The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,222

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It was unimaginable that my murderer would get away with it. I couldn’t accept that, and I hoped Emma would have the strength to stick around—even though I also knew it was getting more and more dangerous for her to be here.

Emma flung the covers off her legs and padded across the bedroom. She unlocked the door and tiptoed down the dark hallway, descending the stairs and narrowly avoiding the stack of magazines Laurel had left on the bottom step. A scraggly aloe plant cast long shadows across the tile. A dripping noise sounded from outside the living room window and Emma watched rain fall in slow drops from the drainpipe. In the hallway, moonlight cast an eerie glow across the family photographs. Emma caught her reflection in a scalloped, gold-framed mirror at the end of the hall. Her dark hair hung long and loose, and her oval face looked like a white sheet against the darkness. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and felt the cold tile beneath her bare feet. She was about to open a cabinet when a shadowy figure moved in the corner. She jumped backward, her hip slamming against a chrome dial on the stove.

“Sutton?”

Emma’s eyes focused on Mrs. Mercer, her body hunched forward as she held Drake by the collar. The dog let out a low bark.

“What are you doing up so late?” Mrs. Mercer straightened and let Drake go. He came over and sniffed Emma’s hand before curling into a ball at the foot of the fridge.

Emma tied her messy hair back into a ponytail. “I couldn’t sleep so I came down to get a glass of water.”

Mrs. Mercer put her hand on Emma’s forehead. “Hmmm. Are you feeling okay? Laurel says you came home soaked from the rain.”

Emma forced a weak laugh. “Well, I didn’t have an umbrella. Last time I checked, we lived in Arizona.” She took in Mrs. Mercer’s rumpled hair and robe. “What are you doing up?”

Mrs. Mercer waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, Drake was whining, so I got up to let him out.” She went to the sink and filled a glass, dropping two ice cubes in it. The cubes cracked loudly in the water. She sat at the counter and pushed it toward Emma, who took a grateful sip.

“So …” Mrs. Mercer propped her chin in her hand. “Why can’t you sleep? Anything you want to talk about?”

Emma put her head down on the counter and sighed. There was so much she wanted to talk about. She couldn’t talk about Sutton’s murder, but maybe she could get some advice on Ethan. “I hurt a guy I care about and I don’t know how to fix it,” she blurted.

Mrs. Mercer looked sympathetic. “Did you try apologizing?”

There was a soft rumbling noise as the ice machine deposited a new batch in the freezer. “I tried … but he didn’t want to hear it,” Emma said.

“Well, maybe you need to try again. Figure out exactly what you did wrong and exactly how you can fix it, then make it happen.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Emma asked.

Mrs. Mercer leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers along a pineapple-printed dish towel. “Sometimes, actions speak louder than words. Show him that you’re sorry, and hopefully everything will fall back in place. Just be the best Sutton you can be. He’s got to understand that people make mistakes sometimes. And if he can’t forgive you, he’s not worth keeping around.”

Emma thought about this for a moment. Sutton’s mom was right: She’d just made a mistake, nothing more. And maybe she couldn’t be the best Sutton she could be, but she could definitely be the best Emma. Ethan had said Emma had forgotten who she was—the nice twin. With so much going on, it was hard to maintain her identity—and know what she wanted. Emma’s needs felt so secondary in comparison to what happened to Sutton. Wanting anything beyond staying alive and solving her sister’s murder seemed like such a luxury.

She sat up straighter, a firm sense of resolve settling over her. She just needed to stick to her plan. She was going to prove that Thayer murdered her sister. That way, she could go back to being Emma Paxton. But in the meantime, she was going to behave in a way she could be proud of, even if her actions weren’t one hundred percent Sutton-like.

Emma stood up and hugged Mrs. Mercer. “Thanks, Mom. That was just what I needed