Emily stared at them. “Still. This is a lead.”
“It’s a trick,” Spencer corrected her. “And it’s happened before. Ali gave us a hint that she was at the pool house, but then she wiped the place clean of her prints. That’s what’s happening here, too.”
Emily turned to Aria. “But maybe she just left. We could ask people on this street. People at the Wawa. Someone probably saw her. Aria, what do you think?”
Aria looked down. “Em, I think Spencer’s right.”
Emily smacked the doorjamb. “So we’re going to do nothing?”
Spencer placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Em. Calm down.”
Emily twisted away, letting out a pained keening sound. “I can’t just walk away from this! I’ve got to get her out of my head! She’s killing me!”
Everyone exchanged nervous glances. Aria’s heart began to pound. Did Emily think that Ali was trapped inside her or something? “Em.” She grabbed her shoulders. “Em, please. You’re scaring us.”
She wrapped her arms around Emily until her friend stopped flailing. When Emily turned to face them again, her face was red and she was still breathing hard, but she didn’t seem as unglued. “This is the end, isn’t it?” she asked in a quiet, stony tone.
Aria nodded sadly. “I think so.”
Emily leaned against Aria heavily. Hanna joined the group, squeezing Emily’s shoulders. Spencer piled on last, her body heaving with sobs.
“I know it’s hard,” Aria murmured. “We all wanted to find her.”
“But it’s going to be okay,” Hanna said bravely. “Whatever happens, we’ll have each other.”
Emily looked at them and tried to smile, but then her face crumpled again.
They hugged for what seemed like ages. When they pulled apart, everyone wiped their eyes. Aria felt empty. It sucked that she wouldn’t return to Noel triumphant and that they’d start the trial without proof Ali was out there. Their future was so bleak. They had little to look forward to.
They filed out the door and started down the sidewalk. In the distance, waves crashed and kids laughed. Someone was playing a radio loudly, and Aria could smell a barbecue. It seemed cruel, really, to witness such happy sights, sounds, and smells right then. And when an ice-cream truck tinkled around the corner, it was almost too much to bear. A teenage boy stuck his head out the window. “Want some?” he asked.
Hanna nudged Emily. “Get a Popsicle. It’ll cheer you up.”
“We’ll all get something.” Spencer’s voice was forcedly cheerful. “In fact, we should stay here the rest of the day, guys. Eat ice cream. Hang out, get a great dinner, leave early tomorrow before the storm comes in. We could check into that motel where we asked for directions. What do you think?”
Aria thought for a moment, then nodded. A day at the beach was like their equivalent of a death-row prisoner’s last meal, but they were already there. They might as well.
“Okay,” Emily said. And everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
They took their places in line. Aria perused the ice cream choices—they hadn’t changed since she was a kid. When she closed her eyes, breathing in the salty air and feeling the hot sun, she almost felt like a kid again—like that gangly, insecure girl who let her best friend tease her about how no boys liked her because she was so pale.
She’d go back to that day in a heartbeat—anything was better than what lay ahead. She’d even suffer through the sunburn.
5
EMILY TAKES THE PLUNGE
Emily lay perfectly still on the crinkly mattress in the hotel double bed. Hanna was by her side, sleeping on her stomach, a satin mask over her eyes and headphones in her ears. Aria and Spencer were crammed into the other double bed, breathing softly. The air conditioner rattled in the corner, and the alert light on someone’s phone blinked on the desk.
The wind had begun to howl, and Emily could hear the crashing waves even from up in the room. It sounded like the storm was rolling in earlier than predicted. Last year, Emily had watched footage of a hurricane like this one. In one video, a man was stranded in his rowboat out at sea. The camera stayed on him as he tried to fight the current again and again, fruitlessly paddling. Rescue helicopters hadn’t been able to reach him. No lifeguard dared to swim in, nor could a rescue boat get close. And still the news kept their cameras trained on him anyway, until the bitter end. Emily had basically watched a man die on television.
Didn’t like that, did you, Em? Ali giggled in her head.
Emily glanced at the clock: 5:03 AM. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ali. It’s a trick, Spencer had said about the vanilla. But was it? Was it really?
Emily ran her hand along her bare stomach. They’d gotten ice cream that afternoon, then treated themselves to a fish fry that evening, even finding a place where the bartender would serve them margaritas. But Emily had barely tasted any of it. She felt like her head was clouded with fog, reacting a split second too late to what her friends said, completely missing jokes, taking too long to even blink. Em, are you okay? her friends kept asking. But it was like they were talking to her underwater; she could barely hear them. She’d felt herself nod, she’d felt herself try to smile. The fish-and-chips she’d ordered had been too hot, but when she’d bitten into them, she barely registered that she’d burned her tongue.
Maybe she’d never taste again. Maybe she’d never feel again. Then again, perhaps that was a good approach to take for prison.