Free Heartless by Sara Shepard Page B

I said that maybe Ian had gotten up . . . even though I really didn’t know if he had or not. And she was like, ‘Okay then. You have to tell the cops that.’ Which is why we called Wilden back in to talk to me again. It was the day after you had that memory of Ian being in our yard when Ali died. My account was just the final nail in the coffin.”
    Spencer’s jaw dropped. “But that’s the thing,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I remember Ian in the yard anymore. I saw someone . . . but I have no idea if it was him.”
    Melissa made a left onto Weavertown Road, which was narrow and filled with apple orchards and farm co-ops. “Then I guess we both were wrong. And Ian paid the price.”
    Spencer sat back, thinking about that second time Wilden had come to their house. The night before, they’d discovered that Mona Vanderwaal was A, and she had almost pushed Spencer over the edge of Floating Man Quarry. The next morning, Melissa had slumped guiltily on the couch. Their parents stood at the back of the room, their arms crossed impassively at their chests, the disappointment obvious on both their faces.
    “I was a mess that day,” Melissa said, as if reading Spencer’s thoughts. She turned onto the Hastingses’ street, sweeping past the cop cars and landscaping trucks that were parked at the curb. Across the street, a plumber’s truck sat in the Cavanaughs’ driveway. During the latest freeze, one of the family’s main water pipes had burst. “I acted like I was really ashamed for not coming forward with the information sooner,” Melissa said. “But really, I was upset because I felt like I was selling out Ian for something I wasn’t sure he’d done.”
    So that was why Melissa had seemed so sympathetic to Ian when he was in prison. “We should go to the cops,” she said. “Maybe they’ll drop the case against Ian.”
    “There’s nothing we can do now.” Melissa gave her a wary sidelong glance, and Spencer wanted to ask if she was in contact with Ian, too. She had to be, didn’t she? But there was something closed-off about Melissa’s expression as she pulled up the driveway and into the garage. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, even after they’d come to a complete stop.
    “Why do you think Mom pushed you to say Ian was guilty?” she asked instead.
    Melissa turned, reaching for her Foley + Corinna purse from the backseat. “Maybe she sensed something was wrong with my story and was just trying to get the truth out of me. Or maybe . . .” An uncomfortable look crossed her face.
    “Maybe . . . what?” Spencer pressed.
    Melissa shrugged, pressing her thumb on the Mercedes logo in the middle of the steering wheel. “Who knows? Maybe she just felt guilty because she wasn’t exactly Ali’s biggest fan.”
    Spencer squinted, feeling more lost than before. As far as she knew, her mom had liked Ali as much as she’d liked Spencer’s other friends. If anyone hadn’t liked Ali, it was Melissa. Ali had stolen Ian from her.
    Melissa gave Spencer a taut smile. “I don’t even know why I brought any of this up,” she said breezily, patting Spencer’s shoulder. Then she stepped out of the car.
    Spencer watched numbly as Melissa navigated around her dad’s line of power tools and into the house. Her head felt like an upended suitcase, the contents of her brain like jumbled clothes all over the floor. Everything her sister just said was crazy. Melissa had been wrong about Spencer’s adoption, and she was wrong about this, too.
    The interior lights in the Mercedes snapped off. Spencer unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the car. The garage smelled like a dizzying combination of motor oil and fumes from the fire. In the Mercedes side mirror she caught a glimpse of a flash of dark hair across the street. It felt like someone’s eyes were on her back. When she turned, there was no one there.
    She reached for her phone, about to call Emily or Hanna or Aria and tell them what