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A few pages later, she found Melissa Hastings, Spencer’s sister, who looked nearly the same as she did today. Someone had written something above her photo in red ink, but had then crossed it out so heavily Aria couldn’t make out any of the words. Ian Thomas’s picture was almost last. His wavy hair was longer, too, and his face was a little thinner. He was smiling his signature crinkly Ian Thomas smile, the one that used to assure all of Rosewood that he was the smartest, most handsome guy around—the one who would always have good luck. When this picture was taken, Ian had been fooling around with Ali. Aria shut her eyes, shuddering. The idea of them together was so wrong.
At the bottom of the page was another picture of Ian, a candid of him sitting in a classroom with his mouth slightly open and his hand raised. Someone had drawn a penis next to his mouth and devil horns on top of his curly head. There was a message written beneath the photo in black ink. The handwriting was small and lopsided.
Hey, dude. Cheers to beer bongs at the Kahns’, the time we nearly wrecked Trevor’s car, to four-wheeling on the weekends behind the property, and that time in Yvonne’s basement…you know what I mean. There was another arrow drawn to Ian’s head. I can’t believe what that ass**le did. My offer still stands. Later, Darren.
Aria held the book outstretched. Darren? As in Wilden? Licking her finger, she flipped a page and found his picture. His hair stood up in spikes, and he had the same leering look on his face as he had the day Aria caught him stealing twenty dollars from a girl’s locker.
Were Wilden and Jason friends? Aria had never seen them together in school. And what did Wilden mean, I can’t believe what that ass**le did. My offer still stands?
“What the hell?”
The yearbook slipped from Aria’s fingers, making a dull thud as it hit the floor. Jason was standing in the doorway. He wore a bright red scarf and a black leather jacket. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Aria had been so intrigued by the yearbook, she hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs.
“Oh,” she breathed out.
Jason walked over to Aria jerkily, his nostrils flaring. “How did you get in?”
“Y-you weren’t here,” Aria squeaked, starting to tremble. “Your dog broke free…and he cornered me. I couldn’t even go back to my car. The only way to get away from him was to run up the stairs and squeeze through the window.”
Jason’s lips parted. “What dog?”
Aria pointed out the window. “The…the Rottweiler.”
“We don’t have a Rottweiler.”
Aria stared at him. The dog had been dragging a heavy chain. She’d assumed he’d broken free from his tie-out post…but maybe someone had cut his chain instead. Come to think of it, the dog hadn’t barked once since she’d gotten inside. A horrible thought began to take shape in her mind.
“You didn’t send me that e-mail this morning?” she said shakily. “You didn’t ask me to meet you here?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “I never would’ve told you to meet me here.”
The floorboards squeaked as Aria took a step back. How could she have been so stupid? Of course that e-mail she’d received this morning hadn’t been from Jason. She’d been so relieved to hear from him, she hadn’t remembered that he didn’t have her e-mail address until this very moment. The note had been from…someone else. Someone who had known when Jason wouldn’t be home. Someone who maybe even orchestrated sending a strange dog to chase her into his apartment. She gazed at Jason, her heart beginning to pound.
“Did you come in here only, or did you go into the main house, too?” Jason demanded.
“J-just here.”
Jason loomed over her, his jaw clenched. “Are you telling me the truth?”
Aria bit her lip. Why did it matter? “Of course.”
“Get out,” Jason barked. He stepped aside and pointed at the door.
Aria didn’t move. “Jason,” she stated. “I’m sorry I came in here. It was a misunderstanding. Can we please talk?”
“Get. Out.” Jason whipped his arm to the side, knocking a bunch of books off the bookshelf. A glass plaque fell too, breaking into sharp, angry shards. “Get out!” Jason roared again. Aria ducked and let out a trapped, terrified wail. Jason’s face had transformed. His eyes were wide, the corners of his lips were pulled back, and even his voice sounded different. Lower. Meaner. Aria didn’t recognize him at all.
She rushed out the door and bolted down the steps, slipping a few times on some of the wet treads. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. Her lungs burned with sobs. She fumbled for her car keys and threw herself into the front seat, as if something was chasing her.
When she looked in the rearview mirror, her breath caught in her throat. Far off in the distance, she saw two shadowy shapes of a person and a dog—a Rottweiler?—slipping safely into the woods.
24
SPENCER, NEW YORKER
Spencer leaned back in her plushy seat aboard the Amtrak Acela train to New York, watching the conductor sway through the car taking tickets. Even though it was only Saturday, and even though Michael Hutchins, the Realtor, had said the landlord was using the weekend to clean out her brand-new Perry Street apartment, Spencer couldn’t wait until Monday afternoon to see it. She might not be able to get inside the place today, but that didn’t matter—merely sitting on the stoop, checking out the stores on her block, and getting a cappuccino at her soon-to-be-local Starbucks would be enough. She wanted to hit the furniture shops in Chelsea and on Fifth Avenue and put a few things on hold. She was eager to sit in a café and read The New Yorker, now that she would soon be one.
