Hanna nodded. “Seeing it makes it so real.”
Emily glanced at the signature once more, then looked down the Preserve’s joyless, spic-and-span hallway. What must it have been like for Real Ali here with no one believing she was who she said she was for close to four long, miserable years? Ali must have burned with hatred for her sister for making the switch. She must have seethed with rage at Emily, Aria, Spencer, and Hanna for being at the wrong place at the right time, too. While inside these walls, she’d plotted her return, orchestrated her sister’s murder, laid out her plans as A, and even masterminded the Poconos fire.
And, if Emily’s gut feeling was right, she was still out there. Alive.
Emily turned to her three old best friends, wondering if she should tell them the secret she’d kept for over a year now. If they were going to start off on the right foot and really be close again, it had to come out sometime, right?
But then Hanna sighed and pushed out the exit door at the end of the corridor. Spencer followed, then Aria. Emily took one last look at the inside of the facility. A faint, high-pitched giggle echoed in her ears. She jumped, whirling around. But, of course, no one was there.
The girls walked across the lawn toward the parking lot. A gardener was on his hands and knees, cleaning out dried grass from one of the flower beds. A Pennsylvania state flag flapped on a pole, making a snapping noise in the wind. For the first time in a while, as they all walked quietly in a line, Emily didn’t feel awkward around her old friends. Instead, she felt comfortable. She cleared her throat. “Maybe we could hang out a little later this week,” she said softly. “Get coffee or something.”
Aria looked up. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Hanna said. Spencer smiled and bumped Emily’s hip. A warm sense of satisfaction fell over Emily like a thick blanket. At least one good thing had come out of this. She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d missed her old friends.
They passed a wrought-iron bench by the flagpole. It must have been newly installed; the cement base looked freshly poured. A shiny copper plaque lay in front of the bench, a bouquet of lilies next to it. Emily glanced at the plaque idly, her eyes sweeping over the letters but not really taking them in. Then, she stopped short and read them again. “You guys.”
The other girls, now a few paces ahead, doubled back. Emily pointed at the sign on the ground.
Everyone stared at the newly chiseled letters. THIS BENCH IS DEDICATED TO TABITHA CLARK, FORMER PRESERVE AT ADDISON-STEVENS PATIENT. REST IN PEACE. Her birth and death years were inscribed below the message. They were the same years as Real Ali’s.
“Oh my God,” Spencer whispered. Aria clapped her hand over her mouth. Hanna took a wheeling step backward.
“Tabitha was here?” Spencer said.
“Why didn’t this ever come up in the news articles?” Aria shook her head.
Emily looked around at the others, making a chilling connection. “Do you think she knew . . . Ali?”
Everyone exchanged a horrified glance. The wind kicked up, brushing a smattering of dead, dry leaves across Tabitha’s name. Then Aria’s cell phone let out a beep. Seconds later, Spencer’s phone, tucked deep in her bag, chimed. Hanna’s phone made a snake-hiss sound, and Emily’s phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump.
Emily knew who the note was from without having to look. She gazed at her friends, confused. “You guys, Kelsey can’t make calls from inside the Preserve. She has no cell phone.”
“So . . .” Hanna stared at the phone. “Who wrote this?”
With shaking hands, Emily pressed READ. And then she shut her eyes, realizing this wasn’t over. Not even close.
Dig all you want, bitches. But you’ll NEVER find me. —A
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT . . .
These pretty little liars just can’t help but be bad, and I can’t help but torture them. They call that a symbiotic relationship, right? Spencer would know—unless she was high during that class? Whoopsies!
Just when poor widdle Emily thought she’d made a new bestie, Kelsey went and nearly killed her. Still have a thing for bad girls, Em? Hanna thought she was Juliet in a star-crossed love. How romantic. Maybe she should have listened when I warned her how that one ended up. And Aria—oh, Aria. She fell into some old, bad habits. Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Fingers crossed she never learns her lesson.
I’d say these ladies need a vacation, but given what they did on their last getaway, that’s probably not the best idea. And besides, watching the drama unfold is like a holiday for moi!
Until next time, bitches.
Mwah!
—A
Acknowledgments