“Definitely.” Iris leaned against the tree trunk. “She even made plans. We weren’t allowed to watch TV at The Preserve, but we heard things. Even the nurses wanted to know what happened to poor Courtney DiLaurentis’s murdered sister. One had a portable radio, and we gathered near her office when the report came in that Ian Thomas had been arrested. Ali got this excited look on her face, and she kept glancing at her watch. My parents are coming, she kept saying. I just know it. They’re coming today. And then I’m going to Keppler Creek Park. We had no idea how she knew for sure that she was getting out.”
“I know how she knew,” Emily interjected. “Ali’s parents hid her away at The Preserve because they feared she had killed her sister—which, of course, she did. But when Ian was arrested, they thought they’d made a horrible mistake and immediately had her released.”
“That makes sense,” Iris said. “She seemed thrilled that Ian was arrested, too. At the time, I thought it was because she was glad someone had gotten caught, but maybe she was just glad that someone else had been pegged for something she did.”
“Wait a minute.” A brisk wind kicked up, blowing hair into Emily’s face. “You didn’t know Ali killed Courtney?”
Iris looked at her crazily. “No way.” She turned back to the tree, chipping away a piece of bark with her nail. “Anyway, her parents did show up that day, just like she predicted. As they were signing paperwork to check her out, Ali was packing up her stuff in our room. And she mentioned Keppler Creek again. She was like, This is awesome. I’m going to Keppler Creek as soon as I’m free. I’m going to see my best friend in the world. I can’t wait to see him.”
A chill whizzed up Emily’s spine. Him. “She was coming to meet a guy. Her boyfriend?”
“I think so.”
“So her boyfriend wasn’t a patient. He was on the outside.”
The corners of Iris’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Aren’t you clever? You’re right. It was someone on the outside. He used to visit her all the time. And I bet he carved this.”
She stepped away from the tree and pointed at something in the bark. There, etched into the wood, were the words I love Ali D in a heart. At the bottom was the date. It was November of last year, a few days after Ian had been arrested.
Emily’s breath caught, thinking of the time she’d carved Ali’s initials into a tree. If only whoever had cut this heart into the bark had added his initials, too, like Emily had. She touched the letters, then looked around for any video cameras on the nearby snack bar and bathroom structures. Unfortunately, there were none. Nothing had recorded Ali and whoever this person was meeting . . . but it had happened. I’m going to see my best friend in the world. Who? Had this guy transformed into Ali’s helper, the new A?
She grabbed Iris’s hand. “Please tell me his name.”
A torn look crossed Iris’s face. For a moment, she looked like she was going to tell, but then she yanked her arm away and started running toward the beach. “Hey, I know what we can do instead of take a boat out!” she called over her shoulder. “Skinny-dip!”
And at that, she started peeling off her clothes, first her T-shirt, then her shoes and socks, then her jeans, which were Emily’s. Her legs and arms looked so pale. The knobs of her spine stuck out prominently.
“Iris!” Emily protested, running after her toward the water, dodging the pile of clothes she’d left in her wake. “You’ll freeze!”
But Iris had already plunged into the lake. She surfaced and shrieked at the cold, then laughed. “C’mon, Emily!” she called out. “It’s a rush!”
Emily stared at Iris, then turned back and looked at the carving on the tree. It was a rush, finding out something new about Ali. And Iris’s admission suddenly made her feel charitable. Daring and invincible, too. She pulled her sweater over her head, kicked off her jeans, and waded into the frigid water after Iris, not caring that the fishermen were staring. There was a flicker in the trees, and Emily stopped, goose bumps rising on her bare stomach. Ali? The word froze solid as it left her lips.
But when she looked again, the forest was still. Whoever had been watching had vanished.
16
Meeting of the Minds
On Tuesday night, Spencer sat at the kitchen table with Amelia, their schoolbooks spread in front of them and the classical station on at low volume. Spencer liked doing her homework at the kitchen table. As it turned out, so did Amelia, meaning the kitchen had turned into a turf war.
An IM popped up on Spencer’s laptop. It was Chase. Hey there, Britney.
Spencer smiled. Chase’s nickname had grown on her. But she hesitated before replying. It was one thing to break the Internet rule on a super-safe connection, but A probably had been bugging her laptop for months.
She jumped up from the table and ran into her mother’s office, a carved-out nook behind the pantry. Mrs. Hastings’s computer was on a vegan recipe website. Spencer exited out of it, logged into her mother’s instant messenger screen name, RufusAndBeatrice—Mrs. Hastings liked to IM Spencer that dinner was ready and things like that. She found Chase’s screen name, friended him, and told him that it was Britney, just using her mom’s account instead of her own.