Sara Shepard - Unbelievable

Since Hanna had arrived at the party in a limo and Emily’s mother had driven her, their only vehicle option was Aria’s clunky, unpredictable Subaru. Aria led the others through the parking lot, her green suede flats slapping against the pavement. She manually unlocked the door and threw herself into the driver’s seat. Hanna sat in the front passenger seat, and Emily pushed aside all of Aria’s books, empty coffee cups, spare clothes, skeins of yarn, and a pair of stacked-heel boots, and climbed into the back. Aria had her cell phone wedged between her chin and her shoulder—she’d called Wilden to see if Spencer and Mona had shown up at the police station. But after the eighth unanswered ring, she hung up in frustration.

“Wilden isn’t at his desk,” she said. “And he’s not answering his cell, either.” They were quiet for a moment, all lost in their own thoughts. How could Mona be A? Aria thought. How could Mona know so much about us? Aria went over everything Mona had done to her—threatened her with that Wicked Queen doll, sent Sean the pictures that got Ezra arrested, sent Ella the letter that splintered her family apart. Mona had hit Hanna with a car, outed Emily to the school, and made them think that Spencer had killed Ali. Mona had had a hand in Toby Cavanaugh’s death…and maybe Ali’s, too.

Hanna was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and unblinking, as if she was possessed. Aria touched her hand. “Are you sure about this?”

Hanna nodded fitfully. “Yes.” Her face was pale and her lips looked dry.

“Do you think it was a good idea that we texted Spencer?” Emily asked, checking her phone for the billionth time. “She hasn’t written back again.”

“Maybe they’re in the police station now,” Aria answered, trying to stay calm. “Maybe Spencer turned off her phone. And maybe that’s why Wilden isn’t answering.”

Aria looked at Hanna. There was a big, glistening tear rolling down her cheek, past her bruises and her stitches. “It’s my fault if Spencer is hurt,” Hanna whispered. “I should have remembered sooner.”

“It’s absolutely not your fault,” Aria said sternly. “You can’t control when you remember things.” She placed a hand on Hanna’s arm, but Hanna wrenched it away, using her hands to cover her face. Aria had no idea how to console her. What must that feel like, to realize that your best friend was also your worst enemy? Hanna’s best friend had tried to kill her.

Suddenly, Emily gasped too. “That picture,” she whispered.

“What picture?” Aria asked, starting the car and speeding out of the lot.

“That…that picture Spencer showed us of Ali and Ian. The one with the writing on it? I knew I’d seen it before. Now I know where.” Emily let out a laugh of disbelief. “I was in the yearbook room a couple days ago. And there were these pictures of the insides of people’s bags. That’s where I saw that picture.” She raised her eyes, looking around at the others. “In Mona’s bag. But I only saw Ali’s arm. The pink sleeve was frayed and had a tiny rip.”

The police station was only a mile or so away, right next to Hooters. It was amazing that Aria and Mike had been there just hours before. When they pulled into the lot, all three of them leaned forward over the dash. “Shit.” There were eight squad cars in the parking lot, and that was it. “They’re not here!”

“Calm down.” Aria turned off the car’s headlights. They all jumped out quickly, sprinting for the police station entrance. The fluorescent light inside was greenish and harsh. Several cops stopped and stared at them, their mouths hanging open. The little green waiting benches were all empty except for a few random pamphlets about what you should do if you were the victim of a car theft.

Wilden appeared from around a corner, his cell phone in one hand, a mug of coffee in another. When he saw Hanna and Emily in their party dresses with their masks dangling from their wrists, and Aria in her Rosewood Day uniform with a big bruise on her head, he squinted in confusion. “Hi, girls,” he said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“You have to help us,” Aria said. “Spencer is in trouble.”

Wilden stepped forward, gesturing for them to sit on the benches. “How so?”

“The texts we’ve been getting,” Aria explained. “What I was telling you about earlier today. We know who they’re from.”

Wilden stood up, alarmed. “You do ?”

“It’s Mona Vanderwaal,” Hanna said, her voice breaking into a sob. “That’s what I remembered. It’s my best frickin’ friend .”

“Mona…Vanderwaal?” Wilden’s eyes traveled from one girl to another. “The girl who planned your party?”

“Spencer Hastings is in the car with Mona now,” Emily said. “They were supposed to be coming here—Spencer had something to tell you. But then I sent her a text, warning her about Mona…and now we don’t know where they are. Spencer’s phone is shut off.”

“Have you tried to reach Mona?” Wilden asked.

Hanna stared at the linoleum floor. Off in the police bullpen, a phone rang, and then another. “I did. She didn’t pick up either.”

Suddenly, Wilden’s cell phone lit up in his hand. Aria caught a glimpse of the number in the preview screen. “That’s Spencer!” she cried.

Wilden flipped it open but didn’t say hello. He pressed the speakerphone button, then looked around at the girls, a finger to his lips. Shhh, he mouthed.

Aria and her old best friends crowded around the little phone. At first, there was only white noise. Then they heard Spencer’s voice. It sounded far away. “I always thought Swedesford Road was so pretty,” she said. “So many trees, especially in this secluded part of town.”

Aria and Emily exchanged a confused glance. And then, Aria understood—she’d seen this once in a TV show she’d watched with her brother. Mona must have figured it out—and Spencer must have managed to secretly call Wilden to give him clues about where Mona was taking her.

“So…why are we turning down Brainard Road?” Spencer asked very loudly and brightly. “This isn’t the way to the police station.”

“ Duh, Spencer,” they heard Mona say back.

Wilden flipped open his pad and wrote down Brainard Road. A few other cops had gathered around them. Emily quietly explained what was going on, and one of the cops brought out a large, foldout map of Rosewood, highlighting the intersection of Swedesford and Brainard with a yellow marker.

“Are we going to the stream?” Spencer’s voice rang out again.

“Maybe,” Mona singsonged.

Aria’s eyes widened. The Morrell Stream was more of a gushing river.

“I just love the stream,” Spencer said loudly.

Then there was a gasp and a shriek. They heard a few bumping noises, a squeal of tires, the dissonant tone of a bunch of phone buttons being pressed at once…and then nothing. Wilden’s cell phone screen blinked. Call Lost.

Aria sneaked a look at the others. Hanna had her head buried in her hands. Emily looked like she was going to faint. Wilden stood up, put his phone back in its holster, and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “We’ll try all the stream entrances in that area.” He pointed to a big burly cop sitting behind a desk. “See if you can do a GPS trace on this phone call.” Then he turned and headed for his car.

“Wait,” Aria said, running after him. Wilden turned. “We’re coming.”

Wilden’s shoulders dropped. “This isn’t—”

“We’re coming ,” Hanna said behind Aria, her voice strong and steely.