Hanna’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “And Ali said there was no way that could be true. Whoever wanted her piece would have to…”
“…kill her to get it.” Spencer’s face was ashen. “And then Ian said something like, ‘Well, if that’s what it takes.’”
“God,” Aria whispered.
Emily’s stomach rumbled. Ian’s words had been so eerily prophetic, but how could they have known to take him seriously? Back then, the only thing Emily had known about Ian Thomas was that he was Rosewood Day’s go-to guy if they needed an upperclassman representative to help out at the elementary school’s field day or corral kids in the cafeteria when a big snowstorm made the buses late. That day, after Ali strolled away with her posse, Ian had turned and walked casually to his car. It didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who was planning murder…which made the whole thing creepier.
“And then the next morning she was so smug, everyone knew she’d found the piece,” Spencer said with a frown, like it still bothered her that Ali had found the flag instead of her.
Hanna stared at the photo. “I wanted Ali’s piece of the Time Capsule flag so badly.”
“Me too,” Emily admitted. She glanced over at Aria, who shifted uncomfortably and seemed to be studiously avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“We all wanted to win.” Spencer sat back down on the couch and hugged a blue satin pillow to her chest. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have shown up in her yard two days later to steal it.”
“Isn’t it weird someone else stole Ali’s piece first?” Hanna asked, turning a chunky turquoise bracelet around and around her wrist. “I wonder whatever happened to it?”
Suddenly, Spencer’s sister, Melissa, burst into the room. She wore a baggy beige sweater and wide-leg jeans. Her round face was ashen. “Guys.” Her voice shook. “Turn on the news. Now.” She pointed to the TV.
Emily and the others stared at Melissa for a beat without moving. Frustrated, Melissa grabbed the remote and keyed in channel four herself. The screen showed a crowd of people thrusting microphones in someone’s face. The news camera wobbled, as if it was constantly being jostled around. Then, some of the heads parted. First, Emily saw a guy with a strong jaw and stunning green eyes. It was Darren Wilden, Rosewood’s youngest cop, the officer who had helped them find Spencer when Mona had kidnapped her. When Wilden stepped away, the camera fixed on someone in a rumpled suit. His floppy golden hair was unforgettable. Emily’s whole body went limp.
“Ian?” she whispered.
Aria grabbed Emily’s hand.
Spencer stared at Melissa, her face completely white. “What’s going on? Why isn’t he in prison?”
Melissa shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know.”
Ian’s blond hair shone like that of a polished bronze statue, but his face looked sallow. The screen switched to a News 4 reporter. “Mr. Thomas’s mother has been diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer,” she explained. “There has just been an emergency hearing, and Thomas has been granted temporary bail to visit her.”
“What?” Hanna screamed.
A banner at the bottom of the screen said: JUDGE BAXTER RULES ON THOMAS BAIL REQUEST. Emily’s heart hammered in her ears. Ian’s lawyer, a silver-haired man in a pin-striped suit, pushed to the front of the crowd and stood in front of the cameras. Flashbulbs flared in the background. “It was my client’s mother’s dying wish to spend her last days with her son,” he announced. “And I’m thrilled we won the motion for temporary bail. Ian will be under house arrest until his trial starts on Friday.”
Emily felt faint. “House arrest?” she repeated, dropping Aria’s hand. Ian’s family lived in a big Cape Cod–style house less than a mile from the Hastingses’ farmhouse. Once, back when Ali was still alive and Ian and Melissa were dating, Emily had overheard Ian telling Melissa that he could see the Hastingses’ windmill from his bedroom window.
“This can’t be happening,” Aria said in a catatonic voice.
The reporters thrust microphones in Ian’s face. “How do you feel about the decision?” they asked. “What has the county jail been like for you?” “Do you feel you’ve been wrongfully accused?”
“Yes, I’ve been wrongfully accused,” Ian said, in a strong, angry voice. “And jail has been exactly what you’d expect—hell.” He pursed his lips together, glaring right into the camera lens. “I’m going to do everything in my power never to go back there.”
A chill ran up Emily’s spine. She thought of Ian on that online interview she’d seen before Christmas. Someone wants me here. Someone’s concealing the truth. They’re going to pay.
The reporters chased Ian as he walked to a waiting black limousine. “What do you mean, you’re not going back there?” they cried. “Did someone else do it? Do you know something we don’t?”
Ian didn’t answer. He just let his lawyer guide him toward the waiting limo. Emily looked around at the others. Hanna’s face was green. Aria was chewing on the collar of her sweater. Melissa ran out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. Spencer stood up and faced all of them.
“We’re going to be okay,” she said forcefully. “We can’t freak out.”
“He might come looking for us,” Emily whispered, her heart booming. “He’s so angry. And he blames us.”