The Lying Game
From the author of the New York Times bestselling PRETTY LITTLE LIARS comes a killer series, THE LYING GAME.Sutton Mercer had a life anyone would kill for – and someone did. But thanks to a view from the afterlife and Emma Paxton, her long-lost twin sister, Sutton has a chance to solve her own murder. Emma slips into Sutton’s old life to piece together her disappearance. But can Emma keep up the charade long enough to discover what really happened to Sutton…or will she become the next victim?Let the lying games begin.
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THE
LYING GAME
BY
SARA SHEPARD
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.
—KURT VONNEGUT
Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1 - THE DEAD RINGER
Chapter 2 - THAT’S RIGHT, BLAME THE FOSTER KID
Chapter 3 - YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE IF YOU READ IT ON FACEBOOK
Chapter 4 - REUNION INTERRUPTED
Chapter 5 - SHE IS ME
Chapter 6 - WHO CAN RESIST A BROODER?
Chapter 7 - THE BEDROOM EMMA NEVER HAD
Chapter 8 - COFFEE, MUFFINS, MISTAKEN IDENTITY . . .
Chapter 9 - IMITATION IS THE HIGHEST FORM OF FLATTERY
Chapter 10 - EVERY GUY LOVES A FELON
Chapter 11 - WATCH OUT FOR DEVIL CHILD!
Chapter 12 - EMMA’S FIRST FAMILY DINNER DYSFUNCTION
Chapter 13 - THE BODY ON THE GROUND
Chapter 14 - VINTAGE EMMA
Chapter 15 - THE SCENE OF THE CRIME
Chapter 16 - LAST BUS TO VEGAS
Chapter 17 - NEVER HAVE I EVER
Chapter 18 - WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?
Chapter 19 - LEAVING IS NOT AN OPTION
Chapter 20 - DEAR DIARY, TODAY I DIED
Chapter 21 - UNREQUITED SPYING
Chapter 22 - DIRTY SECRETS
Chapter 23 - SOMEONE WAS A VERY, VERY BAD GIRL . . .
Chapter 24 - DOESN’T EVERY GIRL THINK HER SISTER WANTS TO KILL HER?
Chapter 25 - A LATE ADDITION TO THE GUEST LIST
Chapter 26 - A FACE FROM THE PAST
Chapter 27 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NOW DIE
Chapter 28 - SEDUCTION AND MURDER ALWAYS GO HAND IN HAND
Chapter 29 - THE GREAT ESCAPE
Chapter 30 - SOMEONE KNOWS . . .
Chapter 31 - NOT FUNNY, BITCHES
Chapter 32 - THE BITTER TRUTH
Chapter 33 - LOOK OUT, SUTTON’S BACK
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Also by Sara Shepard
Copyright
PROLOGUE
I woke up in a dingy claw-foot bathtub in an unfamiliar pink-tiled bathroom. A stack of Maxims sat next to the toilet, green toothpaste globbed in the sink, and white drips streaked the mirror. The window showed a dark sky and a full moon. What day of the week was it? Where was I? A frat house at the U of A? Someone’s apartment? I could barely remember that my name was Sutton Mercer, or that I lived in the foothills of Tucson, Arizona. I had no idea where my purse was, and I didn’t have a clue where I’d parked my car. Actually, what kind of car did I drive? Had someone slipped me something?
“Emma?” a guy’s voice called from another room. “You home?”
“I’m busy!” called a voice close by.
A tall, thin girl opened the bathroom door, her tangled dark hair hanging in her face. “Hey!” I leapt to my feet. “Someone’s in here already!” My body felt tingly, as if it had fallen asleep. When I looked down, it seemed like I was flickering on and off, like I was under a strobe light. Freaky. Someone definitely slipped me something.
The girl didn’t seem to hear me. She stumbled forward, her face covered in shadows.
“Hello?” I cried, climbing out of the tub. She didn’t look over. “Are you deaf?” Nothing. She pumped a bottle of lavender-scented lotion and rubbed it on her arms.
The door flung open again, and a snub-nosed, unshaven teenage guy burst in. “Oh.” His gaze flew to the girl’s tight-fitting T-shirt, which said NEW YORK NEW YORK ROLLER COASTER on the front. “I didn’t know you were in here, Emma.”
“That’s maybe why the door was closed?” Emma pushed him out and slammed it shut. She turned back to the mirror. I stood right behind her. “Hey!” I cried again.
Finally, she looked up. My eyes darted to the mirror to meet her gaze. But when I looked into the glass, I screamed.
Because Emma looked exactly like me.
And I wasn’t there.
Emma turned and walked out of the bathroom, and I followed as if something was yanking me along behind her. Who was this girl? Why did we look the same? Why was I invisible? And why couldn’t I remember, well, anything? The wrong memories snapped into aching, nostalgic focus—the glittering sunset over the Catalinas, the smell of the lemon trees in my backyard in the morning, the feel of cashmere slippers on my toes. But other things, the most important things, had become muffled and fuzzy, as if I’d lived my whole life underwater. I saw vague shapes, but I couldn’t make out what they were. I couldn’t remember what I’d done for any summer vacations, who my first kiss had been with, or what it felt like to feel the sun on my face or dance to my favorite song. What was my favorite song? And even worse, every second that passed, things got fuzzier and fuzzier. Like they were disappearing.
Like I was disappearing.
But then I concentrated really hard and I heard a muffled scream. And suddenly it was like I was somewhere else. I felt pain shooting through my body, before a final, sleepy sensation of my muscles surrendering. As my eyes slowly closed, I saw a blurry, shadowy figure standing over me.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
No wonder Emma didn’t see me. No wonder I wasn’t in the mirror. I wasn’t really here.
I was dead.
Chapter 1
THE DEAD RINGER
Emma Paxton carried her canvas tote and a glass of iced tea out the back door of her new foster family’s home on the outskirts of Las Vegas. Cars swished and grumbled on the nearby expressway, and the air smelled heavily of exhaust and the local water treatment plant. The only decorations in the backyard were dusty free weights, a rusted bug zapper, and kitschy terra-cotta statues.
