“Yeah.” Aria stared blankly out the window at the birdhouse her mom had carved last year. “It means we can go to the police right this second and not worry about being in trouble. Even if A brings up Jamaica, we still wouldn’t be punished in the same way we would have been if the painting was a real Van Gogh.” She cleared her throat, feeling a pull in her chest. “Not that I want to go to the police.” She couldn’t bear the thought of the police going after Noel. Or maybe she could. She didn’t know.
“Well, actually, I think A has forced our hand. I got this note at the burn clinic about some critical evidence that will put all of this to rest. I think it was from Ali.”
“What?” Aria’s skin prickled. “How?”
“I’ll explain everything when I see you. You have to meet me at the storage shed behind Rosewood Day. Maybe she’s there.”
Aria gripped the doorjamb. “Oh my God. What if it’s a trap?”
“That’s why I called the cops to come with us. And before you freak out, Aria, I had to. This has gone too far. If Ali’s there, if we can catch her, we have to have the police involved. Meet me there in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Aria whispered, hitting END. She stood in her silent house for a few moments, staring at the dust motes in the air. Too much had happened in the last few minutes for her to handle. She knew she had to meet Hanna . . . but what if Ali was there and Noel was with her? What if the police arrested Noel, too? Then again, maybe that was what Aria wanted. He’d lied to her for over a year. He’d never loved her. Right?
She grabbed her keys from the hook in the hall, a heavy weight crushing her chest. She just couldn’t hate him, even after all this. She could only hope that whatever happened, it would be like pulling off a Band-Aid—fast, and painless.
Aria left the radio off on the drive over and kept the window cracked. Her gaze darted back and forth from one side of the road to the other, hoping—fearing—she might see Noel there. Finally, she turned into the Rosewood Day parking lot. There were only a few cars in the spaces; the boys’ soccer team had Sunday practice. Aria spotted Hanna’s Prius in the back and headed for it. Emily’s Volvo and Spencer’s Mercedes were there, too. Spencer and Emily were wearing sweats and sneakers, and Hanna had on pink scrubs and clogs from the burn clinic. As far as Aria could tell, the cops hadn’t arrived yet.
“Here’s the note.” Hanna shoved it at Aria when she reached their circle.
Aria looked down and recognized the tiny, even letters immediately. It was the same handwriting from the hateful letter Ali had slid under the bedroom door in the Poconos, just before she’d lit that match. The answer you want is in the Rosewood Day storage shed. . . . Go there NOW . . . before it’s too late.
“Jesus,” Aria whispered. “She has to know that we’d recognize her handwriting. And now we’re just going to go and do exactly what she wants?”
“We still have to check it out, don’t you think?” Hanna asked. “The police will be here any minute.”
Spencer peeked at the note again. “How did you get this, anyway?”
“From this patient I met at the burn clinic.” Hanna paused for a moment, peering over the hill. Sirens began to wail. A police car appeared over the crest. Aria’s stomach twisted.
Hanna turned back to the girls and explained about the body the cops had found behind the hospital. “Her hospital bracelet said Kyla Kennedy,” she whispered hurriedly. “I think Ali killed her, then became her. The girl I met was completely covered in bandages.”
Spencer collapsed against the hood of Hanna’s car. “It totally sounds like Ali. Who else would murder a burn victim and swap places with her?”
Hanna nodded, looking tormented. “Kyla’s bed was outside Graham’s room. And when Graham was spasming, Kyla sent me in the wrong direction to get a nurse. When I came back, he was dead.”
“So she was keeping an eye on Graham, making sure he didn’t say anything?” Aria whispered.
“I can’t believe I didn’t suspect it sooner. I thought I would have been able to spot Ali from a mile away,” Hanna said, choking back tears. “Kyla was just so . . . cool. Now I feel like an idiot . . . again.”
“If she had bandages all over her,” Spencer said, “it would have been easy to fool anyone.”
Suddenly, Aria realized something. “You guys, if it was Ali at the burn clinic . . .”
“ . . . then that explains why Noel was there, too,” Emily finished for her.
By this time, the cop car had pulled into the parking lot, and two officers Aria vaguely recognized from Ali’s trial walked over to them. Their name badges read COATES and HARRISON.
“Hanna Marin,” Harrison, the taller one, who had a broad face, a flat nose, and long eyelashes framing his green eyes, said gruffly. “You said you got a threatening letter?”
“Yes.” With shaking hands, Hanna passed it to them.
Coates and Harrison scanned it, then frowned. “Proof you need?” Coates, who was shorter and wirier and had a jutting Adam’s apple, repeated. “What is this all about?”