Mr. Mercer gave her a look. “What’s he doing here?”
Sutton’s mother followed his gaze, then set her mouth in a line. “Well, I invited the Vegas,” Mrs. Mercer said. It was obvious the effort it took to keep her voice calm. “Naturally they’d assume that meant Thayer, too. Now, please, just relax and enjoy yourself. We don’t want to make waves.”
Mr. Mercer’s face turned to stone. “I meant what I said, girls,” he said, his dark eyes flashing. “Promise me I can trust you.”
Emma threw her hands up in defense. “Of course.”
“You can always trust me, Daddy,” Laurel added sweetly, tucking a lock of pale blond hair behind her ear.
Almost immediately, Mr. Mercer was swept up by some of his guests, and Emma wandered toward the buffet table, which was stocked with every kind of food imaginable, from sliders to filets mignons, grilled vegetables to complicated-looking soufflés.
After popping a cheese cube in her mouth, Emma looked around to see if any of her friends or Ethan had arrived. Through the crowd, she spotted one of the Mercers’ neighbors gesticulating as she entertained a group of women. “And we invited Pastor Wilkins to that book club! Who knew an Oprah’s Book Club pick would be so racy!” she trilled. Two little girls sipped Shirley Temples by the bar, pretending they were adults. Then she caught a glimpse of Mr. Chamberlain, Charlotte’s father. He stood with his arm around Charlotte’s mom, who wore a short leopard-print dress that hugged her flawless figure. Just then, Sutton’s father crossed the patio and thumped Mr. Chamberlain hard on the back. Charlotte’s dad said something into Mr. Mercer’s ear, and Mr. Mercer threw his head back with laughter.
Emma blinked. She hadn’t realized those two knew each other. She’d only met Mr. Chamberlain once, the very night she’d arrived in Tucson. He’d greeted her uncomfortably in the Sabino Canyon parking lot, like she’d caught him somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. She sensed something wasn’t quite right in the Chamberlain home, but Charlotte had never opened up, and Emma hadn’t wanted to pry.
“Sutton?” cried a voice behind her.
Emma swung around and nearly smacked into Charlotte, Madeline, and the Twitter Twins. Each was dressed in a gorgeous cocktail dress. Charlotte’s was red, which perfectly accented her peaches-and-cream skin, Madeline’s was a vampy purple-black, and the twins wore shiny silver and gold numbers that barely covered their thighs.
“Say cheese!” Gabby said, angling her camera to snap a photo. “I’m gonna tweet something about how fun fifty-fifth birthday parties can be—if you have the right attitude.” She winked.
Charlotte looped an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Are you having a good time?”
“It’s certainly beautiful here,” Emma answered, eyeing Sutton’s mother and father. They were now standing in front of a big table full of gifts. Mr. Mercer was shaking his head, a please-don’t-tell-me-these-are-all-for-me look on his face.
“Where’s Laurel?” Madeline scanned the crowd. Before anyone could answer, Madeline shrugged and disappeared, saying something about finding her. By the piqued look on her face, Emma could tell she was afraid Laurel was with her brother.
Gabby sank into one hip, watching Madeline go, too. “Whoa. Hover much? She’s tracking him like an ankle bracelet.”
“I bet it’s because of their dad.” Lili gestured across the patio. Mr. Vega was now standing with his wife, picking at a plate full of strawberries dipped in chocolate.
“You know what I heard?” Gabby whispered, her fingers still flying on her iPhone. “Mads’s dad is putting all kinds of pressure on Thayer to get caught up in school. Plus, he’s, like, grounded for life for putting them through hell when he disappeared.” She widened her eyes. “Why do you think Thayer vanished, anyway? Mads isn’t talking. Do you think he was the leader of a porn ring?”
“No!” Emma exclaimed before she could stop herself.
Charlotte looked curious. “Do you know where Thayer was?”
Emma clamped her mouth shut. “Of course not,” she said stiffly. “But he wasn’t doing that.”
Then, through the slowly melting ice sculptures, Emma noticed a boy in dark trousers and a light blue button-down shirt appear at the patio door. Her heart soared. “Ethan!” she called, waving him over.
Ethan looked back and forth before locating Emma. A broad grin crossed his face, and he advanced straight for her, not tempted by the waitresses with their trays of food or drinks.
“Hey,” he said, looking her up and down. “You look amazing.”
Emma kissed him on the cheek, feeling her stomach flip. “You look great, too.” She ran her hands through his still-damp hair. His skin smelled like Ivory soap.
Ethan said hello to Charlotte and the Twitter Twins, who greeted him like he was an old friend, then scanned the food spread, which now included a chocolate waterfall and at least ten different types of pies. He let out a low whistle. “This is pretty incredible.”
“They went all out,” Emma said proudly.
“I didn’t know so many people from Hollier would be here,” Ethan observed.
It was only then that Emma noticed many of her classmates peppering the crowd. There were girls from the tennis team and their parents, including Nisha, who looked radiant in a short, white dress, and her dad. A girl from German class was hanging out near the bar with a couple of guys from the tennis team, and a bunch of girls Emma recognized from Sutton’s birthday party were giggling near the string quartet. Quite a few of them were staring at Emma and Ethan like they were the new “It” couple.
Emma took a glass of seltzer water from a passing waitress and shrugged. “I think Mrs. Mercer is on the PTA. Maybe she’s gotten friendly with other parents over the years.”
Ethan looked down. “Yeah, my parents were never really into that sort of thing.”
Emma squeezed his arm and gave him a quick kiss before pulling him into a quiet corner.
“I found something in Laurel’s room,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “I think it was the murder weapon.”
Ethan’s eyes widened as Emma told him about the tennis racket. “Did you steal it?”
“No. I was worried she’d notice it was gone. And now it has my fingerprints on it.”
Ethan turned toward the crowd for a moment, watching as a waiter passed with a tray full of fruit tortes. “This could be your proof,” he went on, his voice urgent.
“I know, but how?” Emma urged. “If only we could test that strand of hair, or some of the blood…but that would require telling the cops that Sutton is dead.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I guess I could write an anonymous note telling the cops everything, and then leave town immediately. That way if they try to pin it on me, I’ll already be gone. And I’ve gotten pretty good at starting over under a new name.” Emma let out a rueful laugh.
Ethan looked horrified by the suggestion. “But whoever killed Sutton might come after you for leaving—or for announcing to the world that she’s dead. And more than that, where would you go, what would you do? Your life is here. And it’s amazing.”
“Sutton’s life is amazing,” Emma corrected. But then her shoulders slumped. “You’re right, though. I have no idea what I’d do. I don’t have a life anymore. I don’t have anything anymore.”
She turned and looked at the view, taking in the low lights of the wading pool, the tranquil rocks, and the dazzling sunset. Melodic notes from the string quartet filled the air. She allowed herself one moment to actually savor this, to wish that this was her life.
Ethan leaned closer. “You have me,” he reminded her.
Emma wrapped her arms around him. “Thank goodness for that.”
When they pulled apart, Emma felt someone staring at her from across the patio. It was Laurel, who was talking to Madeline and standing much closer to Thayer than Mr. Mercer would have liked, though Emma didn’t see Mr. Mercer anyway. Laurel was staring menacingly at Emma, and a pang of fear gripped Emma.
Ethan noticed Laurel, too, and pulled Emma tight against him. But even Ethan’s protective grasp didn’t make her feel better. In fact, being around so many people was beginning to suffocate her. She placed a hand on Ethan’s arm. “I need to splash cold water on my face. I’ll be right back.”
Ethan nodded. “Want me to go with you?”
“It’s okay, I just need a minute alone.” Then she stepped across the patio and made her way into the foyer of the resort. A cowhide rug splayed out in front of a giant fireplace. Potted orchids sat atop carved-stone tables, and silver-framed pictures of important-looking people dotted the walls.
As she passed through a long hallway, a hushed whisper stopped her in her tracks. Two people were talking just inside one of the dark conference rooms. She would have kept going, but she recognized the raspy smoker’s voice immediately.
“Have you seen her again?” Grandma said. Her quiet words seethed with anger.
“Y-yes,” a voice answered shakily. Emma clapped a hand over her mouth. It was Sutton’s dad.
She peeked around the corner. Mr. Mercer and Sutton’s grandmother were standing at the front of the room, near a big, white screen. Sutton’s grandmother’s face was pinched. The top half of her body arched toward her son.
“What’s wrong with you?” Grandma hissed. She looked like she wanted to slap him. “She’s toxic for this family. You need to stop this, now.”
“But—”
“No buts. What if Kristin found out?”
Emma blinked hard. Seeing her. Toxic for this family. What if Kristin found out?
Was Mr. Mercer having an affair?
I couldn’t believe it either. My dad didn’t seem the type. He acted like such an upstanding citizen, dedicated to his family and his surgery practice. Was everyone in my family keeping horrible secrets?
“Sutton?”
Suddenly, there was a footstep behind Emma. She jumped and turned, knocking into the long stone table against the wall. Thayer’s face swam before her eyes, and he whispered her name once more. “Sutton?”
But before Emma could answer, a huge, thin vase on the table wobbled precariously. It tipped as though in slow motion, tumbling to the floor and crashing into a thousand pieces.
In the conference room, Mr. Mercer and Grandma snapped to attention. Their gazes flitted to the vase, then to Emma. Blood drained from Grandma’s cheeks. Mr. Mercer’s mouth made an O. Emma’s eyes locked on Sutton’s dad. Running a hand through his hair, he barreled toward her, his eyes blazing.
“Oh my God,” Emma squealed, caught. When she turned, Thayer was no longer behind her, but ducking into the nearby men’s room. Giving the swinging restroom door no more than a passing glance, she sprinted toward the nearest door, and fled out of the resort.
I was tugged along behind her, away from my father, away from the party, and into the vast desert beyond. But something about the look in my father’s eyes, something about Emma running, all of it set wheels turning in my head. All at once, I was tumbling headfirst into another memory.