The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,203

him down a long hallway wallpapered in a light pink– colored floral print. On the walls were the kinds of paintings Emma had only seen in funeral homes, various watercolors of roses and sunsets. There were no photos of Ethan. The house had a strange smell to it, too—kind of closed-up and musty. It definitely wasn’t welcoming.

Ethan led Emma into a small, dark room. “This is my bedroom,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Obviously,” he added, as though suddenly embarrassed.

Emma looked around. She’d imagined what Ethan’s room looked like plenty of times since they’d become friends, figuring it was a little bit cluttered, full of stargazing maps, telescope parts, old chemistry sets, dog-eared notebooks, and tons and tons of books of poetry. But this room was spotless. The tracks from a vacuum cleaner were visible on the carpet. A pair of black climbing gloves rested on the nightstand along with the leather journal Emma had noticed the first day she met Ethan. The only item on the desk was a beat-up-looking laptop—nothing else, not even a ball-point pen. The bed was made so neatly it could’ve passed a hotel’s service inspection, the duvet pulled tight, the pillows stacked one in front of the other. Emma had once worked as a maid in a Holiday Inn, and her managers always yelled at her for not fluffing the pillows correctly.

She glanced at Ethan, wanting to ask him if this was really his room. It was almost completely devoid of character. But Ethan looked so awkward that she didn’t want to make him feel worse. Instead, she sat down on the bed and reached for the packet of papers in her pocket.

“I found these in Thayer’s room today,” she said. She unfolded the letters onto the bedspread. “Sutton wrote them to him. It proves that they had a romantic relationship.”

Ethan picked up each letter and scanned the contents. Emma felt a flicker of guilt, as though she was betraying her sister by unveiling her secret feelings.

Even though I understood why Emma was showing Ethan the letters, I felt a pang of protectiveness, too. These were my private thoughts.

“I never thought I could be so into someone,” Ethan read aloud. He flipped to the next page. “I want to kiss you in the U of A football stadium, in the brush behind my parents’ house, on the top of Mount Lemmon …” He stopped, clearing his throat.

Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks. “They obviously really liked each other.”

“But she was still with Garrett,” Ethan said, pointing to a line in one of the letters that said, I want to break up with Garrett and be with you, I swear. But it’s not the right time, and we both know it. “Maybe Thayer was pissed that Sutton was still with her boyfriend during all this … and killed her.”

A chill went through me. I thought about how quickly Thayer had changed when Garrett came up that night on our hike. His anger was intense—even he admitted it was his worst quality, the thing that reminded him most of his father. Could that have been enough to set him off?

Emma leaned back on the bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling. “That seems pretty extreme. Killing someone because they wouldn’t break off a relationship?”

“People have killed for much less.” Ethan stared at his hands. He looked distant, as though something was upsetting him. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and deliberate. “Maybe Sutton drove him mad. She was a master at manipulation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked sharply. She didn’t like the tone of Ethan’s voice. Or what he’d said about her sister.

“One minute, she liked you,” Ethan said. “And the next, she treated you like dirt. I saw her do it to a million guys.” He frowned. “Maybe she was doing that to Thayer. Maybe it was driving him insane and he just … snapped.”

Emma’s palms felt clammy. Could her sister’s fickle behavior be the thing that pushed Thayer to the brink? If she’d been hot and cold with him—all while dating Garrett—it could have sparked a rage inside of him. “Maybe,” she whispered.

“So what do you think we should do about it?” Ethan asked.

“We could call the police,” Emma suggested.

“Or we couldn’t.” Ethan shook his head. “If we do that, you’ll have to out yourself as Sutton’s twin. It’s too risky.” He crossed his leg over his knee and jiggled his navy Converse sneaker. “We’re getting close,