The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,234

to make sure no one got here early. We wanted you to get here when the house was empty—and super-scary.”

“And we disconnected Ethan’s car cables so you’d have to give him a ride,” Lili said proudly.

“You did what?” Ethan gaped.

Gabby waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. You just need to reconnect the cables. I saw a YouTube video on it.”

Ethan shook his head but laughed.

“So the real party is still here?” Emma asked.

“Yep!” Laurel chirped. She pointed to two plastic bags hidden in the corner of the dining room Emma hadn’t noticed before. And then, as if on cue, the door swung open, and a bunch of kids spilled inside. The entire boys’ baseball team. Nisha and her tennis cronies. A bunch of kids who always said hello to Emma in the halls, and a lot of people Emma didn’t recognize. Last but not least, Garrett stepped through the door, carrying a massive keg. When he set eyes on Ethan and Emma, who were still holding hands, his expression soured.

“Hi, Garrett,” Emma tried, knowing just how futile her attempt at friendliness was.

Garrett’s muscled arms tensed as he adjusted his grip on the keg. “So now you’re with Ethan?” he growled.

“I am,” Emma answered proudly, ignoring Garrett’s hateful gaze. She wasn’t going to let anything bother her tonight. Things suddenly felt perfect.

A techno song suddenly blared over a portable stereo someone had brought. Plastic cups were passed around, and drinks were poured. “Whoooo!” Charlotte cried, waving her hands over her head to dance. Emma pulled Ethan into the circle and started to dance, too.

The party had begun.

27

ONE FLEW THE COOP

The mansion filled to capacity in no time. Warm bodies mingled and flirted, red plastic cups in hand. Emma snaked through the crowd with Ethan on her arm, feeling happier than she had in ages.

“I’m going to get a beer,” Ethan said, glancing at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Want one?”

Emma shot him a smile. “I still have to drive us home, remember? Unless you want to camp out tonight in the middle of nowhere …” She gestured outside to the rocky cliffs surrounding the mansion.

Ethan grinned and leaned forward. His lips brushed her cheek as he whispered, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Her cheeks flushed at what she’d implied—a sleepover with Ethan. “Some of us have a curfew,” she whispered.

“Too bad,” Ethan whispered back. His lips touched hers. A bunch of kids whistled. Emma sensed a flash of a phone camera. That Sutton Mercer was dating Ethan Landry was a huge deal. But no one was laughing at them—instead everyone was staring at Ethan, like they’d suddenly realized just how cute he was.

As a bunch of boys did shots in the corner and a crowd of kids danced to vintage Michael Jackson on the makeshift dance floor, Emma felt Sutton’s clutch vibrate. She dropped Ethan’s hand and asked him to grab her a Sprite. Then, she stepped away from the stream of partygoers and pulled Sutton’s iPhone from her clutch: ONE MISSED CALL.

There was a number she didn’t recognize in the call log along with a voicemail alert. Emma caught Ethan’s eye across the room and motioned that she’d be right back. Then she negotiated her way through the sweaty crowd toward the back of the house, where it was hopefully quieter.

She rounded a corner into the kitchen, where liquor bottles lined the counter along with half-eaten bags of Fritos and abandoned plastic cups. A girl with short black hair poured tequila and margarita mix into a blender and pressed a button, sending the contents whirling. The shrill buzz of the blender and the sweet smell of lime filled the kitchen and followed Emma down a dark hallway. She trailed her fingertips along the wall to get her bearings and ducked into a back room. Moonlight spilled through an open window to illuminate dark wooden floors and long windows. There were only two objects in the room: a long, cracked mirror propped up in the corner and a small doll with marble eyes sitting on the windowsill. Emma turned away from the doll, an eerie feeling washing over her.

Pressing the voicemail icon, she lifted Sutton’s phone to her ear. A loud voice boomed through the speaker. “Hello. This message is for Sutton Mercer. It’s Detective Quinlan. I need to speak to you. Please call me at this number—it’s my cell. I’ll have it on me all night. It’s urgent, so call me as soon as you get this.”

An emergency?