His eyes widened. “You’re sure it was his?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “And this afternoon, before I went to the cops, I went to his house.”
Ethan sputtered, spitting out the mouthful he’d just sipped. “You what?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” she said quickly, “but I’m done playing the game by Garrett’s rules. It’s time to go on the offensive. Anyway, I talked to Louisa. She said that he came home really upset the night Sutton died, that he was out of control. And Ethan . . . he has a prescription for Valium.” She dropped her voice again. “That’s what was in Nisha’s bloodstream when she died.”
My mind flashed back to the look of rage on Garrett’s face, that night in the canyon. I knew why he’d killed me—he was in a jealous rage after he caught me with Thayer. But Nisha’s death seemed less of a heat-of-the-moment act; drugging her and pushing her in the pool would have required deliberation and planning. What made him decide she needed to die?
A worried frown creased Ethan’s brow. “You shouldn’t have gone to his house. He’s been warning you to stop looking for answers. What’s he going to do when his mom or his sister tell him you were there?”
Emma smacked her palm on the table in frustration. “Ethan, what else can he do to me? I’m already wanted for Sutton’s murder. If I can’t prove that he killed her soon, I’m going to jail . . . and he’ll walk free. I can’t let that happen.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. “I just hate that you took a risk like that.” He stared down into his water glass. “Everything points to Garrett, doesn’t it?”
Emma nodded. All of the pieces fit—and from what she’d seen of Garrett’s temper, it was easy to believe that he was capable of murder. “But I still don’t have anything to take to the cops.”
“What about that key?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. Emma felt in her jeans pocket, where the tiny silver key hugged her hip. She held it in the palm of her hand, squinting to try to make out what was etched on the metal tag it was attached to.
“It’s too small for a car or a house. What could this go to?” She sighed. “For all we know it could be for his bike chain or something.”
“I don’t know, Emma.” Ethan tapped the back of the tag, where the unmistakable S.M. was scratched. “Those are her initials.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the key on the table between them. The events of the evening swirled furiously around Emma’s head. In just a few hours, she’d lost the place she’d learned to call home, and the family she had come to love.
“What am I going to do?” she asked softly, tracing a line of condensation on her glass. “I don’t have any money, anywhere to go. The few things I brought to Tucson are now evidence, and everything else was Sutton’s. I don’t even have a change of clothes.”
Ethan put a hand on her knee, squeezing it almost painfully. “You’re going to stay here. At least until we can get this sorted out.”
“Ethan, no. I can’t put you in any danger. Alex is already in trouble for helping me. And what about your mom? She doesn’t want me here.”
Ethan set down his glass and gazed at her, an earnest, tender expression on his face. “Emma, I love you. I know no one has ever stood beside you when you were in trouble, but no matter what it takes, I’m going to make you believe that I’m the one who will do that. I’m not leaving you.”
Her heart gave a violent thump. Ethan was right—she had never depended on anyone in her life. After being abandoned by Becky, and surviving the stream of disappointing foster parents who followed, Emma had learned early on to rely on no one but herself. Her friendships and relationships had mostly been short and shallow, easily made and easily broken. Until Ethan.
“I don’t want you involved,” she whispered. “They’re going to charge Alex with aiding and abetting—maybe even conspiracy. They could get you on the same things.”
He pulled her close. “Nothing will happen to me.” He tilted her chin up gently, gazing into her eyes. “Stay with me. Let me help you through this, and protect you.”
Emma sighed and curled up against his chest contentedly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t know what I’d do without you. God, Emma . . .” His dark-blue eyes were wide and earnest. “I don’t think I ever understood love until I met you.”
She laced her fingers through his, her heart singing in her chest.
“So you’ll stay?” he asked, stroking her wrist with his fingertips. She shivered, and for the first time in days it wasn’t in fear.
“I’ll stay,” she murmured.
“It’s settled then.” His face broke into a crooked grin, and he took her hand. “Want to go watch some TV, to take your mind off things?”
As she followed Ethan down the hall, Emma suddenly wondered—where would she be sleeping tonight? Her cheeks grew warm as she pictured Ethan’s full-sized bed with its smooth, carefully tucked covers. Would they be sharing it?
The living room’s walls had been painted a dusty rose color, a fussy vine pattern stenciled along the top in dark green. A clock with pictures of different American birds in place of the numerals hung over the TV, and an ornate gilded mirror loomed above a drafty fireplace, doubling the room in its reflection. Like the rest of the house, the room was spotlessly clean, though bare patches showed on the arms of the blue chintz sofa, and the flowered rug was mottled with stains.