The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,229

but maybe it’s time we did something to take our minds off of me being stalked by a psychopath.”

“Not funny,” Ethan said, pushing a hand through his hair. “But …” He looked down at his sneakers. “Are you sure? Your friends will be there. Being out with me is not something Sutton would do. And it will ruin our counter-prank.”

Emma thought for a moment. “Well, then we forget the counter-prank. The best way to call off the poetry prank is for us to show up together at the party. And even if it’s not something Sutton would do, it’s what I want to do,” Emma said bravely. Now that she had decided to go public, she didn’t want to spend any time apart.

25

SOUND THE ALARM

That night, Emma angled the Volvo into Charlotte’s circular driveway and turned off the ignition. The Chamberlains lived in a six-bedroom stone home with two balconies that protruded from the second floor. Its grandeur still took Emma’s breath away, even though she’d been there several times. She’d never known anyone with this kind of money.

Laurel unlocked her car door and slid out, not bothering to thank Emma for the ride. They’d come together because they didn’t want to bring too many cars to the party and tip off the cops. Emma had considered ditching Laurel at home to pay her back for abandoning her at tennis so many times, but she figured that wouldn’t help to repair their rift.

Before either of them could ring the bell, the door swung open and Madeline smiled back at them, dressed in a bright red ruched dress that stopped at mid-thigh. “Hello, dah-lings!” she cried dramatically. “Welcome to dinner! You both look smashing!”

“Thanks,” Emma said bashfully, looking down at the emerald green one-shouldered number she’d found in Sutton’s closet. She’d agonized over choosing an outfit, trying on at least six dresses before settling on this one. She’d wanted something especially pretty to go with her newly styled hair and carefully applied makeup. This was the first time she and Ethan would be seen together in public, and nosy gossip-hounds would no doubt be taking tons of pictures for Facebook and Twitter. It was ironic: At her old schools, Emma secretly longed to be part of the popular crowds whose personal lives were splashed across the pages of social media sites. But now that she was one of those girls, she just wanted to be left alone.

The grass is always greener, I suppose.

Laurel and Emma followed Madeline down a long hallway that led to the Chamberlains’ massive kitchen. It looked just like the display kitchens in House Beautiful that Glenda, Alex’s mom, was always tearing pages from and stuffing into a folder she marked DREAM HOUSE. The air smelled of pot roast, fresh bread, and—of course—Charlotte’s Chanel Chance perfume. For a moment, Emma’s gaze flickered to the kitchen island where the unknown assailant had come up behind her and held Sutton’s locket to her throat.

Except that the assailant wasn’t unknown anymore. It was Thayer. Emma glanced at Madeline, feeling an awkward twinge. What would Mads do when she found out her beloved brother was a murderer? She’d be doubly shattered: Not only would she discover that her best friend was dead, but she’d lose Thayer, too.

“Sodas, girls?” Charlotte appeared from behind the refrigerator door. She was wearing a tight black dress with leather triangles that crisscrossed her slightly ample midsection. It was a dress Emma wasn’t one hundred percent sure looked good on her, but she didn’t dare say anything.

“Too bad it can’t be champagne!” a voice trilled. Mrs. Chamberlain appeared from the dining room and placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “If you girls skipped that party and hung out here for the night, I’d crack open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for you. But I can’t have you drinking and driving!”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Charlotte said, looking a little embarrassed. If there were a Real Housewives of Tucson, Charlotte’s mom would be a shoo-in for a cast member. She looked ten years younger than her age—which Charlotte claimed was the result of monthly Botox injections and hours spent on the elliptical machine—and she wore outfits far more fashionable than most of the kids at Hollier. She was currently cloaked in a tight black dress that showed off her surgically enhanced cleavage. She also, it seemed to Emma, was dying to be Charlotte’s best friend instead of her mother. It was a far cry from foster mothers who only spoke to