A hand clapped around Emma’s shoulder, and she jumped and twisted around. Stanbridge gazed at her sternly. “Visiting hours are over now, miss.” Emma nodded numbly and followed him out of the room. I trailed behind her, electrical impulses snapping and flashing inside me. Something about seeing Thayer—and that guard clapping a hand on Emma’s shoulder—made a few doors unlock in my mind. I smelled the dust and desert flowers of Sabino Canyon. I felt the cool air on my bare skin. I felt that hand clap around my shoulder—maybe Thayer’s hand. Maybe right before he killed me.
Once again, I was zooming backward into my past …
19
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
I twist around and see Thayer’s face. It is his hand on my shoulder, and he doesn’t look happy. He clamps down hard, his fingers gripping the soft skin above my collarbone.
“You’re hurting me!” I scream, but his other hand claps over my mouth before I can call for help. He yanks me back from the edge of the cliff, jerking my body against his chest. My fingers claw at his arms and my feet kick frantically against the ground. My elbows stab at his ribs. I’m fighting like a wild animal, but I can’t get away from him. He’s too strong.
“What are you—” My voice is muffled beneath his hand. I finally manage to free myself from his grip and spin across the hardscrabble path away from him. But he advances toward me again, arms outstretched. My mind spins. I rack my brain for anything I can say to calm him down. What have I done to make him so angry? Is it because of what I said about Garrett? Or how hard I pushed him to tell me where he’s been the last few months?
“Thayer, please,” I start. “Can’t we just talk about this?” There is fury in Thayer’s eyes. “ Be quiet , Sutton.” And then he lunges at me again. I try to scream, but it comes out like a strangled yelp as his hand smacks over my mouth again. His sneakers scratch against the dried leaves below our feet and his muscles flex as he pulls me against him. His breath is hot on my ear. Blood pools in my feet, and a sense of dread crawls across my body.
Suddenly, a scream sounds loud and clear in the distance. It’s hard to tell whether it’s human or animal.
Thayer turns in the direction of the shriek, momentarily distracted. His grip loosens just enough for me to bite the inside of his palm. I taste his salty sweat as I sink my teeth into his skin.
“Jesus!” Thayer screeches. He rips his hand away, trying to catch his balance. I take off, my legs hot with adrenaline. Dirt crunches beneath me and leaves crack as I pound the earth. I fly across the trail, my hair wild and my arms pumping. A branch slices across my cheek, thin as paper and just as sharp. I can feel wetness on my skin.
I’m not sure if it’s tears … or blood.
Things have been tense between Thayer and me before, but I’ve never seen him like this.
A rush of cold air slaps my body as I push forward. I hear Thayer’s footsteps, and I can tell he’s gaining ground. I’ve traveled this path so many times, though, and the darkness gives me an advantage. I press on through the brambly mesquite trees and brush. Behind me, there’s a crash of Thayer’s body colliding with a tree or a rock. I hear him swear under his breath, cursing me.
I cut a sharp right around the boulder where my father and I used to stop for water breaks. “Sutton!” It’s a man’s voice, but the rocks must distort it, because it doesn’t quite sound like Thayer’s. I continue forward, my lungs burning, the tears running down my face, my heart thudding with fear.
I dart around a massive tree branch that blocks the path and scramble down the steep incline, heading for the trickle of water that passes for a creek—the only body of water in the canyon. I press my heels into the dirt to steady myself as I slip farther into the ditch. My hands reach for something—anything—to grab hold of, and land on a gnarled root along the creek bed. I reach the bottom and spring to my feet, taking off in the direction of the parking lot. I’m close. I just need to make it to my car.
I sprint down the trail toward the lot. I nearly wipe out when my feet slam the gravel. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see my beloved car. Skidding across the lot, I fumble inside my purse for the keys. My fingers close around the heavy, round Volvo keychain, but I’m shaking so badly that it flies out of my hands, landing with a jingle near the front tire. “Shit,” I whisper.
“Sutton!” a voice booms.
I turn to see Thayer emerge from the clearing. He’s barreling toward me, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders rigid. I shriek. Time stands still. My limbs won’t move. I scramble for my keys on the ground, but there isn’t time. I turn to bolt just as his arms wrap around me.
His fingers dig into my flesh.
“No, no!” I scream. His skin burns against mine.
“Thayer, please!”
“Believe me,” Thayer whispers in my ear. “This is hurting me more than it’s hurting you.” I feel him dragging me toward the thick woods next to the parking lot. But before I can see what happens next—
my last moment, surely—the memory explodes like a bomb, leaving me with nothingness.
20
BLOOD DOESN’T LIE
Thirty minutes later, Emma got out of a cab in front of Ethan’s house. It had begun to pour, a bizarre phenomenon for Tucson. It made the air smell like ozone and wet asphalt.