by Sara Shepard
Her laughter made Hanna’s hands quiver. This was all painfully familiar. Ali laughed just like this when she teased Hanna about overeating. Mona laughed like this when Hanna’s too-small Sweet Seventeen court dress ripped and split its seams on the dance floor. Hanna was everyone’s punch line. The girl everyone loved to ruin.
“Tell me how you knew Alison,” Hanna growled.
“Who?” Iris teased.
“Tell me how you knew her!”
Iris giggled. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Something inside Hanna stirred, struggled, and then broke free. Just as Hanna lunged for Iris, a loud boom sounded behind them. A bunch of nurses and guards burst through a side door, and two strong arms grabbed Hanna from behind. “Get her out of here,” yelled a voice. Someone dragged Hanna into the hallway and pressed her up against the far wall. Searing pain shot through her shoulder.
Hanna kicked her bare legs, fighting to get free. “Let go of me! What’s going on?”
A security guard swam into view. “That’s enough,” he snarled. There was a click, and then Hanna felt hard metal handcuffs close around her wrists.
“I’m not the one you want!” Hanna screamed frantically. “It’s Iris! She’s a killer!”
“Hanna,” the nurse scolded sharply.
“Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”
The guards began to push her down the hall. Every other patient in the ward was standing outside the theater room, gaping at the commotion. Tara looked thrilled. Alexis had her knuckles in her mouth. Ruby looked Hanna up and down, giggling.
Hanna twisted around and stared at Iris. “How do you know Alison?” But Iris just gave a mysterious smile.
The guards marched Hanna through a door and down an unfamiliar hallway. The vinyl floors were dingy, and the overhead fluorescent lights snapped and buzzed. There was a strange smell in the air, too, kind of like something in the walls was decaying.
A tall figure in a police uniform came into view at the end of the hall. He calmly watched as the guards dragged Hanna to him. As they got closer, Hanna realized it was the Rosewood chief of police. Her heart lifted. Finally, someone who would listen to her!
“Hello, Miss Marin,” the chief said.
Hanna breathed a sigh of relief. “I was just going to call you,” she blurted. “Thank God you came. Ali’s killer is here. I can lead you right to her.”
The chief chuckled reproachfully, looking almost amused. “Lead me right to her? That’s a good one, Ms. Marin.” He leaned down until his face was parallel with hers. His skin glowed red under the neon EXIT sign. “Considering that you’re under arrest.”
Chapter 29 Master of Puppets
When they reached the Rosewood police station, the cop undid Aria’s cuffs and showed her into a dark interrogation room. “We’ll be back for you later.”
Aria stumbled inside, her hip banging against the sharp edge of a wooden table. Slowly, her eyes adjusted. The room was small and windowless and reeked of sweat. Four chairs surrounded the table. Aria dropped into one of them and started to cry silently.
The door squeaked, and someone else staggered into the room. It was a girl with long, auburn hair and thin legs. She wore a pair of black yoga pants, a long-sleeved striped T-shirt, and gold flats. Aria shot to her feet.
“Hanna?” she cried.
Hanna slowly raised her head. “Oh,” she said in a numb, subdued voice. “Hi.” Her eyes were glazed over. There was a small cut near her mouth. Her eyes darted to and fro.
“What are you doing here?” Aria gasped.
Hanna’s lips parted slowly. A sarcastic smile flickered across her face. “Same reason you are. Apparently we were part of some conspiracy to kill Ali. We helped Ian escape and obstructed justice.”
Aria clutched the sides of her head. Could this really be happening? How could the cops believe such a thing?
Before she could answer, the door opened again. Two more people were thrust inside. Spencer wore a green sheath and tall black heels, while Emily had on a prairie dress, thin leather shoes, and a small white skullcap. Aria gaped at them in astonishment. They stared back. For a moment, everyone was speechless.
“They think we did it,” Emily whispered, walking to the table. “They think we killed Ali.”
“The cops found out about Ian’s IMs,” Spencer admitted. “I talked to him online earlier today. And they thought . . . well, they thought we were conspiring together. But, guys . . . I’m not sure it is Ian we were talking to. I think it’s A.”
“But you swore it was Ian!” Aria spouted.
“I thought it was,” Spencer said defensively. “But now I’m not sure.” She pointed at Aria. “The cops said they know about Ian’s ring. Did you give it to them?”
“No!” Aria cried. “But maybe I should have. They thought I was keeping this huge secret.”
“How could they have known about Ian’s ring?” Hanna wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on a black stain on the linoleum floor.
“Jason DiLaurentis was at the cemetery,” Aria said. “The cop said he told them, but Jason claimed he didn’t. I don’t know what to think. I have no idea how Jason could’ve known about the ring.” She thought of the other thing Jason said after Aria exposed that he’d been a mental patient. You’ve got it all wrong. What did she have wrong?
“Maybe Wilden told him,” Hanna whispered. “He could have heard us talking at the hospital. He was outside the room.”
Aria slumped in her chair and watched as a spider climbed industriously up the gray cinder-block wall. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Spencer piped up. “Wilden’s a cop. He wouldn’t tell Jason—he’d just handle it on his own.”
“And why would Wilden wait days to ambush me?” Aria added. “Besides, I thought Wilden was on our side.”
Emily snorted. “Right.”
Aria glanced at Emily, really taking in her bizarre outfit. “What on earth are you wearing?”
Emily bit her chapped lip. “A sent me to an Amish commune and then told me to get the DNA report from the evidence room.” Her green eyes were wide. “Some cop found me before I could get inside.”
Aria squeezed her eyes shut. No wonder the cops thought they were guilty. They probably figured Emily was tampering with evidence.
“But, guys, Wilden is lying about the DNA of the body in the hole,” Emily went on. “It’s not Ali—it’s an Amish girl named Leah Zook.”
Spencer’s mouth fell open. “You still think Ali is alive?”
“I saw her,” Emily said, shrinking against the wall. “I know it sounds crazy, but I did, Spencer. I can’t let this go. I tried to tell the cops, but they wouldn’t listen.”
Spencer snorted. “Of course they didn’t listen.”
Aria wrinkled her nose. “Emily, it was definitely Ali in that hole. Ali killed herself. That’s what A helped me to figure out.”
Spencer whirled around and stared at Aria. “Is this what the psychic told you?”
“It might be true,” Aria protested. “It’s as good a theory as anything else.”
“No, a crazy girl named Iris killed Ali,” Hanna inserted loudly, trying to smooth her tangles. “A sent me right to her.”
Then everyone looked at Spencer, waiting to see what her theory was. There were goose bumps on Spencer’s arms. “A told me my mom killed Ali because . . . well, because my dad had an affair with Ali’s mom. Ali’s my sister.”
“What?” Aria gasped. Emily just stared. Hanna looked disgusted, like she might throw up into the dented metal trash can in the corner.
“But my mom didn’t do it,” Spencer explained. “She didn’t even know about the affair. I probably ruined my parents’ marriage. A was just . . . messing with me. I think A messed with all of us.”
Everyone stiffened. The realization hit Aria like a heavy boxing glove to her temple. A had messed with all of them. A was behind all of this. Jason hadn’t told the cops about Ian’s ring—A had. Maybe A had even plante
d it in the woods so Aria would find it. A had sent Emily to look for the DNA report in the evidence room, only to report her to the on-duty cop. A told the police about Ian’s IMs, too, making it look like they’d conspired with him.
A had been toying with them all along, pulling all the strings. And now they were in jail for a murder they didn’t commit.
Aria gazed around at the others. By the stunned looks on their faces, it seemed like they’d just come to the same conclusion. “A’s our worst enemy,” she whispered. She patted her pocket, reaching for her cell phone. Surely A had sent them a group text to show just how gullible and stupid they all were. Gotcha! it probably said. Or, Who’s laughing now!
But then Aria remembered—the cops had confiscated all their phones. If A had sent them a message, they wouldn’t get it.
Chapter 30 Free at Last
About thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the holding-cell doors. All the girls jumped. Emily’s heart catapulted to her throat. This was it. They were going to be interrogated . . . and then they were going to jail.
A woman police officer peered into the room. There were purple circles under her eyes and a coffee stain on the chest of her uniform shirt. “Get your things, girls. You’re being released.”
Everyone fell silent, stunned. Then Emily collapsed with relief. “Really?”
“Did you find A?” Aria asked.
“What happened?” Hanna said at the same time.
The cop’s expression was stony. “All charges against you are dropped.” But there was an uncomfortable look on her face, like there was something else she wanted to say. “Let’s just say circumstances have changed.”
Emily followed the others out of the room, working the words over in her mind. Circumstances have changed? That could mean only one thing. Her heart leapt.
“That body in the hole wasn’t Ali’s, right?” she cried. “You found her!” So they had been listening when she told them that Wilden was a murderer!
Spencer nudged Emily’s ribs. “Would you shut up about that?”
“No,” Emily snapped. A might have sent them to jail, but Emily’s theory was still right. She knew it at the bottom of her heart. She turned back to the cop, who was walking briskly down the hall. “Is Ali okay? Is she safe?”
“You girls are going home,” the cop answered. Her keys jingled on her belt. “That’s all I can tell you.”
They received their personal items from another officer at the front desk. Emily immediately checked her phone, thinking that perhaps Ali had texted, but there were no new messages. Not even a derisive note from A, laughing that Emily had walked right into the trap.
The female cop hit a buzzer, and double doors opened to the parking lot. It was crammed with police cars and news vans. Emily hadn’t seen so much commotion since the fire in the woods.
“Emily,” a voice said.
Darren Wilden ran at them from across the dark parking lot, his quilted police jacket flapping open. “Good. They let you out. I’m sorry about this.”
Emily recoiled, her heart jumping to her throat. Why was Wilden here? Shouldn’t he be arrested?
“What’s going on?” Aria demanded, stopping near an empty patrol car. “Why did they suddenly set us free?”
Wilden guided them away from the crowd, not answering. “Just be glad you’re out of this mess. We’re getting guys to escort you home.”
Emily planted her feet. “I know what you did,” she said in a low voice. “And I’m going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”
Wilden swiveled around, staring at her. His walkie-talkie made a noise, but he ignored it. Finally, he sighed. “What you think you know isn’t true, Emily. I know you went to Lancaster. And I know what you were led to believe. But I didn’t hurt Leah. I’d never do that.”
The blood drained from Emily’s head. “What? How do you know where I was?”
Wilden stared at the glowing parking space lines in the lot. “You guys were right about your new A. I should have listened.”
Aria stomped her foot. “Oh, now you believe us? Why couldn’t you have listened last week, maybe before we were almost fried alive in a forest fire?”
“And before A sent me to the Preserve at Addison-Stevens!” Hanna wailed. “I was locked up with crazy people!”
Emily shot up. The Preserve at Addison-Stevens. That name was in Ali’s evidence file. It was a mental hospital?
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you guys,” Wilden was saying, striding past a chain-link fence. Behind it were unused police vehicles and a large white school bus. “It was a mistake. But we know everything now. We have all the notes he sent you.”
The girls stopped dead. “He?” Spencer squeaked.
“Who is he?” Hanna whispered. “Ian?”
Just then, another police car wailed into the lot. Policemen ran over and started to pull someone out of the backseat. There were shouts, and then a kicking leg, then a flash of teeth. The cops finally managed to get whoever it was out of the car and began marching him toward the station. When there was a break in action, Emily saw a tall, lanky man with greasy blond hair and a moustache. Her stomach curdled.
There was a worried crinkle between Spencer’s eyes. “Why does he look familiar?” she murmured.
“I don’t know,” Emily whispered, her mind frantically searching.
Members of the press rushed to the cops and started snapping pictures. “How long have you been planning this, Mr. Ford?” they screamed. “What made you do it?” And finally, rising above the rest, “Why did you kill Alison?”
Aria grabbed Emily’s hand hard. Emily’s knees went weak. “What did they say?”
“He killed Alison,” Spencer murmured. “That guy killed Alison.”
“But who is he?” Hanna blurted.
“Come on,” Wilden said gruffly, shoving them away. “You shouldn’t see this.”
None of the girls could move. The man’s untied shoelace dragged along the pavement as the cops shoved him toward the station. His head was hung low, exposing a bald patch. Emily raked her nails up the side of her arms. Ali was . . . dead? What about Leah? What about the girl Emily had seen in the woods?
The reporters kept screaming, their voices blurring incoherently. Then one reporter shouted louder than the others. “And what about the body that was just found? Are you responsible for that murder, too?”
Hanna turned to Wilden. “Another murder?”
“Oh my God.” Emily’s insides turned to mush.
“Girls,” Wilden said sternly. “Come on.”
By now, Ali’s alleged killer was at the front steps, only twenty or so feet away from Emily. He noticed Emily and smiled lewdly, revealing a gold front tooth.
Electricity crackled in Emily’s veins. She knew that smile. Nearly four years ago, workers began pouring concrete into the hole in the DiLaurentises’ backyard the day after Ali went missing. Wilden had been there . . . but so had a lot of other guys, too. After Mrs. DiLaurentis interrogated them, Emily cut through Ali’s backyard to the woods. One of the workers turned and leered at her. He’d been tall and lanky, and when he smiled, he’d had that same horrible gold front tooth.
Emily turned to Spencer, aghast. “That guy was one of the workers who filled in the gazebo hole the day after Ali went missing. I remember him.”
Spencer was very pale. “I saw him a few days ago. On my street.”
Chapter 31 The Very Good and the Very Evil
Four junior Rosewood cops arrived to escort Spencer and the others home. Spencer climbed into the back of the cruiser that would drive her back, choking on the smell of fake car leather, vomit, and sweat. A dark-haired cop slid into the front seat, started the engine, and pulled to the exit.
Out the window, the press was clamoring at the police station door, eager for another glimpse of the killer. Spencer stared hard at the windows in front of the police station. All the blinds were shut tight. Could that guy really have done it? He was such a stranger, an
outsider. It seemed so out of the blue.
She wrapped her fingers around the metal cage separating the front seat from the back. “Who else did that guy kill?” she called. The cop didn’t answer. “How did you find out he killed Ali?” she tried. He merely turned up his CB radio. Frustrated, Spencer kicked the back of his seat hard. “Are you deaf?”
The cop gave her a chilling glare in the rearview mirror. “My orders are to bring you home. That’s all.”
Spencer let out a small whimper. She wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to go home. What kind of state would her house be in right now? Was her dad still there? Had he fled to be with Mrs. DiLaurentis?
It was all so surreal and unthinkable. Spencer was certain that within minutes, she’d wake up in her bed, discovering it was just a dream. But another minute passed. And another, and she was still here, living her worst nightmare.
All of a sudden, she realized something. When her mother begged her dad to admit the truth, he’d blurted, I didn’t know about the kids until later. He’d said kids, not kid. Was that a mistake . . . or a slip? Was Jason her father’s child—and Spencer’s half brother—too?
They passed downtown Rosewood, a quaint, brick-paved shopping district full of chic furniture stores, antique shops, and homemade-ice cream parlors. Spencer plunged her hand into her gold Kate Spade satchel and found her Sidekick at the bottom. Amazingly, there were no new texts from A. She called her house. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. Then, she typed CNN’s Web address on the keypad. Officer Tight Lips might not tell her anything, but the news would.
Sure enough, the top story was about how there had been a new arrest in the Alison DiLaurentis murder case. Pretty Little Liars Exonerated, the subhead added. Spencer quickly clicked on a live video feed. A dark-haired reporter was standing in front of the Ali shrine, the collection of photos, candles, flowers, and stuffed animals on the curb of the DiLaurentises’ old house. Police lights blinked behind her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying.