The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,224

and greedy.” She rolled her eyes and tried to laugh lightly, but her face kind of crumpled.

Emma pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, sensing Madeline’s pain. “You know, if you want to talk more about your dad, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Madeline said softly. She reached into her hot pink metallic Not Rational handbag, yanked her sunglasses from their case, and slipped them over her eyes.

“Is everything going okay? Is it getting better?” Emma pressed.

Madeline waited until she left the parking lot before she spoke again. “It’s pretty much the same, I guess. I hate going home. My dad stomps around everywhere and he and my mom aren’t talking right now. I don’t think they’re even sleeping in the same room.” Her glossy lips tightened into a straight line.

“You’re always welcome at my house, you know,” Emma offered.

Madeline looked at her gratefully. “Thank you,” she breathed. Then she touched Emma’s arm. “You’ve never offered that before.”

I felt a zing of annoyance. I would have offered if I would have known Madeline needed it.

A minute later they pulled up to the precinct, and Madeline dropped Emma off at the curb. “Sutton?” she said, leaning out the window. “I’m really glad we made up. I probably don’t say it enough, but you’re my best friend.”

“I’m so glad, too,” Emma said, her heart warming.

When she went inside, the same receptionist who had been there the last time looked up from her tabloid and considered Emma. “You again?” she asked in a bored voice.

How professional. “I’m here to pick up my car from evidence,” Emma said crisply.

The receptionist turned and picked up the receiver of her phone. “One moment.”

Emma pivoted and stared at the bulletin board. The MISSING poster of Thayer had been taken down and replaced with an advertisement for HECTOR, THE HONEST MECHANIC YOU TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT.

After a moment, the receptionist pointed outside where a squat guard stood in front of a chain-link fence. “Officer Moriarty will help you,” she said, twisting her tongue to blow a purple bubble. A sugary grape smell wafted through the air of the waiting room.

Emma walked back outside, met up with Officer Moriarty, and signed the paperwork for Sutton’s car. Officer Moriarty unlocked the fence and led her down a dusty row of vehicles. BMWs and Range Rovers sat proudly next to broken-down clunkers that looked like they wouldn’t make it another five miles.

“Here we are,” Officer Moriarty said, gesturing to a green vintage car with brightly polished chrome. Emma took in the car, impressed. It had sleek lines and a retro feel, the kind of car she might have chosen herself if she could’ve afforded one. It was beyond cool.

Of course it was cool. I squealed as I saw my car again. But the feeling was bittersweet. I couldn’t feel the soft leather against my thighs as I sat in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t shift gears and feel the car respond. I couldn’t feel the wind in my hair as I drove down Route 10 with the windows down.

Emma took the keys from the cop. She inspected the exterior of the car, looking for the telltale blood the cops had found, but she saw nothing beyond a slight dent where Sutton had probably made contact with Thayer’s leg. Perhaps they’d cleaned it off. Then she opened the driver’s door and plopped down on the leather seat. A strange sensation came over her. Something about this car felt so distinctly Sutton, as though her twin were suddenly present. She shut her eyes and could almost picture her twin behind the wheel, tossing her hair, and laughing at something Charlotte or Madeline said. Emma toyed with a silver guardian angel charm that hung on the rearview mirror, swearing she could smell a trace of Sutton’s perfume lingering in the air. She knew how much it would’ve annoyed her twin for the car to be in the police department’s probing hands.

I’ll take good care of her for you, Emma thought as she tapped her fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

I smiled. She’d better.

Knuckles rapped the glass. Emma flinched and looked up to see Officer Moriarty. She slowly rolled down the window.

“Can I help you with anything else, Miss Mercer?” he asked gruffly.

“No, officer, I’m fine,” Emma said, forcing an innocent, trust-me tone into her voice. “Thanks so much for your help.”

“Then it’s best if you left the premises,” the officer said, his thumb hooked through a belt loop.

Emma nodded and rolled up the window, then eased the