Killer. (Book Six)

Twenty-Eight: Creepier And Creepier.

By the time, Aria finally fought through the snarl of traffic in the line to park at the Radley opening, she was over an hour late. She tossed her keys to the valet and searched the crowd of bouncers, formally dressed partygoers, and photographers for Emily, but she wasn't anywhere.

After Jason had found Aria in his apartment earlier today and demanded she leave, Aria hadn't known what to do. Finally, she'd driven to St. Basil's cemetery and walked up the hills to Ali's grave. The last time Aria was here, Ali's casket wasn't yet in the ground—Mr. and Mrs. DiLaurentis had held off on burying her, in denial that their daughter was truly dead. And although the DNA evidence still hadn't come in that it truly was Ali's body in the half-dug hole in the DiLaurentises' backyard, the family must have faced reality, because Aria had heard that they'd finally interred Ali quietly last month, without a ceremony.

Alison Lauren DiLaurentis, the headstone said. There was a new layer of freshly planted grass around her grave site, already stiff and frosty from the cold. Aria stared hard at the slab of marble, wishing Ali could talk. She wanted to tell Ali about the yearbook she'd found in Jason's apartment. She wanted to ask about the inscription Wilden had written over Ian's picture. What did Ian do that was so awful? And what happened to you? What don't we know?

A girl in a tight tube dress stopped Aria at the Radley's grand, double-doored entrance. "Do you have an invitation?" she asked, her voice nasal and condescending. Aria produced the invite Ella had sent her, and the girl nodded. Pulling her coat around her tight, Aria strode down the stone entrance and walked into the hotel. A bunch of Rosewood Day kids, including Noel Kahn, Mason Byers, Sean Ackard, and Naomi Zeigler, were on the dancer floor, wriggling around to a remixed Seal song. After grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a few quick gulps, she started darting around the clusters of people, searching for Emily. She had to tell her about the yearbook.

When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned. "You made it!" Ella cried, giving Aria a big hug.

"H-hi." Aria tried to smile. Ella wore a lacy sea green wrap around her shoulders and a sleek black silk sheath. Xavier was right next to her. He wore a pin-striped suit over a blue button-down and held a glass of champagne.

"Nice to see you again, Aria." Xavier's eyes moved from Aria's eyes to her boobs to her hips. Aria's insides curdled. "How's life at your father's house?"

"Fine, thank you," Aria said stiffly. She tried to shoot Ella a private, pleading look, but her mom's eyes were glassy. Aria wondered if she'd had a couple of drinks before they arrived. Ella often did that before a show.

Noel Kahn's father tapped Ella on her shoulder, and Aria's mother turned to talk to him. Xavier moved closer to Aria and placed his hand on her hip. "I've missed you," he said. His breath was hot and smelled like whiskey. "Have you missed me?"

"I have to go now," Aria said loudly, feeling color rise to her cheeks. She shot away from Xavier fast, ducking around a woman in a fluffy mink stole. She heard Ella call out, "Aria?" There was hurt and disappointment in her voice. But Aria kept going.

She came to a stop in front of a large stained-glass window that featured a portrait of a pie-faced minstrel and his lute. When she felt a second tug on her arm, she cringed, worried Xavier had followed her. But it was only Emily. A few strands of her red-gold hair had loosened from her French twist, and her cheeks were flushed. "I've been looking all over for you," Emily exclaimed.

"I just got here," Aria said. "Traffic was horrible."

Emily pulled a large, dusty green book from under her arm. Its pages were gilt-edged, and it reminded Aria of a volume of an encyclopedia. "Look at this." Emily opened it up and pointed to a name in cursive. Jason DiLaurentis. There was a date and time next to his name from seven years ago.