“I need to get the baby to the Bakers.” Emily pointed woozily to the house.
Aria paused. A truck horn honked far in the distance. Over the sound of the car’s chugging engine, she thought she heard a brief, high-pitched laugh.
“Fine,” Aria conceded. “But I’ll carry her.” She grabbed the baby seat from the back. A smell of baby powder wafted up to greet her, bringing a lump to her throat. Her father, Byron, and his girlfriend, Meredith, had just had a baby, and she loved Lola with all her heart. If she looked too long at this baby, she might love her just as much.
Emily’s phone rang again, and Gayle’s name flashed on the screen. She dropped it in her bag. “Come on, Aria.”
Aria hefted the baby seat higher in her arms, and both girls staggered across the front lawn. Dew wet their feet. They narrowly missed a sprinkler head jutting out of the grass. When they climbed onto the porch, they noticed a cheerful wooden rocking chair and a ceramic dog dish that said GOLDEN RETRIEVERS WELCOME.
“Aw.” Aria pointed to it. “Golden retrievers are awesome.”
“They told me they have two golden retriever puppies.” Emily’s voice shook. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”
Aria watched as a million emotions passed across her friend’s face in a split second. She reached over and squeezed Emily’s hand. “Are you okay?” There was so much to say, but no words with which to say it.
Then Emily’s expression hardened again. “Of course,” she said through her teeth. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the baby carrier from Aria and set it on the porch. The baby squeaked. Emily glanced over her shoulder at the street. Aria’s Subaru idled at the curb. Something slipped into the shadows near the hedge. For a split second, she thought it was a person, but then her eyes blurred. It was probably the drugs that were still racing through her system.
Even though it made her incision hurt like hell, Emily bent down, pulled out a copy of the baby’s birth certificate and the letter she had scribbled down shortly before going into the hospital, and tucked them into the top of the baby carrier. Hopefully, the letter explained everything. Hopefully, the Bakers would understand and love this baby with all their hearts. She kissed the baby’s forehead, then let her fingers trail across her impossibly soft cheeks. It’s for the best, a voice inside her said. You know that.
Emily pressed the doorbell. Within seconds, a light flipped on inside, and two sets of footsteps sounded behind the door. Aria grabbed Emily’s hand, and they staggered for the car. The front door opened just as they were putting on their seat belts. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway, first looking out, and then looking down at the abandoned baby seat . . . and at the baby inside.
“Drive,” Emily growled.
Aria zoomed into the night. As she rounded the first corner, she glanced at Emily in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay.”
Hanna placed her hand on Emily’s arm. Spencer twisted around and squeezed her knee. Emily crumpled and started to sob, first quietly, then in huge, heaving gasps. Everyone’s hearts broke for her, but no one knew what to say. This was yet another devastating secret in a long list of secrets they had to keep, along with Jamaica, Spencer’s near-arrest for drug possession, what had happened to Aria in Iceland, and Hanna’s car accident that summer. At least A was gone—they’d made sure of that. What they’d done might have been terrible, but at least no one would ever know.
They shouldn’t be so sure about that, though. After all that had happened, they should know to trust their premonitions, to take those phantom laughs and shadows seriously. Someone had been there that night, after all. Watching. Studying. Plotting.
And that someone was just waiting for the opportunity to use all this against them.
1
REUNITED, AND IT FEELS SO GOOD
On a chilly Saturday evening in early March, Aria Montgomery sat down at the mahogany dining table at her boyfriend Noel Kahn’s house. She smiled as Patrice, the family’s private chef, served her a plate of ravioli with truffle oil. Noel sat next to her, and Mr. and Mrs. Kahn were across from them, fending off the Kahns’ three prize-winning standard poodles, Reginald, Buster, and Oprah. Noel had given Oprah her name when he was little because he’d been obsessed with the talk show.
“It’s so nice to see you, Aria.” Mrs. Kahn, a stately woman with friendly crinkles around her blue eyes and hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds on her fingers, gave Aria a genuine smile. Both Noel’s parents had whisked into the house moments before dinner was served. “You’ve been such a stranger.”
“Well, I’m glad to be back,” Aria said.
Noel squeezed Aria’s hand. “I’m glad you’re back, too.” He kissed her cheek.
Tingles rushed up Aria’s spine. Though lacrosse-playing, Range Rover–driving, Typical Rosewood Boy Noel Kahn wasn’t exactly Aria’s type, he had slowly won her over. Aside from a brief breakup a few weeks ago, they’d been dating for almost a year.
Ever since they gotten back together, they’d been making up for the lost time. Monday night they’d gone to a Philadelphia Flyers game, and Aria had actually gotten into it, cheering as the team scored goal after goal. Tuesday, they’d attended an indie French movie that Noel said was thought-provoking, even though Aria was pretty sure he was just being nice. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday they spent at Noel’s house, lounging on the couch and watching Lost on DVD, and earlier that day they had gone snowshoeing after a freak snowstorm.