“I don’t know.” Emily placed her hands on her hips. “But she did.”
“Maybe she thought you were the least likely to tell on her,” Spencer suggested.
“Well, she was wrong.” Emily pulled out her phone. They gathered around and listened to the voicemail. When Aria heard the high-pitched giggle, a shiver wriggled up her spine.
“I can’t believe it,” Hanna murmured, turning pale. “Do you think she meant to call you, or did so by accident?”
Emily shut her eyes. “I have no idea.”
“Should we send this to Fuji?” Aria asked after a beat.
Spencer snorted. “She’ll think we made it up. It probably comes from our phones for all we know.”
Aria looked at Emily. “Play it again.”
Emily did as she was told. Aria listened once more as that familiar laugh twirled through the air. “It sounds like she’s in a crowd, don’t you think?”
“And there’s some sort of announcement,” Hanna pointed out. “I can’t tell what the guy’s saying, though.”
“I know, I heard that, too,” Emily said. “If we were able to isolate that part of the message, maybe we could track where Ali was when she called. Maybe it’s somewhere she hangs out a lot.”
“Or maybe it’s another trap,” Aria said sourly.
Hanna glowered at her. “Do you have a better idea?”
“I’m sorry.” Aria threw up her hands. “But even if the message did have a clue, what can we do about it? It’s not like we can stroll into Rosewood PD and say, Hey, can we borrow your forensic equipment?”
Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I know someone who might know how to use that stuff—and help us.”
Emily cocked her head. “Who?”
“My sister and Wilden.”
Hanna burst out laughing. “Melissa? Seriously?”
“She offered her services. And think about it—of course Melissa wants Ali dead.” Spencer crossed her arms over her chest. “We can take SEPTA into the city. It’s so late—no one will notice us on the train. The worst thing that happens is Melissa slams the door in our faces . . . or calls the cops.”
Aria stared blankly at Wawa, considering this. The wind gusted, sending the sweet smell of the convenience store’s homemade donuts into her nostrils. “I’m in if you guys are in.”
“Me, too,” Hanna said.
“Me, three,” Emily said, her eyes blazing. “Let’s go.”
25
SOUND BITES
“Uh, hello?” Melissa Hastings said as she opened the red door of her Victorian town house on Rittenhouse Square for Spencer and the others. It was almost midnight, and she had lavender-smelling night cream all over her face and was dressed in a frayed Rosewood Day Debate Team T-shirt and boxers printed with mini golden retrievers. Spencer had a feeling they were Wilden’s.
“Can we come in?” she asked her sister. “It’s important.”
Melissa glanced at the other girls on the porch, then nodded solidly. “Come on.”
She directed them into the house, asking them to drop their things and leave their shoes in a small coatroom off the vestibule. They walked into the living room, which was a calming yellow and had gleaming walnut floors. The furniture, knickknacks, and throw rugs matched perfectly. The room seemed familiar, and Spencer suddenly knew why. It was decorated exactly like her house in Rosewood. The TV in the living room was tuned to CNN. As usual, the reporters were talking about Tabitha’s murder. Liars’ Arraignment in Seven Days, read the banner at the bottom of the screen. Even the crawl was all about it. Melissa switched it off.
“Spencer? Hanna?” Wilden appeared at the top of the stairs, also dressed in boxers and a T-shirt. He looked nervous.
Spencer sucked in her stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea—Melissa was their ally, but was Wilden?
Melissa stepped forward. “Darren, we need to help them.”
Wilden sighed and walked down to the first floor. His expression was cautious but also curious. Emily reached into her pocket and handed him her phone. “There’s a voicemail I want you to check out. I’m almost positive it’s Ali.”
“Do you have any sort of equipment that might be able to amplify a part of the recording?” Spencer asked. “We might be able to figure out where she was calling from.”
“Or even isolate her voice to prove that it is her,” Emily added. “The cops don’t believe she’s still alive. We have to make them understand.”
Wilden narrowed his green eyes. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Darren, please.” Melissa sidled up next to him. “This is my sister.”
Spencer swallowed a lump in her throat. It felt so good to hear Melissa say that.
Wilden glanced from one girl to the next. “All right,” he said, after a moment, then took Emily’s phone and sat down on the couch. “When I worked for Rosewood PD, we used a program we accessed on our intranet—all you needed was a digital file of the recording. If the pass codes to the intranet haven’t changed, I should be able to get into the system.”