A worried frown creased Ethan’s brow. “You shouldn’t have gone to his house. He’s been warning you to stop looking for answers. What’s he going to do when his mom or his sister tell him you were there?”
Emma smacked her palm on the table in frustration. “Ethan, what else can he do to me? I’m already wanted for Sutton’s murder. If I can’t prove that he killed her soon, I’m going to jail . . . and he’ll walk free. I can’t let that happen.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. “I just hate that you took a risk like that.” He stared down into his water glass. “Everything points to Garrett, doesn’t it?”
Emma nodded. All of the pieces fit—and from what she’d seen of Garrett’s temper, it was easy to believe that he was capable of murder. “But I still don’t have anything to take to the cops.”
“What about that key?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. Emma felt in her jeans pocket, where the tiny silver key hugged her hip. She held it in the palm of her hand, squinting to try to make out what was etched on the metal tag it was attached to.
“It’s too small for a car or a house. What could this go to?” She sighed. “For all we know it could be for his bike chain or something.”
“I don’t know, Emma.” Ethan tapped the back of the tag, where the unmistakable S.M. was scratched. “Those are her initials.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the key on the table between them. The events of the evening swirled furiously around Emma’s head. In just a few hours, she’d lost the place she’d learned to call home, and the family she had come to love.
“What am I going to do?” she asked softly, tracing a line of condensation on her glass. “I don’t have any money, anywhere to go. The few things I brought to Tucson are now evidence, and everything else was Sutton’s. I don’t even have a change of clothes.”
Ethan put a hand on her knee, squeezing it almost painfully. “You’re going to stay here. At least until we can get this sorted out.”
“Ethan, no. I can’t put you in any danger. Alex is already in trouble for helping me. And what about your mom? She doesn’t want me here.”
Ethan set down his glass and gazed at her, an earnest, tender expression on his face. “Emma, I love you. I know no one has ever stood beside you when you were in trouble, but no matter what it takes, I’m going to make you believe that I’m the one who will do that. I’m not leaving you.”
Her heart gave a violent thump. Ethan was right—she had never depended on anyone in her life. After being abandoned by Becky, and surviving the stream of disappointing foster parents who followed, Emma had learned early on to rely on no one but herself. Her friendships and relationships had mostly been short and shallow, easily made and easily broken. Until Ethan.
“I don’t want you involved,” she whispered. “They’re going to charge Alex with aiding and abetting—maybe even conspiracy. They could get you on the same things.”
He pulled her close. “Nothing will happen to me.” He tilted her chin up gently, gazing into her eyes. “Stay with me. Let me help you through this, and protect you.”
Emma sighed and curled up against his chest contentedly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t know what I’d do without you. God, Emma . . .” His dark-blue eyes were wide and earnest. “I don’t think I ever understood love until I met you.”
She laced her fingers through his, her heart singing in her chest.
“So you’ll stay?” he asked, stroking her wrist with his fingertips. She shivered, and for the first time in days it wasn’t in fear.
“I’ll stay,” she murmured.
“It’s settled then.” His face broke into a crooked grin, and he took her hand. “Want to go watch some TV, to take your mind off things?”
As she followed Ethan down the hall, Emma suddenly wondered—where would she be sleeping tonight? Her cheeks grew warm as she pictured Ethan’s full-sized bed with its smooth, carefully tucked covers. Would they be sharing it?
The living room’s walls had been painted a dusty rose color, a fussy vine pattern stenciled along the top in dark green. A clock with pictures of different American birds in place of the numerals hung over the TV, and an ornate gilded mirror loomed above a drafty fireplace, doubling the room in its reflection. Like the rest of the house, the room was spotlessly clean, though bare patches showed on the arms of the blue chintz sofa, and the flowered rug was mottled with stains.
Emma sat down next to Ethan, curling her legs up under her and snuggling into his shoulder. The TV popped on with a loud hum—and almost immediately, Nisha Banerjee’s pictures came into focus on the screen. Emma’s breath caught in her chest at the sight.
“Police say the intruder knew the alarm code to the Banerjees’ house, so the alarm was not triggered. However, Mr. Banerjee was home at the time, and he saw the masked intruder before he or she managed to escape,” said a familiar brisk voice. It was Tricia Melendez, reporting the evening news.
A scowl creased Ethan’s forehead. “I wanted to take your mind off this,” he muttered, fumbling for the remote. She grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” she whispered.
Tricia Melendez continued. “Officers responded to the scene within minutes, but the perpetrator had already fled the premises. The only information Dr. Banerjee could provide was that the figure looked at least six feet tall and was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt.”
The camera cut to Quinlan, his face deeply lined beneath the camera’s bright lights. “It’s possible this was some kind of prank. Miss Banerjee’s death was a high-profile case, and unfortunately that can occasionally attract some petty harassment. Luckily nothing was taken or disturbed.”
Emma gaped openmouthed at the screen, then jumped suddenly to her feet, running to the window and fumbling at the avocado-colored curtains. The Banerjee house stood silent and dark next door. She could see Nisha’s window, the drapes pale and ghostly in the moonlight.
“Do you know what this means?” Emma exclaimed. Her reflection stared excitedly back at her. She felt Ethan move behind her and turned to meet his eyes. “This means Garrett still doesn’t have whatever Nisha was hiding.” She gripped the sleeve of Ethan’s shirt. “The evidence is still there!”
Ethan blanched, the color leaching from his cheeks. “Jesus,” he murmured. “Emma, I hope you’re not thinking of breaking in, too. Dr. Banerjee will never let you in now that he knows who you are.”
But a flash of energy flared through Emma. Finally, after being helpless for so long, she’d found the break she’d been looking for. Whatever Nisha had, Garrett had murdered her because of it. Surely it would prove he had killed Sutton, if not both girls.
“We have to go over there,” she said. “We should go now, before Garrett figures out a way back into the house.”
She was halfway to the door when Ethan’s hand gripped her wrist, spinning her back around to face him. “Are you crazy?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Emma, Garrett was here. One house away. He ran away once he realized Dr. Banerjee was home, but he’s not going to make the same mistake again. And if he sees you trying to get into Nisha’s house, who knows what he’ll do?”
She stared at him incredulously. “There’s something in Nisha’s house that could end this. It’s worth the risk!” She pressed his hand in both of hers. “If I can solve this case, I’ll be free. You and I can be together without all this . . . this craziness hanging over our heads.”