He was wearing navy boxers and no shirt, and even the darkness couldn’t cloak his muscular shoulders and stomach. She averted her gaze fast. “Um, Mads and I are having a sleepover.”
My pulse ratcheted up. What I wouldn’t give for a few more minutes—alone—with Thayer Vega and those shoulders.
Thayer’s golden brown eyes traveled over Emma’s flimsy tank top. “That’s cool.”
As hard as it was to watch Thayer look at Emma like that, a part of me wanted my twin to be even closer. I wanted Thayer to pull Emma to his chest so I could remember what it felt like to have his arms around me.
Then he stepped toward Emma. “It’s been a long time since you slept over,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.
Emma swallowed. Thayer was standing so close, she could smell his deodorant and the mint of his toothpaste. He glanced at the clock on the oven. “Three A.M.,” he said in a low voice. “That was our old meeting time, remember? Is that why you came?”
“I—” Emma said haltingly. She wanted to tell Thayer no, but something was stopping her. It was like he was a magnet, yanking her toward him. “I just needed a night away from my dad.”
Suddenly, his arm was around her waist, and his lips were just inches away.
“Thayer,” Emma said, turning her head.
“Sutton,” Thayer breathed into her ear.
“I-I’m with Ethan now,” Emma blurted. She stepped away from him. “I should go.”
Thayer held up his hands. “So go.”
Emma knew she should leave. She really did. But something kept her there, staring at him for a moment too long. His hazel eyes drew her in. She could practically taste how much he wanted her.
“I—” she whispered, but the rest of the sentence evaporated on her tongue.
Don’t, I begged silently. Please. Give me a few more seconds. But then I felt the heartbreakingly familiar snap as she fled back upstairs to Madeline’s room, dragging me behind her, away from the boy I still so desperately loved.
26
CALL THE DOCTOR
Thursday afternoon, Emma steered Sutton’s car into a parking space in the visitor lot of the University of Arizona Hospital and Medical Center. Sweat instantly prickled her temple, but whether it was from the blazing sun overhead or the fact that she was about to break into Mr. Mercer’s office, she wasn’t quite sure.
A doctor dressed in sea-green scrubs emerged from the front door, talking on her cell phone and fidgeting with the stethoscope around her neck. As she passed Emma, she gave her a small smile. Emma ducked her head and didn’t smile in return, feeling like a spy.
Could she really do this? Sneak into Mr. Mercer’s office and look through his stuff? Even though Emma and Ethan had agreed it was the best thing, she’d wrestled with the prospect. She might have shoplifted, participated in Lying Game pranks, and even ransacked Laurel’s and Thayer’s rooms all in the name of hunting down Sutton’s killer, but something about going through Sutton’s father’s office felt way more dangerous. Maybe because it was a hospital, a place with tons of video cameras and security. It would be so easy for Mr. Mercer to find out what she had done.
Steeling herself, Emma swallowed hard and strode toward the elevator bank, pressing 3 with her index finger. That was where Mr. Mercer worked—she’d seen it on his business cards.
Orthopedics was to the right of the elevators, and Emma strolled there as casually as she could. The place looked like any other hospital she’d ever been in: greenish walls, tall windows, and linoleum floors. The eerie smell of antiseptic and sickness hung heavy in the air, and there were drawings on the walls done by patients from the children’s wing, most of them colorful, oblong dragons or sad-eyed dogs.
I scanned the halls, too, waiting to find something familiar, some object that would spark my memory. Had my dad brought me here after he killed me? I couldn’t help but picture him carrying my body through the corridors and down to the hospital’s incinerator.
Emma turned a corner and entered the surgery waiting room. A receptionist in a feather headband regarded her warily from behind the front desk. “Excuse me, miss? Can I help you?”
Emma froze. The woman’s eyes scanned her without a hint of recognition, which was probably a good thing. “Yes, actually, I’m here to see Dr. Mercer. I’m a patient of his.” She tried to look distraught, like she had a serious problem that merited Mr. Mercer fitting her in at the end of the day.
The receptionist narrowed her eyes. “Dr. Mercer isn’t in today. He’s at a conference.”
Shit. Emma realized she should have planned her cover better—of course the receptionist knew where Sutton’s dad was. Suddenly, though, a small man in a hospital gown and with white bedhead hair wandered down the hall. Clutching a bag of potato chips, he peered around the room as though looking for someone.
“Grover?!” he called. “Grover, are you here?” Then, grumbling, he continued down the hall, sliding in his socked feet across the linoleum like he was ice-skating.
The receptionist stood and moved away from her post. “Mr. Hamilton!” she called. “Now how did you get all the way out here?” She rested her hand gently on his bare arm and led him through a bank of doors.
Emma seized the opportunity and took off down another long hallway marked OFFICES. She eyed the room numbers hungrily. 311. 309. 307. Bingo.
Be unlocked. Please, be unlocked. Emma pushed the silver handle down and used her elbow to shove the door open and shut behind her in one fluid motion. She was in.