The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,475

filled the TV screen, roaring up the freeway on a motorcycle. “What do you want, lady?”

For a moment, she didn’t remember that she was in costume. She blinked, then pulled off her glasses. “It’s me. Emma.”

His jaw fell slack. He looked her slowly up and down, his piggy little eyes bulging. The smell of stale tobacco and sweat hung around him.

“I need your help,” she said, putting on the sweetest expression she could muster. “Everyone thinks I killed my sister.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning. “That one cop, Quinlan or whatever? He’s been trying to get me to tell him all about you.”

She chewed on her thumbnail, knowing she had to play this just right. “What have you told him so far?”

Travis shrugged, bracing himself against the door frame so he loomed over her.

“So far just about your freaky little habit,” he said.

“You mean that video someone sent you?” she said, choosing her words carefully.

“Yup,” he said. “Man, I liked watching that. Such a bummer they took it down.”

Bingo. Garrett had sent him that link. Her heart swelled with excitement. If she could get her hands on his phone, she could prove it. She took a deep breath.

“I didn’t kill Sutton,” she said, a soft, pleading note entering her voice. “You believe me, don’t you?”

He smirked. “I don’t know, Emma. You were pretty violent with me. Always had a nasty temper.”

Emma tensed, fighting the angry retort that was rising in her chest. She’d kneed Travis in the groin once after he’d tried to cop a feel. That was what had led to his framing her for the theft of Clarice’s money.

Travis’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “Besides, Tucson’s a pretty nice place. The cops have me set up here all week—free HBO, room service. All for telling them anything I can about you.”

She looked up at him, blinking through her thick lashes, her eyes wide and vulnerable. I was impressed—back in the day, I’d been a master of the puppy-dog-in-the-rain look. If only she could make herself cry on command, Emma would give me a run for my money.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She gave her voice the slightest tremble, pretending to wipe at the corner of her eye.

Travis glanced left and right as if looking for eavesdroppers. Then he leaned forward, putting his mouth right by her ear as if to share a secret. His breath was rancid with sugar and pot. “The thing is, Emma, you’re a real bitch.”

It took all her willpower not to slap him in the face. But she had to play nice. Her lips slightly parted, she rested a hand on his bare bicep. Travis’s eyes flickered down to where she was touching him.

“I’m desperate,” she whispered, ignoring the surge of bile at the back of her throat. “I’ll do anything. You have to help me, Travis. You’re the only one who can.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, his malice overcome by surprise. She ran her eyes appraisingly over his body, trying to look seductive, hunting for the telltale rectangular outline of his phone. There. It was in his front pocket, just against his hip.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Anything, huh?” He stepped back from the door, holding it open for her. As she stepped past him, he slapped her on the butt, and she jumped. Her stomach lurched. For a moment, she wondered if she was making a huge mistake. Travis was dangerous.

But Emma was tough, too. And she needed that phone.

She reached up to take the itchy wig off her head, but Travis grabbed her hand. “Leave it,” he murmured, his breath hot on her face. “I like it.”

Emma dropped her hands to Travis’s hips, leaving the blonde wig where it was. Slowly, she slid her hands into his pockets. His eyes closed, his breath coming quicker. Her fingers searched past stray coins and a baggie of something she was sure was pot before closing around the hard plastic form of his phone. As she wrenched it from his pocket, his eyes shot open.

“What—” But he didn’t get to finish his question. She brought her knee up as hard as she could between his legs. His eyes crossed, and he fell backward onto the bed, clutching at his groin.

She was out the door and slamming it behind her before he could even move, taking the stairs three at a time, adrenaline coursing through her veins. By the time he wrenched the door open, she was already at the