Killer. (Book Six)

Twenty-Three: Yearbook Memories To Last A Lifetime.

That afternoon, a UPS truck pulled up to the curb of Aria's father's new house. The deliveryman, wearing blue long underwear under his short-sleeved brown UPS shirt and shorts, handed Aria a box. Aria thanked him and looked at the mailing label. Organic Baby Booties. The return address was from Santa Fe, New Mexico. Who knew such little baby booties could leave such an adult-size carbon footprint?

Her phone beeped, and she reached into the pocket of her bulky-knit sweater coat to grab it. She'd received a text from Ella. Are you coming to the Radley party tonight? Another text quickly followed. I hope you can...I've missed you! And then another. It would mean so much!

Aria sighed. Ella had been texting Aria like this all morning, begging her for an answer. If Aria said she didn't want to go to the Radley party, Ella would inevitably ask why, and then what would Aria do? Tell her that she didn't want to be within six feet of her creepy boyfriend? Concoct a lie, which might make her mom think she didn't want to support her art career? It was bad enough that Aria hadn't been to Ella's house even once this week. There was no way out of it—she'd have to suck it up and deal with Xavier as best she could. If only Jason were coming with her.

Her phone beeped again. Aria clicked on the new message, expecting it to be another missive from Ella. Instead it was an e-mail. The sender's name was Jason DiLaurentis.

Aria's heart leapt. She opened the note fast. Listen. I've been thinking, Jason wrote. I overreacted at Rocks and Ropes yesterday. I want to explain. Want to meet me at my house in an hour?

Beneath it was his address in Yarmouth. Don't go in the regular entrance, Jason explained. I'm up the steps in the apartment above the garage.

Sounds good, Aria wrote back. She hugged herself, giddy and relieved. So there was an explanation for this. Maybe Jason didn't hate her.

Her phone rang once more. Aria glanced at the screen. It was Emily. After a reluctant pause, Aria answered.

"I need to talk to you," Emily said in an urgent voice. "It's about Jason."

Aria groaned. "You're jumping to conclusions. Ali lied to Jenna about him."

"Don't be so sure."

Emily was about to say something else, but Aria cut her off. "I wish I'd never told you what Jenna said. It's caused nothing but trouble."

"But..." Emily protested. "It was the truth."

Aria smacked her hand to her forehead. "Emily, you have Ali on such a pedestal. She was a lying, conniving, manipulative bitch—to me, to Jason, and to you too. Deal with it."

Then Aria hit end, dropped her phone into her bag, and walked back inside for the keys to the Subaru. It was maddening how clouded Emily's judgment was. If she even considered the notion that Ali had lied to Jenna about her brother just to get Jenna to spill her secrets, Ali would no longer be the perfect girl of Emily's dreams. It was easier for Emily to believe that Jason was the bad one, even though there was nothing supporting that whatsoever.

It was funny how love could make people believe anything.

The DiLaurentises' new house was on a quiet, pretty street, far away from the grungy Yarmouth train station. The first thing Aria noticed were the leaf-shaped wind chimes hanging from the front porch—they'd been on the front porch at Ali's old house, too. When Aria used to stand on Ali's welcome mat, waiting for Ali to come downstairs, she'd always make the chimes clang together, trying to compose a song.

The driveway was empty, and the main house looked dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights turned off. The structure that housed the three-car garage and Jason's second-floor apartment was separated by a low stone wall, and on the other side of that was a high wrought-iron fence. Surprisingly, there weren't any Ali shrines in the yard or at the street—but, maybe the DiLaurentises had asked the media to keep quiet about them living here. And maybe, amazingly, the media had respected their wishes.