Sara Shepard - Ruthless

Hanna picked nervously at her bottom lip. “How would Kelsey know you sent her to juvie? You said there was no way for the cops to trace it back to us.”

“I have no idea.” Spencer sounded exasperated. “Maybe Kelsey figured it out. Maybe she’s A. She had her phone out when I got my text!”

Aria spun the Hurl Wheel with the tips of her fingers. “But Kelsey wasn’t in Jamaica, was she?”

“And I don’t know why Kelsey would be after all of us,” Emily added. “Aria and I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Maybe she thinks we were all in on what I did to her,” Spencer said.

“That would make sense.” Hanna gave an empty swing a slight push. “Think of that People article. It said we were best friends. Told each other everything. Kelsey could have assumed all of us had a hand in framing her and protecting Spencer.”

Emily’s stomach swirled. Could that be possible?

“I’m still not sure,” Aria said. “Maybe A is one of Tabitha’s friends. Or someone who knew Mona Vanderwaal or Jenna Cavanaugh.”

“Jenna’s friends would be after Ali , not us,” Spencer argued.

“Maybe A is Ali,” Emily suggested hesitantly.

Everyone swung around and glared at Emily. “What?”

Emily lifted her hands in surrender. “Two weeks ago, we thought Ali survived the fire. Who’s to say Ali wasn’t in Jamaica, feeding Tabitha those crazy lines about all of us? We still don’t know how Tabitha knew our secrets or had Ali’s string bracelet. Maybe Ali followed us back here after Tabitha died and watched us all summer.”

Spencer slapped her arms to her sides. “Em, Ali died in the Poconos. There’s no way she made it out of that house.”

“Why didn’t the cops ever find her body?”

“Haven’t we been over this?” Spencer said through her teeth.

Hanna leaned against the slide. “I really think she’s gone, Em.”

Aria nodded. “When we ran out of the house, the door slammed shut. Even if Ali made it to the door, it’s unlikely she could’ve pushed it open after inhaling all that smoke. Remember how heavy it was? And seconds later, the house exploded. Even the DiLaurentises’ fireproof safe burned up.”

Emily rocked back and forth on her heels, thinking of the moment in the Poconos when she’d left the door ajar so Ali could escape. “What if the door was open? Maybe the wind blew it open or something.”

Hanna put her hands on her hips. “Why are you so sure Ali’s alive? Do you know something we don’t?”

The trees swished in the distance. A car drove slowly past the school, its high beams on. The secret pulsed inside Emily. If she told her friends, they’d never trust her again.

“No, no reason,” she mumbled.

Suddenly, a snap sounded from the woods. All of the girls turned and squinted into the distance. It was so dark out that Emily could barely see the outlines of the trees.

“Maybe we should go to the cops,” Emily whispered.

Hanna sighed. “And say what? That we’re killers?”

“We can’t go through this again!” Emily’s breath came out in billowing white puffs. “Maybe the cops will understand about Tabitha. Maybe they’ll . . .”

Suddenly, she felt so exhausted. Of course the cops wouldn’t understand about Tabitha. They’d lock Emily and her friends up for the rest of their lives.

“Look,” Spencer said after a moment. “Let’s not do anything rash, okay? There’s way too much at stake here. We need to figure out who A is and what A plans to do next before it happens—without help from the cops. My money’s on Kelsey.” She pressed a button on her phone. “She’s the only person with a real motive. I’ll try and find out what she’s up to the next time she shows up at my house. You never know, she might be watching you guys, too. Do you remember what she looks like?”

Aria raised one shoulder. “Vaguely.”

“She was at that party at the Kahns’,” Hanna murmured.

“I’ve never seen her,” Emily pointed out.

Spencer pulled her finger across her phone and then turned it toward the others. “This is from last summer, but she looks exactly the same.”

Everyone leaned in to look at the picture on the screen. A petite redheaded girl wearing a tight-fitting St. Agnes School T-shirt grinned back at them. Emily blinked hard at the girl’s familiar upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and mysterious smile, the kind that said I’ve got a secret, and I dare you to get it out of me. Her thoughts scattered in a thousand directions. She did know Kelsey after all.

She was Kay.

Later that night, Hanna strode into Rue Noir, a swanky lounge bar off the Hyde campus. There was a long, curved bar at the back of the room, a small dance floor to the left, and dozens of comfy couches and dark, private nooks in which a couple could cuddle for hours. She couldn’t think of a better place for her first official date with Liam.

He wasn’t here yet, so Hanna scoped out an empty couch farthest away from a group of fraternity guys and their skanky-looking dates and surreptitiously checked her reflection in the hand mirror she kept in her purse. She looked even more perfect than she had at the flash mob, with no indication she’d had a stressful meeting with Spencer and the others two hours earlier, strategizing about who the new A might be.

She shut her eyes. Spencer’s Kelsey theory worried her. It wasn’t just Spencer who had ruined Kelsey’s life—Hanna was guilty, too. She’d helped frame Kelsey to set Spencer free.

Hanna had met Kelsey last summer at one of the Kahns’ legendary summer parties. They had invited all the neighbors and set up beer kegs, an inflatable jumping castle, and an old-school photo booth in their backyard. Spencer and Kelsey had breezed onto the Kahns’ patio, talking a little too loudly and assertively. Usually, Spencer was demure and impeccably behaved at parties, but that night she seemed obnoxiously drunk. She chatted up Eric Kahn, flirting with him in front of his college girlfriend. She told Cassie Buckley, Ali’s older field hockey friend—who was now sporting a tough, goth-chic look—that she’d always thought she was a bitch. She seemed unhinged and scarily unpredictable.

It didn’t take long for people to start whispering about her. I never took her for the type , Naomi Zeigler said. Not hot , complained Mason Byers, who once got so drunk at a Kahn bash that he streaked naked through the woods behind the Kahns’ property. And Mike, with whom Hanna had attended the party, squeezed Hanna’s hand. “Those two are flying high, huh?”

The clouds had parted in Hanna’s mind. Of course. Spencer and Kelsey weren’t drunk: They were on something. At that, she marched over to Spencer, who was telling a rambling story to Kirsten Cullen. When Spencer saw her, she brightened. “Hey!” she said, punching Hanna’s arm hard. “Where have you been, bitch? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Hanna clamped down on Spencer’s wrist and pulled her away from Kirsten. “Spence, what are you on?”

Spencer’s shoulders stiffened. Her smile was wide and dangerous, nothing like the poised and perfect girl who ran practically every club at Rosewood Day. “Why, do you want some?” She reached into her bag and pressed something into Hanna’s hand. “Take the whole bottle. There’s plenty more where that came from. I have this amazing dealer.”

Hanna stared at what Spencer had given her. It was a large prescription bottle with a bright orange cap. She slipped the bottle in her pocket, hoping that if she held onto the pills, Spencer would sober up and not take any more. “Are you taking this stuff a lot?”