She glanced at her phone again, wondering if it was from Ms. Bloom—she’d said she was going to follow up with an email. But it was a Google Alert for “Ashland, PA.”
She shot up and looked closer. Google didn’t link to the pool house story. Instead, a headline read YOUNG MAN FOUND DEAD BEHIND ASHLAND’S TURKEY HILL MINI-MART.
With shaking hands, Spencer opened the link to a website for the Ashland Herald: OFFICIALS FOUND THE BODY OF A YOUNG MAN FACEDOWN AT THE CREEK BED BEHIND THE TURKEY HILL MINI-MART IN SOUTHWEST ASHLAND EARLY THIS MORNING AFTER GETTING A 911 CALL FROM A MAN WALKING HIS DOG. POLICE DESCRIBED THE MAN AS DARK-HAIRED AND DRESSED IN A JACKET, A SHIRT AND TIE, AND WINGTIP SHOES, AND WITH A TATTOO OF A BIRD ON THE BACK OF HIS HAND. A DRIVER’S LICENSE WAS FOUND ON HIM, BUT FAMILY MEMBERS HAVE NOT BEEN REACHED TO IDENTIFY THE BODY. CAUSE OF DEATH IS UNCLEAR.
Spencer was so horrified she threw the phone across the room. A shirt and tie. Wingtips. A tattoo of a bird on the back of his hand. It was Greg.
She stood and paced around the room.
What had happened after he left Spencer? Maybe he’d wanted to see Ali in person, finally—and he knew where she’d be. After all, he’d said he was in love with her.
Spencer stopped in her tracks, realizing something huge. Maybe it was Greg’s blood all over that pool house. It totally made sense. Ali had killed him because Greg had broken a cardinal Ali Cat rule.
Never kiss and tell.
35
THE MASTER PLAN
That morning, Emily sat in her bedroom, the box of Jordan’s possessions in front of her on the mattress. She ran her hands over its smooth cardboard sides, then thought about what she was about to do. After she looked at whatever was inside, she was going to tape the box back up and bury it in the backyard. It was just like how she and her friends had buried things that reminded them of Their Ali.
It wasn’t that Emily wanted to forget Jordan—not at all. There would be a real funeral for Jordan next week, in New Jersey, and Emily planned on attending. But the funeral would be strange and impersonal: Other people would be at the pulpit, giving speeches about who they thought Jordan was. None of Jordan’s family would know Emily; none of them had any idea what Emily and Jordan meant to each other. Emily would merely be another mourner, a stranger. She needed a way to honor Jordan in her own way, right here, all alone, just her. Burying the box just seemed right.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lid and removed the Bubble Wrap. A carefully folded T-shirt was on top, followed by a pair of jeans. Emily pulled them out and felt a whoosh of pain, for they still smelled like Jordan, even though it was clear they’d been washed. She pressed them to her nose, inhaling again and again. The fabric felt so soft against her skin, as soft as Jordan had been. She ran her fingers along the hem of the jeans, the button at the waist. It was almost too much to handle.
But she kept going. Underneath the jeans, she found the earrings she feared she’d see, little diamond studs Jordan had worn since the first day Emily met her. They were in a plastic Baggie, and Emily was too choked up to even take them out. Below that was a small pouch containing some money, a key card to a Marriott hotel, and a receipt from McDonald’s for a six-piece chicken nugget meal and a small Diet Coke.
But it was what was at the very bottom of the box that made her heart stop. There, folded several times, the creases worn, the paper wrinkled as though it had been through the washer a few times, was a drawing Emily had given to Jordan when they were on the cruise. She’d done it on cruise ship stationery, penning a picture of herself and Jordan as stick figures, standing on a boat and holding hands. Our trip, she’d written, and then she’d described, in words and pictures, their adventures on the zip line, and the long walk they’d taken on the secluded beach, and the time they’d stolen the boat in Puerto Rico for a joyride around the harbor. Emily had drawn herself and Jordan kissing—their first kiss—adding Amazing! and drawing a little heart around the two of them in red pen.
Emily’s eyes welled. The little drawing had survived the dive into the harbor. It had survived Jordan’s travels south and all her hiding spots. And there was something else, too: a second heart around the red one, a newer one drawn in blue. Jordan must have drawn it after she’d escaped off the boat—the ink didn’t seem as faded. Which meant that even after Jordan thought Emily had betrayed her, she’d drawn the heart and carried the drawing with her anyway, not throwing it out. Maybe she, like Emily, knew that someday they’d work everything out.