“That would be awesome,” Emily breathed.
Melissa scurried into a back room. The girls settled on the couch and waited. Melissa returned with a silver MacBook Air and a USB cord. Wilden lifted the lid and typed something on the keyboard. “I’m in.” He handed Emily the phone and the USB. “Plug this in, and then play the recording back for us.”
Emily did as she was told, accessing her voicemail and finding Ali’s saved message. There were the sounds of a lot of voices talking at once, all of their words muffled. Then Ali’s chilling laugh rang through the room. Everyone stiffened. She laughed for a good five seconds, and then the recording ended.
Melissa shut her eyes. “It’s totally her.” Even Wilden looked freaked out.
They played the message again. Melissa tilted her ear toward the phone. “It sounds like she’s in a crowd.”
“That’s what we thought, too.” Spencer glanced at the laptop. An audio program that broke down the voicemail into packets of information and sound waves was on the screen. Every time Ali laughed, a sound wave spiked. In the background, there was cheering and laughter. Someone made a garbled announcement over a megaphone, and a second wave peaked.
“Did you hear that?” Spencer pointed at the second wave. “We thought if we could punch up that announcement, we might be able to figure out where she’s calling from.”
Melissa, who had settled into the corner of the couch, hugged her knees to her chest. “I can’t believe she’s ballsy enough to call you from the middle of a crowd.”
“Unless she’s not in the crowd but near it,” Spencer said.
Wilden listened to the voicemail one more time, highlighted the second spiky sound wave, and clicked a button at the bottom of the screen. The background noise dimmed and the announcement got louder, but it wasn’t any clearer.
There was a scratching noise somewhere else in the house. Spencer shot up. “What’s that?”
Everyone fell silent. Hanna’s face was pale, and Emily didn’t move a muscle. Something rustled. There was a teeny, tiny creak. Aria clapped her hand over her mouth.
Melissa half rose from the couch and peered around. “This place is a hundred years old. It makes a lot of noise, especially when it’s windy.”
They listened for a few moments more. Silence. Wilden turned back to the computer. “Let me try something else,” he murmured, pressing a few more buttons.
The message played again. Melissa squinted hard. “It sounds like someone is saying Mo Mo through a bullhorn . . . and then the message gets cut off.”
Wilden hit PLAY over and over. Cheering. The loud feedback of a bullhorn. Mo, Mo. “Maybe they’re at a sports event,” Hanna suggested.
“And Ali’s hiding under the bleachers?” Spencer asked, giving Hanna a doubtful look.
Wilden punched more buttons. Then a message appeared on the screen. Unknown user, it flashed. Access denied. “Shit,” he said, sitting back. “I think they realized someone outside the force is using this. They kicked me out.”
Spencer leaned forward. “Can you go log back in under a different name?”
Wilden closed the laptop lid and shook his head. “I don’t think I should. I shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
Spencer looked from him to her sister. “Can’t you do anything else?”
Wilden’s eyes darted back and forth. “I’m sorry, girls.”
Tears filled Melissa’s eyes. “This just isn’t fair. You girls don’t deserve this. Alison shouldn’t get to win.”
“Have you talked to Dad? What are they saying about our chances?” Spencer asked. “Every time I ask Goddard or the other guys on the legal team, they sort of dance around the question. Do you think we’ll actually get shipped to Jamaica?”
Melissa glanced at Wilden. He turned away. When she looked back at Spencer, there were tears in her eyes. “Dad’s saying it’s looking pretty hopeless,” she whispered.
Spencer’s stomach plunged. She reached out and grabbed Aria’s hand. Emily laid her head on Hanna’s shoulder. Hopeless.
“What are we going to do?” Emily moaned.
Wilden cleared his throat. “Don’t do anything rash, girls. I’ve heard . . . rumors.”
Everyone exchanged another look. It wasn’t even worth asking—they all knew what the rumors were about: the suicide pact. Suddenly Spencer thought it didn’t really sound like that bad of an idea. What did she have left, after all?