Kiss and Tell(32)

“But what about Kyla?” Tenley pressed. She was still gripping Emerson’s hand, her nails digging grooves into her skin. “How does she fit into this? And what about us, and all the—?”

“Enough.” Sam turned the word into a command. “I’ve answered too many of your questions already. Time’s up.”

No. It couldn’t be over. The walls spun around Emerson, a kaleidoscope of steel. “Wait!” She threw herself at the wall where the mirror had opened and pounded against it. Next to her, Tenley did the same. Their reflections were warped in the steel: strange, fun-house versions of themselves. “Come back!” Emerson screamed. “We have more questions!”

“We want to know why you came after us!” Tenley shrieked.

The only response was a low buzzing. Emerson spun around. The slats on both vents were moving. A second later they emitted a strange sucking noise. Emerson slid to the floor, her heart beating out a protest against her rib cage. It was happening. The vents were draining the air out of the room.

Already she felt light-headed. Tenley slid down next to her. Emerson wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulders. This is how we’ll be when they find us, she wanted to say. But she didn’t want to waste her breath. So instead she just leaned against Tenley, their shoulders rising and falling in unison as they swallowed down the dwindling air.

“Freeze!”

The voice came from so far away, Emerson wasn’t sure it was real. But by the way Tenley straightened up, she could tell she’d heard it, too. It was punctuated by the shriek of glass shattering. “Police!” the voice yelled.

They both leaped to their feet at once. “In here!” Emerson screamed, hammering against the door. “We’re trapped behind the mirror!” She was growing dizzier, her vision darkening at the edges. But she refused to give in. She pounded harder, ignoring the compression in her lungs. “Please, help us!”

Everything was going fuzzy. Emerson heard a wheezing, and it took her a second to realize it was coming from her. Her pounding grew limper, her voice hoarser. “Help!”

“Is someone behind the wall?” The voice was male, but it didn’t belong to Sam.

“Yes!” Emerson sagged against Tenley, pounding harder.

Footsteps raced toward them, the sound flickering in and out. There was a crash and a scream and voices.… Everything was growing fuzzier, sounds blurring together. She gasped for air. All she could focus on was the pain building in her chest. She fell to her knees, unable to hold herself up any longer.

Whirring.

Emerson fought to lift her head. Like a mirage, the door slid open.




Huddled under a blanket on the leather couch, Emerson couldn’t stop taking deep breaths. The air slid into her lungs, fresh and cool. “Look, Em,” Tenley whispered. She nodded toward the wall of windows behind them, one of which was shattered to pieces: the police’s entry point. Past it, red and blue lights cast patterns across the grass. Under the light, it was easy to see Sam Bauer being led to a police car in handcuffs.

Emerson turned back to the two cops who had pulled them out of Sam’s panic room. One was pale and bald, with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the other looked as if he lived on doughnuts. Right now, Emerson could kiss them both. “How did you know to come find us?” she asked.

“Matthew Morgan, the fire chief,” the doughnut eater answered.

Emerson leaned forward too fast. The movement made her dizzy all over again. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. A cold breeze blew in through the broken window, caressing her arms.

“Seems his daughter, Sydney, grew concerned when she couldn’t get through to either of your cell phones.” The bald cop disappeared into the kitchen and returned with cups of water. Outside, an ambulance siren cut through the night, the sound drawing closer for the second time that day. “Sydney told her dad her suspicions,” Doughnut Eater continued. “And Matthew came to the house to check it out. But he said that when he got here, nothing was working: the buzzer, the gate, the phones. It was as if it were all frozen. So he put a call in to us. Good thing, too. It looks like this was a real hostage situation.”

“It was more than that.” Emerson thrust Tenley’s cell phone at the cop. Now that her head was clearing, she recognized him as one of the ones from the fire at Matt’s apartment earlier that day. She collapsed back on the couch, suddenly bone tired.

“It’s all on the video,” Tenley finished for her. “Sam Bauer admitted to killing his wife, and pinning Caitlin Thomas’s kidnapping on Jack Hudson.”

“Well, you can relax now, girls,” the cop said. “We have Sam in custody.”

Emerson twisted around to look out the window. As the sound of the ambulance wailed closer, she watched Sam being shoved into the police car. A second siren filled the air, and then the car was gone, speeding off Neddles Island. Emerson squeezed her eyes shut, relief working its way into every cell of her body.

Sam Bauer was gone. The game was over at last.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Tuesday, 12:05 PM


“Still no sign of Calum?” Emerson asked. She dropped her phone onto the cafeteria table next to Tenley’s. Their identical gold cases flashed up at Sydney as she shook her head. “He’s definitely not at school,” Sydney said. “And his phone keeps going straight to voice mail.”

It had been two days since Sam Bauer was arrested. Sydney had tried calling Calum a dozen times since, but she still hadn’t reached him. According to the police, Calum was staying with family while a forensics team searched Neddles Island. But that didn’t explain why he wasn’t answering his phone.

“I can only imagine.…” Sydney trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Sam Bauer’s arrest might be the end of their nightmare, but it was the beginning of Calum’s. His dad was the only family he had left, and now it looked as if he’d be spending the rest of his life in jail. There would be a trial, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming, and there would be no bail set before then.

Sunday night, Tenley and Emerson had spent hours at the police station, giving their statements to the police. When they were asked why they’d gone to Sam’s house in the first place, they both realized it was finally time to tell the truth.

Sydney had been called down to the station soon after, and together they explained everything: how they’d been stalked and threatened ever since Labor Day weekend; how Caitlin and Tricia and Delancey had been part of it, too; how they finally found Sam’s shed and figured out he was their stalker. They were too frightened to go to the cops without proof, for fear Sam would kill them as he’d killed the others. So Tenley and Emerson had gone to the Bauers’ mansion, instead, in the hope of obtaining definitive proof.

When the cops asked why Sam had targeted them specifically, Emerson answered carefully. “I think we all remind him of his daughter in one way or another.” The cops moved on easily to why they were at Matthew Morgan’s house when the fire started. This time it was Tenley who answered, explaining that their stalker—Sam—had sent them an anonymous text demanding they sneak into the fire chief’s home. It had been his first attempt to kill them together; the panic room in his house his second. It was the truth, at least as much as they could tell, and getting it out had felt even better than Sydney had expected.

“Has your dad heard anything new from the cops?” Tenley asked now. Her voice was weary, but the tense look that had taken residence on her face lately had started to fade.

“Sam still isn’t admitting to the dares,” Sydney said, shaking her head. “Or the fire. But two witnesses placed his car in the vicinity of the fire. And there’s enough evidence to put him away for life, whether or not he talks anymore. Honestly, maybe it’s better he doesn’t.” She looked down. “It’s not just our secrets Sam holds. It’s my dad’s, too.”

Sydney looked out the window. Snow had started to fall, dusting the world in white. Octo-storm was nearing the coast, expected to hit later that night. Every news channel was blasting warnings in between their Sam Bauer coverage: Stock up and stay safe. There was talk of downed phone lines, no school, widespread power outages. But all Sydney could think of was how white it would all be, untouched and pristine. Big snows always felt like a cleansing.

“It wasn’t your dad’s fault, Sydney.” Emerson touched a hand to Sydney’s shoulder. In skinny jeans and a leather jacket, her hair combed into a glossy ponytail, she looked the most put-together she had in weeks. “Sam might blame your dad for his family unraveling, but we all know that’s crazy. Sam was a ticking time bomb. Something else would have set him off eventually.” Emerson’s voice grew fiercer with each word. “It wasn’t your dad’s fault, and it wasn’t Meryl’s fault, and it wasn’t Caitlin’s fault, and it definitely wasn’t our fault. All of this—every single, horrible moment—is on Sam.”

Sydney looked up. Emerson was watching her steadily, a concerned look in her eyes. Just a few weeks ago Sydney couldn’t have imagined looking at Emerson without feeling resentment, let alone being grateful to her. But Sam had trapped them all in his twisted web, and it didn’t matter how they’d felt before; it didn’t matter who they’d been before. They were tangled together now, their lives threaded through with shared memories and shared fears. “Thanks,” Sydney said softly.