The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,373

worry, it’s probably just the neighbor’s cat.”

Emma exhaled heavily. “I’ve been jumpy ever since my mom escaped from the hospital. I just wish I knew exactly what was wrong with her. No one will tell me anything. What if she’s … violent?”

Nisha nodded slowly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Emma bit her lip, glancing at Ethan’s house.

“Do you know a way I could look at her records?” she asked. Nisha recoiled slightly. “I would never ask you to get them for me,” Emma said quickly. “I know they’re confidential. But if you knew how to get them … it would mean a lot. Maybe I could figure out where she’s gone. Maybe I could find her.”

Nisha tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. She fidgeted with a gold initial pendant on a chain around her neck, the letter D. Emma suspected it must have belonged to Mrs. Banerjee.

“I think I might be able to help you,” Nisha said. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Can you wait here for a second?”

“Sure.”

Nisha padded back across the driveway to the house. Emma heard her door open and shut. She leaned against her car, counting the seconds. Somewhere in the canyon a coyote was hunting, its short, shrill barks bouncing off the desert rock. The sound sent a shiver up her spine. She stared into the darkness in the direction of the park, trying to convince herself she had nothing to be afraid of.

A few minutes later, Nisha’s footsteps sounded on the gravel driveway. “My mother’s birthday is September seventh,” Nisha said cryptically. Then she slid something shaped like a credit card into Emma’s hand.

Emma opened her fist. It was a small white electronic passkey. The University of Arizona Hospital logo was stamped on the front.

She immediately pulled Nisha into a hug. For a few seconds, Nisha stood rigid and surprised in her arms. Then Emma felt her body relax as she tentatively hugged her back.

“Thanks,” Emma whispered, stepping away.

Nisha nodded. “I’ve gotta go. See you at the party, okay?” She went back into the house. Emma imagined her going into the Banerjees’ silent foyer, walking past all the things that her mother had bought for their household—a vase, a picture frame, a throw. The house must feel almost haunted.

I wondered about that. Did Nisha travel with her own invisible passenger? Did Mrs. Banerjee hover around her, cajoling and comforting a daughter who couldn’t hear her anymore? Somehow I doubted she had the same kind of unfinished business I did.

Emma opened the door to the Volvo. As she was getting in, she saw a curtain flutter at a window in Ethan’s house. A moment later, a light snapped on in the front room, and his mother passed by the window in a worn gray bathrobe. Emma watched for another moment, wondering if she’d been eavesdropping on her conversation with Nisha. Then she climbed in the car.

Emma sighed. Maybe asking Nisha for help with the files was unethical. But if it helped clear Becky, it would be worth it. And if it didn’t—it might help her finally catch her sister’s killer.

I agreed with Emma. With Becky on the loose, we needed all the information we could get.

It was time to learn some of our mother’s secrets.

24

MEET ME AT THE PLAZA

Emma opened her eyes, blinking slowly in confusion. Her body felt strangely heavy, her arms like lead at her sides. She stared up at an unfamiliar tiled ceiling dotted with industrial fluorescent lights. The room smelled like floor wax and medicine. Strange monitors loomed over her bed, beeping and winking down at her.

She tried to sit up, but her body still wouldn’t budge. She looked down, and her heart began to hammer. Instead of Sutton’s polka-dot pajamas, she wore a thin white hospital gown. A plastic bracelet stuck to her wrist. Her arms and legs were strapped to the bed with stained leather restraints.

“No!” Emma screamed, pulling against the restraints. She thrashed back and forth, but that only seemed to make them tighter.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” said a familiar voice. Emma gasped. Becky. “I’m so glad you could finally join me.”

A rustle of the sheets and a creak of the mattress springs indicated that her mother had crawled out of bed. Emma turned her head so hard that her neck felt like it might snap off, but she still couldn’t see her. “Mom?” she whispered.

“They tried to keep us apart,” said her mother. “But you