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When 17-year-old Arbor Hayes' best friend turns up alive after a mysterious six-month disappearance, she must piece together the fragments of her story to make sense of what happened. But as clues e...
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Trigger warning: the following chapter contains the mention of sexual abuse.
A rush of dizziness pummels into me. After a few focused breaths, I take another look at the image on my screen. Emma's friend, Stef Colin—whose actual name is Maribel Estefania Ruberia-Colin—stares back at me.
Every fiber in my body insists this isn't happening. That it can't be real.
But it is.
Slowly, my gaze connects with the same eyes in the photo. Pin-prick pupils surrounded by a stagnant brown. They're observing me from across the kitchen, studying my every movement. Watching for the slightest change in expression.
One Mississippi,
Two Mississippi,
Three Mississippi,
Four.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I stuff it back into my sweater.
"What's wrong, Hayes? You look like you've seen a ghost." Her brows arch—in amusement, or does she sense a challenge? An oncoming round of cat and mouse?
She's good at that game. Very, very good.
Five Mississippi,
Six Mississippi,
Seven Mississippi,
Eight.
My insides tremble. "Rowan?" I call behind me. She doesn't answer.
With a calmness I don't feel, I rise from my chair and step backward from the kitchen and into the adjoining great room, my eyes never leaving our guest. When Rowan is within reach, I clasp onto her shoulders, my fingers weaving in between her blonde waves.
I lower my voice and try to keep it steady. Not let my rising panic influence her emotions. I crouch down to her level. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you to go up to my room and lock the door, okay? Do not open it until I come to get you."
Rowan's hand finds my cheek, her tiny fingers inching along my clenched jawline. "I'm not leaving you alone with her." The words come out in a whisper, her strawberry banana breath agitating the hair around my face. "She's not Emma."
Wait. "How do you know that?"
A swallow works its way down her throat, the muscles moving in succession beneath her skin. "Everything about her is different. The way she talks. The way she smells. She's lying."
An icy fear clutches my spine. All this time, Rowan knew; that's why she's been afraid. Somehow, some way, my sister saw things we couldn't.
Or maybe we just didn't want to.
Goosebumps devour my flesh. "You're a very good girl, you know that?" The praise leaves my mouth in a nervous rush. "Now I need you to be extra good and go upstairs. Don't come down, no matter what. Do you hear me? When she's gone, I'll come and get you."
