“The lengths we go to free you, Sutton,” Madeline said dramatically, batting a long black braid over her shoulder.

Charlotte winked at Emma, and Emma giggled. She didn’t have to hold her breath around them anymore; they were Sutton’s friends, not her killers. She was so grateful she’d let Laurel have the last low-fat muffin this morning, and she’d given Charlotte a huge hug as soon as they’d gotten in her car. “Someone’s cheerful this morning,” Charlotte had commented. “Are you in love?”

Now Emma glanced around. This was the first time she’d been in Madeline’s house, a bungalow with authentic adobe walls, an old-school, pueblo-style fireplace, and a Mexican-tiled kitchen with cheerful red pendant lights. Outside the window was a stunning view of the Catalina Mountains; Emma could just make out a line of people hiking on one of the upper trails.

“C’mon.” Madeline grabbed a big bowl of popcorn from the kitchen island and padded into the den. Corduroy couches surrounded a large flat-screen TV in the corner. Scattered between wooden wall placards that said things like BLESS OUR HAPPY HOME and WE ARE FAMILY were framed photographs of Madeline and her brother, Thayer.

Emma moved closer to the photos and tried to inspect them without Madeline noticing. There were pictures of Thayer in soccer gear. Thayer standing in front of a local Italian restaurant, pretending to take a big bite out of a large cardboard pizza sign. Thayer standing on top of a mountainous desert rock, dressed in a red T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. The wind blew his black hair into his warm, hazel eyes, and there was a whisper of a smile on his clear-skinned, strong-jawed face. Every shot showed him grinning at the camera except one: a photo taken of the group, going to a prom. Sutton and Garrett stood together, dressed in formal wear. Madeline was with Ryan Jeffries, who Emma recognized from school, and Charlotte was with a dark-haired guy Emma didn’t know. Thayer stood a little off to the side, his arms crossed over his well-fitted tux. His eyes were narrowed and his face was hard, like he was trying to look debonair. Mysterious Boy Disappears Without a Trace, Emma thought, giving the photo a caption.

But something in Thayer’s expression stirred an emotion deep inside of me. Thayer wasn’t trying to look debonair—he was pissed. But what was he pissed about?

Who are you? Emma wished she could ask the boy in the photos. Why did you leave? And why, every time I see a picture you, do I get the chills?

That made two of us.

Madeline aimed the remote at the TV, and Jersey Shore appeared on the screen. She opened a big white binder labeled HALLOWEEN HOMECOMING in bright orange letters. “Okay. Char, are we all set with the decorator?”