Summoning every ounce of Sutton Mercer coolness she had left, Emma leveled a steely glare at the boy in front of her.

“How dare you?” she asked, her voice as sharp and cold as glass. Thayer opened his mouth to say something, but she talked over him. “My sister died in that canyon. Everyone at school is looking at me like I’m a freak. And now you accuse me of taking her place in some kind of sick Parent Trap plot?” She pulled herself up to her full height, poking a finger at his chest savagely. “Are you high? Or just jealous? You’d love it if I were Emma, because that would mean I hadn’t really dumped you for Ethan at all. Well, guess what? That’s exactly what happened. You were gone. I fell in love with Ethan. End of story. What you and I had is over . . . and maybe we shouldn’t bother trying to be friends if you’re going to be so cruel.”

Thayer’s hand fell limply away from her, and he stood there dazed, like she’d slapped him. She fought the urge to reach out to him, to take it all back, her throat burning with every word. Hurting him was the only way to keep him safe. She picked up her purse and turned to go back into the school.

“Hey, Emma?”

And before she could stop herself, she paused.

“I thought so,” he said in a low voice.

Emma turned, desperate to say something, anything, to fix her mistake—but Thayer was already gone.

I’d been waiting all these months for someone to realize Emma wasn’t me. But now that it had finally happened, all I felt was cold, sick dread.

Because what Thayer knew could kill him.

14 - Eat Your Heart Out, Nancy Drew

14

EAT YOUR HEART OUT, NANCY DREW

Emma found Ethan on his way to German class. “Thayer knows,” she whispered urgently. Ethan stopped short, his jaw working soundlessly for a moment.

“What? How?” he finally asked, his voice low. She pulled him toward an alcove behind a potted plant. A large picture window looked out over the soccer field.

She bit her lip. Thayer had suspected ever since he’d kissed her at Charlotte’s party. Ethan knew about the kiss—he’d caught them—but she didn’t want to bring it up again.

“He called me Emma, and I reacted,” she admitted, shame washing over her anew. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Ethan said fiercely. Emma gazed into his dark blue eyes, where anxiety vied with something else—a fierce vigilance, maybe. And even though she knew that Ethan couldn’t really protect her if the murderer was determined to kill again, his solid strength was comforting. She felt her muscles slowly unclench, calmed by his presence.