Pretty Little Liars #14 (9 page)

“Go on.” Fuji folded her hands. “I'm listening.”

“We need to make sure you'll keep us safe,” Spencer said firmly. “We don't want anything to happen to us or our families.”

Fuji nodded. “All right. We can arrange that.”

“And we also want our charges dropped. Everything we did—the drugs, the theft, the secret communication with the fugitive, and the accident—it needs to be wiped clean from our records.”

“
Spencer!”
Emily cried.

Aria covered her eyes.

But Spencer didn't apologize or renege the demand. She adopted the tactic she used when she used to play forward in field hockey: stare down your opponent during face-off. Don't let them see you sweat. Don't back down. “That's what we want. Can you do that for us?”

Fuji was the first to blink. “Okay. But whatever you have, it had better be good.”

Spencer took a breath. She hadn't thought Fuji would actually go for it.

Then she explained what they knew, including how they'd accidentally pushed Tabitha off the balcony but didn't kill her. They couldn't tell anyone the truth, though, because of how it looked.
And
because someone was threatening them.

Agent Fuji tented her fingers. “So there's another A?”

Emily glanced at the others. “More than one, we think.”

Fuji folded her hands. “And who do you think your stalker might be?”

Again, everyone exchanged a glance. Aria cleared her throat. “Alison,” she said loudly.

Fuji widened her eyes. “I
see
.”

Spencer launched into an explanation of exactly why they thought A was Ali and how all the pieces fit. “Wait a minute,” Agent Fuji interrupted, when they got to that part about Emily's baby. “You think Alison killed Gayle Riggs?”

Spencer nodded.

Fuji squinted hard. “But in the police notes, you girls said it sounded like A spoke to the person who shot her.”

“That's right,” Emily said. “We heard Gayle talking to someone. Kind of like,
What are you doing here?
And then there was the shot.”

Fuji's brow furrowed. “So perhaps Gayle knew Alison?”

“Maybe,” Spencer said. “Or maybe she knew her helper.”

“Do you have any idea who her helper might be?”

The girls looked at one another. “We had a lot of theories,” Spencer said. “Graham Pratt for a while. And then Noel Kahn.”

“Noel?” Fuji cocked her head. “What does he have to do with this?”

Spencer opened her mouth to explain, but Aria caught her arm. “It was a false lead,” she said quickly. A look flashed across her face that said,
Let's not rat out Noel right now
. Spencer just shrugged.

“This is really,
really
serious, girls,” Fuji said. “We're talking about a serial killer. I'm glad you finally came to me about this—there's no way you can handle this on your own, and you shouldn't have to.”

No one spoke. Spencer held her breath.

“With your permission, I'd like to keep your phones. I want to look at all of these texts A has sent. There are ways to track which phone they're being sent from, even from what part of the Philadelphia area. Give me any other evidence you can think of, too. Things these people might have touched. Places they might have been. We need every tip you can get.”

Spencer brightened. “I think Ali and her helper trashed my stepfather's model home.”

Fuji nodded. “Maybe there are fingerprints.”

“I'm also worried that Ali might have done something to a girl named Iris Taylor,” Emily added, explaining how Ali had known Iris and that Iris had gone missing after Emily asked her questions.

Fuji wrote Iris's name on a notepad. “We'll look into her.”

Hanna tentatively raised a hand. “We have a lot more texts, but we'll have to get them off our old phones from home. We switched phones when we figured out A was tracking us.”

“A lot of notes aren't on our phones at all,” Spencer added, thinking of the very first missive they'd received from this A. It had been a postcard inside Ali's mailbox—
Jamaica is beautiful this time of year! Too bad you can't ever go back
.

“That's fine,” Fuji said. “Collect everything and bring it back to me as soon as you can. And as far as security goes, you have my personal promise for a twenty-four-seven security team on all of you—
and
your families—until we crack the case. A won't be able to get to you anymore.”

Aria blinked hard. “So you're really letting us
go
?”

Fuji nodded. “I'll talk to my partners and the state police and let them know that your charges are dropped.”

“So my dad won't know about this?” Hanna bleated.

Emily's hands trembled. “I'm not in trouble with the FBI?”

“What you gave me is very important. I need to hold up my end of the bargain,” Fuji said as she stood. “However, if you receive another A note, I want you to forward it to me immediately. But I ask that you tell no one about what we're doing
or
why you have a security detail. The less people know, the better. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” everyone said at the same time, though Hanna then raised a hand.

“My boyfriend knows,” she admitted. “He kind of guessed.”

Fuji winced. “Well, he'll be under watch because he's Aria's brother.” She glanced around. “A, Alison, whoever it is, this is Tabitha's killer. Gayle's killer. Graham's and Kyla's killer. Obviously she's dangerous. I'm going to personally lead this team—and believe me, there will be a
team
on this. We're going to work day and night to find out what's going on. Whoever this is, they're not smarter than all of us. We'll get them.”

Everyone exchanged another glance. “Oh my God,” Hanna bleated. “That sounds . . .”

“
Awesome,”
Emily breathed.

They stared at one another in disbelief. Spencer glanced at Fuji, and the agent gave her a small, genuine smile, the first smile Spencer had ever seen from her. A delicious feeling washed down Spencer's back. Could it finally,
finally
be over? Was someone actually going to help them?

The girls stood up and hugged one another tight. They didn't have to handle this on their own anymore. They didn't have to look over their shoulders or freeze when they heard a footstep or a twig crack or cringe when their cell phones chimed. They wouldn't have to skulk around having secret conversations in dark places, fearing all the while that Ali was listening in.

Spencer threw back her head and laughed. It felt amazing, suddenly, to have power. If only Spencer knew how to reach Ali now, she'd send an anonymous note of her own:
Take that, bitch
.

WELCOME HOME

About an hour later, an FBI officer drove Emily back to the Philadelphia church where she'd parked her car for Graham's funeral, leaving Emily to drive the fifteen miles back to Rosewood alone.

Only, she
wasn't
alone. As she pulled onto the expressway toward the suburbs, she peeked in her rearview mirror. A large, black Escalade switched lanes when she did. Fuji had instated the security detail immediately, instructing the bodyguards that they should watch the girls at all times, twenty-four hours a day. Emily's guard had introduced himself as Clarence, taking her hand in his meaty palms and giving it a good shake, then giving her a business card with his phone number on it. “Me or my partner will be outside day and night,” he said in a New Jersey accent. “But if you get scared, you can always call us, too.”

A huge smile spread across Emily's face, and she drummed happily on the steering wheel.
If you get scared
. How many times had she been terrified and had no idea how to rectify it? She might be able to sleep through a whole night now. She might be able to go for a jog around her neighborhood without fearing an attack by a mysterious assailant.

Of course, she did feel a twinge of apprehension about everything that had happened. The cat was definitely out of the bag, and Ali would probably know soon. Her potential rage was terrifying—especially given her track record. Rehashing the past brought back memories about seeing Gayle's dead body in her driveway. And what if Ali
had done
something to Iris? At least the FBI was looking into it now . . . but what if Iris turned up dead?

Emily took the Rosewood exit off 76 and sped up the hill toward home. When she pulled into her driveway ten minutes later, her stomach flipped a few times. What if her parents somehow found out that the FBI had escorted her out of the funeral? Fuji insisted that they would keep everything very quiet, but there were all those reporters outside the church—could they have leaked the story? She really didn't feel like going through the third degree.

Nervously, she turned on KYW, the area's news channel. Over the sound of clacking typewriters, the reporter read out the hour's top story. A robbery on the north side. The mayor arguing over budget cuts. An accident on the Blue Route. Nothing about police activity. She breathed out.

She got out of the car and crept up the front walk, careful not to tread on her mom's freshly planted azaleas. The inside of the house was quiet. There were marks on the carpet that indicated it had just been vacuumed, and the dining room table was free of dust. When Emily sniffed, she smelled baked ziti. It was her sister Carolyn's favorite dish, but they hadn't had it since she'd left for college.

“Emily, look who's here!”

Her mother stepped into the hall. Next to her, in a Stanford long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans, was Carolyn herself.

Emily blinked. The last time she'd seen her older sister was the day before she'd gone into the hospital for her C-section. Emily had been hunched over the toilet in Carolyn's dorm room—her morning sickness had lasted all nine months—and her sister had stood in the doorway, glaring at her with disdain. Emily had come clean to her parents about the baby not long ago, and her parents had forgiven her. Although they said Carolyn was going to call and apologize, too, her sister never had. Judging by the ambivalent look on her face, it didn't seem like she wanted to now, either.

Mrs. Fields pushed Carolyn closer. “Carolyn came home to see you.”

Emily carefully dropped her backpack to the wood floor. “Really?”

Carolyn shrugged, a lock of red-gold hair falling in her face. “Well, all my exams were over. And I had a ticket voucher, so . . .”

“So, surprise!” Mrs. Fields said hurriedly. “Family needs to stick together, don't you agree, Carolyn?” She nudged her again. “Give Emily what you brought.”

Carolyn's mouth twitched. She grabbed a plastic bag and pushed it in Emily's direction. Emily's hand closed on something cotton. It was the same Stanford T-shirt Carolyn was wearing.

“Thank you,” Emily murmured as she held the shirt up to her chest.

Carolyn nodded stiffly. “It's a good color on you. And I figured it would fit now that . . .” She trailed off, but Emily knew what she was going to say.
Now that you're not pregnant
.

“Well!” Mrs. Fields clapped her hands. “I'll leave you two alone to catch up.” She shot Carolyn an encouraging, hopeful smile, then disappeared into the kitchen. Emily sank into a chair in the living room, her nerves snappy.

Carolyn remained standing, her mouth twisted. She stared blankly at a picture of a barn that hung in the foyer like she'd never seen it before, even though it had probably hung in that spot for fifteen years. “I like my shirt,” Emily said, patting the Stanford T-shirt in her lap. “Thanks again.”

Carolyn shot her a look. “You're welcome.”

She looked absolutely tortured. Emily crossed and uncrossed her legs. This felt like a disaster. What were they going to talk about? Why had her mom forced this? And seriously, Carolyn was
still
pissed? She needed to get over it.

“You can go upstairs if you want,” Emily said. The words came out more bitterly than she intended. “You don't have to hang out with me.”

Carolyn's mouth tightened. “I'm trying to make an effort, Emily. You don't have to be so mad.”

“
I'm
mad?” Emily squeezed the chair's arms. Then she sighed. “Okay. Maybe I am kind of mad at you. For the millionth time, I'm sorry I forced my secret on you—I shouldn't have. But I wish you'd handled it differently.”

Carolyn's eyes flashed. “I took you in,” she said in a hushed voice. “I slipped you passes to the dining hall. I didn't tell Mom. What more did you want?”

Emily's heart beat faster and faster. “I hated coming home to your room. And I was
pregnant
—that AeroBed was so uncomfortable.”

“You never complained,” Carolyn said exasperatedly.

“I didn't feel like I
could
!” Emily exclaimed. “You made me feel so unwelcome!” Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She stood and turned toward the stairs. “Forget it.
I'll
go.”

She curled her hand on the railing, fighting back tears. Just as she stomped on the first riser, Carolyn caught her arm. “Don't, okay? You're being silly.”

Emily's spine stiffened. She didn't
feel
silly.
Five more minutes
, Emily decided. If her sister continued to be bitchy, she was definitely, definitely shutting herself in her room.

She sat back down in the same chair. Carolyn sat opposite her. A few seconds passed. Pots clanked in the kitchen. Silverware banged together.

“You're right. I just didn't know how to handle last summer,” Carolyn finally said. “I was scared for you and the baby. I didn't want to think of it
as
a baby, either. I couldn't get attached—it just seemed too hard.”

Emily bit her lip. “Yeah, well.” It didn't sound like that great of an excuse.