“This place is nicer than the Kahns’,” Aria mumbled, eyeing a massive stone waterfall and three large Grecian statues of buxom naked women.
Something cracked behind Hanna, and she turned and peered at the sky. Tree branches swayed. Something shifted in the woods. The hair rose on the back of her arms. Once again, she thought of that chalk message on the sidewalk outside the studio. BreAk a leg, Hanna.
“You guys . . . ,” she started nervously.
Emily was marching beyond the pool, seemingly impervious to danger. Hanna scurried after her, watching as Emily walked purposefully down a small path, pushing branches aside and stepping over thick roots. In moments, they were facing a square, two-story building hidden in the woods. Half-rotted barn-style doors sealed off the front. Cobwebs dominated the porch. Most of the windows were covered. Dead leaves and broken branches blanketed the roof, and one of the shutters flapped noisily.
“What is this place?” Aria said breathily, staring up at the eroded roof.
“A pool house, maybe,” Spencer said. “Or maybe some sort of work shed.”
“You can barely find it,” Emily remarked. Her eyes were suddenly bright. “Ali might not be ballsy enough to stay in the main house. But what about here?”
The prickly feeling on Hanna’s skin had intensified. This did feel like somewhere Ali might hide. She turned toward the sound coming from the woods again. Someone could be in there, watching them as they discovered this.
Before anyone could stop her, Emily leapt up the stairs and peered into a small part of the window that wasn’t covered in cardboard. “I can’t see anything,” she said. She moved to the door and tried the knob.
“Em, don’t!” Aria screeched, covering her eyes. Hanna leapt forward to grab her hand.
But Emily shrugged Hanna off and jiggled the knob roughly. It turned, and the door swung open into the room. Hanna winced and jolted back, afraid an explosion would go off. Or, even worse, Ali would appear.
But there was only silence.
Everyone waited a beat. Spencer coughed. Aria peeked between her fingers. Hanna gazed into the dark space, unable to make out anything.
Emily squared her shoulders. “I’m going in.”
Spencer groaned and scampered behind her. Aria was next. Hanna scrambled up the porch steps, definitely not hanging outside alone. As she crossed the threshold, the wind shifted, wafting a familiar smell into her nostrils. Her heart stopped. Aria turned around and stared at her. Her eyes were wide, too.
“Vanilla,” Aria whispered.
“See?” Emily hissed.
Emily pulled a flashlight out of her backpack and flicked it on. Hanna cringed again, terrified at what they might see, but the room was mostly empty. Huge silken spiderwebs spanned the corners, many of them peppered with trapped, dead insects. At the far end of the room stood a small counter, a sink, and a rusted refrigerator whose smell Hanna could only imagine. A small table sat by the counter, its matching chair missing a leg. Underneath the table was a pile of dead leaves. Another room shot off to the left, and there was a narrow door at the right. Stairs led to a second level.
No one moved except for Emily, who rushed over to the counter and opened the single cabinet and drawer. Both of them stuck a little, probably warped shut. Then she opened the fridge—empty—and felt around the windowsills and tried the water tap—it didn’t work. Hanna peeked in the second room, using her phone as a light. Inside was nothing but an old bureau. She knew she should look in the drawers, but she was too scared. We should leave, a voice kept hammering inside her. This isn’t right.
Emily opened the narrow door and gagged; a filthy toilet and a rusted sink stood behind it. After opening the single cabinet, she shut the door again and darted up the stairs. Hanna heard her footsteps; before anyone could follow her, she was back down. She held something between her fingers. “Look.”
She shone the flashlight on a plastic wrapper. It was a bag of Rold Gold pretzels. “Remember how Ali ate these the day of the DiLaurentises’ press conference?” Emily asked excitedly, almost hysterically. “You know, when they announced that Ali had a twin?”
Hanna would never forget that bizarre day. Courtney—really Ali—had appeared on a stage outside the DiLaurentises’ new house, and the family had explained that they’d brought Courtney home from the hospital to help her heal. Lies, all lies. If only they hadn’t set her free. None of this would have happened.
After the press asked questions, Ali summoned the others inside—it had been the beginning of her plot to win them over, make them think she was their old friend. They’d sat around the kitchen table, and Ali had eaten pretzel after pretzel, her crunches the only sound in the room. I promise I won’t bite, she’d said with a spooky, knowing smile on her face.
Now Aria cocked her head. “A lot of people like pretzels, though. And Rold Gold is a common brand.”