One of Ethan’s shoulders rose. It looked like he was going to say something more, but then he shook his head forcefully as if to erase the thoughts and dropped from the diving board. “Did you have a pool when you were growing up, Emma?”

Emma laughed, kicking her legs faster as she tread water. “A foster kid with a pool? I was lucky if I had a clean bathtub. But I hung out at public pools a lot. When I was younger, a social worker got me into free swimming lessons.”

“That’s nice.”

“I guess.” It would’ve been nicer if Becky had taught her to swim. Or if one of her foster moms had bothered to come and watch her lessons. Emma used to look to the bleachers when she was in the water, thinking she might see someone for her there, but she was always disappointed. Eventually, she stopped looking altogether.

“Do you have a favorite pool game from when you were growing up?” Ethan asked.

Emma thought for a moment. “I guess Marco Polo.” They used to play it at the end of swimming lessons.

“Wanna play?” Ethan asked.

Emma giggled, but Ethan’s face was serious. “Uh, sure,” she said. “Quietly.” She shut her eyes, spun around in the water a few times, and whispered, “Marco!”

“Polo!” Ethan answered back, his voice low. Emma drifted toward his voice, sticking her arms straight in front of her.

Ethan snickered. “You look like the undead.”

Emma laughed, but it felt wrong somehow. What if Sutton’s body was floating somewhere just like hers was right now?

An image of cold, dark water raced through my mind. Waves lapped a body wrapped in soaked clothing. I couldn’t get close enough to make out the figure lying facedown on the riverbed. Could it have been me lying there, left for dead?

Emma halfheartedly swam toward Ethan’s voice, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that had bloomed in her stomach. Her hands swiped air.

“I’m the Marco Polo master,” Ethan teased. It sounded like he was now in the shallow end. “So did being a foster kid suck?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Pretty much,” she said, squeezing her eyes tighter. “But since I’m eighteen, I guess it’s over. Marco!”

“Polo,” Ethan answered, now sounding on Emma’s left. “It’s also over because you’re here, living Sutton’s life. And once we figure this out, you can go back to being Emma again.”

Emma swished her fingers through the cool water, considering this. It was hard not to think about what might happen to her after Sutton’s murder was solved—if it was solved. She wanted more than anything to stay here, to get to know the Mercers as herself, but what if they kicked her out once they discovered she’d been impersonating their dead daughter?