She trudged to the auxiliary parking lot, where she’d left the Subaru. As she turned the corner, a red flashing light caught her eye. The familiar black-and-white pattern of a Rosewood police car stopped her cold. The police were waiting for her.
The ankle bracelet. She’d totally forgotten. The cops were meeting her here to place it on her ankle as well as collect her passport, driver’s license, and anything else that served as an ID. The police had wanted to do it yesterday, but Rosewood PD didn’t have bracelets on-hand and they needed some sort of court order in place. Aria had even heard they were going to put a GPS chip and a recording device on her cell phone. They would know where she was at all times, and hear every conversation she had.
Aria placed her hand on her bag, where her IDs were tucked into the leather side pocket. The idea of forfeiting her passport, with its extra pages for stamps, made her stomach suddenly swirl. Traveling defined her. And not having a passport made everything more, well, real. Without a license, without an ID, she was no longer Aria Montgomery. She was just a girl waiting to go to jail.
She thought about what she’d said to Noel in bed the other day. I wish I could just run away.
A tiny seedling of an idea took hold in her mind. No, Aria told herself. But it pressed on her again and again. It was so tempting—and it was one thing Ali probably would never count on. Emily had escaped Ali with death, but that wasn’t the only answer.
Could she?
“You okay?”
Aria whirled around. Noel, dressed in a dark suit, was shifting from foot to foot a few yards away. In the craziness of the past twenty-four hours, she’d only been able to talk to him on the phone. She hadn’t even known for sure he was coming. Now, she stepped back into the shadows and fell into him, her eyes filling with tears.
“I heard you fighting with Hanna and Spencer,” Noel murmured in her ear. “It seemed kind of . . . brutal.”
Aria lowered her shoulders. “It’s because the Fieldses didn’t want us here. They hate us. Everyone hates us.”
Noel patted her back. “I don’t hate you.”
Aria knew Noel meant that. She wanted more than anything just to stay here and hug him. But she also knew what she had to do this instant . . . and not a moment later.
She wiped away a tear. “I’m going to miss you.”
Noel cocked his head. “Aria. You’re not dead. And you’re not in jail yet.” His smile wobbled. “We still have to think positive.”
Aria stared at the ground. If only she could tell Noel she meant something else, but there was just no way.
He squeezed her hands. “We need to talk about what happened in New Jersey, too. Did you find Ali there? Are you afraid of something?”
“No. We didn’t find a thing.” She couldn’t look at him. “I have to go.”
Noel’s brow furrowed. “Go . . . where?”
But she was already walking away. “I love you,” she blurted before darting around the corner. “Tell my parents not to worry about me. Tell them I’ll be fine.”
“Aria!” Noel called out. But Aria kept running as fast as she could. And when she glanced over her shoulder after climbing the hill that led to the next street over, Noel wasn’t following.
She pushed through a thicket of trees and exploded into someone’s backyard, darting around a swing set and a sandbox. The SEPTA station was at the end of the road, and she reached it quickly, stumbling down the hill. The neon sign above the train tracks said the next train into Philly was due in two minutes. Aria looked nervously toward the street, terrified that the police would roar up any second. Surely all the funeral-goers had emptied out by now. Surely they’d figure out soon enough that she’d given them the slip.
But no cars had arrived when the train roared into the station. Aria glanced over her shoulder once more, then clambered up the metal stairs. The train pulled away noisily, the car rocking on the rails.
“Ahem.”
She let out a little yelp. The conductor had appeared from out of nowhere, looming over her. “Where to?” he asked in a bored voice.
Aria swallowed hard. “The airport,” she said, handing over a ten. “K-keep the change.”
The conductor took it, then passed on, keys jingling at his waist. Aria let out a long, freaked-out breath. You’re going to be fine, she told herself, instinctively reaching into her bag and making sure her passport was still there. You’re going to be just fine.
If only she could believe it was true.
9
SPENCER FOLLOWS UP