Proven Guilty
Spencer is on a rampage through the main house when Emily arrives, stalking from room to room and gathering various items that she’s collecting in a pile on the kitchen counter. The pile, Emily notes, currently contains a set of carving knives, a taser, a can of shaving cream, and a tire iron.
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Aria is saying, as Spencer uses a letter opener to try and pry open the bottom drawer of her father’s desk.
“Whoever this is, they have my sister,” Spencer says in a tight voice.
“Or they have photoshop,” Aria offers, a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as Spencer pushes the letter opener so hard that the handle snaps off.
“Spence,” Emily says, gently. “What’s going on?”
Spencer doesn’t even look up, but Aria meets her eyes with a worried frown. “Melissa is missing. She took Spencer’s car to go to a meeting, and the cops found it abandoned on Route 6. There were - signs of a struggle. And then Spencer got the text.”
“Did you tell the police?” Emily asks. “Are they looking for her?”
“The police are a little complicated, at the moment,” Aria says. “Toby was here earlier, and he took everything we had on Charlotte. Visitors logs, journals, the Mary Drake records - all of it.”
Emily feels sick at the thought of all their hard won evidence being boxed up and pawed through by the Rosewood PD, but she does her best to hold it in. “Okay,” she says. “What do we do now?”
Spencer is clawing at the drawer with her fingers, as Aria continues to explain. “Jason was here when the text came in. He’s out trying to gather cash, in case there’s a ransom. Everyone else is upstairs pawing through Melissa’s room, trying to figure out who she might have been meeting.”
Alison appears in the doorway to the den. “We found a spare set of keys,” she announces. Her voice is all business, even as her eyes seem to be searching Emily’s face nervously for any signs of a change of heart. “I’m going out to check her car.” She raises an eyebrow at Emily. “Come give me a hand?”
----------
Mona has a map spread out over the neatly made bed in Melissa’s room. She’s frowning and using a pencil to mark points of interest, or possibly planning the invasion of a small country.
Hanna is tossing the dresser, rifling through Melissa’s pockets with abandon. She finds a buttery soft leather handbag concealed beneath a folded pile of sweaters.
“Well, at least she didn’t flee the country this time,” Hanna exclaims, pulling out Melissa’s passport. She studies the pages carefully. “Or last time, either. She flew into New York three months ago, and she hasn’t left since.”
Mona taps the pencil thoughtfully against the corner of her mouth. “Interesting,” she says. “And oddly careless of her to leave proof that she lied laying around with nothing guarding it but her cardigans. Whatever Melissa has going on, she’s off her game.”
“Speaking of off,” Hanna mutters, “I have some withdrawal slips here with so many zeros they could finance my shoe collection for the next decade.”
Mona walks over to examine the receipts herself, letting out a low whistle as she does so. “This much cash? She’s either going on the run, or making some major blackmail payments.”
-------
Alison unlocks Melissa’s car, motioning for Emily to join her in the front seat.
Emily gets in and opens the glove compartment, rustling the papers around in search of a clue.
Alison slides the key in the ignition and tries to start the car. The engine roars to life immediately. Ali frowns and turns the car back off. “She wasn’t having car trouble. So why make a point of borrowing Spencer’s?”
“Maybe she was trying to keep Spencer here?” Emily suggests. “Or maybe she was trying to create confusion. In which case, well done.”
Alison purses her lips, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. “Are you feeling confused?”
“About Melissa’s motivations? Yes. About us? No.”
Alison sighs with relief. Emily looks over at her, still a little surprised at this version of Alison. After all the games and schemes and fake dying, Alison now seems willing to wear her heart on her sleeve. Or if not on her sleeve, at least peeking out from underneath it.
“I should have just told you,” Alison admits. “Instead of adding another secret to the pile.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Alison reaches into the glove compartment herself, busying herself with a quick study of the Melissa’s title and registration, her oil change records and parking receipts. “I didn’t want you running off to go find her.”
“I didn’t exactly love watching you get gooey eyed over Holbrook. Or Lorenzo. Or Elliot. But I don’t know if I would have gone through so much trouble to pack them off to a new life just to get them away from you.”
Alison picks out a few parking stubs and sets them on the dashboard, refusing to meet Emily’s eyes. “You’re a better person that I am.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Emily insists, putting a hand on Alison’s knee. “But no more secrets, okay? Not about who’s alive or dead or what kind of long con you’re working or whether it was you or Hanna who ate the last peanut butter cookie.”
“It was Hanna,” Alison says, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You have to promise me something, too.”
“Anything.”
“You have to promise that I can tell you the whole truth about things, about everything, and you won’t run away. Even if the truth is ugly or scary or makes me seem awful - you won’t change your mind and decide I’m not worth it.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Emily asks, incredulously. “I’m not going anywhere. Ali. I promise.”
Alison looks at her for a long moment, then kisses her deeply, sliding her tongue into Emily’s mouth like she wants to taste the promise, keep a little of that certainty for herself. “Good,” she sighs.
When they break apart, Alison tries to refocus on searching the car, running her hands under the seats and along the sides of the door. It doesn’t last. “I never liked her,” she tells Emily. She studies her hands. “I hated that she was your first.”
Emily picks up the parking receipts that Alison set aside, a serious expression on her face. “You were right the other day - when you asked if I was happy. I haven’t been. Not since my dad died. It was like - so huge and wrong, it felt like nothing was going to be okay ever again.” She shifts in the passenger seat to face Ali. “But now, even in the middle of all the other bad things that are happening - Ali, when I kiss you, it feels right. It feels like nothing else matters. Like the past is the past. And this is the future.”
“Come on,” Alison says, suddenly all business. She hops out of the car and pops the trunk. “The sooner we find out what Melissa is up to, the sooner we get to the part of night where we -”
“You were saying?” Emily asks, then hops out of the car herself to see what stopped Alison mid-sentence. She sees a small red light blinking beneath the spare tire. “Is that a tracker?”
“It is,” Alison confirms. “And this,” she says, pointing at a white circular mark on the left side of the trunk lining, “is a freeze mark.”
Emily leans in to examine the mark more closely. A small series of numbers and letters are just visible around the perimeter. “Is that what I think it is?” Emily asks, her heart pounding hard.
“It is,” Alison says, a sympathetic hand on Emily’s back and a grim look on her face. “Property of Hollis Medical Center,” she reads. “Looks like Melissa was carting around a tank of liquid nitrogen.”
-------------------
Spencer’s pile of items has grown, now including safety flares from the garage, a fire extinguisher from beneath the kitchen sink, a straight razor from her father’s bathroom, and the revolver that Spencer finally liberated from his desk in the den.
“Shouldn’t we call someone?” Aria pleads. “Your parents will have the National Guard out looking for her in about two seconds!”
“It won’t do any good,” Spencer declares. “They sent me the text. They want me to try and find her.”
“Like a psychotic game of hide and seek,” Aria mutters.
“Psychotic is right,” Alison voice cuts in from the doorway. “Melissa stole Emily’s eggs. We have parking receipts from the hospital and a freeze mark from the tank in her trunk.”
“And her car started fine,” Emily reports. “She lied about that, too.”
“I thought I heard the dulcet tones of accusations being hurled around,” Mona comments, descending the stairs with Hanna close behind.
Hanna waves the passport over her head. “She wasn’t back in London on election night. No plane. No turbulence. No tray table. It was her in the tunnel. It has to be!”
“She wouldn’t,” Spencer insists. “She wouldn’t hurt my friends. And whoever is after us - they have her, now. She didn’t kidnap herself.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mona asks. “Even if she’s being blackmailed again?”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Spencer says firmly.
“How much more proof do you need?” Emily asks. “This isn’t her borrowing your black dress without asking! She took my eggs! She’s not making an omelette with them!”
“Someone was keeping tabs on her,” Alison adds. “We found a tracker in the trunk of her car. If she knew she was being followed, that could explain her sudden need to switch cars.”
“I have a theory about that,” Mona muses. She spreads the map out against the wall. She points to a red circle. “Here’s where we are. Where Melissa started out.” She nods towards another circle. “This is where the car was found. It’s safe to say she was heading away from town. Out towards the sticks.”
“Towards Radley,” Alison notes.
“I thought that, too,” Mona admits. “But if she were going to Radley, why borrow Spencer’s car? She could take a cab and have no one be any the wiser about her movements.”
“Maybe she was going to need a quick getaway?” Emily suggests. “Or she was doing something she didn’t want anyone else around to see?”
“But if her mission itself was shady, why involve Spencer?” Mona ponders. “There has to be a reason she was using borrowed wheels.”
“Error go, she was heading somewhere that a cab or an Uber would seem out of place!” Hanna exclaims.
“Ergo, sweetie,” Mona whispers, earning a weird look from Aria. “But I think you’re right. And if she kept heading in the same general direction for another ten minutes, she’d end up -”
“Here,” Hanna says, pointing at the map triumphantly. “The Lost Woods Resort.”
“There you go!” Emily says. “Returning to the scene of the crime!”
“Except that she didn’t make it,” Spencer points out. “Because a crime happened to her.”
In the middle of the tense silence that follows this proclamation, Spencer’s phone pings. She holds up the screen to show everyone the latest message. It’s another picture, this time of Melissa bleeding from the head and being dragged on the ground.
“The sewer tunnels,” Emily points out, judging by the background.
“The same ones we were chasing Hanna through,” Aria agrees.
A second text pops up.
>If you want her, come and get her.