hit her in the gut and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. She’d never seen anything in Sutton’s belongings having to do with college visits or applications. Sutton had all the opportunities in the world, and yet she wasn’t taking advantage of any of them.
Hey, not all of us were made for college. Maybe I had plans to become a big Hollywood actress.
“I’m just trying to keep my options open,” Emma finally said. “But I’m applying to loads of good schools.”
“Really?” Grandma Mercer asked, cocking a silver eyebrow. “Are you planning to stay in Arizona?”
“The U of A is good,” she said quietly. Ironically, the University of Arizona was one of the colleges she had begun applying to back when she lived in Vegas. They offered a lot of scholarships, and she liked their program in journalism. But the financial aid forms had to be way past due by now. Would she ever get to go back to that old life? Or would she have to apply to schools as Sutton Mercer? Could she do something like that? Living in Sutton’s room and taking her high school classes was one thing. But attending college on the Mercers’ dime, continuing to pretend she was Sutton in the dorms, felt different somehow. And the idea that Sutton’s murder would still be unsolved by then was unfathomable.
Grandma wrinkled her nose. “The U of A has a good sorority life, you mean. Life’s more than partying, you know.”
Emma stared at her sandals. “Trust me. I know.”
Grandma Mercer tapped her cigarette on the lawn chair’s handrail, a pensive look on her lined face. “Your father used to love a good party,” she said, sighing. “He’s a California boy at heart. But he and your mother quieted down quite a bit when they moved to Tucson.” She sniffed. “Of course, his job was worth relocating for.”
“They lived in California before Tucson?” Emma asked, unable to hide her surprise. The Mercers had never said anything either way, but they were so entrenched in the community here she’d just assumed they’d been here forever.
Grandma gave her a crazy look. “Well of course they did. They moved here just after they adopted you.”
“Oh, right. Duh,” Emma said faintly. It was strange to think that they’d once had an entirely different life.
Grandma sighed. “I’ve always missed them being right down the road from me. We used to have so much fun when Sutton was still alive.”
Emma’s heart clenched. Had she heard the old woman right?
I waited with bated breath. Grandma had said Sutton. Me.
“My sister loved babies,” Grandma Mercer went on, her thin lips breaking into a grin. “And she especially loved you. She fawned over you. Called you her little namesake.”
Emma’s eyes flicked back and forth as the words slowly sank in. The Sutton Grandma was talking about wasn’t her twin. Sutton was named after Grandma Mercer’s sister, her great-aunt.
Grandma reached for her martini glass and took a long sip. “If we lived closer, I could’ve kept a better eye on you—and kept you out of trouble. Your parents were always far too lenient. A few more weekends with me would have knocked the sass right out of you.” She glanced at Emma. But after a moment, her eyes softened and she laid her hand over Emma’s. Emma smiled, not expecting this tiny gesture of kindness.
Grandma pursed her lips, like there was something more she wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the words. “Anyway,” she said, her voice stern again as she removed her hand.
“Anyway,” Emma echoed, feeling awkward once more.
Drake raised his head and stared at the door, letting out a low whine. Emma swung around to follow his gaze. Laurel stood just behind the French doors leading into the kitchen, watching Emma and Grandma.
Grandma Mercer waved. “Guess your sister’s home.”
Caught, Laurel tossed a casual wave back, then retreated from sight. A moment later the light in her bedroom window snapped on.
Grandma Mercer tutted, then stubbed out her cigarette. “I hope Laurel didn’t see the smoke. Unlike you, I can’t trust her to keep a secret.”
Emma watched Laurel’s shadow moving around in the bedroom. “Actually, Laurel’s got a few secrets of her own,” she murmured. “You’d be surprised what she’s capable of.”
Like murdering her own sister, I thought grimly.
11
TOO HOT TO HANDLE
The next evening, Emma stood in the parking lot of Clayton Resort. The low-lying, ultramodern red clay buildings were all lit up, seamlessly melting into the mountain backdrop. All around her was an undulating, impossibly