Emily scanned the trees, but there was no one there. She glanced at the other graves, but nobody moved among the headstones. She even looked up into the sky, as if searching for a blond head among the darkening clouds. She thought about the Web site she’d stumbled upon the other day, a collection of anonymous Twitters from people who’d sworn they’d seen Alison DiLaurentis. I just saw her walking into J. Crew in Phoenix, AZ, one of the posts said. I definitely saw Ali at Starbucks in Boulder, tweeted another. There were at least fifty of them, new ones being added every day.
“Who’s there?” Emily whispered.
Five long seconds passed, but no one answered.
Emily let out a shaky breath. Gathering her strength, she started down the hill to the car. Served her right for hanging around the cemetery at night—all kinds of innocuous sounds and shadows seemed scary in the dark. It was probably just the wind.
Or…was it?