“I didn’t use Facebook much when I was Emma. It’s not like I had a lot of friends. My profile was hidden.” She sighed. “And Garrett needed me to come out to Tucson and take over Sutton’s life, fast. If he did any research on me, he’d have known about Travis. What better way than to label that video Sutton in AZ and slip it to my slimy foster brother? Obviously I’d look for a girl who looked just like me. Then once I did, he replied to me as Sutton.”

Ethan stared at her. “Emma, that makes it sound premeditated. Like he planned all along to use you to cover up the murder. Which means he already knew you were out there, somehow.”

The thought sent an icy thrill down her spine. How would Garrett have known about Emma, when not even the Mercers knew she existed? But it would all fit in with knowing about Travis.

Emma glanced over at Nisha’s house, which was completely dark. She wondered if Dr. Banerjee had gone to stay with friends or family. Maybe he was at the hospital, burying his grief in his work like he’d done when his wife died. She could just make out the short organza curtains in Nisha’s bedroom, motionless now.

“How are we going to prove that he did it, though?” she asked, laying her head back against the siding of the house. Ethan stared at the computer screen thoughtfully.

“If we had access to Garrett’s texts or e-mail, we’d be able to see if he sent the link,” he said. “Even if he deleted the messages. That stuff stays on record forever. You just have to know how to pull it up.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” she said. “Maybe I can figure out a way to get my hands on his phone.”

“Be careful.” Ethan looked worried. “He’s dangerous, Emma. Especially now. He’s probably getting desperate.”

“Well, so am I,” Emma said, sounding tougher than she felt.

And so was I. I’d never felt so helpless, so hopeless. I finally knew who had killed me—and I couldn’t tell a soul.

11 - Reality TV Bites

11

REALITY TV BITES

“The girl’s body was found just a half-mile off Upper Sabino Canyon Road, at the bottom of this scenic overlook.” The newscaster, the same woman who had covered Nisha’s death just a few days earlier, was now wearing a poofy yellow North Face vest. Emma guessed that must be her “outdoorsy” look. She stood in front of a picnic area with green-painted benches and an awning, wisps of hair flying free from her ponytail in the breeze.