Sara Shepard - Two Truths and a Lie

“You’re right,” Ethan said softly. “It would have been easy for him.”

“He’s got me where he wants me. If I say one word against him, he’ll tell the cops who I am. And then they’ll blame me for Sutton’s death. This is playing out exactly as you said it would.” She shut her eyes and started to sob again. “He told me that his lawyer is working hard to get him out of jail by next week. That could be in a matter of days! What am I going to do?”

“ Shhh ,” Ethan whispered. He took Emma’s hand and rested it against his jeans. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Thayer is still locked up. You’re still safe. There’s still time to prove what he did. I’m here with you, okay? I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I’ll keep you safe.”

Emma laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do without you . If something happened to you …” Ethan broke off, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t bear it.”

It was such a relief just to hear those words. Emma swallowed a sob and smiled gratefully at Ethan. Her lips were about to touch his when she noticed a leather journal next to the bed. It was open to a page near the back and neat letters formed short verses, like a poem. Suddenly, the guilt flooded back. The prank. Laurel had asked her to steal his work. She winced, then pulled away from him.

“I need to tell you something else,” she said. “Something you’re not going to like.”

Ethan cocked his head. “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Emma stared at Ethan’s hands entwined with hers, hating what she had to do next. But she had to warn him. She took a deep breath. “Sutton’s friends are planning this prank on you. It has to do with your poetry reading.”

Ethan shrank back. “ What? ”

“I tried to stop them. But they really—”

Ethan waved his hands, cutting her off. He blinked at her hard, as though Emma had just hit him over the head with a shovel. “How long have you known about this?”

Emma lowered her eyes. “Um, a few days,” she said in a small voice.

“A few days ?”

“I’m sorry!” Emma cried. “I tried to stop it! It wasn’t my idea!”

Slowly, Ethan’s expression turned from hurt to disappointment to disgust. “I think you should go,” he said numbly.

“Ethan, I—” Emma tried to reach for his hand, but he was already making his way to the door. “Ethan!” she called after him, running into the hall. They were almost to the foyer when she caught his arm and swung him around. “Please! You told me we could be honest about everything! And I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Ethan interrupted, wrenching his arm away. “You could have called this off instantly. They think you’re the all-powerful Sutton Mercer. One word from you and the prank’s off. Why didn’t you do that? Is it because you don’t want them to know about me? Are you”—his voice caught, and he cleared his throat roughly—“ ashamed of me?”

“Of course not!” Emma cried, but maybe Ethan had a point. Why hadn’t she tried harder to nip it in the bud? How had she let it get so out of control?

Ethan’s hand turned the doorknob. “Just go, okay? Don’t bother talking to me until you remember who you are—Emma Paxton, the nice twin.”

“Ethan!” Emma cried, but he’d already pushed her outside and slammed the door in her face. It was raining harder now, and the drops mixed with the tears that streamed down her cheeks. It felt like she’d just lost the only good thing she had in the world. She cupped her hands against the glass of the side window and stared into the house, watching as Ethan stormed back down the hall, knocking over a stack of books on the living room table as he went.

It was a scene I hated to watch. Once again, I cursed the Lying Game. If my friends and I hadn’t started that stupid club, Emma wouldn’t be heartbroken right now. Her one and only ally wouldn’t hate her.

Emma rang the doorbell a few times, but Ethan didn’t answer. She texted him to please talk to her, but he didn’t reply. After a while, there was no use in lingering—Ethan had made his feelings clear. She trudged across the front lawn, instantly getting soaked, wondering how she was going to get back to the Mercers. As she was pulling out Sutton’s cell phone to call the cab service again, the phone lit up in her hands. Emma frowned. The number was from the Tucson police station. A horrible thought came to her: What if the cops were calling about Thayer? What if he was being set free?

“Uh, hello?” Emma yelled over the rainstorm, trying to quell the nerves in her voice.

Detective Quinlan’s voice boomed on the other end. “Evening, Miss Mercer. We got the blood results back from your car.”

Emma tensed. “W-what are they?” She braced herself, sure he was going to say the blood was Sutton’s.

“The blood is a perfect match for Thayer Vega,” Quinlan’s low voice pronounced.

Emma stopped short in the middle of the street, certain she’d heard him wrong. “ Thayer? ”

“That’s right,” Quinlan said. “Any idea how it got there? Mr. Vega certainly isn’t talking.”

“I …” Emma trailed off, not having a single thing to say. She paused next to a spindly mesquite tree, trying to catch her breath. She felt completely blindsided.

“Sutton?” Quinlan prompted. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Emma huddled under the tree, not that it provided much shelter from the storm. There was so much she needed to tell him. Did she dare? Could she somehow convince him this time that she was Sutton’s twin, but that she hadn’t wanted to steal Sutton’s life? Would he believe her if she told him Thayer had been sending her threatening messages— and that Thayer had killed Sutton? She doubted it. Sure, she had Thayer’s note from Sutton’s locker, the one that said he was going to snap, but while it was proof enough for her, it was unlikely the police would consider it definitive evidence.

“I-I’m sorry. I have no idea how it got there,” Emma answered finally. She shut her eyes, thinking. “Were there any other fingerprints on the car?”

Quinlan sighed. “Just yours and your father’s. He was a co-owner of the vehicle, correct?”

“Uh-huh,” Emma said distantly. She recalled Mr. Mercer talking about how he and Sutton had restored the Volvo together.

There was a cough on the other end. “Well, since there’s no longer any reason for us to hold your car, you can come pick it up,” Quinlan said gruffly.

“Thanks,” Emma said, but Quinlan had already disconnected. She held the phone outstretched, staring at it as though it were an alien life form. Wind tossed a cold, wet leaf against her ankle. An engine whined in the distance. The world was still turning as usual, but Emma felt utterly changed. Thayer’s blood. But … how?

I was as stunned as she was. I thought back over the memory I’d just regained. It didn’t make sense—Thayer was the lunatic after me , not the other way around. There was only one answer: I must have somehow managed to get into my car and hit Thayer before he killed me. I was glad for that—Thayer may have taken my life, but at least I got a piece of him on my way out.

That night, Emma rolled over in bed and looked at the bright neon green digits of Sutton’s alarm clock. It was 2:12 A.M. She’d been crying since a cab dropped her off at home, and her throat was so parched she could barely swallow. In all her life, she’d never felt so confused and alone. Not when she had to move out of Henderson and say good-bye to Alex. Not when she’d had to stay in the state home for an entire month when social services couldn’t find her a foster family. And not even when Becky had left her at her neighbor’s and had never come back to get her.