Secrets and Lies(39)

Something kicked deep inside Emerson’s chest. When she left New York, she’d thought there was no other option. They could never be together again after what happened. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she could finally forget it, move on. She looked up at Josh. There were so many emotions flitting across his face: hope and desire and fear and affection. She felt them, too, every single one. They sparked inside her like flames, lighting her skin on fire.

“I just want—” Josh began.

She didn’t let him finish. The impulse stole through her, and before she could change her mind, she acted on it. Leaning across the table, she kissed him.

Josh made a sound of surprise. Then he wrapped a hand around her neck and kissed her back. His lips were soft and his skin was warm against hers, and in that moment, the rest of the world seemed to evaporate: no music, no light, no people. Nothing but them.

Ding! Ding!

The shrill sound of her phone snapped Emerson back to the present. Her heart was soaring as she pulled away from Josh. “I’ve just, uh, got to get my, uh, phone…” That kiss had turned her into a blathering pile of jelly barely able to string two words together. She smiled up at Josh as she plucked her phone out of her purse.

“You sure are attached to that thing,” Josh said, looking amused.

Under any other circumstance, she would have shot back a cute response, made Josh’s smile widen even more. But the words caught in her throat. Because on the screen of her phone was a text.

The table seemed to sway beneath her as she read it.

Thanks for doing my dirty work for me, Em!

Attached was a photo. It was of Matt’s trophy box. Underneath Emerson’s bed. Inside Emerson’s room.

No!

Emerson leaped to her feet, her chest constricting dangerously. Abby was inside her house.

“What is it, Em? What’s wrong?”

Josh’s voice seemed tinny and distant. She had to get home. She had to try to catch Abby. “I—I have to go,” she choked out.

Josh threw his hands in the air. “Seriously? Again?”

She didn’t have time to explain. Without another word, she turned and sprinted toward the exit. She heard someone else call her name as she left—Marta, maybe—but she didn’t stop. She didn’t stop until she was in her car, speeding home. And then she didn’t stop again until she was racing up the stairs of her house and stumbling into her bedroom.

The room was empty. There was only Holden, chirping away in his cage. She was too late. She groaned loudly as she crouched down to let Holden out.

That’s when she saw it. Her bedspread, which she’d made up carefully that morning, was now askew, the corner tossed behind one of her bedposts. Her eyes went automatically to where Matt’s creepy box sat. Lying on top of it was a handheld mirror—shattered right down the center. A sheet of paper was propped up behind it.

Emerson dropped onto the floor, barely noticing as Holden waddled onto her lap. The walls felt like watching eyes as she began to read.


Seven years of bad luck is nothing compared with my wrath. Rest up, Emmy… tomorrow’s a big day.



Emerson crumpled the note up with a scream. Abby was taunting her—using her own fears against her! Enough was enough. Abby was right; tomorrow was a big day. Tomorrow they ended this.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Friday, 11:37 PM


Silence. Tenley rested her forehead against the steering wheel, savoring it. Her ears were still ringing from the music blasting in the Vault. At least she’d parked on a side street a block away from the club. It had allowed her to sneak out the side exit without any of her friends noticing. Not that they would have anyway. They’d all looked very entranced by the chugging contest taking place between Blake Hamilton and Tommy Wayland.

Her phone rang inside the cup holder, where she’d tossed it. Emerson, the screen flashed. Tenley didn’t bother with a hello. “Please tell me you’ve caught Abby and delivered her to jail in a nice little gift box.”

“Not yet,” Emerson barked. “But that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Tenley straightened up. She’d never heard Emerson sound so mad before. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

“I mean I have a plan,” Emerson announced. “And it involves sending Abby straight into the arms of the sheriff.”

“Hold it,” Tenley interjected. “You know what she threatened to do if we went to the cops!”

“If she’s in jail, she won’t be able to do anything.”

“And you think some party receipt is really enough to get her locked up?” Tenley squirmed in her seat. She kept seeing that photo in her head: her family graveyard plot, with plenty of room for another tombstone.

“Of course not,” Emerson said. “We’ll need some real proof. Something that implicates Abby in an actual crime. In other words, her phone.”

Tenley froze. “All the darer texts,” she whispered.

“Exactly. There’s no denying those text messages. It’s stalking and harassment just for starters. And proof that she assaulted you.”

“That just might work… if we could miraculously get our hands on it.”

“That’s where my plan comes in,” Emerson said excitedly. “What we need to do is get Abby somewhere we can trap her. Then we can force her to give her phone up to us. I’m thinking the dance is the perfect place to do it. She’s student-body president. She has to be there.”

“We would need some kind of bait to get her alone,” Tenley said slowly, thinking it through.

“Delancey,” Emerson shot back. “If there’s anything that will get Abby worked up, it’s hearing that her BFF might lose her precious purity.” Tenley could hear the sneer in Emerson’s voice. “I say we pull a darer and send her a message of our own.”

“Tell her you overheard Blake Hamilton bragging at the club tonight,” Tenley jumped in. “About how he can’t wait to bang Delancey at the dance.” On the other end of the line, she could hear Emerson typing furiously.

“I made a fake e-mail address,” Emerson said tightly. “Abby’s going to receive a very concerned message from one Nina Stein.”

Tenley burst out laughing. “The braids-wearing purity crone?”

“Yup,” Emerson replied. “She’s very worried about Delancey’s pending ‘deflowering.’ ”

“Tell Abby it’s happening in the bio lab right before the dance tomorrow,” Tenley suggested. “And she really, really hopes Abby can be there to lend a helping hand.”

Emerson made a soft clucking noise with her tongue. “Done,” she announced a minute later.

Tenley squeezed her hands around the steering wheel. “This is good, Em. We’ll meet Abby there and we’ll finish this once and for—”

Emerson interrupted with a loud squeal. “She responded already! Abby will be there.” She let out a snort of disgust. “She’ll make sure Delancey stays ‘true to her values.’ ”

“And we’ll make sure we destroy hers,” Tenley replied.

Excitement wormed its way through her as she hung up the phone. Finally, they were the ones calling the shots. Once they had their proof, they’d go straight to the cops. And this time, there would be nothing to stop them. A smile spread across Tenley’s face. Let’s see Abby try to kill me from prison.

A sharp rapping on the window made her jump.

A person loomed over her car. For a second, all she could see was a striped beanie, drawn low over the face.

The world turned. Tomorrow would be too late. Abby was here for her now.

She heard the piercing scream before she realized it was coming from her.

She was reaching for her pepper spray when Tim pulled his hat off, revealing a staticky mess of blond hair.

“Whoa.” His voice was muffled by the window. “Is my outfit really that unfashionable?”

Tenley tried to catch her breath as she rolled down the window. Cool air rushed in, lifting goose bumps on her arms. “Sorry…” Her voice came out in a squeak. She paused to clear her throat. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Well, judging by the horror on your face, I’m glad I’m not.” Tim leaned over, resting his arms on the windowsill. “Are you leaving the party already? I haven’t even gone in yet!”

“I’m not feeling great,” Tenley lied. “I want to rest up for tomorrow.”

“For the big crowning,” Tim said knowingly. “I can hardly wait to see it.”

Tenley managed a small smile. “You don’t strike me as the homecoming type, Tim Holland.”

“I’m a recovering homecoming hater,” Tim admitted. “But people can change, right? Especially if they have the future homecoming queen as their date…” He smiled almost shyly at Tenley. “Know where I could find one of those?”

Tenley blinked. It sounded very much as if Tim Holland—Cait’s Tim—was asking her to homecoming. She thought of the spark she’d felt when he touched her hand the other day. It made her wonder what it would be like to dance with him, to have his arms around her, drawing her close.…

“I—I can’t,” she choked out.

Tim’s smile faltered. “I know it could be weird,” he said softly. “Because of Cait. But I guess I thought that’s why it wouldn’t be weird, too. Like if we were there together, it would almost be for her.” He looked down. Tenley couldn’t help noticing how long his eyelashes were. They brushed against the tops of his cheekbones. “The only time I’ve felt even seminormal this past month is when I’m talking to you. I don’t know what it means, but… I have to think it means something.” A tiny smile crept back onto his face. “Plus, I think we’d have fun.”