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A tiny muscle near Spencer’s mouth quivered.
The TV camera zoomed in on Ian as he climbed into the backseat of the limo. For a moment, it seemed like his deranged eyes were looking through the camera lens, like he could see Emily and her friends. Hanna let out a small “eep.”
The girls watched as Ian settled into the leather seat and reached for something in his jacket pocket. Then Ian’s lawyer slammed the door shut behind him, and the camera pulled away, switching back to the News 4 reporter. Below her the banner now read: JUDGE BAXTER GRANTS THOMAS TEMPORARY BAIL.
Suddenly, Emily’s phone beeped, making her jump. At the same time, a chime sounded from Hanna’s purse.
Then, there was a bleep. Aria’s Treo, which was sitting in her lap, lit up. Spencer’s Sidekick rang, two loud bleats like an old British telephone.
The TV flickered in the background. All they could see were the taillights of Ian’s limo, pulling into the street and slowly driving away. Emily exchanged glances with her friends, all the blood slowly draining from her head.
Emily stared at her phone’s LCD window. ONE NEW TEXT MESSAGE.
Her hands shook as she hit Read.
Honestly, bitches…did you really think I’d let you off that easy? You haven’t gotten nearly what you deserve. And I can’t wait to give it to you. Mwah!
—A
10
BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER…IF YOU’RE REALLY FAMILY, THAT IS
Seconds later, Spencer was on the phone with Officer Wilden. She put the call on speaker so her friends could hear. “That’s right,” she barked into the mouthpiece. “Ian just sent us a threatening text.”
“Are you sure it’s Ian?” Wilden’s voice crackled on the other end.
“Positive,” Spencer said. She looked at the others, and they nodded. Who else could have sent this, after all? Ian had to be furious at them. Their evidence had sent him to jail, and their testimony—specifically her testimony—at his upcoming trial would put him in prison for the rest of his life. Plus, he’d reached into his pocket just as the limo door had closed, as if searching for a cell phone…
“I’m a couple miles from your house,” Wilden replied. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
They heard his car pulling into the driveway a minute later. Wilden wore a heavy, down-filled Rosewood PD jacket that smelled slightly of mothballs. There was a gun in his holster and his ever-present walkie-talkie. When he took off his black wool hat, his hair was matted.
“I can’t believe the judge let him out.” Wilden’s voice was razor-sharp. “I seriously can’t believe it.” He stormed into the foyer with a lot of pent-up energy, like a lion prowling around his habitat at the Philadelphia Zoo.
Spencer raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t seen Wilden this keyed up since high school, when Principal Appleton had threatened to expel him for attempting to steal his vintage Ducati motorcycle. Even the night Mona died, when Wilden had had to tackle Ian in Spencer’s backyard to make sure he didn’t run, he’d remained stoic and unruffled.
But it was reassuring that he was as furious as they were. “Here’s the note,” Spencer said, thrusting her Sidekick under Wilden’s nose. He frowned and studied the screen. His walkie made a few squawks and bleeps, but he ignored them.
Finally, Wilden handed the device back to Spencer. “So you think this is from Ian?”
“Of course it’s from Ian,” Emily urged.
Wilden pushed his hands into his pockets. He sank down on the rose-printed wingback living room couch. “I know how this must look,” he started carefully. “And I promise I will investigate this. But I want you guys to entertain the possibility that this is just from a copycat.”
“A copycat?” Hanna screeched.
“Think about it.” Wilden leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Ever since your story has been on the news, there have been tons of people sending threatening notes, calling themselves A. And although we’ve tried to keep your cell numbers private, people have ways of getting hold of information.” He pointed to Spencer’s phone. “Whoever wrote that probably timed it with Ian’s release, making it look like he’d sent it, that’s all.”
“But what if it really is Ian?” Spencer squealed. She waved her hands toward the media room, where the TV was still playing. “What if he wants to scare us into keeping quiet at his trial?”
Wilden gave her a slightly condescending, closed-mouth smile. “I can see why you’d jump to that conclusion. But think about this from Ian’s perspective. Even if he is mad, he’s out of jail now. He wants to stay out. He wouldn’t try something as blatantly stupid as this.”
Spencer ran her hand over the back of her neck. She felt like she had the time she’d gotten to try out one of the NASA astronaut training machines on a family trip to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida—nauseated and unsure which end was up. “But he killed Ali,” she blurted out.
“Can’t you just re-arrest him until his trial?” Aria suggested.
“Guys, the law doesn’t work like that,” Wilden said. “I can’t just go around arresting anyone I please. It’s not really for me to decide.” He gazed around at all of them, noting their dissatisfaction. “I’ll check Ian out personally, okay? And we’ll try and track down where this text came from. Whoever is sending these will be stopped—I promise. Meanwhile, try not to worry. Someone’s just messing with your heads. More than likely, it’s just some dumb kid who has nothing better to do. Now, can we all take a deep breath and try not to think too hard about this?”
