Toxic

  “But aren’t prisons really secure?” Aria asked, climbing into the backseat. “You’re saying that Ali not only got inside the place, but also made it back to the prison cells themselves?”

  “I guess so,” Emily said stubbornly. “Or maybe an Ali Cat did it.”

  Spencer sniffed. “You think one of them is in prison?”

  “I don’t know!” Emily sounded exasperated. She paused to wipe the tears from her face with a Kleenex from a small, snowman-printed package. “Didn’t you read that post on the Ali Cat site I sent you? It was about how some of them hate whoever hates Ali, and how they’re willing to hurt any of Ali’s enemies. Maybe they’re crazy enough to murder for her. Ali has to be behind this, you guys. She saw that I was happy, and she needed to ruin that.” She paused and swallowed hard. “When she cornered me in the pool, she was like, Say you still love me. I couldn’t do it. All I could think of was Jordan. And the look on her face when I said no—well, she was furious. That’s why she pushed me under, but it’s also why she let me go. Killing me wouldn’t have been satisfying. She had to kill the person that I was now in love with. She wanted me to live and suffer.”

  “Oh my God.” Hanna clapped her hand over her mouth. The others looked just as stricken. Emily hadn’t told them about the “Say you still love me” stuff before.

  Emily looked around ominously at the others. Her chin was shaking wildly. “She’s going to ruin your happiness, too. Mark my words.”

  Hanna shivered, her thoughts instantly zinging to the kiss with Jared last night. Ali couldn’t know about that, could she?

  Emily pulled another Kleenex from the pack. “We have to get her, you guys. Before she does anything else.”

  “How?” Spencer asked. “The hoodie was a dead end, remember? We have no idea where she’s living or how she’s tracking us. We’re stuck until we see her again.”

  “Maybe we could find out from the prison if any visitors came in or out last night?” Aria suggested.

  Spencer scoffed. “Somehow I don’t think Ali signed herself in with her real ID.”

  “Or maybe we could look at this.” Emily reached into the footwell and pulled out a real estate magazine Hanna often saw displayed at the organic grocery store in Rosewood. She flipped to a page marked with a Post-it and pointed to a picture of a majestic-looking stone house that looked a lot like Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. ASHLAND, read the address. Secluded hideaway, on ten acres, read the Realtor’s description.

  “The news mentioned that the Maxwells have a lot of properties in Pennsylvania,” Emily explained tonelessly. “I did some digging, and one of them was a wooded estate in Ashland, and it’s for sale. I scoured the internet, and this is the only thing that matched. It’s got to be the one.”

  Spencer reached for the magazine from the backseat. She studied the picture for a long time, then said, “And since the Turkey Hill receipt was from here, you’re thinking Ali’s maybe staying there?”

  Emily nodded. “Ali probably knew about all of Nick’s family’s houses. And if it’s been unoccupied for a while, maybe she figured it would be a good place to hide.”

  Aria squinted. “But wouldn’t the cops have searched the properties? Nick’s, like, a mass murderer. They might have wanted to make sure there weren’t more bodies or evidence.”

  “They might have,” Emily said, “but the report didn’t say anything about that. And it’s not like they have the places on twenty-four-hour surveillance. Ali could have slipped in after the search.”

  Hanna gestured to the magazine. “This seems so obvious, though. I mean, first we find a receipt leading us to Ashland, and we already know Ali was staying at the Maxwells’ town house. It feels too easy.”

  “Or maybe Ali’s getting sloppy,” Emily suggested. “She doesn’t have Nick anymore to watch her back. Maybe she doesn’t realize we’ve made the connection. I think we should check it out.”

  Aria twisted her mouth. “I don’t know, Em.”

  Hanna agreed, though she didn’t say so. It seemed like Emily was trying to force mismatched puzzle pieces together.

  But on the other hand, she got it. Hanna recalled Emily’s light, chirpy, beyond-excited voice when she’d told Hanna about Jordan potentially being released from prison. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she’d never, ever heard Emily so happy. A carpet had been ripped out from under her—a whole life. No wonder she was acting this way.

  Spencer wound a piece of hair around her finger. “We would be trespassing. And it could be a trap.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed. “I knew you guys would be like this. She ruined my life. I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find her. And if I have to do it alone, then that’s what I’ll do.” She gripped the steering wheel purposefully.

  Hanna glanced at Spencer and Aria worriedly. Both of them had the same shocked expressions on their faces. “Hey,” Hanna said quickly, touching Emily’s shoulder. “You’re not doing this alone. We’ll all go, okay?”

  “We’re not going to let you get hurt,” Spencer added.

  “But promise us that if anything seems creepy, we’re out of there,” Aria chimed in. “Deal?”

  “Uh-huh,” Emily said robotically, but the tough look in her eyes made Hanna think that Emily was ready for all kinds of creepy. What if Spencer was right? What if Ali knew they were coming? What if she was waiting for them?

  What were they in for?

  Despite punching the address from the real estate listing into the GPS on Spencer’s phone, Emily still took several wrong turns before finding the Maxwells’ estate. The only marker to the house was a small red mailbox poking through the trees, but Emily finally made the correct left turn. A long gravel driveway led almost straight up, the tires crunching noisily on the rocks. The car was hemmed in on either side by tall, camouflaging oaks and pines. At night, the place was probably pitch-black, the trees obscuring the stars and the moon.

  They pulled up to the house, which looked exactly like it did in the magazine’s picture: lots of levels, planes of stone, sheets of long, huge windows. The front porch was clean and swept. Flowers poked through mulched beds in the front yard. Tube-shaped wind chimes hung from the eaves. Hanna picked up a slight marshy, algae-like scent; maybe there was a creek back in the woods. There was a Realtor’s sign in the front yard and a lockbox on the door.

  Emily immediately leapt out and started to look around. Hanna followed, not wanting Emily to go too far alone. “No one’s here,” Hanna called out quickly. “I guess we were wrong.”

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Aria said, her voice quavering. “I’ve seen all I need to see.”

  But Emily didn’t seem to hear them. She touched the peeling white bark on a birch tree in the front yard, then went up to one of the windows and peered inside the house.

  “Em, there’s a lockbox on the door,” Spencer, who’d also climbed out of the car, called out. “Ali wouldn’t be stupid enough to still be hiding here if potential buyers are viewing this place, you know?”

  “And I bet this house has a pimp security system,” Aria added, her eyes darting back and forth around the property. “An alarm would go off if Ali tried to get inside.”

  “See? There you go,” Hanna said, heading back to the car. “Let’s get out of here.”

  But then Emily pointed to a path in the side yard. “What’s that?”

  She jogged toward the back of the house. Hanna and the others exchanged another worried glance, then followed reluctantly. A long wraparound porch extended all the way to the backyard. Jutting beyond that was a huge slate patio, complete with low-slung furniture and a granite fire pit. There was also an in-ground, oval, infinity-edge pool, its winter cover still on.

  “This place is nicer than the Kahns’,” Aria mumbled, eyeing a massive stone waterfall and three large Grecian statues of buxom naked women.

  Something cracked behind Hanna, and she turned and peered at the sky. Tree branches swayed. Something shifted in the woods. The hair
rose on the back of her arms. Once again, she thought of that chalk message on the sidewalk outside the studio. BreAk a leg, Hanna.

  “You guys . . . ,” she started nervously.

  Emily was marching beyond the pool, seemingly impervious to danger. Hanna scurried after her, watching as Emily walked purposefully down a small path, pushing branches aside and stepping over thick roots. In moments, they were facing a square, two-story building hidden in the woods. Half-rotted barn-style doors sealed off the front. Cobwebs dominated the porch. Most of the windows were covered. Dead leaves and broken branches blanketed the roof, and one of the shutters flapped noisily.

  “What is this place?” Aria said breathily, staring up at the eroded roof.

  “A pool house, maybe,” Spencer said. “Or maybe some sort of work shed.”

  “You can barely find it,” Emily remarked. Her eyes were suddenly bright. “Ali might not be ballsy enough to stay in the main house. But what about here?”

  The prickly feeling on Hanna’s skin had intensified. This did feel like somewhere Ali might hide. She turned toward the sound coming from the woods again. Someone could be in there, watching them as they discovered this.

  Before anyone could stop her, Emily leapt up the stairs and peered into a small part of the window that wasn’t covered in cardboard. “I can’t see anything,” she said. She moved to the door and tried the knob.

  “Em, don’t!” Aria screeched, covering her eyes. Hanna leapt forward to grab her hand.

  But Emily shrugged Hanna off and jiggled the knob roughly. It turned, and the door swung open into the room. Hanna winced and jolted back, afraid an explosion would go off. Or, even worse, Ali would appear.

  But there was only silence.

  Everyone waited a beat. Spencer coughed. Aria peeked between her fingers. Hanna gazed into the dark space, unable to make out anything.

  Emily squared her shoulders. “I’m going in.”

  Spencer groaned and scampered behind her. Aria was next. Hanna scrambled up the porch steps, definitely not hanging outside alone. As she crossed the threshold, the wind shifted, wafting a familiar smell into her nostrils. Her heart stopped. Aria turned around and stared at her. Her eyes were wide, too.

  “Vanilla,” Aria whispered.

  “See?” Emily hissed.

  Emily pulled a flashlight out of her backpack and flicked it on. Hanna cringed again, terrified at what they might see, but the room was mostly empty. Huge silken spiderwebs spanned the corners, many of them peppered with trapped, dead insects. At the far end of the room stood a small counter, a sink, and a rusted refrigerator whose smell Hanna could only imagine. A small table sat by the counter, its matching chair missing a leg. Underneath the table was a pile of dead leaves. Another room shot off to the left, and there was a narrow door at the right. Stairs led to a second level.

  No one moved except for Emily, who rushed over to the counter and opened the single cabinet and drawer. Both of them stuck a little, probably warped shut. Then she opened the fridge—empty—and felt around the windowsills and tried the water tap—it didn’t work. Hanna peeked in the second room, using her phone as a light. Inside was nothing but an old bureau. She knew she should look in the drawers, but she was too scared. We should leave, a voice kept hammering inside her. This isn’t right.

  Emily opened the narrow door and gagged; a filthy toilet and a rusted sink stood behind it. After opening the single cabinet, she shut the door again and darted up the stairs. Hanna heard her footsteps; before anyone could follow her, she was back down. She held something between her fingers. “Look.”

  She shone the flashlight on a plastic wrapper. It was a bag of Rold Gold pretzels. “Remember how Ali ate these the day of the DiLaurentises’ press conference?” Emily asked excitedly, almost hysterically. “You know, when they announced that Ali had a twin?”

  Hanna would never forget that bizarre day. Courtney—really Ali—had appeared on a stage outside the DiLaurentises’ new house, and the family had explained that they’d brought Courtney home from the hospital to help her heal. Lies, all lies. If only they hadn’t set her free. None of this would have happened.

  After the press asked questions, Ali summoned the others inside—it had been the beginning of her plot to win them over, make them think she was their old friend. They’d sat around the kitchen table, and Ali had eaten pretzel after pretzel, her crunches the only sound in the room. I promise I won’t bite, she’d said with a spooky, knowing smile on her face.

  Now Aria cocked her head. “A lot of people like pretzels, though. And Rold Gold is a common brand.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure what that proves,” Spencer said softly. “It probably doesn’t have any fingerprints on it.”

  Emily glowered at all of them. “Don’t tell me she wasn’t here. I know you all smell the vanilla.”

  “We do,” Hanna said, surprised by Emily’s aggressive tone. “But we can’t go to the cops with this. It’s not enough.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” Emily shrieked, her eyes wild. “Wait for her to come back? Because I will. I’ll sleep on this floor to make sure I catch her.”

  “Em.” Spencer placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. Emily was suddenly shaking. “You can’t do that. You have to calm down.”

  Aria propped her hands on her hips and looked around. “Maybe we can watch this place somehow—without us getting hurt.”

  Hanna didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

  Emily’s face lit up. “What about video surveillance?”

  “That could work,” Spencer said cautiously. “My stepfather has cameras on all of his model homes. You can access them remotely, even on an iPad.”

  Emily nodded hurriedly. “We could plant some here. Today.”

  Spencer glanced at the others. Hanna wanted to say no—that would mean getting all the gear and then coming back here—but she feared what Emily would do if they didn’t agree. Sleep in the woods, maybe. Sit on the porch all night, waiting for Ali.

  “I guess so,” Spencer said. She pulled out her phone. “I think Best Buy sells whole kits of stuff that’s easy to install.”

  “And then . . . what? We watch from afar?” Aria asked.

  “That’s right,” Spencer said. “We could take shifts, each of us watching the house at different times. If we see anything, we go to the police.”

  Hanna ran her tongue over her teeth. It certainly seemed safer than facing Ali directly. And a video of Ali would be enough to prove to the police she was still alive.

  “Let’s do it,” Emily said. “Let’s go now.”

  She shone the flashlight on the door leading to the yard, and as it creaked open, Hanna braced herself again. She blinked in the silent, empty yard. The tree branches waved softly. The sun glittered high in the sky. The shadows Hanna thought she’d seen in the woods weren’t there anymore.

  Maybe they’d never been there. Maybe Ali really didn’t know they were here.

  And maybe, this time, they were really going to catch her.

  18

  THE STING OPERATION

  Everyone spent the next few minutes pacing around the old pool house and deciding where to place the surveillance cameras once they bought them. The idea was that they’d come back here later with all the equipment and a ladder and mount everything, carefully concealing it with tree branches. Hopefully, by that night, they’d have a whole surveillance operation up and running.

  But halfway through the strategizing, Aria padded back to the car and climbed inside. Moments later, Hanna joined her. The two of them silently passed a bottle of water back and forth, the only sounds the water sloshing in its container and the two of them noisily swallowing.

  “Are we really doing this?” Hanna whispered.

  Aria gulped. Hanna seemed as freaked as she was. “I guess so.”

  “Do you actually think Ali’s staying there?”

  Aria shut her eyes. “I don’t know. I want to believe it, for Em’s sake
. And there was that smell of vanilla, I guess. . . .”

  “I’m worried about her,” Hanna blurted.

  Aria opened her eyes. Hanna looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have the person you love most in the world die,” Hanna said haltingly.

  “I know,” Aria said, tearing up just thinking about it.

  “But, I mean, I’m afraid Emily’s going to do something . . . destructive. And I’m scared we won’t be able to help her this time.”

  Aria swallowed hard. She had a feeling Hanna was talking about Emily’s suicide attempt. Aria would never be able to forget that day, seeing Emily on the edge of that bridge. The expression on her face had been haunting: It was like she’d just . . . given up, standing there, ready to plunge into the water. Thankfully, they’d been able to talk her down, and Emily promised she’d never do something like that again.

  But that was three weeks ago, and now Emily seemed unhinged again. Except instead of throwing in the towel, she was acting kind of . . . crazy.

  “We’ll keep an eye on her,” she said, touching Hanna’s hand. “And hopefully this will be over soon.”

  She was about to say more, but then Spencer and Emily appeared around the side yard and climbed back into the car. Spencer looked frazzled, but Emily’s expression was still focused, charged, and alert. “Okay,” Emily said as she swung into the driver’s seat. “Off to Best Buy.”

  Emily started down the long, hilly driveway toward the street. Aria glanced over her shoulder, back at the house, feeling a strange pull in her stomach. What if Ali really did use this property as her secret hideout? Had Ali killed Jordan? Was Ali coming after them next?

  She slid her cell phone from the pocket and checked the screen. Her new agent, a woman named Patricia, had sent a text about the success of last night’s show. Four buyers interested in pieces, she’d written. She’d received a note from Harrison, too. I’ve gotten a ton of site traffic because of my exclusive with you!

  Her stomach did an excited flip at all this news—especially that Harrison had signed off with a dozen Xs and Os. But she didn’t feel as excited as she should. They really, really needed to get Ali before she ruined everything in their lives.