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Spencer paced back and forth around the little room. “Maybe it was just an act. Hanna, do you remember where Noel was when you talked to Aria?”
Hanna shoved her hands in her pockets, the light from the digital clock on the wall glowing red on her face. “Well, he wasn’t in bed when I woke up. And I didn’t see him in the hall, which is where I was for most of the conversation. He came inside from the back when we got home, though. He said he was smoking a joint, but he didn’t smell like weed at all.”
Aria’s eyes blazed. “Now you’re against me, too?”
“Of course I’m not against you!” Hanna said. “But, Aria, it is weird.”
Spencer shifted forward in the chair. “Remember how strange Noel was when ‘Courtney’ came to Rosewood?” she asked. “He was in a support group with her. He urged you guys to be friends. And you caught them making out at the Valentine’s Day dance. . . .”
Aria slapped her arms to her sides. “Ali ambushed him! Noel didn’t want to kiss her. She just made it look like he did.”
“Are you sure?” Spencer asked. “It was that kiss that made you get in the car to go with us to the Poconos. What if Noel was in on it?”
Aria’s mouth hung open. “I can’t believe you.”
One of the surveillance monitors went dark. Everyone’s gaze shot to it. There was fuzz, but then the image reappeared. The yard was empty. A few leaves drifted past the camera, and that was all.
Spencer shook her head. “I’m sorry, Aria. I don’t want it to be Noel, either. I just wish we could rule Noel out for good. The article says Olaf was killed at the beginning of January. Do you know where Noel was around then?”
Aria ran her tongue over her teeth. “Switzerland. His family was skiing. He asked me to go, but I wanted to stay home and spend time with Lola.”
“Are you sure they were skiing? Switzerland isn’t that far from Iceland.”
Aria pounded a fist on the arm of the sofa. “He posted a ton of pictures on Facebook! Do you honestly think Noel flew to Iceland, killed a guy, and came home the next day like nothing ever happened? You think he’s that good of a liar?”
“Just see if you can find a lift ticket or something from January fourth, okay? And ask him where he was yesterday when someone snuck that painting into your house. It must have been while we were at school, right? So, basically, Noel will tell you he was in eighth period or whatever, and tons of people will vouch for him.”
A worried look crossed Aria’s face, but then she shook her head. “I’m not interrogating my boyfriend. If he finds out why I’m asking him these questions, he’ll dump me.”
“No one wants you guys to break up,” Emily said quickly.
“Look, the rest of us will see what we can discover,” Spencer said, slumping against the wall. “Until then, don’t do anything with the painting, okay, Aria?”
Aria’s mouth made an O. “I’m supposed to keep it in my closet?”
“Just hide it.” Spencer glanced at Hanna. “What’s going on with the burn clinic?”
Hanna sighed. “I really don’t want to volunteer there. But I’m talking to Sean’s dad about it tomorrow.”
“And how about Iris?” Spencer asked Emily.
Emily chewed her bottom lip. “I haven’t found out anything about Ali yet. But Iris has been at The Preserve for four years without a break, so there’s no way she can be Ali’s helper.”
“Good.” Spencer stood up, uncapped the marker she’d brought, and crossed Iris’s name off their list. “Hopefully she’ll tell you who is.”
Aria placed her hands on her hips. “And how is your investigation going, Spence?” she asked, a bitter tone in her voice. “Why haven’t you tracked down Ali yet?”
Spencer bristled. “Um, I’m working on it.” She could feel Aria’s gaze on her, but she didn’t know what else to say.
They shut off the lights in the panic room. Since Spencer had driven, she offered to take the girls who had come in cabs back home. As they walked out the door of the panic room, Spencer stared at Aria’s straight back and wondered what was going through her mind. She felt kind of . . . betrayed. After all that had happened, after A had tormented them about so many things, how had Aria kept quiet about the painting? And now Olaf, whoever he was, was missing and maybe even dead. Aria was right: They all could go to jail for knowing where a stolen painting was hidden and not coming forward with the information.
Ping.
It was Spencer’s old phone, still connected via WiFi. She cautiously looked at the screen. It was an e-mail on her newly created account. The return sender was PHILADELPHIA CONSPIRACY THEORIES.
She glanced at her friends. Hanna was peeking out the window. Aria was staring into space, lost in her own world. Emily was looking at her own phone with a glazed-over expression. Head lowered, Spencer clicked OPEN and read the two sentences. We should definitely talk. There’s a lot you need to know.
She hit REPLY. I’m available whenever, she wrote back. The sooner, the better.
10
Just Like Old Times
The sky turned gloomy as Hanna steered the Prius into the parking lot of the William Atlantic Plastic Surgery and Burn Rehabilitation Clinic. She shut off the engine and looked at the squat, übermodern building. Was she seriously doing this? Part of her wanted to call up Spencer and beg for a different mission.
Her old phone bleated a new message from her school e-mail account. It was from Chassey Bledsoe: VOTE CHASSEY FOR QUEEN!
