Crushed pll-13

by Sara Shepard

  Hanna’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  Aria waited for a noisy riding mower to pass. “Noel got a text from A that said he should look in my closet. A obviously wanted him to know about the painting. Then the moment got weird, and Noel was convinced I was hiding something, and so . . . well, I spilled the beans about Olaf.”

  “That sucks. I’m sorry.” Hanna shook her head ruefully. “Are you okay?”

  Aria glanced at Hanna sharply. “Please. You’re probably secretly thrilled.”

  “Aria!” Hanna’s eyes were wide.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if Noel and I broke up? Then you’d be able to continue your witch hunt guilt-free.”

  Hanna shook her head vehemently. “We’re not anti-Noel. We’re not anti-you. Believe me, all of us hate this. No one wants this to be happening.”

  Aria touched the sculpture’s hand, biting back a sob. She knew Hanna was telling the truth, but it still stung every time they came to her with a new, damning Noel tidbit. She wanted to scream at them, Aren’t we friends? Don’t you care about me? It was like when her mom had warned her about dating Gunter, a boy in Iceland—he was trouble, and Aria had known it, and she also knew her mom had only said it to protect her. But it still didn’t feel good to hear it.

  Hanna leaned against the sculpture’s other arm. “Has Agent Fuji called you again?”

  Aria stared at the ground. “No . . .”

  “She’s contacted me and Spencer. Emily, too. Apparently she wants to talk to us again.”

  Aria raised her head. “Why?”

  Hanna threw up her hands. “How should I know? My guess is that A said something about one of our secrets. Maybe the painting. Maybe Tabitha. Who knows?”

  Aria’s stomach twisted in knots. On the one hand, she was relieved she hadn’t received another call, too. On the other, why hadn’t Fuji contacted her? “What should we do?” she asked shakily.

  Just then, Ryan stuck her head out the door. “Aria? We have a question about the papier-mâché stars.”

  Aria glanced at Hanna, then shrugged and followed Ryan back into the barn. As she instructed how the stars should look, her stomach churned. They couldn’t talk to Agent Fuji, not with that painting in Aria’s closet. They had to figure this out soon.

  And even though she’d lashed out at Hanna for it, the new detail about Noel scared her, too. Noel didn’t know anyone at the Bill Beach. Why was he there? To see Graham?

  To steal meds?

  She reached into her pocket and touched the ticket stub she’d found in Noel’s wallet yesterday—she’d given Mike the wallet to return to Noel this morning and prayed he wouldn’t notice the stub was missing. The movie from only a few years ago, after Courtney’s death, when Real Ali was definitely imprisoned in The Preserve. That weird message on the back about Noel believing in someone. Aria hadn’t told her friends about it—they’d jump all over the hockey-girl doodle. Other people drew girls wielding hockey sticks, though. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  Still, she was curious. Darting to her bag across the room, she pulled out her iPad and typed THE WOODS CINEMA into Google. In a split second, the results came up. The first entry was for a cinema in Maplewood, New Jersey.

  Aria’s mouth went dry. Tabitha was from Maplewood. And Ali and Tabitha had clearly been at The Preserve together—and were even friends. Did this mean Noel had visited Ali when she was at The Preserve? Did he spring Ali and Tabitha out for a night so they could go to a movie? It made no sense, though—why would they go all the way to New Jersey? And why would Noel say to Agent Fuji that he’d never met Tabitha if he clearly had?

  “Aria?”

  Aria spun around. Noel stood behind her, almost like she’d conjured him. His hands were in his pockets, and there was a serious look on his face.

  “H-hey,” Aria said shakily, turning the iPad facedown on the table.

  Noel glanced toward the door. “Can you talk?”

  Aria nodded and slipped her iPad back into her bag. When they walked into the sculpture garden again, Hanna was gone. For a while, there was only the sound of their footsteps. Halfway down the path, Noel stopped next to what everyone called the Slinky. “So I’ve been thinking about Olaf.”

  Aria felt her throat close. “Noel, I . . .”

  He put his finger to her lips. “I was an asshole that trip, Aria. I felt jealous that I didn’t know the Iceland side of you, and I was afraid that when you got there you were going to change and not be into me anymore. Instead of stepping up, I just acted like a whiny, ridiculous idiot. I should have just let you go with Hanna and Mike instead of coming along, too. I’m not happy that you hooked up with that guy, but I also sort of get it.”

  Aria blinked. It was the last thing she’d thought he was going to say. Just last week, she would have been flattered and touched—here was gorgeous Noel, worrying she was going to drop him. But now she felt hollowed out. Suspicious. Why was Noel forgiving her so easily?

  Noel took her hands. “I still want to be with you. I want to go on another vacation and do it right. We can even go back to Iceland if you want. This time, I’ll ride one of those silly horses.”

  Aria knew she was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t muster the emotion. She looked away instead, a lump in her throat. Her hands felt like two dead weights. Ali and Tabitha, her mind screamed. Maplewood. Hockey-player girl. Ask him.

  Noel cocked his head. “You seem miserable.”

  “I’m not,” Aria said, her voice squeaking. “I just . . .” She trailed off. If only there was a way to bring Tabitha’s name into the conversation without it seeming really random or suspicious. But how?

  Noel pulled his hands away. “What the hell, Aria? Here I am, bending over backward for you, telling you everything, getting you the decor chairwoman spot, putting up with your weird moods, forgiving you for cheating on me, and you’re still treating me like shit. It’s getting kind of old, okay? The secrets, the strange behavior . . . it’s like I’m not fully part of your life.”

  “Don’t say that,” Aria whispered. “I’ve just been distracted, that’s all.”

  “With what?” Noel demanded.

  Aria’s throat bobbed. All she wanted was to exonerate him. But she couldn’t just ask for the answers.

  She stared at Noel. An indentation of something showed through the pocket of his jeans. It was his cell phone. A tantalizing idea wormed its way into her mind.

  She took a few moments to center herself, then stepped closer and cleared her throat. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did to you. I still feel awful because of it. And with the explosion on the boat and almost dying out at sea, I’ve been a mess, Noel.”

  “Then tell me about it,” Noel said. “Don’t hide it. Don’t hold it inside and make me guess.”

  “Okay,” Aria mumbled, even mustering up some tears. “I will. I promise.”

  Then she pulled him into a hug. For a moment, she was afraid Noel wouldn’t hug back, but he tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Aria’s heart banged against his chest. She slid one hand down the length of his waist. Carefully, delicately, she pinched the top of the phone with two fingers and slipped it out one inch at a time, as deftly as a pickpocket. Noel shifted, but he didn’t seem to notice it was gone.

  Aria dropped the phone in the big pouch of her hoodie. When they broke away, Noel was staring at her lovingly again.

  She swallowed hard and gestured to the barn door. “Well, they need me back inside.”

  Noel kissed her cheek. “Call me when you’re done, okay?”

  “Okay,” Aria said shakily. In seconds, he was gone.

  She couldn’t get back into the barn fast enough; it would only be a few minutes before Noel discovered his phone was missing. She ran to her iPad and found a USB cord inside her bag. She plugged the phone in. A window appeared asking if she wanted to transfer data to the device. She stabbed YES. Numbers flashed across the screen. In under a minute, a message popped up that the transfer was complete
.

  Aria yanked the phone from the USB, opened the barn door, and flung the phone into the grass. Hopefully, Noel would just think he’d dropped it.

  She returned to the iPad. Noel’s texts had loaded. She scanned them quickly, not expecting to find much—if Noel was A, he’d probably use a different phone with an unlisted number. Besides the texts Noel had sent to Aria about couple stuff, most of them were to his lacrosse buddies or family members. But as she skimmed farther down the list, there was something strange. Two Februarys ago, Noel had sent a text to an unlisted number. Anything you need, it said. The unlisted number had texted back. Thanks for helping me. You know what to do.

  Aria did the math. February was when Noel and Aria bonded at the séance at that head shop in Yarmouth. It was bizarre he’d even saved this text—surely he’d had an earlier-model phone back then. He must have transferred it from that phone to this one. It must have been sentimental. Could this text be from Ali? What did You know what to do mean?

  Aria shut her eyes. This was all horrible conjecture. Was she really doing this? Had she lost her mind?

  She clicked out of the texts, her limbs feeling heavy. Noel’s e-mails had loaded, too, but Aria no longer wanted to look at them. Then a familiar name caught her eye. Agent Jasmine Fuji. It was from just two days ago. Aria felt dizzy. But Noel had talked to her last week, right?

  There wasn’t just one e-mail to Fuji, either—there were six in the thread. Words flashed before her eyes. Thank you for your thoughts. The next one: I’m very sorry you lost your friend. And the last: We will speak more soon. I was very intrigued when you said not everyone is telling me the whole truth, and I hope you can elaborate.

  Someone laughed loudly behind her, and Aria dropped the iPad back to the desk. She stared around the room blearily, as if she were caught in a nightmare. Noel had lost his friend . . . as in Tabitha? Or Ali? And who did he think was lying? Aria? Was that why Fuji was frantically trying to speak with them?

  She reached for her phone and punched in Spencer’s number. This was getting out of hand. It was time to admit some of this stuff to her friends. The phone rang once, then twice.

  “Hello?” Spencer answered. “Aria? What’s up?”

  A knock sounded on the window, and Aria jumped. Noel stood on the other side, his discarded cell phone now in his palm. He smiled at her so sweetly, so guilelessly, that Aria’s heart cracked into a million pieces.

  “Aria?” Spencer’s voice came through the receiver.

  Aria waved back to Noel, tears in her eyes. “Um, I—I butt-dialed you,” she said to Spencer. And then she hung up, telling her nothing.

  24

  Someone Slips

  On Saturday afternoon, a few hours before prom, Spencer and Hanna sat in Hanna’s bedroom at her father’s house. A giant full-length mirror stood near the corner. The bed was strewn with makeup cases, hair dryers, and hair spray, and an assortment of bobby pins, clips, and curling irons lay on the floor like pickup sticks. Jewelry on loan from Spencer’s and Hanna’s moms sat on a velvet cloth on the bureau. Their gowns hung from hooks on the back of the closet doors, and their shoes sat at attention on the carpet underneath. The air smelled like perfume and that vague, chemical dry cleaning scent Spencer could never quite pin down. It made her feel a little sad that they all couldn’t be here for pre-prom prep, but no one had heard from Aria, and Emily had, bizarrely, invited Iris as her date. They were getting ready at the Fieldses’ house.

  There was a knock on the door. Hanna’s father popped his head in. “How’s it going, girls? Anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know, Dad.” Hanna smirked. “Want to help with makeup?”

  Mr. Marin raised his palms and backed away. “That’s not my territory.” He smiled adoringly at Hanna. “You look beautiful, though.”

  “You do look awesome.” Kate poked her head in next. Half her hair cascaded down her shoulders in tendrils, but the other half was still straight.

  “Thanks,” Hanna said, sounding surprised. “You do, too, Kate.”

  Then Kate and Mr. Marin disappeared into the hall. Hanna looked at Spencer. “Do you think I should have asked her to hang out with us?”

  “Maybe.” Spencer shrugged. Not that she was really into socializing. And Kate’s simple, uncomplicated life would probably rub her the wrong way at the moment. That girl didn’t have an A in her life. Or secrets she was hiding. Or a death threat on her head.

  Hanna slumped back in the chair, making no move to go into the hall and call Kate back. “I wish Mike would call the house and let me know he’s still my date.” She eyed Spencer in the mirror. “Who’s the guy you’re going with, Spence?”

  Spencer picked up an eyelash curler. “Oh, just someone I met.”

  “Where?”

  “At the King James,” Spencer said automatically, using the story she’d rehearsed in her head. “He works at that upscale men’s boutique.”

  “Beauregard’s?” Hanna’s eyes lit up. “I thought about getting Mike cuff links from there. I’m totally going to hit him up for a recommendation . . . if Mike and I are still together.”

  “Um, I don’t know if cuff links are his specialty,” Spencer said, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night. Hopefully Chase wouldn’t want to chat with any of her friends.

  Thinking of Chase, she pulled out her phone, leaned over Hanna, and showed her the picture he’d given her of Ali at The Preserve. “Look.”

  Hanna’s lips were pursed. “Where did you get this?”

  “I’ve been digging up stuff about her. You know where this is, right?”

  “Duh. I’d know that dayroom anywhere.” Hanna’s brow furrowed. “Ali looks about our age, maybe a little younger.” She pointed at the figure whose face they couldn’t see. “Who’s that?”

  “I was hoping you’d know. He’s with Ali, don’t you think?”

  Hanna squinted. “Too bad he’s not wearing something distinctive. Everyone and their mother has a black hoodie, huh?”

  “Noel has a black hoodie,” Spencer said, coughing awkwardly.

  Hanna gave Spencer a long, serious look. “It does seem like him, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t want it to be.” Spencer sank to the bed and rubbed her eyes.

  “But it seems like it, doesn’t it?” Hanna asked softly. Hanna had told Spencer about how Mike didn’t remember where Noel had been when the bomb went off on the cruise . . . and about how she’d seen Noel at the Bill Beach. She shook her head. “And I still can’t believe you went into that apartment building in Philly by yourself. You could have been killed.”

  “I think A just wanted to scare me,” Spencer mumbled, her stomach churning. It all seemed so obvious now: Ali and her helper had planted that address in the CVS system for Chase to find. They’d rigged the trapdoor to fall when Spencer snooped around. So did that mean A knew Spencer was snooping?

  Spencer leaned into the mirror and blotted a bit of smeared eye shadow on her temple. “I wish I could go back to that building, but I’m way too scared.”

  “Why would you want to go back?”

  “Because even if that’s not where Ali’s private nurse lives, Ali and her helper have been there, booby-trapping the place. And now that the trap has been sprung, there’s a chance they’d go back and collect all the stuff they’d planted in that attic. Maybe that bowling ball is Noel’s dad’s. Maybe something up there can be traced to Ali.”

  “Huh.” Hanna slowly ran a brush through her hair. “I never thought about that.”

  It was a theory Chase had raised. Spencer had begged him to go in her place today to see if Ali or her mysterious boyfriend showed up, but he couldn’t. He didn’t explain why.

  Her laptop beeped as if on cue. Spencer had a new e-mail in her top secret account. She glanced at the screen, shielding it from Hanna with her hand. Looking forward to seeing you tonight, Britney, Chase wrote, adding a winking smiley face. And, by the way, I just f
ound out something interesting about Alison.

  Her heart started to pound. What?

  Another e-mail popped up. Don’t want to tell you online, Chase wrote. But I’ll see you soon.

  Spencer gritted her teeth. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Only three more hours.

  It was going to feel like an eternity.

  Just as dusk was falling, Spencer and Chase, who met her back at her house, walked hand in hand to the limo at the curb. As Chase held the door for her, she gave him a bashful smile.

  “You look amazing,” Chase said, kissing her cheek.

  Spencer tried not to swoon. “You look great, too.” Chase’s tux fit him perfectly. He’d been so polite when he’d handed Spencer her corsage and posed for the pictures. Even Amelia, who wrinkled her nose at everything, had gawked.

  The limo turned out of the cul-de-sac and onto the country road toward Philadelphia. The front window was down just a little, blowing in the sweet-smelling spring air.

  But even when Chase popped the cork of a bottle of champagne and handed Spencer a glass, she couldn’t relax. She turned to Chase. “Now that we’re alone, can you please tell me what you know about Alison?”

  Chase sipped from his champagne flute. “I got some interesting footage from a friend. It’s a surveillance video from a building not far from here. There’s a girl in one of the shots who looks like Alison.”

  Spencer’s skin prickled. “You’re kidding.” She glanced at Chase’s phone, which was on his lap. “Do you have it on you? Can we watch?”

  Chase stared at his phone, too. “I don’t have it.”

  “Oh.” Spencer slumped.

  “Was that the only reason you came out with me tonight?” Chase’s voice was froggy.

  “Of course not!” Spencer cried. “I just . . . well, that sounds huge. I’d love to see it.”

  He took her hand. “This is huge too, though. Being with you, I mean. I just want a calm, normal night, one where we don’t talk about Ali or stalkers or the shitty things that have happened to us. One where, like, you don’t almost die from something falling on your head.” He tried to laugh.