Mike scoffed. “Why have you guys been talking a lot? Hugging?”
Hanna blinked hard, remembering the tender moment she and Sean shared about Ali. “Okay, we hugged once,” she admitted. “But it was totally platonic. Who told you that happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mike said stiffly. “It just matters that you’re lying to me.”
“I have a good explanation for why I’m here!” Hanna cried.
“Great. I’d like to hear it,” Mike demanded.
Hanna’s gaze drifted toward the circular drive. At that very moment, the nurse who’d changed Graham’s IV bag the other day swept past the lobby, her lips pursed tightly. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Are you having top-secret treatment for a burn?”
“No . . .”
“Are you having plastic surgery?” Mike sounded incredulous.
“Mike, no. It’s just . . .”
“It’s Sean,” Mike concluded. “That’s the only reason that makes sense.”
Hanna’s head was starting to hurt. “It’s not Sean! It’s just . . .”
“You know what, Hanna?” Mike sounded weary. “I don’t really want to have this conversation. Until you actually give me a reason, I’m not taking you to prom.”
“Jesus, Mike!” Hanna shouted into the phone, so loudly that a nurse at the station gave her a sharp, there-are-no-personal-calls-allowed-in-here look. “Wait! Don’t be like that!”
Then he hung up. Hanna wheeled around, tempted to kick the side of the desk, then noticed a piece of paper stuck to her shoe. Frowning, she kneeled down and picked it up. A familiar smiling face stared back at her. Ali. Hanna could almost hear her giggle echoing through the air.
Hanna faced the receptionist. “Who was standing here before me?”
The woman blinked at her. “No one,” she said after a beat.
Hanna’s heart thudded hard as she looked at the paper. It was the picture of Real Ali that ran in the Philadelphia Sentinel when she’d returned to Rosewood last year. Someone had drawn a crown on her head with a pink Sharpie. And underneath her chin was:
You don’t deserve the crown, bitch, and you know it. Here’s the real queen. —A
18
No Fun for You, Ms. Fields
The following morning, Emily pulled into the now familiar neighborhood of Crestview Estates. The glimmering pond greeted her on the left. A huge gazebo and flower garden were on the right. The mansions looked even more enormous today, the chandeliers in the foyers twinkling through the windows.
“What are we doing here?” Iris’s nose was pressed to the window like a little kid.
“I told you. One of my friends lives here,” Emily murmured. “I need to pick up something from her for school.”
“One of your friends lives here?” Iris seemed impressed. “Is her dad, like, Bill Gates or something?”
Emily steered into the circle, feeling bad that she couldn’t tell Iris the truth. Sure, she was lying to her about a lot of stuff, but things with them had become easier since they skinny-dipped in the lake on Tuesday. They’d even developed an inside joke about Emily’s dad’s old, stinky fleece slippers. But it wasn’t like she could bring her inside the panic room while she and her friends had yet another talk about Real Ali and her helper.
Emily turned into the long driveway and parked next to the four-car garage. “Are you going to be okay in the car for a sec?” she asked Iris. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Iris slumped down in the seat and looked at a copy of Us Weekly she’d stolen from Wawa. “Why can’t you just get whatever it is from your friend at school?”
“Because, um, she’s sick,” Emily said stupidly.
Iris gave her a strange look, but Emily fled the car before she could ask anything else.
Spencer pulled her inside and once again led her down into the basement. Aria was already inside the panic room, pacing back and forth. And Hanna, who looked even more made-up and coiffed today, was sitting on the denim couch, looking at Aria plaintively. “So Mike didn’t ride to school with you? Do you know where he is right now? How can I talk to him if I can’t use my stupid cell phone?”
“He was at Byron’s last night—I was at Ella’s.” Aria looked apologetic. “What were you guys fighting about, anyway?”
“Guys, we don’t have much time,” Spencer interrupted, and everyone looked at her. “I got another note from Agent Fuji,” she continued worriedly, her eyes darting around the security screens. “She says there’s something we didn’t tell her. She wanted to talk to me.”
“She wants to talk to me, too!” Hanna whispered. “Are you going to?”
“What do you think?” Spencer looked horrified. “I deleted the message. I’m going to pretend I didn’t get it.”
Emily sat down next to Hanna. “Do you think A said something?”
Spencer sank to the metal swivel chair next to the monitors. “I don’t know. Has anyone heard from A?”
Hanna tentatively raised a hand. “A sent me a note. It was about prom, but A left it at the front desk of the burn clinic.”
Spencer widened her eyes. “So A knows you’ve been volunteering there?”
“I guess.” Hanna’s face was ashen. “But that doesn’t mean A knows why, right?”
“The only notes I got were the two about the painting investigation,” Aria said, perching on the couch’s arm. “Which is scary. They’ve opened the case back up. Maybe that’s what Fuji wants to talk to us about.”
Emily shifted worriedly. “Maybe A is pissed off because he or she doesn’t know our new cell numbers. Maybe he gave Fuji some intel as punishment.”
“That’s what I was worried about, too,” Spencer said. “What do you think A told Fuji?”
“Who knows?” Emily mumbled.
For a moment, no one said anything. On the monitors, Emily could see her Volvo parked at the curb. Iris turned a page of her magazine, looking like she was about to fall asleep.
Then Spencer pulled the suspects list out of her bag and pinned it to the wall. Quite a few names had been crossed off—all the girls. There was a wiggly line through Darren Wilden and a question mark next to Jason. Only Graham’s and Noel’s names were unmarked. Emily caught Aria staring at it. It wasn’t a surprise to her—last night, Emily had stopped over at her house to tell her they’d narrowed down the list to only guys. Aria opened her mouth to say something, then shut it fast.
“What?” Emily asked.
Aria shook her head. “Nothing.”
Emily cleared her throat. “So does anyone have any thoughts about who Ali might have met at Keppler Park?” She’d shared her discovery with Hanna and Aria last night.
Hanna shook her head. Aria cleared her throat awkwardly and turned away. “Nope.” Her voice squeaked.
Emily watched Aria’s face, but she gave nothing away. Spencer was watching, too. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Maybe Noel has been there?”
Aria fiddled with the grommets on the couch. “I said I was sure, didn’t I? Noel isn’t A.”
“I know you don’t want to believe it, Aria,” Spencer said soothingly. “But the more we find out, the more sense Noel makes.”
Aria’s eyes flashed. “All we’ve found out is that A might be a guy and that Ali had a boyfriend. That could be anyone.”
“There’s more than that.” Spencer twirled the pen in her hands. “It turns out that someone stole a bunch of prescription medications from the Bill Beach last spring. It might have been the person who was taking care of Ali.”
Aria wrinkled her nose. “So? Noel doesn’t have a connection to the Bill Beach. As far as I know, he’s never even been there.”
“He knows Sean, though,” Spencer pointed out. “They run in the same circles. Maybe Noel got Sean to slip him the passcode to get into the building.”
Aria burst out laughing. “Are we talking about the same Sean? He’d never do that.”
“True.” Hanna shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “But, Aria, Noel was acting weird at the assembly yesterday. He asked if there was anything going on with you. Then he brought up Iceland out of the blue. Why would he do that?”
Aria pressed her lips together. “That is kind of strange,” she admitted. But then she shook her head vigorously. “It still doesn’t mean anything. I asked Noel about whether he sensed that the ‘Courtney’ who returned wasn’t who she said she was, and he got really upset and defensive. After that, there was no way I was going to ask him if he’d taken a little jaunt to Iceland to murder Olaf over winter break. We’ve hardly talked since. Don’t you guys see? A wants us to suspect Noel. A wants to ruin what Noel and I have. Then we’ll break up, it’s not going to be Noel, and A’s going to win again.”
“If that happens, you can blame us for everything,” Spencer said. “We’ll do everything in our power to get Noel back for you, okay? But can you please do a little more digging?”
“None of us want it to be Noel,” Emily added. “We’re not against you.”
Aria stood up from the couch. Her eyes were flinty and cold. “Fine,” she said gruffly. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not going to find anything, believe me.”
She whipped around, turned the handle of the panic room, and left. Emily heard her footsteps on the basement stairs and felt a twinge of regret. The last thing she wanted to do was pull their friendship apart. What if Aria was right—what if suspecting Noel, wrecking everything, was just part of A’s master plan?
Then Spencer touched her arm. “Try to get something out of Iris soon, okay?”
Emily nodded. “I will.”
Then she headed out of the house, across the driveway, and climbed into her car. Thankfully, Iris was still sitting in the passenger seat, flipping through Us. Emily slid the key in the ignition and started the engine.
“How’s your sick friend?” Iris asked without looking up from the magazine.
“What?” Emily snapped her head up. Then she remembered the lie she told. “Oh. Uh, feeling much better!”
Iris slapped the magazine closed and gave Emily a knowing look. “God, Emily. If you’re going to lie, at least do a better job.”
“I’m not lying,” Emily said quickly.
Iris waited a beat. When Emily didn’t say anything more, she tossed Emily her cell phone, which was sitting in the center console. “This beeped while you were out,” she said woodenly.
Ice ran through Emily’s veins. She peeked at the screen. There was a new message for her on Twitter. Her mouth dropped open as she read the words. THOUGH I CAN’T BE THERE WITH YOU IN PERSON, I’LL BE THERE IN SPIRIT, an unfamiliar Twitter handle had written to her. I’M GOING TO SEND YOU A SECRET MESSAGE, MY LOVE. BE READY AT 10 PM!