Crushed (32 page)

“Yes.” With shaking hands, Hanna passed it to them.

Coates and Harrison scanned it, then frowned. “
Proof you need
?” Coates, who was shorter and wirier and had a jutting Adam’s apple, repeated. “What is this all about?”

“We’ll explain everything, we promise,” Hanna said, walking toward the sports fields. “We just need you to check this out. We’re too scared to do it on our own.”

The cops shrugged, then walked ahead of them to the shed, their walkie-talkies squawking every few seconds. Aria glanced at Hanna worriedly. Was it a good idea to get the cops involved? What if Ali was watching at a distance? What if she had a bomb in the shed—and when she saw the officers, she detonated it?

Suddenly, Aria’s phone beeped. Hope flared inside her, followed by a pinch of terror. What if it was Noel? What if it
wasn’t
Noel?

Then she looked at the screen. The text was from a jumble of letters and numbers.

Her knees went weak. “Oh my God,” she whispered, glancing back up. The cops were several yards ahead of them. She signaled to her friends.

Spencer, Emily, and Hanna shot over to her and stared at the message.

Then everyone’s phones beeped. This time, a picture message loaded. When Aria opened it, she screamed. It was a picture of the suspects list they’d created in the panic room. All of the names were crossed off . . . except for Noel’s.

Spencer’s face had turned white. “How did A get this?” she shrieked, looking at the same picture on her phone.

The cops swiveled around and stared at her. “Is everything all right?” Coates asked.

But none of the girls could answer. Another text came through. And then another, and then another. The note was so long it was several texts.

Hanna’s head shot up when she finished. “
Just open the shed
?”

“Guys, it’s definitely a trap.” Spencer’s hands trembled.

“Maybe it’s dangerous that we’re even here,” Emily whispered.

“Girls?” Harrison loomed over them, hands on his hips. “What’s going on?”

Aria was about to answer, but then her gaze focused on the shed. To her horror, one of the soccer players was jogging toward it. His hand reached out for the doorknob.

“
Wait!
” Aria sprinted for him. “Don’t open that!” Her mind whirled with all the possibilities of what could be inside. Explosives. Wild animals. Ali
herself.

“Don’t open it!” Aria screamed again. Spencer, Emily, Hanna, and the two officers followed, yelling at the boy as well.

But it was too late—he was already pulling on the handle. The shed door creaked open, the bottom getting caught on the tall grass.

Coates pushed the boy aside and tried to shut it again, but then he paused, his face going pale. “
Shit
,” he whispered.

Aria peered inside. For the first half second, all she saw was darkness. Then, shapes began to form: balls, sticks, mats, hurdles, goal nets. When she saw the object sitting on a chair in the back of the room, she thought that it was just another piece of sports equipment—a speed bag, maybe, or a blocking sled for Rosewood Day’s less-than-stellar football team.

Then an arm appeared. Two feet. A head hung limply on a neck. Aria took a step closer, knowing a split second before seeing his face who it was going to be. She sank to her knees and let out a howl. Hanna gasped. Spencer screamed. Emily took a few big steps back, her mouth frozen in terror. The soccer boy spun around and threw up in the grass. Coates and Harrison shooed the other players away.

“Is that . . . ?” Spencer wailed.

Mercifully, she didn’t say his name. Aria stared at the top of Noel’s head. He was still in his tuxedo jacket, and his arms were pinned behind his back, his ankles tied to the chair. There was a big strip of duct tape over his mouth. His skin was eerily pale, and there were huge gashes on his cheeks, like he’d been badly beaten.

It felt like cymbals were crashing in her head.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

“I need an ambulance!” Hanna screamed into her phone. “
Do
something!” Spencer bellowed to Coates, who was shouting something into his walkie-talkie. But Aria hardly heard them. She lay on the splintered ground of the shed, unable to move any closer to Noel, petrified to see whether he was dead or alive. All she saw, in that moment, were the shiny shoes on his feet. She’d been with him when he bought those shoes. He’d tried on a bunch of pairs in the store, just like a girl.
A stylish girl deserves a stylish guy
, he’d told her with a wink.

Her phone beeped in her ear. Somehow, she had the sense to sit up and look at the screen. Behind her, her friends were scrambling around, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. But as their phones beeped, each of them paused to look at the heartbreaking message on their screens.

What Happens Next . . .

So the liars finally figured out there are two of us. Took ’em long enough. But they still didn’t get the story right. They were too hung up on investigating Noel to see what’s right under their pert little noses:
us.
But the noose is tightening and soon
they’ll
be the ones hanging on by a thread. . . .

Hanna may have been voted queen of the prom court, but the next court she’s in will be of the criminal variety. Last time we checked, hitting-and-running is still a felony. . . . Once Daddy’s constituents find out, Hanna won’t be the only loser in the Marin family.

Spencer went
chase
-ing conspiracy theories, and entre nous, she got a little too close for comfort. But Spence still has a lot to learn about stalking. Like, it’s not actually sneaking up on us if we see you coming.

So Emily’s pretty little girlfriend is in Bonaire. We can think of a few people who might be interested in that tidbit, starting with Special Agent Jasmine Fuji. Emily better get started on a bucket list of her own—it’s only a matter of time before she and Jordan end up behind bars. Or worse.

And then there’s Aria. Noel may not be A, but he’s as two faced as they come. What did she expect from a Typical Rosewood? So what will Atypical Aria do? Our money’s on an artistic retreat to Europe. But doesn’t she know all tortured artists die young?

Tick tock, ladies. Live each moment like it’s your last. Because soon enough, it will be.

Until next time . . .

—A & A

Acknowledgments

Thank you so much to my wonderful editor, Lanie Davis, for her thoughts and encouragement. And to the other awesome people at Alloy Entertainment, including Josh Bank, Les Morgenstein, Sara Shandler, Kristen Marang, Katie McGee, and everyone in art and media. You guys make my life so much easier.

Thanks also to Kari Sutherland at HarperCollins and Andy McNicol and Jennifer Rudolph Walsh at William Morris. Kisses also to the fans in the Twitterverse who love PLL so much—and who always take part in the book chats and answer my random questions when I need to know the perfect name for a character or what sorts of foods people eat during Hannukah. A big shout-out to all the fans at South Hills Village who attended my reading this December—it was so awesome to see every single one of you! Much love to K, Shep and Mindy, Ali, Caron, Beth, Greg, Eloise, and Rex, the Lorence family, and the Gremba family—including Calli, Ryan, Talon, Brayden, Jordan, Brock, Ashton, and of course Michael, the biggest and most lovable kid of all. Also a shout-out to my buddy Chris Ferguson and his family in Texas. Chris, I hear you have some betting winnings coming your way. (Just a hunch.)

Finally, a lot of hugs to Marlene King—it was scary to put PLL into someone else’s hands, but you’ve been so loving, careful, and thoughtful with the show. Hats off to you and your inimitable talent, and I hope we can have another long, wine-filled dinner soon.

About the Author

SARA SHEPARD
is the author of two
New York Times
bestselling series, Pretty Little Liars and The Lying Game. She graduated from New York University and has an MFA from Brooklyn College. Sara’s Pretty Little Liars novels were inspired by her upbringing in Philadelphia’s Main Line.

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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Credits

COVER DESIGN BY TOM FORGET
HAND LETTERING BY PETER HORRIDGE
MODEL PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALI SMITH
DOLL DESIGN BY TINA AMANTULA
DOLL PHOTOGRAPHY BY HOWARD HUANG

Copyright

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Crushed

Copyright © 2013 by Alloy Entertainment and Sara Shepard

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