Laurel grinned. “Maybe it was a ghost!” she said in a teasing, ghoulish voice, pointing to a Ghostface mask from Scream.
I wanted to burst out laughing; little did Laurel know the truth. But the ghost Emma heard in that hal was definitely not me.
Laurel assessed the bloody wedding dress once more and draped it over her arm. “This could work. So are you taking a date? Maybe someone named Al lex, perhaps?”
She stretched out the name and playful y punched Emma on the arm.
“Alex is just a friend,” Emma said quickly, turning away.
“Yeah, right!”
“Seriously. Like I said, she’s from tennis camp. And she’s a girl. Short for Alexandra.”
Laurel cocked her head and gave Emma a dubious look.
“A girl who’s thinking of you and can’t wait to talk?” she asked, reciting the lines from Alex’s text.
The bel s to the store jingled, and a man in a pin-striped suit with two smal blond boys entered. The kids ran for the rack of army uniforms and started shooting each other with the plastic machine guns. Emma watched them snake around the racks, ful y aware that Laurel’s expectant gaze hadn’t left her face. Emma knew if she didn’t give her gossip soon, she’d continue to pester her relentlessly. The more questions she asked, the more specifics Emma fabricated, the more opportunity Laurel had to catch Emma in a lie.
Emma took a deep breath and turned around. “Okay. There is a guy I’ve been hanging around with.”
Laurel’s eyes lit up. “Who?”
“Ethan.”
“Ethan . . . who?”
“Landry.” It felt strange and nerve-racking to say his name out loud.
The smile on Laurel’s face was uncertain, slightly amused. “Seriously?”
Emma stiffened, feeling vulnerable. It felt like she’d whipped off the Sutton mask and Laurel was suddenly looking at her. “We’re just friends,” she said as casual y as she could. “We hang out sometimes.”
“But Ethan Landry isn’t friends with people.” Laurel stil sounded incredulous. “He’s Mr. I-Vant-to-Be-Alone.”
The little boys raced around the Hal oween shop as though it were a war zone. Their father slapped an Amex on the counter and gave an apologetic look to the girl in the leather bustier. “Wel , I guess he’s changed,” Emma said.
“I suppose you’d be the perfect person to change him, Sutton.” Laurel got in line to pay for the wedding dress. “You should tel everyone you’re into him! It would do wonders for his popularity!”
“I don’t think Ethan cares about that,” Emma pointed out. But Laurel didn’t seem to hear her. “You should invite him to Homecoming!”
The earnestness in Laurel’s voice tugged at Emma’s heart. If she’d asked Ethan just days before, maybe they’d be going together.
“Ethan has a date already,” Emma said flatly.
“So make him break it off with her!” Laurel handed a credit card to Dracu-Dork. He slipped the dress into a yel ow plastic bag without taking his eyes off Laurel. “You’ve done it before!” Laurel went on. “Look, Sutton, I’ve seen him staring at you at school. And when he showed up to your party with those flowers . . . it’s obvious he’s got it bad for you.”
“You think?” Emma toyed with a loose thread at the hem of her shirt.
“I do,” Laurel said firmly.
Emma reached out and took Laurel’s hand, suddenly feeling a flood of warmth and protectiveness for her. Gabby and Lili, two girls Laurel was close friends with, might have kil ed Laurel’s sister. Was it right to keep that from her?
Laurel looked down at Emma’s fingers holding hers.
“What’s that for?” she asked softly.
“Laurel, I . . .” Emma started. Maybe she should tel her. Maybe Laurel deserved to know.
Sutton’s sister grabbed the bloody wedding dress from the counter. “Yeah?”
There was a trusting smile on her face. Her big blue eyes blinked slowly. The words wel ed in Emma’s throat, ready to spil forth, but then Sutton’s iPhone beeped, breaking the silence. Emma peeked at the screen. It was another text from Alex. GOING FOR A CHICKEN MOLE BURRITO! JEALOUS? she wrote. Attached was a photo of Alex standing in front of Loco Mexico, a dive restaurant she and Emma had been obsessed with—they made the best guacamole in town. Emma was about to slip it back into her bag when a rusty sign next to Loco Mexico caught her eye. RAPID TOW
IMPOUND SERVICES. A bunch of cars lurked behind a chainlink fence. Alarms blared in Emma’s head. The impound lot. Sutton’s car was there. It was somewhere Emma hadn’t yet looked—what if there was something in it, something specific that linked the Twitter Twins to Sutton’s murder?
“Laurel,” Emma said again, turning back to Sutton’s sister as they made their way out of the store. “Can you take me to the impound? I think it’s time to get my car.”
Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as though she hadn’t expected this. But then she shook her head and glanced at her watch. “I can’t today. My calc study group starts in twenty minutes. Maybe tomorrow?”
“No need,” said a voice behind Emma. “We’ll take you right now.”
Emma spun around, and her jaw dropped. There, standing on the curb in the blinding Tucson sunset, were the Twitter Twins.
Grinning at Emma, I thought, like a pair of lionesses that had just cornered their prey.
Chapter 21
Service with a Snicker