Remembrance of Things Past
Alison wanders through the antiseptic smelling hall in her nightgown, feeling like a Bronte heroine drifting across the moors. She makes her way stealthily towards an office door, entering a security code on the keypad to gain entrance. Her eyes flit over the polished brass placard on the door, and she scowls briefly at the sight of her husband’s name.
She makes quick work of the room, tossing desk drawers, couch cushions, cracking the combination of the wall safe. Nothing. Elliott is unimaginative. If he knew he had it, she would have found his hiding place by now.
Alison gazes around the room, trying to think like Charlotte. She checks the air vents. Stands on the desk to see if any ceiling tiles are loose. Then her eyes fall on the bookshelf and she actually laughs out loud. Her sister was always a step ahead, an expert at hiding things in plain sight. Once she starts combing through Elliott’s dusty volumes of psychology textbooks, it practically falls into her hands. Wedged behind a thick leather bound copy of Statistical Models in Behavioral Research, is an oversized hard backed journal that she’d seen Charlotte scribbling in dozens of times. She feels around behind the other books on the shelf, finding two others.
She opens one with a red cover, feels a jolt at the familiar sight of Charlotte’s small loopy handwriting. She glances quickly over the page, noticing a small diagram of how to rig the accelerator of a car. Alison closes her eyes, imagines the front window of the Fields house smashed to pieces. And worse than that, she’s remembering that terrible visit to Emily at Pepperdine three years ago.
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”I love you,” Alison mumbled. “When you’re done here, I want us to be a family.” She felt a surge of elation at the words, at finally having reached a place where she could say them out loud. She snuggled into the warmth of Emily’s body next to her and let the feelings of peaceful contentment take hold. Emily could come back to Rosewood after graduation. She could move into the house, maybe she could ask Spencer to help redecorate, or talk to Toby about building an inground pool in the yard. And then eventually Charlotte would be released, and she could have the two people she loved most in the world under one roof with her.
“That sounds nice,” Emily said, smiling even though she was already half-asleep.
Alison rolled over, propped an elbow behind her head and watched Emily, feeling too happy to sleep right now. They could adopt a dog. A rescue. Em would like that. She might have to give up her gig coaching girls soccer for the church, but she could always volunteer to direct the fall play at the high school or be an assistant coach for the field hockey team instead.
Alison practically snorted at how sentimental she was getting. She could still remember how eager she used to be to get away from Rosewood, to land in a big city and make her mark. Marry someone fabulously rich, then trade him in for an even older and richer model after a few years. She ran a fingertip across the muscles of Emily’s shoulder, grateful beyond words for another fresh start. They could go on vacation together to the Caribbean. She and Em could sign up for cooking classes where they might get a little flirty at the cutting board, add a little extra spice to the paella. They could plant a little garden. She imagined Emily planting a rose bush, Charlotte in a sun hat with a watering can. They could invite everyone over for a big Thanksgiving - Jason and Spencer and Hanna and Aria - they’d definitely come if Emily invited them.
Emily shuddered a little in her sleep, and Alison pulled her closer, pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. Which was oddly damp with sweat. Emily thrashed suddenly in her sleep, “No!” she cried, as she kicked one of her legs out hard. “Please. Please don’t hurt them! Shock me!” Her voice sounded so terrified that Alison felt fear crawling up her own spine.
She tried to shake Emily’s shoulder as gently as she could to wake her up. But Emily was in the grip of the nightmare, she was sobbing brokenly, a hopeless pleading tone in her voice. “Kill me,” she whispered. “It would hurt Ali. Do it! Kill me and let them go! Please!”
“Emily!” Alison said loudly, distraught. “Emily, wake up!” She put her hands on Emily’s cheeks, which were wet with tears.
Emily opened her eyes and looked right at her. “Charlotte!” she screamed.
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Alison slipped back into her room, quickly hiding two of the diaries under her mattress, and keeping the third out to read. The moon was bright enough, she wouldn’t need to turn on the light, and her little helper should be coming by soon - she could take all three of the books and get them to the girls somehow. It would be risky, but not as risky as leaving something so valuable unprotected in her room.
These are all the proof she’s needed. Charlotte wasn't working alone. Someone else had been calling the shots all along.