Killer

Page 33

The inside of the hotel was warm and smelled like peppermint. Emily slithered out of her coat and handed it to the girl at the coat-check window, smoothing down her strapless, dark red dress. After Isaac invited her to this, she’d rushed out to the mall, tried on this dress, and imagined Isaac swooning when he saw her in it. For once in her life, she’d bought it without even looking at the price tag. And for what? At 2 A.M. last night, Emily had rolled over in bed and looked at the little window of her phone, hoping Isaac had sent her an apology text. But there had been nothing.
She craned her neck, looking for him now. He was definitely here somewhere—and so were Mr. and Mrs. Colbert.
Her skin began to prickle. Maybe she shouldn’t be here. It was one thing to accompany Aria—at least she’d have a buffer—but Emily didn’t think she could deal with this place alone. She turned back toward the entrance, but tons of people had arrived at once, jamming the doors. She waited for the crowd to clear, praying she wouldn’t see any of the Colberts. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the hatred in their eyes.
On the wall next to her was a large bronze plaque describing the Radley’s history. G. C. Radley Retreat for Childhood Wellness began in 1897 as an orphanage, but eventually changed into a safe haven for troubled children. This plaque commemorates those children who have benefited from the Radley’s unique facility and environment, and the doctors and staff who have dedicated years of their lives to the cause.
Underneath were the names of various headmasters and deans of the facility. Emily scanned them, but they meant nothing to her.
“I heard some of the kids that stayed here were real lunatics.”
Emily looked over and gasped. Maya was standing right next to her, dressed in a hazelnut-colored tiered gown. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore sparkly gold eye shadow. There was a teasing little smile on her face, not unlike the look Ali used to give Emily when she wanted to make Emily uncomfortable.
“H-hi,” Emily stammered. She thought about Maya standing in her bedroom window last night just as Emily pulled into the cul-de-sac, as if she’d anticipated Emily’s arrival. Was that just a coincidence? And the other day at school, she’d seen Maya and Jenna talking. They lived right next to each other—had they struck up a friendship?
“See that balcony?” Maya pointed to the hotel mezzanine. People were leaning over the elaborate wrought-iron railing, peering down to the crowd below. “I heard some kids killed themselves by jumping off that. They splattered right where the bar is. And I heard a patient murdered a nurse.”
Maya touched Emily’s hand. Her fingers were stiff and deathly cold. And when she brought her face close to Emily’s, her breath smelled hauntingly like banana gum. “So where’s your boyfriend?” Maya singsonged. “Or did you two have a fight?”
Emily pulled her hand away, her heart slamming against her ribs. Did Maya somehow know…or had she just guessed?
“I-I have to go,” she said. She faced the entrance again, but the crush of people was still there. She wheeled around, heading back through the ballroom. There was a staircase ahead of her, leading to the upper level. Gathering the hem of her dress, she ran for it, not even caring where it led.
At the top of the steps was a long dark hallway with several doors on either side. Emily tried a few, thinking they might be bathrooms, but the cold, slippery knobs wouldn’t turn. Only one door at the end of the hall swung open. She fell inside, grateful for some quiet and privacy.
Emily’s nose twitched. The room smelled like dust and mildew. Bulky shapes of what looked like a desk and a couch were in front of her. She fumbled for a light switch on the wall, snapping on an overhead lamp. The desk was covered in papers and books. An old scuffed leather love seat was heaped with books, too. There were bookcases along the back wall, piled with manila folders. Loose papers were scattered over the floor, along with an upended cup of pencils. It almost looked like the room had been deliberately trashed. Emily remembered Mr. Colbert mentioning that parts of the hotel hadn’t been renovated in time for the party. Maybe this was an office from when this place used to be a school…or, as Maya put it, a house for lunatics.
A floorboard creaked. Emily turned toward the door and stared. Nothing. A shadow passed across the wall. Emily looked up at the cracked ceiling. A spider sat in the center of a large, sinuous web. There was a black mass of something caught in the silk, maybe a fly.
It was too spooky in here. Emily turned to go, carefully maneuvering around the stacks of books and journals spread out across the floor. Then something caught her eye. There was a book splayed open at her feet, a list of names written in dark blue ink. It seemed like a log. The page was divided into columns labeled Name, Date, In, Out. One of the names was…
Emily knelt down, thinking—hoping—she’d imagined it. Her vision blurred. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
One of the names in the book was Jason DiLaurentis.
His name appeared on the page three times, first on March 6, then on March 13, then on March 20. Seven days apart. Emily flipped a page. There was Jason’s name again, on March 27, then April 3, then April 10. He’d logged into the book in the morning, and logged out in the evening. She turned the pages faster and faster. Jason’s name kept cropping up. He’d logged in on April 24, Emily’s birthday. The date was from eight years ago. Emily counted back—she’d been nine. It had been a Saturday. That year, her parents had taken Emily and her swim team friends out for a birthday dinner at All That Jazz!, her old favorite restaurant at the King James Mall. She’d been in third grade. Ali had started at Rosewood Day at the beginning of that year, her family moving here from Connecticut.
She grabbed the next book under it. Jason’s name popped up through the summer between Emily’s third-and fourth-grade years, to the winter of her fourth, to the fall of her fifth, to the summer between her fifth and sixth. He’d visited here the weekend after the first day of school when Emily, Ali, and the others started sixth grade. A few days after that, the school had announced the kickoff of the Time Capsule game. She flipped to the page that logged the next weekend, when she and her old friends sneaked into Ali’s backyard to steal her flag. Jason’s name wasn’t there.
She flipped forward to the next weekend, about the time Ali had approached all of them at the Rosewood Day Prep Charity Drive, dubbing them her new BFFs. Still no Jason. She flipped ahead. His name didn’t show up again. The weekend after the first day of school was the last time his name appeared in the log book.
Emily lowered the book to her lap, feeling woozy. What on earth was Jason DiLaurentis’s name doing in a book in this dark, dank little office? She thought about the joke Ali had made years ago—they should put him in the mental ward, where he belongs. Had she been serious after all? Was Jason an outpatient here? Perhaps this was what Ali had meant when she told Jenna about sibling problems—maybe Ali told her Jason had issues, problems big enough that he needed to go to a facility for treatment. And maybe that was what Jenna and Jason were arguing about last night—he wanted to make sure that Jenna didn’t tell a soul.
She thought of how Jason’s face had twisted and reddened when he thought she’d bumped his car. He’d stepped so close to her, his fury palpable. What was Jason really capable of? What was Jason hiding?
There were footsteps in the hall. Emily froze. She heard someone breathing. Then a shadow appeared in the doorway. Emily started to tremble. “H-hello?” she croaked.
Isaac emerged into the light. He wore a white caterer’s suit and black shoes—Emily supposed his father was making him work tonight, now that he didn’t have a date. She shrank back, her heart beating hard.
“I thought I saw you come up here,” he said.
Emily glanced at the ledger again—it was hard to switch gears, from Jason to Isaac. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. Everything they’d said to each other the night before whooshed through her head, way too present.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be up here,” Isaac said. “My dad said this hall is for employees only.”
“I was just leaving,” Emily mumbled, starting for the door.
“Wait.” Isaac perched on the arm of the dusty leather couch. A few quiet seconds passed. He sighed. “The picture you told me about, the one with your face cut out? I found it last night. In the junk drawer in the kitchen. And…and I confronted my mom. She lost it.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open; she could barely believe her ears. Isaac leapt from the arm of the couch and knelt by Emily’s side. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m a jerk—and now I’ve probably lost you. Can you ever forgive me?”
Emily bit the inside of her cheek. She knew she should feel good right now—or at least justified—but instead, she felt even worse. It would be so easy to tell Isaac it was fine. They were fine. But what he’d done yesterday stung. He hadn’t even considered believing her. He’d immediately jumped to conclusions, certain she was lying.
She moved away from him, bent down, and picked up the ledger. The cover of the book was thickly coated with dust and soot. “I might forgive you someday,” she said, “but not today.”
“W-what?” Isaac cried.
Emily shoved the book under her arm, biting back tears. Even though she hated telling Isaac something that would hurt him, she knew it was the right thing to do. “I have to go,” she blurted out.
She ran down the stairs as fast as she could. At the landing, she heard a familiar giggle from the other side of the room. She sucked in her stomach, looking nervously around. The crowd shifted, and the laugh dissipated. The only person Emily recognized across the ballroom was Maya. She was standing against the wall, holding a martini, and staring fixedly at Emily, a whisper of a smile across her wide, glossy lips.
27
DÉJÀ VU…REVEALED
Hanna skidded across the slippery marble floor, coming to a stop. This hotel was a maze, and somehow, she’d managed to retrace her steps and was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling tapestry of Napoleon yet again. She looked right and left, searching for Mike. The crowd of partiers was so thick, she didn’t see him anywhere.
She passed the throne room and heard a familiar voice. Inside was Noel Kahn, draped over the large, velvet throne, his shoulders shaking with laughter. There was an upside-down champagne bucket on his head, a makeshift crown.
Hanna groaned. It was unbelievable what Noel could get away with at Rosewood parties, just because his parents bankrolled the town.
She marched up to him and poked his arm. Noel turned and brightened. “Hanna!” He smelled as if he’d drunk a whole bathtub of tequila.
“Where’s Mike?”
Noel threw his legs over the chair. His pant legs rose slightly, revealing blue-and-red argyle socks. “Don’t know. But I should kiss you.”
Ugh. “Why?”
“Because,” he slurred. “You won me five hundred bucks.”