Pretty Little Liars 14: Deadly

by Sara Shepard

  She was the opposite of King Midas—everything and everyone she touched turned rotten, and there was so little now she could fix. Suddenly, something occurred to her. A lot of this was out of her control, but there was a way she could make her family happy again, get their money back, and heal their mother. She could disappear completely.

  But did she dare even think it?

  Emily squeezed her pillow hard. If she weren’t here right now, if she weren’t a constant stressor, her mom would recover. But when she thought about vanishing, she didn’t mean simply leaving town. It was a bigger, scarier, more definite decision than that.

  She’d save her family. And who would miss her?

  A laugh exploded from downstairs. Someone opened a door and shut it again. Emily rose from her bed and stood in the middle of the room, fingertips twitching. All at once, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind. It made so much sense. She couldn’t live like this. She couldn’t let her family suffer. She couldn’t go to Jamaica, either. Maybe the rumors weren’t swirling because Ali and her helper planted them. Maybe everyone thought it was the next logical step.

  Emily shut her eyes and thought for a moment. The Rosewood covered bridge came to mind. Most of the bridge had a roof over it, the inside walls coated with graffiti, but there was a tiny walkway on the outside that was open to the water below. The stream was deep this time of year from all the melted snow. It would still be cold, too. Numbing.

  Heart pounding, she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Then, gathering up her courage, she hefted open her window, crept onto the roof, climbed onto the oak tree, and slid down the trunk, the way she always did when she snuck out. The bridge was about a twenty-minute walk. By the time her father checked on her—if he even did check on her—she’d be long gone.

  27

  FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS JUMP

  That same morning, Spencer and Melissa stood on the Rosewood Day Commons. All one hundred and six of Spencer’s senior classmates, dressed in white and black graduation gowns and blue-tasseled caps, sat on folding chairs in front of a makeshift stage. Spencer, however, was in a plain cotton dress and wore no cap at all.

  Faces of kids she’d spent the last twelve years with lined the rows. Phi Templeton sat next to Devon Arliss. Spencer’s field-hockey friend, Kirsten Cullen, giggled with Maya St. Germain. Noel Kahn, still looking a little weak, sat with his lacrosse buddies. Naomi Zeigler, Riley Wolfe, and Klaudia Huusko whispered to one another. Cast members from countless school plays Spencer had starred in fiddled with their tassels. Her cohorts on newspaper and yearbook fanned themselves with their programs. None of them glanced back at her. There weren’t even four empty seats, indicating where Spencer, Aria, Emily, and Hanna should be sitting. It was like Rosewood Day had wiped them clean from its memory.

  Spencer looked around, wondering if any of the others had come. She finally spied Aria and her mother on the other side of the field. Hanna was under the bleachers. Emily wasn’t anywhere. Maybe she had the right idea.

  Principal Appleton cleared his throat on the stage. “And now, I present to you, our valedictorian, Mason Byers.”

  There was thundering applause as Mason rose from a seat in the front row and took the stage. Spencer shook her head ever so slightly. Mason Byers? Sure, he was smart, but she had no idea he was next in line for valedictorian. She was supposed to be up there right now. She’d had a speech prepared since sophomore year. Knowing Mason, who never stressed about anything, he’d probably written the speech last night.

  Melissa reached over and squeezed Spencer’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Spencer swallowed a lump in her throat, grateful to have someone next to her who understood how painful this was. But it was too much. “Let’s get out of here,” she grumbled, walking toward the parking lot.

  Melissa followed her. As they passed the big fountain in the front of the gym, she coughed. “Listen, we’re working on finding you a top-notch lawyer from Jamaica. Darren has some contacts down there, and so does Dad.”

  Spencer pinched the bridge of her nose, hating that the lawyers weren’t even considering the possibility of trying the case in the United States anymore. “Do you know how long it takes for a case to go to trial in Jamaica?”

  “I’ve gotten conflicting answers.” Melissa’s heels clicked on the sidewalk. “Some people said only a few months. Others said years.”

  Spencer made a small whimper.

  A cheer rang out from the Commons. Melissa stopped in the middle of the jammed parking lot. “I’m sorry,” she said with a pained look on her face. She glanced around the lot, then leaned closer. “If you do get sent to Jamaica, I’ll look for her after you’re gone. I don’t want to stop until she’s dead.”

  Spencer shook her head. “Don’t. It’s awesome that you’d offer, but she’s dangerous. She’ll kill you, Melissa. I couldn’t live with that.”

  “But . . .” Melissa trailed off and sighed. “It’s just not fair.”

  Spencer didn’t think it was fair, either. And this was so ironic: Just when she and Melissa were really, truly bonding, becoming the sisters Spencer had always hoped they’d be, her life was ending.

  Her phone beeped loudly. Spencer looked at the ID. EMILY. As Melissa unlocked the car, Spencer answered it. There was no reply, only the sound of wind. “Hello?” Spencer said. “Em?”

  And then she heard crying. The sobs were soft at first, but then they intensified.

  “Emily!” Spencer shouted into the phone. “Em, are you there? Why aren’t you at graduation?”

  The sobbing stopped. There was some rustling, and then Emily sniffled loudly into the receiver. “S-Spencer?” she bleated.

  Spencer sat up straighter. “Why aren’t you at graduation?”

  “I just wanted to call to say good-bye.”

  More wind blew against the speaker. On Spencer’s end, the band had just struck up the beginning notes of “Pomp and Circumstance.”

  “What’s going on?” All at once, it sounded like Emily was crying again. Spencer clutched the phone tighter. “Em. What’s wrong?”

  “I just can’t do this anymore,” Emily said. Her voice had no intonation to it. “I’m really sorry. I’m just . . . done.”

  Spencer’s skin prickled. She’d heard Emily despair before, especially after she’d had her baby. But this seemed different, like Emily was in a dark, dark place and had no idea how to save herself.

  “Where are you?” she demanded, gripping the phone hard. Melissa paused from getting into the car, giving Spencer a curious look.

  “It doesn’t matter.” There was a swish, maybe a car passing. “You’ll never get here in time.”

  Spencer’s heart pounded. “What do you mean?” she demanded, even though, horrifyingly, she thought she knew. She spun in a circle, feeling helpless. “Em, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. I know things are tough right now, but you have to hang on. Just tell me where you are, okay?”

  Emily laughed bitterly. “I probably won’t even drown, you know. That’s the thing I was thinking just before I accidentally called you. I picked a bridge—and I’m a freaking swimmer.”

  “A bridge?” Spencer’s eyes darted back and forth. Melissa was now standing next to her, her eyes wide and full of question. “Which one? The covered bridge?”

  “No,” Emily said quickly, but Spencer could tell she was lying. “Don’t come, Spencer. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Em, don’t!” Spencer screamed. The call ended. Spencer tried to dial Emily back, but it rang and rang, not even going to voicemail.

  “Shit,” Spencer said out loud.

  “What’s going on?” Melissa asked.

  Spencer’s throat felt dry. “It’s Emily. She’s on a bridge. I think she’s going to . . .” She trailed off, but by the look on Melissa’s face, it was obvious she knew what Spencer meant.

  “Which bridge?” Melissa demanded.

  “The covered one on the other side of town,” Spencer
said. She stared at Melissa. “Can I take your car?”

  Melissa pursed her lips. “I’ll go with you.”

  Spencer swung around. “I don’t want to involve you in this.” What if Ali had led Emily there? What if it was dangerous?

  Melissa’s eyes were firm. “Stop it. Come on.”

  On the lawn, kids were marching up the stage and collecting their diplomas to thunderous applause. Spencer got into the car and slammed the door. Melissa started the engine and gunned out of the lot onto the mercifully empty street. “It won’t take us long to get there,” she said, staring steadily at the road.

  As Principal Appleton called out Chassey Bledsoe’s name, Spencer dialed 911. “A friend of mine is going to jump off the covered bridge in Rosewood,” she shouted to the dispatcher, when she answered. “Send an ambulance, now!”

  Melissa turned out of the school’s main drive. Spencer then dialed Aria and Hanna; she hadn’t wanted to waste precious time finding them back at the ceremony. Hanna answered on the second ring. Spencer could hear applause in the background. “We need to get to the covered bridge,” she shouted. “Emily’s in trouble.”

  “What do you mean?” Hanna asked.

  “I don’t know.” Spencer bit her lip. “But I think we need to go to her. Find Aria and meet me there, okay?”

  “Definitely,” Hanna said urgently, and hung up.

  Melissa gunned around another turn. She gave Spencer a sidelong glance. “What if we get there and it’s too late?”

  Spencer chewed hard on her thumbnail. “I don’t know.”

  The car sped down the country road that led to the bridge, whipping by a cheese farm, an enormous estate surrounded by acres of lawn, and a fancy restaurant tucked into an old barn. When Melissa was just one hill away from reaching the bridge, Spencer looked ahead on the road, then behind them. “Why don’t I hear an ambulance?” she said aloud.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Melissa murmured. But then she pressed on the gas. “It’ll be okay,” she said almost angrily. “We’ll get there.”

  They made the final turn. Please don’t jump, Spencer repeated over and over again, a sick feeling welling in her stomach. Please, please, please, Em, don’t jump.

  The rustic, graffiti-covered bridge loomed in front of her. There were no police or paramedics anywhere. As soon as Melissa pulled onto the shoulder, Spencer sprang out of the car and ran to the small ledge that surrounded the bridge. She peered onto the left side, then the right. There was no one there.

  “Emily?” Heart in her throat, Spencer gazed down at the rushing water beneath, expecting to see a flash of Emily’s gold-red hair in the rapids.

  Aria’s car roared up next, and she and Hanna jumped out and sprinted toward the bridge. “There she is!” Aria cried out. A board jutted out from the bridge; Emily was scrunched behind it. The wind blew her hair around her face. Tears stained her cheeks. She leaned over the water, her chest heaving.

  “Emily!” Spencer screamed. “Don’t!”

  Emily looked over at them, and her face crumpled. “Leave me alone. I have to do this.”

  “No, you don’t!” Hanna screamed, crying, too.

  Emily stared despondently into the rapids. “No one wants me. My family wishes I was dead.”

  “They’re just upset,” Spencer urged. “They don’t feel that way for real.”

  Emily pressed her hands over her eyes. “Like you guys haven’t been thinking about it? We’re as good as dead. Of course we want to end it all.”

  Spencer exchanged a horrified glance with the others.

  “Don’t you see what’s happening?” Hanna wailed. “Ali arranged for all of this. She was the one who sent those suicide notes from our phones to our friends and families, making it look like we wanted to kill ourselves. It’s so obvious, Em.”

  Emily shrugged. “So? It still doesn’t change anything.”

  “Yes, it does!” Hanna banged her fist against the bridge wall. “For months—years—we’ve let Ali manipulate us. We’ve let her make us think people we love are A. Aria lost Noel because of it. And Spencer suspected her mom, remember? Now Ali’s using the power of suggestion to make us think we should commit suicide—and we’re letting her. Are you really going to let her get to you like that?”

  Emily peeked at Hanna. “But why would she want us to commit suicide? She already won by getting us sent to Jamaica.”

  “Maybe she worries we’ll be acquitted,” Spencer shouted onto the bridge. “Or maybe she worries we’ll continue to investigate while in prison and find her for real. This is her safest option. We die by our own hands. She doesn’t have to lift a finger.”

  Emily’s chin wobbled. “I don’t know if that makes sense. How could we investigate her in Jamaica?”

  “I’ll help!” Melissa called out from a few feet away. “I’ll do whatever I can!”

  Spencer gave her a grateful look, then turned back to Emily. “We need you, Em. We need to stick together if we want to beat A.”

  Emily shut her eyes tight, overcome with emotion. “Guys . . .”

  “Please,” Spencer begged.

  Suddenly, finally, sirens screamed behind them. An ambulance pulled onto the embankment, and several men in EMT jackets jumped out. “Where is she?” shouted the first one, a young man with stubble on his face.

  “There!” Melissa pointed to the ledge.

  The EMT nodded, then conferred with the two other men who’d jumped out of the vehicle. One of them requested backup on a walkie-talkie. The second one started to pull medical equipment out of the car.

  The first man squared his shoulders, wrapped a rock-climbing tether around his waist, and hooked one end of the line to a post on the bridge for stability. Then he inched onto the narrow ledge. “Come here, honey,” he said gently, almost lovingly. “You’re safe.”

  Emily looked at him, her eyes wild.

  “Take my hand,” the EMT begged. “Please don’t jump.”

  “We need you, Em,” Hanna called out.

  “We love you!” Spencer called.

  The two other EMTs were stationed near the water, ready to take the plunge in case Emily jumped. The man on the bridge inched closer to her, the rope around his waist stretching taut. Emily didn’t move. Finally, he was close enough to wrap his arms around her. Emily crumpled into him, her face twisted with anguish. He lifted Emily up and slowly inched backward to the front of the bridge. When they were on solid ground, he gently set Emily on the grass. She was sobbing.

  Spencer ran over to her and engulfed her in a hug. Aria and Hanna did the same. They all started to cry. “Oh my God,” Spencer said over and over.

  “How could you have done that?” Hanna wailed.

  “We could have lost you,” Aria added.

  Emily was crying so hard, she couldn’t speak. “I just . . . couldn’t . . .”

  Spencer squeezed her tight. Hanna wrapped her sweatshirt over her shoulders. One of the EMTs brought out another blanket and laid that over Emily, too. The man who’d saved Emily radioed that they no longer needed backup—the girl was safe. Then he sat down next to the girls and checked Emily’s pupils to make sure she wasn’t going into shock. He made no reference to who the girls were or what they were facing—maybe he didn’t even know.

  Emily’s sobs dissolved into sniffles. All the girls clung to her tightly, as if they were afraid they might lose her again. Even Melissa joined in the hug, stroking Emily’s hair and telling her that she was going to be all right. Spencer took a moment to imagine what things would have been like if they hadn’t caught Emily in time. The breath left her lungs. It terrified her to even consider it. If one of them died, a part of Spencer would die, too. It was one small silver lining about going to Jamaica—at least they’d be going together. They wouldn’t be facing this alone.

  Her thoughts turned to Ali again. Of course she’d planted suicide into all their minds. And look what it had almost done. Look at who it had almost taken. This bitch deserved to go do
wn for all of this. Now more than ever.

  Melissa headed back to the car, giving the girls a few minutes alone. A minivan rounded the bend, slowing at the sight of the ambulance. Spencer didn’t recognize the woman behind the wheel, but there was a faded ROSEWOOD DAY LACROSSE bumper sticker on the back. Spencer gasped.

  “What?” Aria asked, looking at her quizzically.

  “I thought of another way we could hunt for Ali,” Spencer said. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  Aria frowned. “What do you mean?”

  A chilly breeze swept down Spencer’s back. “I mean Noel.”

  Aria’s face hardened. “What about Noel?”

  “Maybe he knows something else about Ali. Maybe he didn’t tell you everything.”

  Aria looked shocked. “You want me to talk to him?” Spencer nodded. Aria shook her head. “No way.”

  “I think Spencer’s right,” Hanna said. “Maybe Noel doesn’t even realize what he knows. What if this leads us to her?”

  “I’ll do it, if you don’t want to,” Spencer volunteered. “I wouldn’t mind giving that jerk a piece of my mind.”

  Aria lowered her eyes. “He’s not a jerk,” she said quietly, almost automatically. She sighed. “I can handle it. But only if Emily—and the rest of you—never stand on the edge of a bridge again. Losing you guys is way worse than going to prison.”

  “I won’t,” Emily said softly.

  “I won’t, either,” Hanna said, and Spencer nodded. Aria was right. They couldn’t abandon one another now, not when things were so critical and dangerous.

  Not when they had so much to lose.

  28

  THE SECRET CODE

  “Oh my God,” Mrs. Kahn bleated, when she opened the door to the Kahn estate later that afternoon. Her blond hair was expertly blown out, her makeup was perfect, and she wore a new-looking ivory cashmere sweater, curve-hugging skinny jeans, and scuff-free Tod’s driving loafers. But her face was pale, and cords stood out in her neck. She stared at Aria in fear, and Aria knew instantly that Mrs. Kahn believed everything the news was saying. This was a woman who had once, at a family wedding Aria and Noel had attended, pulled Aria into a hug and said, You know, I think of you as my daughter. It was amazing how a couple of news stories could sway an opinion.