Hanna didn’t know what else to do except drive to Ashland. No one spoke as she steered up the silent suburban streets. Huge houses on the golf course whisked past, shimmering majestically in the setting sun. Then she turned past the studio lot where Burn It Down was being filmed. She felt another regretful twinge. She should be euphoric today—she’d scored a huge role in a movie. But without Mike to celebrate with, the whole thing felt . . . hollow.
The sky darkened as she turned onto the highway to Ashland. The drive felt strangely calm and peaceful, like a cloudless sky before a storm. Before long, the familiar Turkey Hill mini-mart swam into view. Hanna took the left that led to a smaller, twisty road. The dusk cast long shadows across the pavement. She spotted the red mailbox and signaled.
“Wait!” Emily cried, grabbing the wheel. “Maybe we should park on the street. We’ll attract less attention.”
“Good idea.” Hanna pulled about a quarter-mile down the road to a large spot on the shoulder. When she cut the engine, darkness enveloped them. It was a new moon, too; Hanna could hardly see a few inches in front of her face. She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight app. Aria did the same. Emily was still using hers to look at the cameras.
“Okay,” Hanna whispered, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The only sounds were their heels crunching unsteadily on the gravel and an occasional owl’s hoot from the woods. They reached the red mailbox and made the turn up the steep hill. Hanna cursed under her breath as her ankle twisted in a pothole. The Maxwells’ estate rose above them, its porch light lit.
“Come on,” Spencer said, forging ahead.
Hanna’s phone made a zigzagging beam across the side yard. The light bounced on the plastic pool cover, then reflected against the walls of the pool house. Emily held her arm across Hanna’s body to halt her. “That light wasn’t on before, was it?”
Sure enough, a single bulb burned on the second floor. Hanna’s heart pounded faster. Ali could be here. This could really be the end of it.
Holding hands, they made their way slowly toward the pool house. When they were about ten feet away, everyone hesitated. Spencer swallowed hard. “So do we go in, or what?”
Aria shifted her weight. Hanna was too afraid to move. Then Emily broke her grip and tiptoed onto the porch. She shifted her weight, a floorboard squeaking. Hanna winced, frightened that the loud sound might attract attention.
Emily eyes were wide as she peered through the window. Hanna’s heart banged hard. “What do you see?” she hissed. “Is someone in there?”
Emily looked at the others, a haunted expression on her face. “It’s not Ali,” she said in a wobbly voice that terrified Hanna. “But it’s something.”
30
CLEANUP JOB
Aria rushed to the window and peered through. At first, all she saw were long, dark shadows in an empty room. But as her eyes adjusted, she realized that the room was very different from when she’d last seen it—and not at all what was on the looped footage of the surveillance camera. There was another table inside. And a second chair, upturned. Newspapers scattered on the floor. A mop was propped against the wall, and a bucket sat next to it. And there was something on the floorboards. Something thick and viscous, seeping into the wood.
“I’m going in,” Emily insisted.
“No!” Hanna grabbed her sleeve. “What if she’s still in there?”
“I’m ready for her,” Emily said, pulling away. “And if she’s not, there still might be evidence inside. Something the cops could really use. All we need to do is find a hair or a fingerprint. Then we call them.”
Aria let out a note of protest. This felt really wrong. All she wanted, suddenly, was to be back at the Rosewood Rallies party. She hadn’t even told her dad she was leaving. And Harrison? After her kiss with Noel, she hadn’t been able to find him in the banquet room. She’d even asked Hanna, but Hanna had said she hadn’t noticed him leaving. Had Harrison somehow known about Noel? Had he heard the news about her fraudulent painting sale and bolted?
Spencer touched her arm. “Em’s right,” she said. “We’re here. We might as well go in.”
Emily turned the knob. It gave way easily, and the door swung open with a loud groan. The same pungent vanilla scent washed into her nostrils, turning Aria’s stomach. Did Ali bathe in the stuff?
They walked inside. Spencer felt around the wall and found a light switch, but none of the bulbs brightened. Aria teetered toward the table and stared at its wooden surface. It was covered with the same thick substance as the floor. Her nose twitched, filling with the smell of something sour and familiar. All at once, she knew what it was. She glanced at the others, seeing the horror of the realization reflected on their faces.
“Is that blood?” Aria cried.
“Oh my God.” Emily curled her hands into her chest as though afraid to touch it.
Hanna tiptoed into the small kitchen area. “There’s more blood here.”
“And here,” Spencer called out from a back closet.
“Whose blood is it?” Emily cried.
An ominous silence followed. It was clear everyone was thinking the same thing. Maybe a murder had happened here.