The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,205

figure stood in the corner of the room, his breath coming in jagged rasps.

“Did you really think it’d be that easy to get rid of me?” his voice said.

Even though he was in the shadows, Emma recognized him immediately. “Thayer?” she squeaked, the name barely escaping her mouth.

She scrambled back against the headboard, but it was too late. Thayer launched forward, his hands closing around her neck, his lips inches from hers. “You betrayed me, Emma,” he whispered, his hands tightening around her throat. His bottom lip grazed hers. “And now it’s time for your reunion with Sutton to become a reality.”

Emma dug her nails into Thayer’s skin as her oxygen supply dwindled and her life seeped slowly from her. “Please, no!”

“Goodbye, Emma,” Thayer sneered. His hands squeezed and squeezed … seemingly to the tune of Kelly Clarkson’s “Mr. Know It All.”

Emma shot up in bed. The same Kelly Clarkson song blared in her ears. She looked around. She was in Sutton’s bedroom, Sutton’s sheets clinging to her wet skin. Sunlight streamed through the window—it was, indeed, open. But the corner was empty. She touched her neck, and she didn’t feel any evidence that she’d been strangled. Her skin felt smooth. Nothing hurt.

A dream. It was just a dream. But it had felt so real.

It felt all too real to me, too. I looked hard at the corner, startled that Thayer wasn’t really there. It still shook me that I was carried along with Emma everywhere she went, even into her dreams.

Emma’s fingers trembled as she tugged her light blue pajama top down over her stomach and glanced around Sutton’s bedroom once more. The computer screen glowed with familiar images of Sutton and her best friends—this particular photo was taken after a tennis team victory. The girls had their arms slung around each other and flashed peace signs at the camera. A German textbook lay open on Sutton’s desk along with a small book of poetry Ethan had given Emma the week before. There were no stuffed animals anywhere—the real Sutton had been too mature for toys.

But there was that open window again. Emma could have sworn she shut and locked it the night before. She pushed back the covers, walked to it, and peered out. The Mercers’ impeccable lawn stretched in waves of green before her, not a white wicker lawn chair or potted plant out of place. The Tucson sun was a ball of fire above the Catalina Mountains and the sound of birds chattering filtered into the bedroom.

Bzz.

Emma jumped and turned around. Something was sounding from underneath Sutton’s bed. She realized almost immediately that it was her BlackBerry from her old life. She dove for it and checked the screen. It was Alex, her best friend from Henderson. Clearing her throat, she pressed the green answer button. “Hey.”

“Hey. Everything okay? You sound weird.”

Emma flinched. But Alex couldn’t know what Emma had just dreamed about. She didn’t even know Emma was in danger—as far as she was concerned, Sutton was still alive, and Emma was experiencing a foster-girl’s dream life with her long-lost sister. “Of course everything’s fine,” she croaked. “I was just sleeping.”

“Well, get up, sleepyhead,” Alex giggled. “I haven’t heard from you in ages. I wanted to see how things are going.”

“Everything’s fine,” Emma said, forcing herself to sound upbeat. “Great, in fact. Sutton’s family rocks.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been given this instant new life. You should be on Oprah or something. Want me to submit your story?”

“No!” Emma said, perhaps too forcefully. She padded into Sutton’s closet, partly to select an outfit for the day, but partly because it was more private in there—there was less chance of Laurel hearing her.

“Okay, okay! How’s school? Do you like Sutton’s friends?” Alex asked.

Emma paused in front of a blue silk tank top. “Honestly, things with them are a little tense right now.”

“How come? Can’t they handle two of you?” Alex’s voice was momentarily muffled, and Emma could picture her getting dressed for school, brushing her hair, and shoving a cinnamon bun in her mouth. Alex was the queen of multitasking and had a wicked sweet tooth.

“They’re just a pretty tight-knit group,” Emma said. “They have so much history that I can’t even begin to understand.”

Alex chewed and swallowed. “History is just that—history. Plan something fun and create your own stories with them, maybe even apart from Sutton.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Emma said, realizing that she barely ever hung out with any of Sutton’s friends one-on-one.

Drake let out a low