “That she might attack you again?”
Emma took a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “They don’t know what she’ll do.”
“Why is she attacking you at all? You’re her daughter.” Thayer still hadn’t let go of her wrist. His fingers were warm and reassuring.
“She’s … sick,” Emma fumbled, not sure how much to admit. “It’s hard to explain. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”
Thayer narrowed his eyes at the street. “She’d better not come here.”
Gratitude coursed through Emma’s veins. “You’re such a good friend,” she murmured, squeezing him around the neck in a hug. Thayer held her close, his hands traveling up and down her spine. When Emma stepped back, they laughed awkwardly and then fell into a silence. The tinny laugh track of a sitcom came through a neighbor’s open window. Somewhere a few blocks away a dog barked.
Thayer shifted his weight. “Anyway. You should go get some rest.” He glanced back at the yard. “I’m gonna finish up here and head home. And, Sutton?” he added, suddenly serious. “You know you can always call me if you need anything, right? I mean, no matter how awkward things are between us, I’ll be here in a heartbeat if you need me. Okay?”
Emma looked into his deep-set hazel eyes, which had lit up with a soft intensity. “Okay,” she whispered. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and went into the house.
I tried to linger behind as long as I could, watching the boy I loved turn back to his work. Soon, though, the cord between me and my twin pulled taut, and I was dragged along after her.
22
IN HOT WATER
The next night, Emma and Ethan pulled into the parking lot of the Clayton Resort. The sprawling hotel was situated against the mountains on the outskirts of Tucson, far away from highways and city traffic and surrounded by the natural beauty of red boulders and flowering cacti. A thick forest of ironwood and mesquite enclosed the resort, protecting its patios and pools from any prying eyes—and providing the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to sneak into the hot springs.
I had broken into the hot springs dozens of times with the Lying Game clique. It was where some of our best pranks had been planned. It was also where my wonderful friends had grabbed me from behind, thrown me in the trunk of Laurel’s car, and driven me to the desert to choke me with my own locket chain.
Ethan had been asking to go for weeks, and after the scene at the hospital the day before, Emma’s need for relaxation had finally outweighed her reluctance to break the rules. Her body ached all over. The stress of the last few weeks had settled around her shoulders like a weight, leaving her back full of knots and her neck sore. The only thing she wasn’t so eager about was traipsing off into the desolate, scary desert, but Ethan was with her.