What You Don't Know Can Hurt You
“I’m still going over the details of the bulletin board and the files from Alison,” Spencer announces. “But we know a lot more than we did yesterday.”
“Like where Hanna is,” Aria says helpfully, munching a handful of popcorn as she motions to Hanna and her suitcases, both of which have temporarily moved into the barn.
“And how ‘A’ knew about our plan, thanks to Lucas and his high tech loft surveillance. And that ‘A’ has lifelike masks in their toolbox this time around,” Emily adds. “Whoever took Hanna was wearing one. I tore the cheek, but it didn’t come off.”
“It must have been someone we know, though,” Hanna says, thinking out loud. “Otherwise, why bother disguising their voice?”
“Whoever it was, the kidnapper in the tunnel wasn’t capital ‘A’,” Mona suggests from her seat next to Hanna on the couch. “If Lucas walked into that church with half a million dollars, that’s not a pay day you send a minion to pick up.”
“You would know,” Caleb mutters under his breath, earning a glacial look from Spencer.
“Mona’s right,” Spencer says, frowning. “Charlotte always had Carissimi to bankroll her operation. Whoever we’re dealing with now, they’re actively trying to raise cash.”
“Do we think this is Rollins and Mary Drake?” Aria asks. “I mean, they’re on the bad guy list, right?”
“I think Ali was right about Elliott being the one in the Wilden mask,” Emily replies. “I checked with the airlines, and there’s no record of him flying to Chicago. He had a hotel room booked, but he never checked in.”
“He’d probably know all about truth serum,” Spencer agrees. “He’s a psychiatrist, after all.”
“I don’t know,” Emily says. “I can’t see him donning a blonde wig and pushing Hanna through the sewers in a wheelbarrow. Plus, I saw him today, and his face looked fine. Whoever was down there, I must have at least scratched them.”
“So this is somebody else?” Hanna groans. “Or two somebodies? What is wrong with this town?!?”
“We do need to keep a close eye on Rollins.” Spencer orders. “He’s our best shot at finding Mary Drake, if they’re working together. And we need to keep a close eye on Aria, since she’s probably jumped to the top of their hit list right now.”
“If it’s Sara Harvey, I can take her,” Aria assures them. “Why should Emily be the only one who gets to punch her in the face?”
“Don’t get cocky,” Hanna says, munching on a cheese poof. “You do not want this bitch to grab you. I thought I was toast until Em showed up and went all Xena on her ass.”
“We’ll meet back here tomorrow morning, come up with a plan of attack,” Spencer declares. “Until then, we’re officially on the buddy system.”
“Well, buddies,” Mona says, beaming. “Shall we?”
“Can you run me back to my mom’s?” Hanna asks. “I have a few things over there I want to pick up.”
“Your chariot awaits,” Mona declares, brightly.
The girls gather purses and jackets and head outside, leaving Spencer and Caleb conspicuously alone in the barn.
“So,” Caleb says.
“So,” Spencer replies.
“Seems like you and Hanna made up.”
“We did.”
“That’s good,” Caleb says, not meeting her eyes.
“It is,” Spencer agrees, her tone neutral.
“I honestly didn’t know I still had those feelings,” Caleb says, his voice full of regret. “I thought I was over her. I’m sorry, Spencer.”
“Love isn’t hospital corners,” Spencer replies. “It’s messy. Or so I hear.”
“It is. I’m human, Spencer. I made a mistake.”
“Last night was a mistake,” Spencer agrees. “But what did you do this morning? I’m a Hastings, Caleb. I refuse to be anybody’s second choice. Even yours.”
“Leave your family out of it,” Caleb pleads. “This is about us.”
“There is no us. Not anymore. And my family has everything to do this. I love you, but I won’t let you turn me into my mother.”
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“Emily!” Ella Montgomery says, delightedly, seeing her trail in the door behind Aria. “Are you girls having a sleepover tonight?”
“Just like old times,” Emily smiles.
“Of course!” Ella assures her. “This calls for some hot chocolate with extra whipped cream! Aria, go see if your father wants to get in on the sugar action, please.”
Aria and Emily climb the stairs, and Aria leaves Emily unpacking in her room as she heads towards her father’s study. She raises her hand to knock just as the sound of his raised voice reaches her ears. Her hand freezes as she leans closer to the door.
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a prank! She’s back! She’s behind this! You know what this means!”
There’s a long pause, and as much as Aria strains, she can’t hear so more than a faint drone of the other side of the conversation. Then her father speaks again.
““I don’t know what you did to keep it buried five years ago. Who you bullied or paid off or discredited. But nothing stays a secret forever! Not in Rosewood.”
There’s another pause, and then her father laughs, sounding almost hysterical. “I’m not threatening you! I’m trying to warn you, for godsakes! You know what happened last time! She’ll come for you! She’ll come for your family!”
There’s a loud noise, as if her dad has thrown his phone against the wall in frustration.
“Dad?” Aria calls out, knocking softly on the door. “Is everything okay in there?” She opens the door, noticing sweat stains on her father’s shirt, the fake smile he’s plastering onto his face at the sight of her.
“Fine!” he says, a little too heartily. “Just the latest departmental drama. The quest for tenure in the Art History department is cutthroat this year!”
Aria raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t question him any further. “Emily’s sleeping over and Mom’s making hot chocolate. She wanted to know if you wanted any.”
“Of course!” Byron replies, with manufactured enthusiasm. He puts his arm around Aria’s shoulders and steers them both out of the room and toward the stairs. She lets him lead her all the way to the kitchen.
“Dad’s in,” she tells her mom, who comes over and gives Byron a peck on the lips.
“Parental PDA,” Aria grimaces. “I’m just gonna give you two a minute. I’m going to check on Emily, see how she’s settling in.”
She runs as quietly as she can back up the stairs and into her dad’s office. She searches for where the phone might have landed, finding it between the couch and a bookshelf. She holds her breath and types her mom’s birthday as the password, then exhales as the screen unlocks.
She immediately scrolls to her father’s contacts, feels a pang as she sees a dozen unanswered calls to Mike, then quickly redials the number of the mystery caller.
It goes straight to voicemail.
The voice on the message is smooth and professional.
“You’ve reached Peter Hastings. Please leave a message.”
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Spencer’s phone rings, loud in the silence of the barn. She’s picking up plates, dumping the remains of the popcorn bowl into the trash. She frowns as she looks at the number, then answers anyway.
Damien’s voice crackles over the line. “I just heard the news. Any chance I can get a comment?”
“That depends,” Spencer says cautiously. “What’s the question?”
“Channel 10,” he says, cryptically.
Spencer flips on the television, then drops the phone in shock.
There’s a breaking news ribbon scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
“VOTE HACKING SCANDAL! HASTINGS VICTORY IN DOUBT AS FORMER CAMPAIGN AIDE CALEB RIVERS TAKEN INTO CUSTODY!”