Secrets and Lies(34)

“I think we might finally be able to,” Emerson said. “I heard from Sean that the Suttons got back into town last night. But”—Emerson glanced at her watch with a sigh—“you’re going to have to handle it. I have cheer practice now.”

“Seriously?” Tenley balked. “You’re going to go to cheer practice when there’s a murderous psychopath after us? We have to get into that room, Em. It’s our best bet at finding out who Tricia was working with. There’s got to be a secret stash of crazy hidden away in there somewhere.” She crossed her arms against her chest, fixing Emerson with her most withering stare.

Emerson reached up to rub her temples. “It’s the day before the homecoming game, and I left practice early yesterday. If I skip today, Coach will have my head!”

“Better than the darer,” Tenley shot back. “You were friends with Tricia, Em,” she pressed. “Her parents know you; they trust you. You’re our best shot at getting into her room.”

“All right, all right,” Emerson gave in. “Let me go break Coach’s heart. I’ll meet you at your car in five.”

A few minutes later Emerson emerged into the parking lot. “What did you tell Coach?” Tenley asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“That a relative died.” Emerson shook her head. “I’m so going to hell. But I didn’t know what else would get me out of practice, short of death.”

Tenley blew a few strands of hair out of her face as she started the car. “Someone could die if we don’t do this,” she said bluntly. “And it’s not going to be some distant relative. It’s going to be one of us.” She squeezed the steering wheel. What she didn’t say was that, most likely, it was going to be her. She was the one the darer had attacked twice. She was receiving blatant death threats. Which was why this trip to Tricia’s house was so important.

She filled Emerson in on her plan on the drive over. “Ready?” she asked as they pulled up to Tricia’s Cape Cod–style house.

“Ready to get this over with,” Emerson replied.

There was a large framed photo of Tricia sitting on the porch, the last remains of the memorial that had popped up after her death. Tenley gave it a kick as they walked by, and Emerson shot her a warning look. According to the plan, they were heartbroken, mourning friends, starting now. Tenley twisted her face into an appropriately sad expression. This might be her toughest performance yet.

“Emerson!” Mrs. Sutton lit up when she opened the door to find Emerson and Tenley waiting on the porch. She was a large woman, with pale blond hair and puffy cheeks that reminded Tenley of a chipmunk’s. Tenley remembered her from the pageant she and Tricia had participated in—the one Tricia had won after getting Tenley kicked out. Unlike Tricia, her mom had never shed the old Fatty Patty family trait. “And it’s Tenley, right?” Mrs. Sutton asked.

Remembering the pageant sent a fresh bout of anger searing through Tenley. She kept her lips pressed firmly together as she nodded. “We wanted to come say hi, Mrs. Sutton,” Emerson said. Her voice was sugary sweet, and there was a sympathetic smile on her lips. “See how you’re doing after your trip.”

“Oh, that is so nice of you, girls. Tricia had such wonderful friends.” There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she waved Tenley and Emerson in.

The inside of the house was sparkling clean. The counters gleamed, the rugs looked freshly vacuumed, and every pillow on the overstuffed yellow couch was perfectly fluffed. An oil painting of Tricia hung above the mantelpiece, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “Tricia liked to call that her Mona Lisa,” Mrs. Sutton said, following Tenley’s gaze. “I keep wondering if I should take it down, but…” Her voice grew choked up. “I can’t bring myself to.”

Tenley’s eyes lingered on Tricia’s smile. It was like the Mona Lisa: a little, mysterious smirk. She wondered what she’d been thinking as she posed, if she’d already been plotting their demise. “It’s a beautiful painting,” she managed.

Mrs. Sutton led them over to the couch. “Would you like something to drink, girls? Tea? Water?”

“We’re fine,” Emerson assured her. “We wanted to give you this.” She took a rolled-up paper out of her backpack. It was a poster-size photo of Tricia in her cheerleading uniform. Someone had hung it up in Winslow’s Hall of Fame a few weeks ago, and it had turned into an impromptu memorial. Now it was covered in messages and notes, all honoring Tricia. Tenley had taken it down while Emerson talked to her coach, knowing it would give them the perfect excuse for visiting Mrs. Sutton. “We thought you might like to have it,” Emerson continued. Tenley tried not to blanch as she caught sight of Sadie Miller’s message: Beautiful AND sweet. You’ll be missed, Trish!

“Thank you, honey.” More tears welled in Mrs. Sutton’s eyes, threatening to spill over. Tenley had a feeling that if they didn’t act soon, they’d be trapped listening to her blubber for the next hour.

“We also have a favor to ask you,” Tenley said. As Mrs. Sutton cleared her throat, trying to pull herself together, Tenley gave Emerson a sharp jab in the side.

“Right,” Emerson said quickly. “I, uh, left a pretty special necklace in Tricia’s room a while back. I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I take a look to try to find it?”

“Unless you already cleaned her room out?” Tenley added, in her best heartbroken tone.

“No.” Mrs. Sutton’s gaze flickered sadly to Tricia’s portrait. “We left so soon after the funeral, and I just haven’t been able to make myself go in there.…” She trailed off, the waterworks starting all over again.

“Of course,” Emerson said. “I’m so sorry to even bring it up.” Tenley was surprised by how choked up she sounded. When she looked over, she saw there were tears in Emerson’s eyes, too. “We don’t have to—” she began.

But Mrs. Sutton waved her off. “No, no. Of course, go look for your necklace. I’ll stay here and read this lovely memorial you brought me.”

“What a performance,” Tenley whispered as she followed Emerson to Tricia’s bedroom. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Cunningham.”

“I wasn’t acting,” Emerson said with a shrug. She paused outside the last door in the hall. “Sometimes it’s easy to remember who Tricia used to be. Back before all of this, when we were actually a close group… she was one of my friends.”

Tenley reached in front of her, pushing open the door. “No, she wasn’t,” she said. “She was only pretending to be.” She looked up. Emerson was so much taller than her, but in that moment, she seemed so much younger. “We can’t forget that.”

Emerson nodded. She took a deep breath before following Tenley into the room. “Whoa,” Tenley murmured.

“Whoa,” Emerson repeated. Her jaw dropped as she looked around.

Clothes were flung everywhere, as if Tricia had emptied the entire contents of her closet onto the floor. Books, too, were piled haphazardly around the room, half with spines cracked and pages bent. A row of used coffee mugs sat on the desk, several stained with lipstick. “Was she always this messy?” Tenley asked.

Emerson shook her head, looking stunned. “Not even close. You saw downstairs. The Suttons are neat freaks. I remember one dinner where her mom vacuumed up crumbs before we were even done eating. Tricia was like that, too.”

“Was being the operative word,” Tenley said. “Clearly, something changed.”

“Or,” Emerson said slowly, “someone got into her room while the Suttons were gone.”

“Someone like the darer.” With a grimace, Tenley dropped down on the ground and began sorting through the mess.

They worked quickly, moving steadily through the piles. Tenley kept her eyes peeled for anything that could connect Tricia to someone other than Sean.

“Look at this,” Emerson whispered a few minutes later. It was a book, one Tenley had seen in the window of every local bookstore lately. The Lore (and Lure) of the Lost Girls. Tricia had flagged half of its pages with Post-its. Emerson flipped to one at random. A passage about Fall Festival was underlined. MUST BE MONDAY!!! Tricia had written in the margin. Tenley shivered. The Monday of Fall Festival was when Tricia had taken them out on the Justice to kill them.

“So freaking creepy,” Tenley muttered. “But not really news.” She moved on to another pile. Tricia’s assignment book was buried under a wrinkled mound of bathing suits. Tenley’s fingers tingled with excitement. Maybe there would be some kind of meet-up with her mystery friend written in her calendar! But a quick flip through told her it belonged to the same fake Tricia as the Facebook page. With a sigh, she moved on to another stack of books. She was halfway through them when a box of photos over by the bed caught her eye. “Yes,” she whispered. If Tricia had taught her anything, it was just how much the right photo could reveal. Especially if Guinness was involved.