Spencer couldn’t answer. Her limbs quivered, and her stomach felt sliced to ribbons. “Mom?” she said shakily. “What were you and Melissa whispering about?”
Mrs. Hastings turned quickly to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup. “Oh, nothing important. Just stuff about Melissa’s town house.”
The phone rang again, but Spencer made no motion to get it. Her mom glanced at the phone, then at Spencer, but didn’t answer it either. After the answering machine picked up, she touched Spencer’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Tons of words felt choked in Spencer’s throat. “Thanks, Mom. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” A worried line formed between Mrs. Hastings’s perfectly waxed brows.
Spencer turned away. There was so much she wanted to talk about with her mom, but all of it seemed taboo. Why had her parents never told her that her dad and Ali’s dad went to Yale Law School together? Did it have something to do with why Mrs. Hastings didn’t like Ali? The whole time Ali’s family lived here, the families maintained a cool distance, behaving like strangers. In fact, in third grade, when Spencer giddily announced that a girl her age had moved in next door and asked if she could go over there and meet her, Spencer’s dad caught her arm and said, “We should give them some space. Let them settle in.” Then, when Ali chose Spencer as her new BFF, her parents seemed . . . well, not upset, exactly, but Mrs. Hastings hadn’t encouraged Spencer to invite Ali over for dinner, like she usually did with new friends. At the time, Spencer had thought her parents were just jealous—she thought everyone was jealous of Ali’s attention, even adults. But apparently, Spencer’s mom had thought her friendship with Ali was unhealthy.
Ali must not have known about their dads going to Yale Law together, either—if she had, she definitely would have brought it up. She did, though, make a lot of cutting remarks about Spencer’s parents. My parents think your parents are so showy. Do you guys seriously need another addition on your house? And toward the end of their friendship, she asked Spencer a lot of questions about her father, her voice dripping with disdain. Why does your dad wear those g*y tight clothes when he goes on bike rides? Why does your dad still call his mother “Nana”? Ew!
“They’ll never be invited to my parents’ gazebo parties,” Ali had said just days before she disappeared. The way things had been going between them, Ali might as well have tacked on, and neither will you.
Spencer wanted to ask her mom why the families pretended not to know each other. Think that’s crazy? A’s note had said. Now take another spin through your dad’s hard drive... starting with J.
Her hands started to tremble. But what if A was bullshitting her? Things were finally going well with her mom. Andrew was right. Why rock the boat before she had all the information?
“I’ll be back,” she murmured to her mom.
“Okay, but come back down so I can show you what I bought!” Mrs. Hastings chirped.
The second floor smelled like Fantastik and lavender hand soap from the hall bathroom. Spencer pushed open the door to her bedroom and snapped the on switch to the brand-new MacBook Pro her parents had just bought her; her old computer had died the week before and Melissa’s loaner had been destroyed in the fire. Then she inserted the CD that held her dad’s entire hard drive—she’d secretly copied it to a disk when she was trying to find out whether or not she was adopted. The computer beeped and whirred.
Out the window, the morning sky was a dull gray. Spencer could just see the tip of the charred windmill and the dilapidated barn. She swung her gaze to the front of the house. The plumbing trucks were outside the Cavanaugh house again. A skinny blond guy wearing a dingy, faded jumpsuit ambled out the Cavanaughs’ door and lit a cigarette. Jenna Cavanaugh was walking out of the house at the exact same time. The plumber watched Jenna as she and her guide dog slowly made their way to Mrs. Cavanaugh’s Lexus. As he reached to scratch his lip, Spencer noticed he had a gold front tooth.
Her computer beeped, and Spencer turned back to the screen. The CD had loaded. She clicked on the folder marked Dad. Sure enough, there was a folder called J. Inside were two untitled Word documents.
The chair creaked as she sat back. Did she really need to open these? Did she really need to know?
Downstairs, she heard the KitchenAid mixer start to whir. A siren whooped. Spencer massaged her temples. But what if the secret had something to do with Ali?
The temptation too great, Spencer clicked on the first file. It opened quickly, and Spencer leaned forward, too anxious to take a full breath.
Dear Jessica, I’m sorry things got cut short at your house tonight. I can give you all the time you need, but I can’t wait to be alone with you again.
Much love, Peter
Spencer felt sick. Jessica? Why was her dad writing to someone named Jessica, telling her that he wanted to be with her?
She clicked on the next document. It was another letter. Dear Jessica, it said again. Per our discussion, I think I can help. Please take this. Xx, Peter
Below was a screen grab of a bank wire transfer. A row of zeroes swam before Spencer’s eyes. It was a huge sum, much more than had been in Spencer’s college savings account. Then she spied the account names in the bottom corner of the document. The wire had come from a credit line belonging to Peter Hastings, and it had gone into an account called the Alison DiLaurentis Recovery Fund. The beneficiary collecting the funds was Jessica DiLaurentis.
Jessica DiLaurentis. Of course. Ali’s mom.