“Where is Aria?” Spencer asked worriedly.
Everyone scanned the room. Then Hanna strode toward a girl near the buffet. She wore a black tiered flapper gown and a 1920s hat, and she was holding Hanna’s prom queen scepter in her hand. A pin that read ROSEWOOD DAY ALUM was on her breast. She smiled when Hanna approached.
“Hey there, queen!” she trilled, offering the scepter back to Hanna. “I love how you made everyone else queen for a dance!”
Hanna grabbed the scepter, then frowned. “I did?”
“So innovative—I love it!” Ryan held up her hand for Hanna to high-five. “It’s too bad the decor chairwoman didn’t get pictures, though.”
Spencer and Emily exchanged a look. Aria was the decor chairwoman. “Do you know where she is?” Spencer demanded.
Ryan cocked her head. “Actually, I thought she was with Hanna. Didn’t you see her in the graveyard for your picture? She and the king left for there about fifteen minutes ago.”
Hanna’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t at the graveyard.”
“Oh.” Ryan looked confused. “I saw you leave, so that’s what I assumed.”
Spencer stiffened. “So Aria is at a dark graveyard with Noel . . . alone?”
Hanna swallowed hard. “Oh, God.”
Ryan’s eyes searched them. “What?”
Spencer wheeled around and ran for the lobby. The others followed. All sorts of terrible things swirled in Spencer’s mind. Aria was with Ali’s coconspirator right now, the very person who’d helped burn and ruin and kill. Ian’s lifeless body swam into her mind. That horrific fire in the woods. That twisted laugh they kept hearing high above the trees.
They spilled into the front drive of the hotel and stared out at the busy city street. Spencer turned to Hanna. “Do you know where this cemetery is?”
Hanna nodded shakily. “I-I think so. It’s about a ten-minute walk.”
“Then let’s go,” Spencer said, heading for the sidewalk. “I just hope we aren’t too late.”
30
Digging His Own Grave
Even though the Rittenhouse cemetery was off a busy section of the Ben Franklin Parkway, there was something about the way the buildings hemmed it in that made it seem like Aria and Noel were in the middle of the countryside. Twisted vines surrounded the small space. Centuries-old gravestones jutted out of the ground like crooked teeth. Mist swirled around a large stone statue of an angel. An old, rusted fence surrounded the whole place. A loud squeak sounded from the hinges when Noel and Aria opened and shut the wrought-iron gate.
Aria gazed at the names on the gravestones, then ran her fingers along a large stone cross. Her bracelet glittered in the dim light. She ran her fingers along the links again, and they tinkled together.
Noel came up behind her and snaked his arms through the crooks in her elbows, lacing them around her front. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Well . . .” Aria touched the top of an angel’s wing. A bit of her confidence had flagged since sitting at the bar. Was this place really private? It certainly wasn’t a panic room. What if A was listening?
But then she turned around and tried to focus. This would bring them together. And they could fight A as one. “You know I love you, right?” she began.
Noel’s eyes softened. “I hope you do. You’ve been acting so strangely.”
“Of course I do,” Aria breathed. “I’ve been acting strangely because I’ve been keeping things from you, though.” She spoke into her chest, too afraid to look Noel in the eye. “Big things. For your own good. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Noel nudged Aria’s chin back up so she would look at him. “Haven’t we gone over this? You can tell me anything. No matter how bad it is. No matter if it puts me in danger.” Then he stepped away. “Are you in danger?”
“I . . .” At that very moment, her new cell phone beeped. Aria peeked into her clutch at the message that had popped up on the screen. Get away from Noel! Spencer wrote in all caps. He was Ali’s secret boyfriend! We have definite proof!
Another text popped up from Emily: Noel visited Ali in the hospital. Iris knows it for a fact.
And then from Hanna: Graham just told me that Noel was the one who was watching you on the boat!
Aria clapped her hand over her mouth. No. It couldn’t be. There had to be an explanation.
“Aria?”
When she looked up, Noel was staring at her. His gaze drifted down to her open clutch, too. Aria snapped it shut, the breath leaving her lungs. Had he seen the texts?
She backed away, running into a grave marker. Noel stood where he was, his hands crossed over his chest, a weird smirk on his face. Or was it just the light? She closed her eyes tightly, trying to recenter herself. As much as she tried to purge the texts from her mind, to twist this into something innocent—a misunderstanding—a siren rang in her head again and again.