“Okay, thanks.” Emily pressed the receiver closer to her ear. “Maybe I could set up a visit next week, then.”

After arranging to visit Iris next Wednesday, Emily hung up the phone and slumped into a kitchen chair. She felt good that Iris returned like she said she would. Maybe this time, she’d actually take her stay at The Preserve seriously.

Emily conjured an image of The Preserve with its Grecian columns and small terraces, then pictured Noel pulling his SUV up the drive to visit Ali, his secret girlfriend. Had he set appointments with “Courtney” like Emily just had with Iris? She still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the fact that he and Ali had been working together for all these years. Watching Emily and her friends’ every move, plotting to bring them down.

She shivered, thinking of all the intimate moments Noel had spied on. How carefully had he watched Emily and Jordan on the cruise? Had he seen them on that glass-bottomed boat in Puerto Rico? Had he seen them kiss on the top deck? She’d known that A had been watching, but that A was someone they knew so intimately hurt even more. It had been Noel who’d called the FBI on Jordan. And it was because of Noel that Jordan had to swan-dive off the top deck, risk those treacherous seas, escape the country forever. Sure, maybe Ali had told him to do it, but Noel had actually done it. He hated them that much.

And he loved Ali that much.

Lost in her thoughts, Emily climbed the stairs and padded into her bedroom. She sat down on the bed and stared into the middle of the room, a memory suddenly coming to her. She’d been in the Rosewood Day locker room. The girl she’d thought was Courtney had sidled up next to her and acted devastated that Emily had been with her sister on the night she was killed. Emily had taken pity on Courtney, saying that if she ever needed anything, Emily was there for her.

Courtney’s face had lit up. Maybe we could get together after school tomorrow? she’d asked. If it’s not too weird, that is. With Ali, I mean. And Emily had said yes, of course, that would be fine, and when she’d looked up at Courtney again, the girl had a gleam in her eye, a twist of a smile on her lips. Is she flirting with me? Emily had thought, stunned. Courtney had winked, like she knew exactly what she was doing. And something resembling lust had rumbled in Emily’s chest. Those old feelings had started to stir. That old love.

But even if she was the one Ali wanted, she would have never done for Ali what Noel had. She would have never hurt innocent people, her friends.

She whirled around and kicked the bedpost so hard her toe ached. Maybe it was a bad idea that they hadn’t told Agent Fuji about A—both of them—immediately. Because if Ali and Noel were out there, they needed to find them. Now.

33

Who’s That Girl?

“So you haven’t heard from Noel at all?” Hanna said into her burner cell as she walked through the Bill Beach’s back entrance—all the parking at the front was filled again. The entrance bordered one of the community rooms. The place smelled like stale coffee. A baseball game was on the TV in the lobby, and several visiting family members were gathered around in Phillies jerseys.

“Nope,” Mike said on the other end. “Though Aria asked me about it, too. What happened between them last night?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hanna said nervously. “Just a stupid fight.”

“Really?” Mike cleared his throat. “Hanna, all those questions you asked me about Noel and that bomb—”

“I can’t talk about it right now,” Hanna interrupted. Mike would find out soon enough, after all. She didn’t want him knowing anything before he had to. It was going to break Mike’s heart that his best friend had tried to kill his sister and his girlfriend.

Hanna still couldn’t believe what they’d come upon in the cemetery last night. She also couldn’t believe Spencer had the guts to hit him with that scepter. And had Noel been hurt? He’d gotten away, but his run had been stumbling and strange.

The most worrying moment of all, though, was the sense Hanna got just after Noel ran off. Even though the cemetery seemed deserted, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was there with them. She hadn’t mentioned it to her friends, though—and none of them had said anything to her. It was probably all in her mind.

She pulled open the door to the women’s staff room—which, strangely, was empty. Usually there were a couple of nurses hanging out there, watching soaps. “My shift starts soon, so I’d better go.”

“So how long are you going to work there?” Mike asked.

“Actually, I think today’s going to be my last day.” Hanna grabbed her scrubs from her locker and began unbuttoning her jeans. Her investigation into Graham was done. “I’ll call you later.”

She hit END. Her phone rang again a split second later. It was her dad’s number. When she answered, her father sounded furious.

“Hanna, someone named Agent Fuji showed up at the house this morning with a team and a search warrant for your bedroom,” he said. “I was able to have my lawyers send them away, but they’ll be back. What the hell’s going on? What are you mixed up in?”

Hanna froze. A search warrant? Spencer had been right: Fuji was systematically going to each of them, trying to find that painting. At least she hadn’t picked Aria as her next victim.

“I-I have no idea,” she lied. “What was the agent looking for?”

“She didn’t say.” Mr. Marin’s voice was strained. “Is it drugs? There were rumors you had a suicide pact—was it a gun? I can’t believe a news van hasn’t shown up here yet. The last thing I need is an FBI vehicle at the house and a bunch of agents searching the place and me not knowing what to say.”

Tears filled Hanna’s eyes. She couldn’t have her father getting caught up in this. “Whatever she’s looking for, she won’t find it in my room,” Hanna bleated. “I’m sorry you had to go through that . . . but it was just a big mix-up. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

She hung up the phone and took deep breaths. If her father had sent Agent Fuji away, she might try someone else’s house. Like Aria’s, maybe. And then what?

There was no way she could continue her shift now. She walked down the hall and turned toward the lobby, ready to tell Sean she’d do a makeup day another time. It was filled with people, tons of voices shouting at once. Mr. Ackard was speaking to two official-looking men by the front desk. A police officer spoke into a walkie-talkie. A man with a news camera walked in, followed by a reporter in a suit. In the corner, another reporter interviewed Sean, whose face was laced with concern.

Hanna’s stomach soured. Was this for Graham?

Kelly stood at the edges of the group, her hand to her mouth. Hanna tugged her sleeve.

“What’s going on?”

The nurse gawked at her with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sounds came out.

Hanna glanced down one of the patient hallways. “Can I go back there and talk to Kyla?” Maybe she could explain what was happening.

A nurse standing next to Kelly widened her eyes. “Honey, get in line.”

Hanna blinked hard. “D-did something happen to Kyla?”

Kelly’s mouth dropped open. “We thought you knew,” she said in a hushed voice. “Honey, Kyla’s dead.”

“What?” Hanna backed away from them and bumped into someone. When she turned around, it was Sean. “What’s going on?” she demanded shakily.

Sean’s eyes darted back and forth. Then he stepped closer. “Someone found a body in a ditch behind the facility early this morning. It was a girl wearing a hospital bracelet from the clinic. Her name was Kyla Kennedy.”

Hanna pressed her hand over her mouth. “No.” Her face felt hot with tears.

She collapsed into Sean’s arms, and he patted her shoulder. “It looks like she was killed a few days ago and dumped there,” Sean said mournfully.

Hanna shot back up. “Wait. That’s not possible. I saw Kyla last night. She was in the bed in the hall, near Graham’s room.”

An uncomfortable look settled across Sean’s face. “That’s the thing, Hanna. I don’t think that was Kyla. It was . . . someone else. This is such a horrible mistake—a huge legal and publicity nightmare.”

“What?” It felt like her brain matter was leaking out of her ears. “What do you mean?”

“The police are certain that the real Kyla, our patient, died several days ago at least. But nurses—and you, obviously—remember someone in Kyla’s bed after that.”

“But . . . I talked to her!” Hanna gasped. “We bonded!”

Sean looked like he was going to be sick. “Last night, the nurses discovered Kyla gone. When the body turned up, we thought that was that, but the coroner’s data is solid. The theory right now is that whoever that was in the bed murdered the real Kyla and put bandages on her face to get into the burn clinic for some reason. And then, for some other reason, she just . . . left.”

“That makes no sense!” Hanna wailed. “Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sean said quietly.

Flashbulbs popped around the room. A clump of nurses stood in the corner, crying. A man with a jacket that read FORENSICS began to cordon off some of the room. Hanna leaned against the table and tried to catch her breath. As she shifted, something sharp poked her side. It was something wedged inside the pocket of her shirt. Hanna frowned and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She didn’t remember leaving anything inside her scrubs the last time she wore them.

She unfolded the paper and saw tiny, loopy letters. Familiar loopy letters, in fact. Her stomach started to gurgle. This looked like Ali’s handwriting.

Dear Hanna, it began. I can explain everything, especially why I did what I did. But I think I know what you’re after, and I want to help you. The answer you want is in the Rosewood Day storage shed. It will give you the proof you need and put everything to rest. Go there NOW . . . before it’s too late. Love, Kyla.

Her face must have been pale, because Sean touched her wrist. “What’s that?”

Hanna pulled the note to her chest. “Nothing,” she croaked. And then she turned around and ran out of the building.

34

Surprise Inside!

At 1:30, Aria paced back and forth inside her mom’s house, the news blaring on the television. She checked her phone at 1:31 and 10 seconds, and then 24 seconds, and then 45. Nothing from Noel. She peered out the window for the zillionth time, but of course Noel wasn’t walking up the front steps. She’d already cruised around Rosewood and Hollis, as if he’d just be strolling up and down Lancaster Avenue or walking on the Hollis Great Lawn without a care in the world.

He’s with Ali now, she thought. But something in her brain still fought against it. Noel loved her. She could feel it. When he said he loved Ali last night, he’d been confused. He was holding on to something that wasn’t there, just like Emily had. He hadn’t helped her. He hadn’t colluded with her. This was a mistake.