top was a disc in a clear jewel case, labeled SUTTON IN AZ in red Sharpie.
“The video,” Ethan whispered.
She nodded, but she was already rifling through the pages behind the disc. There was a printout of the very first message Emma had sent Sutton. This will sound crazy, but I think we’re related. We look exactly the same, and we have the same birthday. Behind that was a page with Sutton’s e-mail and Facebook passwords. And behind that were photos—a thick stack of glossy black-and-white photos.
Emma had gotten so used to seeing Sutton’s face everywhere that for a moment, she thought the pictures were of her twin. But that wasn’t right—in the very top picture, the girl stood behind a ticket window. Emma’s heart skipped a beat. It was the New York–New York roller coaster in Vegas, where she’d worked the summer before coming to Tucson. In the picture she was busy counting change for a customer, completely unaware that someone had a lens trained on her.
The next picture caught her and Alex, running side by side on a trail through Red Rock Canyon. Another showed her reaching up to pull something off the top shelf at the public library. In a third she was walking into Clarice’s house, an expression of utter despondence on her face. The photos were grainy, taken surreptitiously and at awkward angles—but she was clear in all of them.
The old Emma had been an expert at staying anonymous and invisible, at keeping low to the ground so she couldn’t get hurt. The old Emma would have been embarrassed to realize that someone had been watching her all that time.
But the new Emma? The new Emma was pissed.
And so was I.
Emma shuffled the pictures to the back of the stack of paperwork, and leafed through the rest of the pages. She frowned at one that was simply a list of numbers. For a moment she didn’t know what she was looking at. Then she recognized one of the numbers.
It was the Mercers’ alarm code.
Her jaw dropped. Beneath that code was the Chamberlains’. And below that was another set of digits she recognized: 0907.
September seven. Mrs. Banerjee’s birthday.
Nisha had given Emma that same code nearly a month earlier so she could access the mental health files at the hospital. Emma was willing to bet that was the alarm code for their house, too. Garrett had used it to break into Nisha’s house, to find what she’d been hiding there, but Dr. Banerjee had scared him away.
Except Dr. Banerjee was out of town now.
“Ethan,” she breathed, holding up the sheet of paper. “We can get into Nisha’s house. We can find the evidence!”
Ethan stared at her. “Emma, we need to go straight to the cops. The stuff in here is enough to put Garrett away.”
“But it’s not,” she argued. “There’s nothing here that points to Garrett. It’s rented under a fake name, paid in cash—and I’m willing to bet there aren’t any fingerprints on any of this stuff,” she added bitterly. “The only thing that links Garrett to this unit is the key we found, and that’s our word against his. But whatever Nisha had was damning enough that Garrett killed her for it.”
Ethan let out a breath. He glanced around the storage unit, then back at her. “Okay. You’re right. We’ll swing by Nisha’s and look around one more time. Then we’ll go to the cops and give them what we have.”
She nodded, excitement bubbling in her chest like fresh water from a spring. She felt lighter than she had in weeks. They were so close now—just a little more evidence, and they’d be able to prove what Garrett had done to her sister.
“We should leave the stuff here, how we found it. It’s a crime scene now.” She slid the paperwork and the photos back into the manila envelope and carefully put it back on the ground. Then she picked up Socktopus, hugging him to her chest once more before setting him next to the envelope.
They locked up the unit and went back to the car. Ethan hit the highway, driving carefully but fast. The desert spread out on either side of them, disappearing into darkness just a few feet from the road. Emma clutched the key to the storage unit in her hand.
Hell yeah! I shouted silently, wishing I could slap my sister five. Garrett was finally, finally going down.
28
A MESSAGE FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE
Emma pushed through the wrought-iron gate leading to the Banerjees’ backyard,