Sara Shepard - Killer

Byron had sent a moving crew to Ella’s house this morning to pick up some things from Aria’s bedroom. Last night, Aria had finally called Ella and broken the news that she was going to move in with Byron for a while to get to know Meredith better. Ella paused, probably remembering the time Aria had painted a hateful, adulteress A on Meredith’s blouse, and then asked if Aria was upset about something. “Of course not!” Aria cried quickly. Ella replied that she’d really like Aria to stay; was there something she could do to make Aria happier? Yeah, you could get rid of Xavier, Aria wished she could suggest.

In the end, Aria backpedaled, telling Ella she’d leave some of her furniture and clothes in her old bedroom and shuttle between Ella’s and Byron’s houses instead. She didn’t want Ella to think that Aria was abandoning her, specifically. Anyway, how difficult could it be to avoid Xavier? Aria would stay at Ella’s on the days she was certain he wouldn’t be there—like when he was out of town for an art exhibition.

The movers had left the lighter boxes in the front foyer, and Aria was in the process of bringing them upstairs. As she was bending down to pick up a box marked Fragile, Meredith slipped a white envelope into the back pocket of Aria’s skinny jeans. “Mail for you,” she sang, and then flitted down the hall, dust mop in hand.

Aria pulled out the envelope. Her name was printed on an anonymous green address label. She shuddered, thinking about what Emily had said to Hanna today. A has gotten in touch with us in other ways. She wasn’t ready for a new barrage of notes.

Inside, she found an invitation and two orange tickets for a party at a new hotel called the Radley. A Post-it was attached. Aria, I miss you already! When will you be back with us? Anyway, one of my paintings was chosen to hang in the lobby! Here are two invitations to the opening. Please join Xavier and me there! Love, Ella.

Aria stuffed the papers back in the envelope, her heart sinking. Maybe avoiding Xavier was going to be harder than she thought.

She climbed the stairs and ducked into her small, cozy bedroom. It was the bedroom she’d always wanted, with skylights over her bed, a cushy window seat, and slightly slanted wood floors, the kind where she could place a pencil at one end of the room and it would roll slowly to the other end all on its own. Boxes from her old bedroom were stacked to the ceiling, and Aria’s stuffed animal puppets were strewn out on the platform bed her parents had bought for her at a warehouse in Denmark. She’d hung up most of her clothes in an old armoire Byron had bought off Craigslist, putting her T-shirts, bras, undies, and socks in the bottom drawers. She still had to find a place for the boxes of yarn, extra blankets, too-small shoes, and board games from her old closet.

But she didn’t feel like doing any of that right now. All she wanted to do was flop down on her bed and puzzle over yesterday’s encounter with Jason DiLaurentis. Had he been flirting with her? Why had his mood changed so quickly? Was it because of the Ian Dead Body news report on TV?

She wondered if Jason had friends in the area anymore. In high school, he used to spend a lot of time by himself, listening to music, reading, or brooding. Ali had gone missing the last day of Jason’s senior year, and Aria had barely seen him since. After the summer, he’d hightailed it to Yale, and she had no idea if he ever came home to visit after that.

So how was he handling this Ali stuff now? Did he have anyone he could talk to about it? She thought about what Emily had said this morning at the swings—that Jason had screamed at her for denting his car. Emily had seemed worried about it, but Aria couldn’t imagine what she might do if someone murdered Mike. She’d probably fly off the handle about dented bumpers too.

Then, a familiar Puma shoe box on the floor caught her eye. Old Book Reports , said the label. Aria breathed in sharply. The box was dented, the lettering on the sides faded. The last time Aria looked inside this box was the Saturday she and the others had sneaked into Ali’s yard to steal her flag.

Aria had buried the memory of what happened that day for so long, but now that she was allowing herself to think about it, every sensory detail flooded back to her, crystal clear. She remembered Ali wheeling around and walking back into her house, the smell of her vanilla hand soap wafting behind her. She remembered stomping through the woods to get home, the ground still wet from the rain a few days before. She remembered how the leaves on the trees were still very green and thick, providing ample shade from the late-summer sun. The woods smelled like pine and something else…perhaps a cigarette. Far off in the distance, a lawnmower snarled.

Then twigs cracked. Bushes rustled. Aria saw Jason’s black T-shirt and blond hair and held her breath. She’d fantasized about seeing Jason that day…and there he was. She didn’t know what made her eyes go to the piece of the flag hanging out of his pocket. When Jason saw what she was looking at, he shoved the piece at her, saying nothing.

One minute it was in my bag, the next minute it was gone , Ali had told them. Why had Jason taken it from Ali? Aria wanted to think it had been for a practical and ethical reason, not just to be mean. There was no way Jason abused Ali, as Jenna implied and as Emily wanted to believe. In fact, Jason had always seemed fiercely protective of Ali. He’d jumped out of nowhere to intervene when Ali and Ian were talking in the courtyard the day Time Capsule was announced. Even the day they’d tried to steal Ali’s flag and Emily had shushed them to listen to a fight taking place inside Ali’s house, Jason had stormed out moments later, upset about something. When Ali came out to talk to them, she still seemed worried, nervously peeking over her shoulder toward the house. If she’d had issues with Jason, wouldn’t she have been relieved that he was gone?

This morning, Spencer had said she wanted to steal Ali’s flag because she thought Ali had cheated her way to winning. Maybe Jason felt guilty about cheating too. Maybe he’d told Ali to keep quiet that he’d told her where he’d hidden his piece, and had gotten annoyed when he heard Ali bragging about it to everyone in the courtyard.

Aria crouched next to the shoe box, her body tingling. It had been so long since she’d looked at Ali’s piece of the Time Capsule flag, she’d nearly forgotten what Ali had drawn on it. The lid bent as she pulled it off. A cloud of dust dispersed into the air.

“Aria?” Byron’s voice floated from downstairs. “Come down for Meredith’s shower!”

Aria paused. The very edge of the shiny blue flag poked out from underneath a bunch of old papers. “I’m coming,” she called, a little relieved she’d been interrupted.

Meredith, Byron, a bunch of scruffy men Aria recognized as Byron’s colleagues at Hollis, and a few twentysomething girls in yoga pants or paint-spattered jeans were milling around in the living room. A French press coffeemaker, bottles of wine and sparkling water, and a large plate of cucumber-hummus sandwiches sat on the table, and there was a big pile of gifts next to the sofa. Then someone to Aria’s left coughed. Mike was sitting in the corner of the sectional, a pretty brunette by his side. Aria blinked, temporarily speechless. It was Hanna’s soon-to-be stepsister, Kate.

“Um, hi?” Aria said cautiously. Kate smiled smugly. Mike smiled even more smugly. He put his hand on Kate’s thigh, and Kate let him . Aria frowned, wondering if her brain had been damaged from the dust in her new attic bedroom.

Heels clacked down the foyer, and Aria turned just in time to see Hanna enter. She wore a green silk halter-neck dress with her decorated Time Capsule flag looped around her waist as a belt. She carried a box wrapped in stork-printed paper. Aria was about to say hello, but Hanna wasn’t looking in her direction. She was staring at Kate. Her mouth tightened. “Oh.”