Two Truths and a Lie

8 WHAT NOW?

Emma sat alone in the interrogation room, waiting for Quinlan to return. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to remain calm. The weight of what she’d just discovered washed over her anew. Thayer had been in Sutton’s car the night she died. That blood on the car had to be Sutton’s. Had she finally learned how her twin had died?

I couldn’t help but wonder if she had. The memory I’d just seen flickered and snapped in my mind like a neon sign. The tumultuous look that had crossed Thayer’s face. The fear I’d felt on the trail. The cops had found my bloodstained car at Sabino Canyon, exactly where Thayer and I had gone for our night hike. I thought about the heated fight we’d had. And then there was that hand on my shoulder, just before the memory faded out …

Emma barely had any time to catch her breath before Quinlan returned, a frown marring his face. With a quick jerk of his hand, he motioned for Emma to stand. “I give up. If the two of you can’t be bothered to tell the truth, you’re wasting my time. Get out of here.”

He kicked the door open with his boot and gestured into the hall. Emma followed the detective numbly toward reception. The lights in the front room were bright, making her head ache. Emma wanted to ask Quinlan when she could get Sutton’s car back—or if the cops were going to tell her whose blood was on it—but Quinlan slammed the door to the waiting area loudly and firmly before she could. She watched through the little window as he sauntered back down the hall, hands in his pockets, handcuffs jingling on his belt.

Okay. So was she free to go, then? Swallowing hard, Emma made her way across the lobby and pushed through the glass doors into the parking lot. Almost an hour had passed since she’d gone inside the station. The sun had set, and the air had a cool snap to it. Emma hugged her arms over her camisole and tried to warm up, although she doubted that even the coziest sweater would be able to chase away the chill that had settled in her bones after seeing Thayer.

She pulled out Sutton’s iPhone and composed a text to Ethan. CAN YOU PICK ME UP? She typed quickly, praying he was finished taking his mom to the doctor.

Blessedly, a reply text appeared in minutes. WHERE ARE YOU? Ethan asked.

POLICE STATION. Emma wrote back.

That got his attention—Ethan’s response was immediate. WHAT? I’M ON MY WAY.

Emma sat back and waited. Two black-and-white police cars sped from the lot with sirens blaring. A door to the station swung open, and two cops strolled out for a smoke break. They looked at her suspiciously, perhaps recognizing her. One of them said something to the other that sounded a lot like Thayer.

She thought about Thayer’s hardened expression in the interrogation room. When Quinlan had asked him to explain himself, he hadn’t offered a word. Was it because he was guilty of something awful? Had he killed Sutton? Had he made the trip back to Tucson on the thirty-first for exactly that reason? Or had he come to spend time with her … and lost control? Maybe they’d had a fight. Maybe Sutton had said something to hurt him. Perhaps Thayer had grabbed Sutton’s car keys and run her down, then hid the car in Sabino Canyon. But where had he put Sutton’s body? Quinlan would have said something if it had been in the car.

With every fiber of my nonexistent being, I didn’t want Thayer to be my killer. In the brief memory I’d been given, I could tell Thayer and I shared something very, very special. I wasn’t the type of girl to beg a guy to stay—or to get jealous when another girl made him a stupid bracelet. If Thayer planned to kill me, I had been blindsided by it. I had loved him, deeply and truly.

But then something occurred to me: In my memory, when Thayer had run from the bus station to my car, his gait had been strong and graceful. There had been no visible limp whatsoever. Whatever had happened to his leg had happened afterward. Maybe he’d gotten hurt running from the cops. Or maybe from dragging a body into a deep, dark hiding place.

Ethan’s beat-up bloodred Honda pulled up in front of the police station and sputtered to a stop. Emma raced toward him, flinging the car door open and sliding into the leather seat. The radio was turned up, blaring a Ramones song. The inside of the car smelled slightly of cigarettes, even though Emma didn’t think Ethan smoked. She turned to face him, taking in his light blue eyes and the smooth, tan skin that stretched over his high cheekbones. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see you,” she blurted.

Ethan grasped her hands. “What happened?”

“Just get me out of here.” Emma pulled her seat belt over her lap and pressed her back against the worn cushion.

As Ethan pulled out of the lot, Emma explained her visit to the police station. “The postcard and ticket prove he was with her in her car the night Sutton died,” she concluded. “I’ve made a decision. I really need to talk to Thayer alone and find out exactly what happened. It’s the only way I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Ethan paused at a stop sign and pulled up a side road. Two preteen girls rode Appaloosa horses along the shoulder. Reflective stripes covered the Western saddles and Ethan swerved to give them more room. “Are you crazy?” he asked. “You’re just going to serve yourself up to Sutton’s killer?”

Emma shrugged defensively. “It’s the best way to get answers. I’m not going to tell him I’m on to him. I’ll just act like Sutton, pretend I don’t know he’s behind this.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Ethan slammed his palm hard on the steering wheel. “That doesn’t even make any sense. It’s too dangerous. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Thayer is conniving—he can twist things around just as deftly as Sutton could. He could expose you to the cops. You know what would happen then.” His voice was urgent. “You’ve been living Sutton’s life—everyone will think you killed Sutton so you could steal her identity.”

“Thayer already had the chance to do that today and he didn’t,” Emma reminded him.

“Well, he could do much worse than that,” Ethan said, running a hand through his dark, inky hair. “If he ever gets out, he could hurt you.”

Emma stared out the window at the streetlamps illuminating the way for the car along the deserted road. She didn’t want to think about that possibility. She hoped that Thayer would just stay locked up forever. And she didn’t like Ethan’s tone. Maybe he was just being protective of her, but having lived thirteen years with no one looking out for her, it felt strangely unwelcome to have someone telling her what she could and couldn’t do—especially a boyfriend, who was supposed to be on her side.

“You don’t know Thayer,” Ethan urged. “He has a temper, just like his dad.”

Emma shot him a look. “You don’t think I can handle tempers? I’m not Sutton, Ethan. I didn’t grow up in a happy bubble of a delusion. I was a foster kid. I’ve been screamed at all my life. I was abandoned by my real mom. I’m tougher than you think.”

“You don’t have to get angry,” Ethan protested.

“I just don’t understand why you aren’t backing me up on this. I thought you wanted to find Sutton’s killer just as badly as I do.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Ethan argued, his expression hard.

“Yeah, well, spare me your fatherly lectures,” Emma said darkly.

Ethan let out a small, incredulous sniff. They were silent for a little while, driving down the dark streets past the adobe houses and gravel lawns. A boy on a bicycle with a flashing light on the back wobbled on the shoulder.

“I just want you to be safe,” Ethan said finally. “Just hold off visiting him for now—for me? Maybe there’s another way we can figure out what happened that night. A way that gives you solid proof to bring to the police.”

Emma let out a sigh. Ethan was right about the risks involved in a jailhouse visit. And she had to admit that the thought of facing Thayer again terrified her. “Fine. I’ll give it a couple more days. After that, if we haven’t made any progress, I’ll have no choice but to talk to Thayer.”

Emma may have been reluctant, but I, for one, couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say.