In Case of Emergency
Spencer sits in the barn alone, trying to distract herself by going over the many files she’s accumulated. Between Jason’s team of lawyers and Mona’s ability to track the hack through multiple IP addresses and satellite signals, Caleb has been released. He hasn’t tried to contact her, though, maybe because he wants to give her space post-break up talk, or maybe because her parents have taken a restraining order out that prohibits him from coming within 100 feet of their property. Still, Spencer wishes he had at least tried.
She decides to get to work, thumbing through the Mary Drake file from Radley. Emergency contact listed as Jessica DiLaurentis, she notes. Sister. There’s a copy of Charlotte’s misgendered birth certificate, with no father listed. Spencer calculates the date of Mary’s final commitment as six months before she gave birth. There’s a brief intake form that diagnoses Mary Drake as violent, sociopathic, and delusional. Apple, Spencer thinks. Tree.
The invoices for Mary’s care are all billed to a third party. Spencer flips to the back and finds the payment information. Of course. The Carissimi Group. Where there’s smoke, there’s usually a sketchy Latin named company.
She find the paperwork Mary signed, the voluntary commitment forms that bound her to Radley for so many years. The documents are thicker than expected, it’s not a simple process - but Spencer quickly realizes there’s more than meets the eye. She picks up the phone to call Caleb, then squelches the impulse. The others are all out in the field. She can fill them in later.
She double checks her interpretation, nodding. Mary Drake signed herself into Radley via an ironclad contract that prohibited her from ever being released without the express written consent of Jessica DiLaurentis. And moreover, she signed over her entire life savings and all claims to their family inheritance to the Carissimi Group. This was way beyond a boilerplate contract, Jessica had clearly hired someone to make sure that her sister stayed locked away for good.
Spencer looked at Mary’s signature, a spidery line on the bottom of the last page. Then she looked closer, her heart pounding. Witnesses to the contract were also listed, right there in black and white. Spencer feels a chill run straight down her spine as she reads the names. It’s like a slot machine with three cherries falling into place. Peter Hastings. Byron Montgomery. Thomas Marin.
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“Where’s Dad?” Spencer asks urgently, barging into the house without knocking.
Melissa is eating a salad on the kitchen island. “They went out. They’re meeting with party officials for a strategy session on damage control.”
“I’m going out,” Spencer announces. “I need my keys.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Melissa tells her. “There are still photographers camped out in front of our house! Whoever has that video of you hasn’t made it public yet - but you need to stay here and stay out of sight.”
“It’s important,” Spencer says, firmly.
“There’s always something important, isn’t there?” Melissa asks snidely. “Everything is so important to you, Spencer. Except your own family.”
“My family,” Spencer says, raising her voice, “has a nasty habit of burying their sins in the backyard.”
The color drains from Melissa’s face. “How dare you?” she hisses.
“How did you get that bandage?” Spencer asks. “God, were you even in London at all?”
“There was turbulence on the plane,” Melissa answers coolly. “I cut it on the edge of my tray table. Now, I suggest you stop interrogating me and start thinking about how you can help Mom. Like, by going out to the barn and staying there quietly until she gets home.”
“I’m a grown woman, I don’t need a babysitter,” Spencer says, scathingly.
“Clearly, you do,” Melissa insists, grinding a crouton between her molars.
“Spencer!” Jason’s voice calls from the backyard. “Spencer, are you in there?”
“What’s he doing here?” Melissa frowns.
“I don’t know, but right now he’s the only relative I have who’s on my side,” Spencer says, storming back out into the night, slamming the door behind her.
“Spencer!” Jason says, urgently. “Where is Alison?”
“She’s - indisposed,” Spencer responds, hesitantly. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what game she and Dr. Rollins are playing at,” Jason says angrily. “But he has all her shares of Carissimi, and he’s seizing control of all our accounts! I bounced a check to that basketball program today! There are Habitat houses waiting to be built in New Orleans that we were supposed to be donating the lumber for! This is no time for the two of them to cash in all their chips and buy an island or something!”
“Alison isn’t doing this,” Spencer tells him, bringing him into the cozy interior of the barn. He glances around at the array of documents and files and the bulletin board timeline, but seems to distraught to take it in. “Rollins, it turns out, was involved with Charlotte. He tried to kill Alison on their honeymoon.”
“What?”
“He and his accomplice tried to make Alison think she was going insane. She signed herself into a mental hospital so that they’d believe it had worked. She’s been waiting for them to make their next move.”
“Well, their next move is to siphon every cent out of my company! She couldn’t have warned me about this? You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”
“It’s Alison,” is all Spencer says. “She always has a plan.”
“That’s not exactly comforting,” Jason says, running his hands through his hair. “Especially when, knowing Alison, the plan could involve ninja assassins or secret Swiss bank accounts. Or a thousand other things that she knows about and no one else does.”
“She had Emily smuggle out some paperwork,” Spencer tells him. “It’s not much, but we can take a look, see if we can find something in there.”
“What choice do I have?” Jason says, exasperated. “It’s not like I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”
Spencer dumps out the duffel bag full of files. What they need is ridiculously easy to find. A manila envelope with Spencer and Jason’s names written on the outside, in Alison’s perfect handwriting.
Jason rips it open, and Spencer dives into the contents. There’s a notarized document designating Emily Fields to have Alison’s Power of Attorney, and a post it note with a phone number and scribbled instructions that read, “In Case of Emergency, Call.”
Spencer and Jason exchange puzzled looks as Spencer pulls out her phone to dial. It rings once. Twice.
“Spencer!” the voice on the other end answers, as if he’s never been more delighted to hear from her. Spencer feels her fingers go numb with shock as she almost drops the phone at the sound of his voice.
Wren Kingston sounds as cheerful and flirtatious as ever. “To what do I owe this very great pleasure?”