The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,40

counter thumbing through Cosmopolitan. Clothes jam-packed the racks, and there was a large wall of heels and boots on the back wall.

Emma sifted through a rack of dresses. Madeline stood motionless near the door with her arms close to her sides, as if she were afraid of germs. “Look.” Emma pulled a pair of gold-tone wraparound sunglasses off the rack on the wall. “Vintage Gucci.”

Madeline took dainty ballerina steps until she was next to Emma. “Those are probably fakes.”

“They aren’t.” She ran her hand over the interlocking Gs and pointed at the label that said MADE IN ITALY. “These are a total find. And a steal, too.” She flicked the price tag hanging from the nose bridge. Forty dollars. “I bet they’d look awesome on you. And think of it this way—no one else has them. You’d be special.”

She unfolded the arms of the glasses and placed them on Madeline’s face. Madeline let out a little note of protest, then adjusted the glasses and stared into the mirror. Emma smiled. She’d been right—they accentuated Madeline’s round chin and high cheekbones. As Mads pivoted to the right and left, she looked like a glamorous heiress on holiday.

Her expression softened. “They are kind of nice.”

“I told you.”

“Do you really think they’re real?”

“They’re real, okay?” the shopkeeper lisped exasperatedly, dropping his Cosmo to the counter. “Do I look like I carry fakes? Now either buy them or take them off your grimy little face.”

Madeline lowered the sunglasses down her nose and gave the shopkeeper a cool, indifferent stare. “I will buy them, thanks.”

The shopkeeper rang them up silently, his lips in a prissy pucker. As soon as Emma and Madeline got out of the shop, they both grabbed each other and exploded into giggles. “What was that coat he was wearing?” Madeline shook her head. “A dead cat?”

“‘Now either buy them or take them off your grimy little face!’” Emma imitated.

“So unreal.” As Madeline slung her arm around Emma’s shoulders, there was a lift in Emma’s chest. For a moment, she’d actually forgotten the situation she was in.

They cruised to the upper floor, arm in arm. At the top of the escalator, Emma spied the top of a familiar dark head on the level below and stopped cold. A girl stood outside Fetch, the high-end pet store, browsing a table of squeak toys and studded leashes. She craned her neck upward, as if she sensed someone staring at her. Nisha.

Madeline eyed Nisha, too. “I heard she’s next,” she whispered in Emma’s ear. “We’re going to get her tomorrow.”

“Get her?” Emma frowned.

“Charlotte thought of something brilliant. We’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Be ready.”

Nisha gave the girls a final look, then tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked in the other direction. Be ready? Emma wondered. For . . . what? She gazed questioningly at Madeline, but Madeline’s eyes were obscured behind her new Gucci sunglasses. All Emma could see was her own reflection staring back at her, looking more confused than ever.

She wasn’t the only one. Something about Madeline’s voice put me on edge. I had a feeling that whatever they were going to do to Nisha was going to be . . . trouble. But both Emma and I would have to wait until tomorrow to find out exactly what it was.

Chapter 15

THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

The following morning, Charlotte’s SUV roared to the curb in front of the Mercers’ house, nearly taking out a trash can. Laurel scuttled into the backseat fast. Madeline handed her a giant Starbucks cup. “Thanks again for letting me in on this,” Laurel gushed.

“You had some good ideas with this one,” Charlotte murmured while typing on her BlackBerry. “You deserve some credit.”

Emma climbed in behind Laurel. Madeline handed her a hot coffee, too, though Emma didn’t remember giving her an order. She took a sip and winced. It was black with Splenda, yechh. Twins must not share the same taste buds. “What’s this all about, anyway?” she asked.

Charlotte waved the little stirring straw that had come with her latte at Emma. “Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s our turn, Sutton. This is for you.”

Charlotte turned out of Sutton’s neighborhood, passing the park where Emma and Ethan had played tennis. “It’s all timed perfectly,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve been watching Nisha since Monday.”

“And you set up everything last night?” Madeline was wearing her new Gucci sunglasses. The sunlight caught the gold frames and sent reflections around the inside of the