Tuesday afternoon, after a quick yearbook meeting and an hour of field hockey drills, Spencer pulled up to her blue slate circular driveway. There was a Rosewood PD squad car sitting in her driveway next to her mother's battleship gray Range Rover.
Spencer's heart catapulted into her throat, as it had been doing a lot the past few days. Had it been a huge mistake to confess her guilt about Ali to Melissa? What if Melissa only said that Spencer didn't have the killer instinct to throw her off track? What if she'd called up Wilden and told him that Spencer had gone it?
Spencer thought of that night again. Her sister had such an eerie smile on her face when she said Spencer couldn't have murdered Ali. The words she'd chosen were odd, too—she'd said it took a very unique person to kill. Why hadn't she said crazy or heartless? Unique made it sound special. Spencer had been so freaked out, she'd avoided Melissa ever since, feeling awkward and uncertain in her presence.
As Spencer slipped inside her front door and hung her Burberry trench coat in the hall closet, she noticed that Melissa and Ian were sitting very rigidly on the Hastingses' living room couch, as if they were being berated in the principal's office. Officer Wilden sat across from them, on the leather club chair. "H-hi," Spencer sputtered, surprised.
"Oh, Spencer." Wilden gave Spencer a nod. "I'm just talking to your sister and Ian for a moment, if you'll excuse us."
Spencer took a big step back. "W-what are you talking about?"
"Just a few questions about the night Alison DiLaurentis went missing," Wilden said, his eyes on his notepad. "I'm trying to get everyone's perspective."
The room was silent except for the sound of the ionizer Spencer's mother had bought after her allergist told her that dust mites gave women wrinkles. Spencer backed out of the room slowly.
"There's a letter for you on the hall table," Melissa called out just as Spencer rounded the corner. "Mom left if for you."
There was indeed a stack of mail on the hall table, next to a hive-shaped terra-cotta vase that had allegedly been a gift to Spencer's great-grandmother from Howard Hughes. Spencer's letter was right on top, in an already-opened creamy envelope with her name handwritten across the front. Inside was an invitation on heavy cream card stock. Gold, scrolling script read, The Golden Orchid committee invites you to a finalists' breakfast and interview at Daniel Restaurant in New York City on Friday, October 15.
There was a pink Post-it note affixed to the corner. Her mother had written, Spencer, we already cleared this with your teachers. We have rooms reserved at the W for Thursday night.
Spencer pressed the paper to her face. It smelled a little like Polo cologne, or maybe that was Wilden. Her parents were actually encouraging her to compete, knowing what they knew? It seemed so surreal. And wrong.
Or…was it? She ran her finger along the invite's embossed letters. Spencer had longed to win a Golden Orchid since third grade, and perhaps her parents recognized that. And if she hadn't been so freaked out about Ali and A, she definitely would have been able to write her own Golden Orchid-worthy essay. So why not really go for it? She thought about what Melissa had said—her parents would reward her handsomely or winning. She needed a reward right now.
The living room's grandfather clock bonged six times. Spencer guessed what Wilden was waiting to make sure she'd gone upstairs before he began his discussion. She stomped loudly up the first few stairs, then stopped halfway and marched in place to make it sound like she'd climbed the rest of the way up. She had a perfect view of Ian and Melissa through the banister spindles, but no one could see her.
"Okay." Wilden cleared his throat. "So, back to Alison DiLaurentis."
Melissa wrinkled her nose. "I'm still not sure what this has to do with us. You'd be better off talking to my sister."
Spencer squeezed her eyes shut. Here it comes.
"Just bear with me," Wilden said slowly. "You two do want to help me find Alison's killer, don't you?"
"Of course," Melissa said haughtily, her face turning red.
"Good," Wilden said. As he pulled out a black spiral-bound notebook, Spencer slowly let out her breath.
"So," Wilden continued. "You guys were in the barn with Alison and her friends shortly before she disappeared, right?"
Melissa nodded. "They walked in on us. Spencer had asked our parents to use the barn for her sleepover. She thought I was going to Prague that night, but I was actually going the next day. We left, though. We let them have the barn." She smiled proudly, as if she'd been on-so charitable.
"Okay…" Wilden scribbled in his notepad. "And you didn't see anything strange in your yard that night? Anyone lurking around, nothing like that?"
"Nothing," Melissa said quietly. Again, Spencer felt grateful but also confused. Why wasn't heart-of-ice Melissa ratting her out?
"And where did you go after that?" Wilden asked.
Melissa and Ian looked surprised. "We went to Melissa's den. Right in here." Ian pointed down the hall. "We were just…hanging out. Watching TV. I don't know."
"And you were together the whole night?"
Ian glanced at Melissa. "I mean, it was over four years ago, so it's kind of hard to remember, but yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"Melissa?" Wilden asked.
Melissa flicked a tassel on one of the couch pillows. For a shimmering second, Spencer saw a look of terror cross her face. In a blink, it was gone. "We were together."
"Okay." Wilden looked back and forth at them, as if something bothered him. "And…Ian. Was there something going on with you and Alison?"
Ian's face went slack. He cleared his throat. "Ali had a crush on me. I flirted with her a little, that's all."
Spencer rolled her jaw around, surprised. Ian, lying…to a cop? She peeked at her sister, but Melissa was staring straight ahead, a small smirk on her face. I kind of knew Ian and Ali were together, she'd said.
Spencer thought about the memory Hanna had brought up at the hospital earlier about the four of them going over to Ali's house the day before she went missing. The details of the day were foggy, but Spencer remembered that they'd seen Melissa walking back to the Hastingses' barn. Ali had yelled out to her, asking if Melissa was worried that Ian might find another girlfriend while Melissa was in Prague. Spencer had smacked Ali for the remark, warning her to shut up. Since she'd admitted to Ali and only Ali that she'd kissed Ian, Ali had been threatening to tell Melissa what Spencer had done if Spencer didn't confess to it herself. So Spencer thought Ali's comments were meant to mess with her, not Melissa.
That was what Ali was doing, wasn't it? She wasn't so sure anymore.
After that, Melissa had shrugged, muttered under her breath, and stormed toward the Hastingses' barn. On her way, though, Spencer remembered her sister pausing to look at the hole the workers were digging in Ali's backyard. It was as if she were trying to commit its dimensions to memory.
Spencer clapped a hand over her mouth. She'd received a text from A last week when she was sitting in front of her vanity mirror. It had said, Ali's murderer is right in front of you, and right after Spencer read it, Melissa had appeared in her doorway to announce that the Philadelphia Sentinel reporter was downstairs. Melissa had been as much in front of Spencer as her own reflection had.
As Wilden shook hands with Ian and Melissa and rose to leave, Spencer scampered quietly the rest of the way up the stairs, her mind spinning. The day before she went missing, Ali had said, "You know what, guys? I think this is going to be the summer of Ali." She had seemed to certain of it, so confident that everything would work out the way she wanted. But although Ali could boss the four of them into doing everything she said, no one, absolutely no one, played those kinds of games with Spencer's sister. Because in the end, Melissa. Always. Won.