Killer (4 page)

“Aria?”

Aria jumped and looked up. Her father, Byron, was standing above her, wearing a ratty Hollis T-shirt and sporting his typical just-rolled-out-of bed hairstyle.

He sat down at the table next to her. Meredith, wearing a sari-style maternity dress and Birkenstocks, waddled in and leaned against the counter. “We wanted to talk to you,” Byron said.

Aria folded her hands in her lap. They both looked so serious.

“First off, we’re going to have a baby shower for Meredith Wednesday night,” Byron said. “It’s going to be a little thing with some of our friends.”

Aria blinked. They had
joint
friends? That seemed impossible. Meredith was in her twenties, barely out of college. And Byron was…old.

“You can bring a friend if you want,” Meredith added. “And don’t worry about getting me a gift. I totally don’t expect it.”

Aria wondered if Meredith was registered at Sunshine, the eco baby store in Rosewood that sold organic baby booties made out of recycled soda bottles for a hundred dollars.

“And as for where this shower is going to be…” Byron tugged at the cuffs of his white cable-knit sweater. “We’re going to have it at our new house.”

The words took a moment to sink in. Aria opened her mouth, then shut it fast.

“We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure,” Byron rushed on. “But our loan went through today, and we’re closing on it tomorrow. We want to move right away, and we’d love it if you’d join us there.”

“A…house,” Aria repeated. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Here in this student-friendly, shabby-chic, drippy little 650-square-foot apartment in Old Hollis, Byron and Meredith’s relationship seemed sort of…pretend. A house, on the other hand, was grown-up. Real.

“Where is it?” Aria finally asked.

Meredith ran her fingers along the pink spiderweb tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “On Coventry Lane. It’s really beautiful, Aria—I think you’ll love it. There’s a spiral staircase leading to a big loft bedroom in the attic. That can be yours, if you want. The light up there is great for painting.”

Aria stared at a small stain on Byron’s sweater. Coventry Lane had a familiar ring to it, but she wasn’t sure why.

“You can start moving your stuff over anytime after tomorrow,” Byron said, eyeing Aria warily, as if he wasn’t sure how she was going to react.

She turned absently to the TV. The news was showing Ian’s mug shot. Then, Ian’s mother came on the screen, looking pale and sleepless. “We haven’t heard from Ian since Thursday night,” Mrs. Thomas cried. “If anyone knows what has happened to him, please come forward.”

“Wait,” Aria said slowly, a thought congealing in her mind. “Isn’t Coventry Lane in the neighborhood right behind Spencer’s house?”

“That’s right!” Byron brightened. “You’ll be closer to her.”

Aria shook her head. Her dad didn’t get it.
“That’s Ian Thomas’s
old street.”

Byron and Meredith glanced at each other, their faces paling. “It…
is
?” Byron asked.

Aria’s heart thumped. This was one of the reasons she loved her dad—he was so hopelessly oblivious to gossip. At the same time, how on earth could he not know this?

Great. Not only would she be right next to the woods where they’d found Ian’s body, but where Ali had died, too. And what if Ian was still alive, stalking those very woods?

She faced her father. “Don’t you think that street’s going to have some seriously bad karma?”

Byron crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, Aria. But we got an amazing deal on a house, one we couldn’t pass up. It has tons of space, and I’m sure you’ll find it more comfortable than living in…this.” He waved his arms around, pointing specifically to the apartment’s one tiny bathroom, which they had to share.

Aria glared at the bird-faced totem pole in the corner of the kitchen that Meredith had dragged home from a flea market about a month ago. It wasn’t like she could go back to her mom’s. Xavier’s teasing voice rattled through her head.
There’s no need to hide. I thought we had an understanding
.

“Okay. I’ll move on Tuesday,” Aria mumbled. She gathered her books and cell phone and retreated to her tiny bedroom at the back of Meredith’s studio, feeling exhausted and defeated.

As she dropped her stuff on her bed, something outside the window caught her eye. The studio was at the back of the apartment, facing an alleyway and a dilapidated wooden garage. A filmy shadow moved behind the garage’s murky windows. Then a pair of unblinking eyes peered through the glass, straight at Aria.

Aria shrieked and pressed herself against the back wall, her heart rocketing. But in a flash, the eyes vanished, as if they’d never been there at all.

3

FLY ME TO THE MOON

Sunday evening, Emily Fields curled her legs underneath her in a cozy booth at Penelope’s, a homey diner not far from her house. Her new boyfriend, Isaac, sat across the booth, the two slices of peanut butter–laden bread he’d ordered in front of him. He was demonstrating how to make his world-famous, life-changing peanut butter sandwich.

“The trick,” Isaac said, “is to use
honey
instead of jelly.” He picked up a bear-shaped bottle from the middle of the table. The bear made a farting noise as Isaac squeezed honey onto one of the slices. “I promise this will take
all
of your stress away.” He handed her the sandwich. Emily took a big bite, chewed, and smiled.

“Gooh,” she said, her mouth full. Isaac squeezed her hand, and Emily swooned. Isaac had soft, expressive blue eyes, and there was something about his mouth that made him look like he was smiling even when he wasn’t. If Emily didn’t know him, she’d assume he was too good-looking to be going out with someone like her.

Isaac pointed at the television over the diner counter. “Hey, isn’t that your friend’s house?”

Emily turned in time to see Mrs. McClellan, Spencer’s neighbor from down the street, paused in front of the Hastings estate, her white standard poodle on a retractable leash. “I haven’t been able to sleep since Saturday,” she was saying. “The idea that there’s a dead body
lying there
in the woods behind my house is too much to bear. I just hope they find it fast.”

Emily slid down in her seat, acid rising to her throat. She was happy the police were searching for Ian, but she didn’t want to hear about it right now.

A cop from the Rosewood police force appeared next. “The Rosewood PD has produced all the necessary warrants, and they’ve started their search of the woods today.” Flashbulbs popped in the cop’s face. “We are taking this matter seriously and moving as fast as we can.”

The reporters began bombarding the cop with questions. “Why did the officer on the scene delay the search?” “Is there something the cops are covering up?” “Is it true that Ian broke house arrest earlier in the week and met with one of the girls who found his body?”

Emily bit her pinkie nail, surprised that the press had found out that Ian had staked out Spencer on her back patio. Who told them that? Wilden? One of the other cops? A?

The cop raised his hand, silencing them. “Like I just explained, Officer Wilden did not delay the search. We had to obtain the proper permits to get access to those woods—they’re private property. As for Mr. Thomas breaking house arrest, that’s not something I’m prepared to comment on right now.”

The waitress made a
tsk
sound and flipped channels to another newscast.
Rosewood Reacts
, said the big yellow caption. There was a girl on the screen. Emily immediately recognized her raven black hair and wraparound Gucci sunglasses.
Jenna Cavanaugh
.

Emily’s stomach flipped.
Jenna Cavanaugh
. The girl Emily and her friends had accidentally blinded in sixth grade. The girl who’d told Aria, just over two months ago, that Ali had troubling “sibling” problems with her brother, Jason, problems Emily didn’t even want to
think
about.

She jumped up from the table. “Let’s go,” she blurted out, averting her eyes from the TV.

Isaac stood too, looking concerned. “I’ll have them turn the TV off.”

Emily shook her head. “I want to leave.”

“Okay, okay,” Isaac said gently, pulling out a few limp bills and setting them on his coffee cup. Emily staggered for the front door. When she reached the little area by the hostess stand, she felt Isaac’s hand close over hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said guiltily, her eyes filling with tears. “You didn’t even get to eat your sandwich.”

Isaac touched her arm. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

Emily leaned her head into his shoulder. Whenever she shut her eyes, she pictured Ian’s prone and swollen body. She’d never seen a dead person before, not at a funeral, not in a hospital bed, and certainly not in the woods, murdered. She wished she could delete the memory with the press of a button, as easily as trashing unwanted spam from her e-mail inbox. Being with Isaac was the only thing that took some of her pain and fear away.

“I bet you didn’t bargain for this when you asked me to be your girlfriend, huh?” she mumbled.

“Please,” Isaac said softly, kissing her forehead. “I’d help you through anything.”

The coffeemaker at the counter burbled. Outside the window, a grumbling snowplow barreled down the street. For the millionth time, Emily thought about how lucky she was to have found someone as wonderful as Isaac. He had accepted her even after she told him that she’d fallen in love with Ali in seventh grade, and then with Maya St. Germain this fall. He’d patiently listened when she explained how her family struggled with her sexuality, sending her to Tree Tops, a gay-away program. He’d held her hand when she told him that she still thought about Ali constantly, even though Ali had kept a lot of secrets from them. And now he was helping her through this.

It was growing dark outside, and the air smelled like the diner’s scrambled eggs and coffee. They walked hand in hand to Emily’s mom’s Volvo station wagon, which was parallel-parked at the curb. Big drifts of snow were piled on the sidewalk, and a couple of kids were sledding down a tiny hill behind the vacant lot across the street.

As they reached the car, a person wearing a heavy gray jacket with the furry hood tight over his head barreled toward them. His eyes blazed. “Is this your car?” He pointed at the Volvo.

Emily stopped, startled. “Y-yeah…”

“Look what you did!” The guy stomped through the snow and pointed at a BMW parked in front of the Volvo. There was a ding right under the license plate. “You parked here after me,” the guy growled. “Did you even look before you pulled in?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Emily stammered. She couldn’t recall bumping anything when she parked, but she
had
been in a daze all day.

Isaac faced the guy. “It might have been there before. Maybe you just didn’t notice it.”

“It
wasn’t,”
the guy sneered. As he staggered closer to them, his hood fell off. He had tousled blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a familiar, heart-shaped face. Emily sucked in her stomach. It was Ali’s brother, Jason DiLaurentis.

She waited, sure Jason would recognize her too—Emily had been at Ali’s house practically every day in sixth and seventh grade, and Jason had also just
seen
her at Ian’s trial on Friday. But Jason’s face was red, and his eyes weren’t looking directly at anything; it seemed like he had worked himself into an enraged trance. Emily sniffed the air in front of him, wondering if he was drunk. But she couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath.

“Are you guys even old enough to drive?” Jason roared. He took another threatening step toward Emily.

Isaac stepped between them, shielding Emily from him. “Whoa. You don’t need to yell.”

Jason’s nostrils flared. He clenched his fists, and for a moment, Emily thought he was going to throw a punch. Then, a couple stepped out of the diner onto the street, and Jason turned his head. He let out a frustrated groan, smacked the trunk of his car hard, wheeled around, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The BMW growled to life, and Jason peeled away into traffic, cutting off an oncoming car. Horns honked. Tires squealed. Emily watched the taillights disappear around a corner, her hands pressed to the sides of her face.

Isaac faced Emily. “Are you okay?”

Emily nodded mutely, too stunned to speak.

“What was his deal? It was hardly a dent. I don’t even remember you bumping him.”

Emily swallowed hard. “That was Alison DiLaurentis’s brother.” Just saying the words out loud made her burst into scared, troubled tears. Isaac hesitated for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around Emily, holding her close.

“
Shhh
,” he whispered. “Let’s get you in the car. I’ll drive.”

Emily handed him the keys and got into the passenger seat. Isaac pulled out of the spot and started down the road. Tears rolled down Emily’s cheeks faster and faster. She wasn’t even sure what she was crying about—Jason’s odd outburst, yes, but also just
seeing
Jason in front of her. He looked so startlingly like Ali.

Isaac looked over again, his face crumpling. “Hey,” he said softly. He turned onto a road that led to a row of office buildings, pulled into a dark, empty parking lot, and shifted into park. “It’s okay.” He stroked Emily’s arm.

They sat there for a while, saying nothing. The only sound was the Volvo’s rattling heater. After a while, Emily wiped her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him, so happy he was here. He kissed her back, and they paused, looking longingly at each other. Emily dove back in, kissing more hungrily. Suddenly, all her problems blew away, like ashes in a breeze.

The car’s windows fogged up. Wordlessly, Isaac picked up the bottom hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled it over his head. His chest was smooth and muscular, and he had a small, shiny scar on the inside of his right arm. Emily reached out and touched it. “What’s that from?”

“Falling off a BMX ramp in second grade,” he answered.

He tilted his head and nudged toward Emily’s long-sleeved T-shirt. She lifted her arms. Isaac pulled it off. Though the heat was on full blast, Emily’s arms were still covered in goose bumps. She looked down, embarrassed at the navy sports bra she’d dug out of her drawer that morning. It was printed with moons, stars, and planets. If only she’d put on something a little more feminine and sexy—but then, it wasn’t as if she’d planned on taking her clothes off.