An idea crystallized in Emily’s mind. She composed a text to Spencer, Aria, and Hanna. I’m sick and tired of Anderson Cooper ruining everything, she wrote, using the code name they’d come up with for Ali. I’m back on the hunt. Are you in or out?
She sent the text off and waited, taking steady, even breaths. All she could do now was wait. She hoped and prayed they would say yes.
24
A NEW PLAN
That same day, Aria sat in the waiting room of a lawyer’s office. Well, sort of a lawyer’s office—she’d never known a lawyer to set up his business in a strip mall between a Five Below and a Curves, but whatever. Mike sat next to her, staring at a pamphlet about an ongoing class-action drug suit. “Hey,” he whispered. “Have you ever taken Celebrex? Prozac?”
“No,” Aria mumbled.
“Do you have mesothelioma?” Mike asked.
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Damn.” Mike set down the pamphlet. “If you did, we’d be entitled to a big settlement.”
Aria rolled her eyes, wondering how Mike could be upbeat. She was also beginning to second-guess this meeting—she could hear techno music from Curves thumping through the walls. This morning, Mike had knocked on her door and said, “Get up. We’re talking to Desmond Sturbridge at ten AM. We’ll sneak.” “Who’s that?” Aria had asked, and Mike had explained it was a lawyer who’d called the house yesterday volunteering to take Aria’s case. Aria had tried to tell him that Spencer’s dad was defending them, but Mike just shrugged. “It’s always good to get a second opinion. Besides, we don’t even have to pay this new guy unless we win.”
Now, a door flung open, and a tall, skinny man with a gummy smile and hair so slicked with pomade it actually shone, beamed at them. “Miss Montgomery and friend!” he boomed. “Come in, come in!”
Aria looked nervously at Mike, but he just pulled her to her feet and led her into the office. “It’ll be fine,” he murmured as they followed Sturbridge down the hall. “You have a good case. He’ll present the truth to the judge—how can it go wrong?”
Aria hoped he was right. She entered the lawyer’s office, which was decorated with bobbleheads, signed Eagles jerseys, and a whole lot of empty Arby’s wrappers. There was also a diploma from the University of Michigan on the wall, which made her feel better.
“Thanks for speaking with us,” she said as she sat down.
“Of course, of course!” Sturbridge’s eyes gleamed. “I think you have a very interesting case. And I have some ideas to keep you out of Jamaica.”
Mike raised his eyebrows encouragingly. Aria pulled a notebook out of her bag and slid it across the desk. “We don’t have too much time, since the arraignment is Friday, so I wrote down everything that’s happened so you can look it over at your leisure.” Inside the notebook were also drawings she’d started for Asher Trethewey. Not that she’d need them now.
Sturbridge waved his hand. “That won’t be necessary. I think I’ve got all I need.”
Aria and Mike exchanged a look. “But you haven’t got anything,” Aria said. “Don’t you want to know what really happened that night?”
“Lord, no.” Sturbridge looked abashed. “Miss Montgomery, this is a tricky case. There are eyewitnesses, there’s a video of you on the scene . . . it doesn’t look very good. The way I see it, there’s really only one way to play this case so you come out a winner.”
“What’s that?” Mike asked.
“We plead insanity.”
He looked pleased with himself, like he’d discovered a new law of gravity. Aria blinked hard. “But I’m not insane.”
One eyebrow rose. “Hallucinating that Alison DiLaurentis is alive? Sending bullying notes to yourself?”
“Those notes weren’t from me!” Aria cried.
Sturbridge smiled sadly. “The police say they are.”
Mike’s shoulders drooped. “You’re using information you read about my sister online, stuff the cops came up with. That isn’t her in the video.”
Sturbridge frowned. “It certainly looks like her.”
“It’s not,” Aria said. “I didn’t do it.”
Sturbridge formed an X with his pointer fingers. “Don’t want to hear it!” he singsonged. Then he passed a stapled set of papers across the desk. “If you want to stay out of a Jamaican prison, you’ll sign this insanity plea. It will get you a stay and a psychiatric evaluation. It’s not so bad. Chances are, you’ll end up in one of those cushy mental hospitals around here, all expenses paid by the state.”
“Like the Preserve at Addison-Stevens?” Aria challenged.
Sturbridge’s eyes lit up. “Exactly! I hear the food is amazing there.”
Aria shut her eyes and forced herself to take calming breaths.
Mike flung the papers back at Sturbridge. “Thanks for your time, but you’re nuts, man.” He grabbed the notebook from the lawyer and took Aria’s arm. “C’mon.”
“You’ll regret it!” Sturbridge called out as they fled down the hall.
“Sorry,” Mike said, pushing the door open. He looked miserable. “If I had known that’s what he was going to go for, I would have never put you through that.”
“It’s okay,” Aria mumbled, staring blankly at a bunch of overweight ladies congregating in front of Curves. So much for the lawyer route.
She felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She grabbed it and looked at the message. I’m back on the hunt, Emily had written. Are you in or out? In the same thread, Hanna had responded to count her in. A minute later, Spencer had said yes, too.