by Sara Shepard
Isaac licked his lips. “I wanted to know if we’re dating again.”
Emily’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Despite her distraction, despite the fact that she was keeping something huge from Isaac, the words felt welcome.
“There’s only one thing,” Isaac interrupted before Emily had a chance to speak. “Something is bothering you. Something you think you can’t talk about. But you can, Emily. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. If it’s something with that guy we saw at Hollis the other day, don’t be afraid to tell me.”
Emily shut her eyes. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Derrick.”
“But it is something?”
The trumpets blaring on the stage were starting to make Emily’s head hurt. “It’s nothing.”
“You seem so stressed.” Isaac’s voice was pleading. “I just want to help.”
Emily concentrated on the dance steps, delaying her answer. Isaac cared and wanted to make everything better, which made her feel relieved and terrible at the same time. She wanted him to like her. She wanted him to want to get back together with her. But what did she want for herself?
“Breaking up was a huge mistake, Emily,” Isaac said, staring deeply into Emily’s eyes. “I want to start over. What do you think?”
“I . . .” Emily started, but then she noticed another blond figure at the edge of the dance floor. She was the right height and build, and Mr. Marin was talking to her happily and graciously. Emily ducked, her heart jackhammering again. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
She grabbed Isaac once more, pulled him off the dance floor, and escaped around the corner to a small alcove that held a variety of meteorites behind glass. Isaac crossed his arms over his chest, looking fed up. “Are you going to let me in on what’s going on with you tonight?”
The woman talking to Mr. Marin turned slightly. Only a few more degrees, and she’d see Emily and Isaac. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the sides of Isaac’s face and planted her lips squarely on his. Isaac’s eyes widened for a moment, but then they fluttered closed, and he passionately kissed her back. Emily felt her pulse pounding firmly in her fingertips and her lips. The kiss felt good, but she knew it was only a means to an end. She felt like the worst person in the world.
Isaac pulled back for a moment and smiled crookedly. “So I guess that’s a yes?”
Emily swallowed hard, feeling like she’d just done something she couldn’t undo. She wasn’t acting like herself at all. She glanced again into the ballroom. The woman who’d been talking to Mr. Marin was gone.
Beep.
Her phone was glowing through the flimsy mesh fabric of her silver clutch. Emily stared at it in horror. “It looks like you have a text,” Isaac said, sounding relaxed and happy.
A lump formed in Emily’s throat. She pulled out the phone and peeked at the screen. Her blood ran cold.
“Isaac, I have to go,” she whispered.
“Go?” The content look on Isaac’s face vanished. “What are you talking about?”
Emily took a few frantic paces back into the ballroom. Mr. Marin was still talking to the woman, and though Emily was almost positive she was Gayle, her face was still turned away. Emily looked around the rest of the room. It was even more crowded than a few seconds ago. Where the hell was Hanna? Why didn’t she see Aria? There was no time to waste.
“Emily?” She felt a hand on her sleeve. Isaac was staring at her, his mouth a straight line. “Who just texted you?”
The band finished its song, and everyone on the dance floor clapped. Emily stared into Isaac’s open, caring face. She knew what walking away without explaining looked like. But she didn’t know what else to do.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and then turned and fled across the dance floor.
“Emily!” Isaac called after her, but Emily kept going, weaving through the crowds until she reached the lobby. She dug inside her clutch, pulled out her cell phone, and read the horrible note once more. Just looking at the words made her stomach lurch. This couldn’t be happening.
I’ve got your baby. If you want her to be safe, come to 56 Mockingbird Drive. Ticktock! —A
29
FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS GO ALONE
Aria pulled into the Gemological Museum lot, fluffed her hair, and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. She’d done a fair job of cleaning up the tear-streaked mess she’d been after her argument with Noel, but she still looked stressed and tired. Then again, she didn’t have anyone to impress at this party.
After she parked, she pulled out her phone and composed a text to Noel. Please let me explain, she wrote. Everything that happened . . . it was kind of out of my control. Someone forced me to break up with you. Someone is threatening me and controlling my life.
Then she hit DELETE fast. The text gave away too much. She couldn’t tell Noel about A.
Swallowing a sob, she slammed the door and walked toward the entrance, which was lit on either side by glowing Japanese lanterns. A gust of wind kicked up, rolling an empty Coke can down the sidewalk. Aria heard a whisper and whirled around, staring at the line of parked cars.
After a few seconds of peering into nothingness, sensing no movement, she pressed on. A few kids were clustered by the front hedges, staring at something on their cell phones. “So desperate,” Riley snickered.
“She is loser, no?” Klaudia shivered in her strapless, barely-there black dress.
Aria peeked at the cell phone screen over Riley’s shoulder. There was a picture of Hanna wearing army fatigues and hiding in the plastic bushes at the mall concourse. Aria had no idea what it was all about, but before she could ask any questions, Emily barreled out of the double doors, grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her to the other side of the walkway.
“Thank God I found you,” Emily said, her voice full of fear. “I need your car.”
“What happened?” Aria asked. “Did you get Gayle’s phone already?”
“No, but this is much more important.”
Emily held her phone in Aria’s face. I’ve got your baby, said the screen. Aria clapped a hand over her mouth. “Do you think it’s true?”
“I’m not waiting around to find out.” Emily started toward the parking lot, then noticed Hanna trudging out the door with an ashamed look on her face. She waved her over. “You have to see this.”
Hanna looked pained, like she didn’t feel like dealing with anything right now, but she walked over and inspected the text. Color drained from her face. “Shit. How could this happen?”
“I don’t know. But I have to save her.” Emily’s eyes darted back and forth. “If Ali has her, who knows what she’ll do?”
“Em, it’s not Ali who has Violet,” Aria whispered. “Don’t you see? It’s Gayle. I saw her going into Babies “R” Us last night with a huge, weird smile on her face. She was getting ready for when she found your baby.”
Emily frowned, then peered at the hulking museum behind them. “But isn’t Gayle here? I thought I saw her talking to your dad, Hanna.”
Hanna bit her lip. “Actually, I haven’t seen her all night.”
“Of course she’s not here,” Aria said. “She’s at this house on Mockingbird Drive!” She looked at Hanna. “You’re with me, right? You think this is Gayle?”
A conflicted look crossed Hanna’s face. “I think so. But why would Gayle tell us she has Violet if she wants to keep her for herself? It sounds like a setup.”
“I don’t care!” Emily grabbed Aria’s car keys from her hands. “This is my daughter’s life we’re talking about! I’m sorry, Aria, but I’m going to that house, even if I have to go alone!”
Aria set her jaw. “We’re not letting you go alone.”
“We’re not?” Hanna squeaked.
Aria gave Hanna a look. “Of course we’re not.” She snatched the car keys back from Emily, marched across the parking lot, and slid into the driver’s seat. “C’mon, Em. Let’s go. You too, Hanna.”
The girls got into the car an
d slammed the doors. Aria kicked off her high heels, gunned the engine, and cranked the heat up high. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she looked behind her and saw a perfectly round, eerily yellow moon reflected in the museum windows. And there, next to the moon’s reflection, was a person in silhouette. Watching. Maybe even laughing at what fools they were.
Aria breathed in sharply, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. But when she looked at the window again, only the moon was there, bright and full, filling up the expanse of the glass.
30
THE GIRL IN THE PHOTO
Twenty-five minutes and three wrong turns later, the girls pulled onto Mockingbird Drive, a twisting street on the other side of Mount Kale. “Whoa,” Hanna mumbled, staring through the fog, which had rolled in heavily. Every estate was on a massive plot of land. Winding driveways led to faux castles, French estates, Tudor manors, and buildings that looked like a cross between the Capitol and a Frank Gehry masterpiece. Ferraris sat in driveways. Tennis court lights twinkled in backyards. Hanna was used to luxurious houses like Noel’s, Spencer’s, and even her dad’s new place, but people who lived in this neighborhood had more money than they knew what to do with, and they didn’t mind flaunting it.
The next mailbox bore the number 56 in Gothic script, and Aria rolled slowly up the long drive. Tall, imposing trees made a canopy over the road, creating a spooky tunnel. They passed a huge, six-car garage and a horse stable, and then came upon the house, an imposing mansion with columns and huge arched windows. It was positioned a bit cockeyed on the lot, probably angled so that it got the best morning sun. Not a single light was on in the windows.
“Um, now what?” Hanna whispered as Aria cut the engine.
“Come on.” Emily opened her car door and jogged up the front walk. Hanna and Aria scrambled after her. When Hanna heard a whispering sound, her heart began to thud. What if A had led them straight into a trap?
“Where do you think Spencer is?” Emily said over her shoulder. “She hasn’t responded to my texts.” They’d sent Spencer messages about what was going on and demanded that she meet them here.
“Maybe it took a while for her to get released from the hospital,” Hanna whispered.
“Or maybe she got as lost as we did.” Aria stepped up on the porch and stared at the doorbell. “What are we supposed to do, ring? ‘Hey, A, we’re here!’” She looked at Hanna. “You do it.”
Hanna’s eyes bulged. “No way!”
“I’ll do it.” Emily touched the door, and it opened with a creak that sounded exactly like a haunted house entrance. Hanna shivered. What kind of person left their front door open in the middle of the night?
Emily pushed past them and walked into the foyer. “Hello?” she called out.
Hanna followed her. The foyer smelled oddly of nail polish remover. A single lamp on a console table was lit, showing a double staircase, an impressive crystal chandelier, and a wall full of black-and-white paintings of undulating sand dunes, animal skulls, and possessed-looking vultures. Heavy curtains hung on the windows in the room to the right; thick wool rugs decorated the floors. The coat closet door was ajar, and several jackets swung from hangers. The place had a museumlike stillness, as though it were a movie set, not someone’s actual house.
“Hello?” Emily said again.
There was no answer. Emily peered up the stairs. Aria wandered toward the kitchen. Hanna picked up a stone rabbit on the table next to the front door and set it down again. It was so quiet, she began to hear noises that might not have been there. A nervous swallow. A slight rustle. A joint crack.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Emily whispered suddenly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Where’s Violet?”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Hanna whispered.
“Guys.” Aria’s voice was as thin as a pinched wire. She was standing next to a table in the living room, an envelope in her hand. “Look at this.”
Hanna squinted at the words. At the top left corner was a logo for Pennsylvania Electric Power. In the center was the address, 56 Mockingbird Lane. Then her gaze fell on the recipient’s name.
“Oh my God,” Hanna whispered. Gayle Riggs.
Aria set the envelope down, her eyes wide. “Guys, this is Gayle’s house. I told you.”
Emily blinked rapidly. “What does this mean?”
“It means we should get the hell out of here,” Hanna snapped. “Gayle doesn’t have your baby. She just used that to get us here because she wants to hurt us.”
She walked back toward the door, taking in every shadow, every dark crevice. A sculpture of a willow tree looked dangerous and alive. The coat rack reminded her of a hunched, crazy old man. A series of photographs were lined up across the mantle like crooked teeth in a ravenous mouth. In the dim light, she could make out a wedding photo of Gayle and her husband. Next to it was a snapshot of the two of them on vacation, and then a family portrait of Gayle and her husband and a smiling blond girl. Maybe this was the daughter Gayle had spoken about to Emily, the one she said she’d lost. Hanna squinted, trying to see what she looked like, but the picture was too small, the features too difficult to make out.
Until she looked at the photo next to it, an 8 x 10 in a wood frame. It was a school headshot of a pretty blond teenager. As soon as Hanna saw her cunning blue eyes and devious smile, the taste of metal filled her mouth. She’d recognize that smirk anywhere.
Hanna stopped short. “Oh my God.” She pointed a shaky finger at the picture. Emily walked over and followed her gaze, and then sank down, her knees going weak.
“Is that . . . ?” Emily whispered.
Aria just let out a terrified gasp.
Hanna picked up the photo from the shelf. This explained everything—how Gayle knew everything and why Gayle didn’t just want them to suffer . . . but to die.
“Tabitha’s her daughter?” Emily’s voice shook uncontrollably.
“How did you not know that?” Hanna demanded. “Didn’t you ever meet the husband? Didn’t you ask for the daughter’s name? Didn’t you find out what happened to her?”
Emily shook her head dazedly. “I never met the husband—and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, since we didn’t know what he looked like until Tabitha’s body was found. Plus Gayle goes by Riggs, not Clark. She never told me any details of what happened to her daughter, either, just said she disappeared. And none of this ever came up on a Google search!”
Hanna ran her hands down the length of her face. “Why didn’t she turn us in?” She could barely get the words out she was breathing so hard.
Emily bit her lip. “Maybe she doesn’t know for sure. Maybe this is her way of drawing us out and making us confess. She’s trying to drive us crazy, make us tell the truth.”
“So do you still think Ali’s A, Em?” Aria snapped.
Emily looked terrified. “I guess not.”
They all turned and peered at the photograph again. For a split second, it looked like Tabitha was winking at them. Gotcha! It was the same expression Ali used to have when she’d pressured the girls into doing something they didn’t want to do.
And then, clear as day, came a keening, desperate wail. The girls whipped around. Hanna grabbed Aria’s hand, and Aria grabbed Emily’s. The wail persisted, growing louder and more urgent.
“A baby,” Hanna whispered.
“Violet!” Emily screamed.
She shot down the hall, running blindly toward the sound. Aria ran after her, and Hanna brought up the rear, her heart pounding. They zipped past an office, a powder room, and an enormous, immaculately clean marble kitchen that smelled like fresh lemons. The sound seemed to be coming from just beyond a set of French doors on the other side of the island. Emily twisted the lock and flung one of the doors open.
They walked onto a massive brick patio. The fog had grown even denser since they’d been inside. The mewling cries echoed through the air, but there were no signs of a baby anywhere.
“Violet?”
Emily spun around, tears in her eyes.
Suddenly, the noise ceased. The silence was deafening. Hanna looked up at her friends, the fog curling around their faces. She thought the worst: Was the baby dead?
Snap.
Hanna stood up straighter, staring at the garage and the trees through the fog. Even though she couldn’t see anything, she sensed a presence. Then she heard it: footsteps.
“Guys.” Her voice quivered.
“Maybe it’s just Spencer,” Emily said bravely. Her phone’s screen glowed in the darkness. “She just texted me that she’s here.”
“Then where’s her car?” Aria gestured to the driveway. Besides Aria’s Subaru, there was no other vehicle there.
Emily bit her lip. “Maybe she parked it at the bottom of the hill and is walking up.”
Hanna marched across the patio toward the driveway. “Someone’s out here, and it’s not just Spencer. We need to warn her.”
She was halfway past the garage when she heard the sound of something metal—car keys, maybe—dropping on the blacktop. She froze and looked around, but all she could see was fog. Footsteps followed, and then tense whispers, a conversation back and forth that she couldn’t hear. Finally, there was a boom so loud it made Hanna’s teeth hurt.
She swung around and stared at her friends. They stood paralyzed on the patio. Then she turned back and peered at the driveway again. When she saw a blurry figure lying splayed out near one of the flower beds, she screamed. Whoever it was wore a heavy coat with a hood that covered her turned face; the only part of her Hanna could see was a small, delicate hand.
“Is that Spencer?” Aria shrieked.
Hanna groped through the mist toward the figure. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. Didn’t Spencer have a down jacket just like that? Didn’t she own pointy leather boots? Suddenly, Hanna stopped. Was the murderer lurking nearby? Were they next?
“Spencer?” Emily came up behind Hanna. “Spencer?” She looked at Hanna in horror. “Do you think she’s . . . ?”