“So…it was for…mental issues?” Aria said tentatively.
Courtney pointed a pretzel at Aria like a dagger. “Those places aren’t just for mental patients,” she snapped.
“Oh.” A bloom of red appeared on Aria’s cheeks. “Sorry. I had no idea.”
Courtney gave a shrug and stared into the pretzel bowl. Spencer waited for her to elaborate on why she had been in those facilities, but she said nothing.
Finally, Courtney raised her head. “Anyway. I’m sorry I ran away from you the night of the fire. That was probably really…confusing.”
“Oh my God, that was you,” Hanna exclaimed.
Spencer ran her fingers along the edge of the blue linen place mat. It made sense, of course, that it was Courtney who had emerged from the woods, not Ali’s ghost or a figment from a weird group hallucination.
Emily leaned forward, her reddish-blond hair falling in her face. “What were you doing there?”
Courtney pulled her chair closer to the table. “I got a note—from Billy I guess—saying there was something in the woods I needed to see.” Courtney’s face twisted with remorse. “I wasn’t supposed to leave the house, but the note said it would help solve Ali’s murder. When I reached the woods, the fire started. I thought I was going to die…but then Aria saved me.” She touched Aria’s wrist. “Thank you, by the way.”
Aria’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
“How did you get out of there so quickly?” Emily pressed.
Courtney wiped a stray piece of salt from her lip. “I called my contact at the Rosewood PD. He’s an old family friend.”
The sound of mic feedback filtered in from the press conference outside. Spencer gazed at Aria, Emily, and Hanna. It was obvious who the family friend was. It explained why they hadn’t seen him the night of the fire. It also explained why he’d told them to stop saying they saw Ali the very next day: He’d needed to keep Ali’s sister safe.
“Wilden.” Emily’s jaw tensed. “You shouldn’t trust him. He’s not what he seems.”
Courtney leaned back, letting out an easy, amused chuckle. “Settle down, Killer.”
A chilly frisson of fear slithered up Spencer’s back. Killer? That was Ali’s nickname for Emily. Had Ali told her?
But before any of them could say anything, Mrs. DiLaurentis appeared in the front hall. When she noticed the group, her face brightened. “Thanks for coming, girls. It means a lot to us.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis walked over to Courtney and put her hand on her arm. Her long, perfect nails were painted classic Chanel red. “I’m sorry, honey, but there’s someone from MSNBC who has a couple of questions. He’s come all the way from New York….”
“Okay,” Courtney groaned, getting up.
“The Rosewood PD wants to speak with you, too,” Mrs. DiLaurentis said. She took her daughter’s face in her hands and began to smooth out Courtney’s eyebrows. “Something about the night of the fire.”
“Again?” Courtney sighed dramatically, wrenching away from her mom. “I’d rather talk to the press. They’re more fun.”
She turned back to the girls, who were still sitting motionless at the table. “Come by anytime, guys,” she said, smiling. “Door’s always open. And, oh!” She pulled a brand-new laminated school ID from her jeans pocket. COURTNEY DILAURENTIS, it said in big red letters. “I’m going to Rosewood Day!” she exclaimed. “See you at school tomorrow.”
And then, with a final unsettling wink, she was gone.
6
FREAK NO MORE
The following morning, Hanna walked down the path from the student parking lot toward school. Channel 6, Channel 8, and CNN news vans were parked at Rosewood Day’s main entrance. Reporters hunched behind the bushes like lions on the prowl. Smoothing her auburn hair, Hanna braced herself for their barrage of questions.
The reporter closest to her stared for a moment, and then turned to the others. “Never mind,” he shouted. “It’s only that Pretty Little Liar girl.”
Hanna winced. Only that Pretty Little Liar girl? What the hell did that mean? Didn’t they want to ask Hanna what she thought about Ali’s secret twin? What about her opinions on Billy trying to prove his innocence? And while she was at it, how about a big, fat apology for all the mud they’d slung at her?
She stuck her nose in the air. Whatever. She didn’t want to be on TV anyway. The camera added ten pounds.
A tubby guy operating the boom microphone squawked into his Nextel walkie-talkie. Another reporter clapped her cell phone closed. “Courtney DiLaurentis is in the back parking lot!”
The reporters and camera people stampeded for the back of the school.
Hanna shuddered. Courtney. It hardly seemed real. The first few hours after Hanna left the DiLaurentis kitchen, she kept waiting for people with cameras to pop out of nowhere, announcing that this was all some bizarre prank.
Why hadn’t Ali told them about her sister? All those sleepovers, all those notes between classes, all those trips to the Poconos and Newport. All those times they played Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare, and Ali hadn’t once spilled the secret. Should Hanna have sensed the truth when Ali wanted to pretend that they were quintuplets who’d been separated at birth? Or when she saw the drawing of Ali—Courtney—on the Preserve wall. Had Ali been dropping cryptic hints whenever she looked at Hanna and sighed, “You’re so lucky to be an only child”?