“But what was she doing?” Emily cried. “What was with all the bleach?” She looked around at the others. “Did she kill someone in that house?”
“Someone killed someone,” Aria said slowly. She stared at the dress in her hands. Maybe she was imagining things, but it still seemed sort of warm, as if the heat from Ali’s body hadn’t left it yet.
She swallowed hard, suddenly realizing what they needed to do. She pulled out her phone and unlocked the screen. Emily watched her carefully, then breathed in. “What are you doing?”
“I think we need to call the police,” Aria said.
Emily held Aria’s gaze, but she didn’t protest. It was the right thing to do. Whatever they’d witnessed was beyond their control. And even if it wasn’t Ali who’d killed someone in there—which Aria highly doubted—someone had.
31
THE WAITING GAME
Emily suggested the girls all sleep together at her place, since no one wanted to go home alone. They scampered into her garage as Emily opened the door to the house. The room was silent and dark, the lights and the TV off. The faint scent of a blown-out candle lingered in the air.
“You have some explaining to do.”
Everyone screamed. A light flicked on. Emily’s parents sat in the loveseat in the corner. Her dad was still in a suit, her mom still in her flowered dress and heels from the Rosewood Rallies party. Mrs. Fields’s nose and eyes were red, like she’d been crying.
Emily lowered her eyes. Her friends had all handled their situations with their families on the drive home. Emily knew that calling her parents would have been the right thing to do, too, but somehow she couldn’t will her finger muscles to dial their number. Her mind was too distracted, her thoughts still on Ali and the pool house and whatever had happened.
Mrs. Fields rushed over to her and took Emily by the shoulders. “Where have you been?”
“We . . .” Emily shrugged and shook her head. She had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left the party without telling you.”
“Sorry?” Mrs. Fields’s eyes boggled. “You disappear, and all you can say is you’re sorry? You weren’t picking up your phone, you weren’t here. . . . We feared the worst.”
Emily’s father frowned deeply. “We were considering calling the police.”
“It’s my fault,” Spencer piped up, her voice cracking. “I gathered everyone together and asked that we get away for a few moments. We all felt kind of traumatized being at that front table, everyone looking at us—it brought back some tough memories. We grabbed a bite to eat. That’s it.”
Emily lookd at Spencer gratefully. It was the same story the other girls had told their parents, but she was astonished at how Spencer could lie so expertly to her mom’s face. It was kind of the truth, except for the eating part. They had been traumatized. Just for different reasons.
Mr. and Mrs. Fields exchanged a glance. Mrs. Fields looked like she was going to start crying again. “We’re just so concerned,” she scolded Emily. “You’ve been so . . . troubled lately. All those things you said about causing those bruises on your neck yourself. And you’ve been spending so much time in your room. I know you’ve been sleeping in your closet instead of your bed. And I’ve heard you crying. . . .”
Emily could feel her friends shifting uncomfortably. She kept her eyes on the ground. Maybe she should have told her mom about Jordan a long time ago. Maybe now her mom would understand . . . and get off her case.
“If you didn’t want to go to the party, you should have said something,” Mr. Fields added gruffly.
“I didn’t know I had a choice,” Emily mumbled, the words coming out a bit harsher than she’d intended.
Mrs. Fields sighed. Emily didn’t know if it was a sign of confusion or disappointment—maybe both. She was too numb to really care. “We’re going to have to ground you,” Mrs. Fields said. “Two weeks. No more going out. Anytime you leave the house, one of us is going with you.”
Emily could barely react. Why did she care if she was grounded? There was nothing for her on the outside anymore.
She looked up at her mom. “Can my punishment start tomorrow? Can they at least stay here tonight?” She gestured to her friends. There was no way any of them were sleeping alone.
Mrs. Fields tapped her lips, then looked at the others. “Have you called your parents? Do they know where you are?” Everyone nodded, and Emily’s mom shut her eyes. “Fine. It’s late, so you can sleep here. But no TV. And if I hear you girls up much later, I’m sending you all home.”
Then she and Emily’s dad padded out of the room. The stairs creaked as they retired to their bedroom.
Spencer looked at Emily, one eyebrow raised. “Sleeping in your closet?”
“It’s a long story,” Emily mumbled.
“Why did you tell your parents you gave yourself those bruises?” Hanna asked.
Emily looked at her exasperatedly. “What was I supposed to tell them?”
Her friends exchanged a glance. It was that look again, that Emily’s lost it look. But she was too worn out to care. So they were worried about her. So her parents were worried about her. Why couldn’t they all just leave her alone?
Aria flopped on the couch and hugged an embroidered pillow to her chest. “What do you think the police are doing right now? Do you think they’re at the house?”
It was a question they hadn’t dared to ask. When Aria had been connected to the police station, she’d told an Ashland officer that they’d been hiking around in the woods, it had gotten dark on them quickly, and they’d stumbled upon a pool house whose floors were covered in blood. The police officer said they’d send someone to the address immediately, but when he asked for Aria’s name, she’d hung up. The police didn’t need to know it was them. They’d go there, they’d find Ali’s prints—for there had to be some. And once Fuji was involved, she’d form that conclusion on her own.