Aria sat up straighter. “Did I miss anything? Did Noel . . . ?”
Hanna shook her head. “He still hasn’t woken up.”
Just yesterday, a helicopter had brought Noel here from Rosewood, and he hadn’t regained consciousness since. On the one hand, Aria couldn’t wait for Noel to wake up. On the other, she had no idea what she would say when he did. That was because even though she and Noel had been dating for more than a year, Aria had just discovered that Noel had had a secret relationship with Alison DiLaurentis while she was in The Preserve. He knew the truth about the DiLaurentis twin switch, and he hadn’t said a word to Aria—or anyone else. To say that Aria suddenly couldn’t trust Noel was an understatement. She’d even gone so far as to wonder if Noel was Helper A, the secret boyfriend who’d been helping Ali torment the four of them. But then an A note had directed the girls to the storage shed. The girls were sure it was a trap Noel and Ali had set, so they’d called the police. They’d found Noel bound and gagged in a chair, close to death. And then there was a new note from A: Noel wasn’t the helper. A—Ali—had manipulated them once more. Noel was just another victim.
“Miss Montgomery?”
A tall, bristly-haired police officer stood above Aria. “Y-yes?” Aria stammered.
The cop—who had Popeye forearms and a reddish crew cut—stepped closer. “Name’s Kevin Gates. I’m with the Rosewood Police. Do you girls have a minute?”
Aria frowned. “We already told the police everything we know yesterday.”
Gates smiled gently, making his eyes crinkle. There was something teddy-bearish about him. “I know. But I want to make sure my guys asked you the right questions.”
Aria bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Now that Noel had been hurt, she felt she needed to keep quiet about A again. She couldn’t risk anyone else becoming a victim.
Gates led them to a more secluded part of the waiting room, next to a pot of very fake-looking lilies. After everyone sat down on a new set of scratchy couches, he looked at his notepad. “Am I correct that you received a text message that Noel was in the storage shed?”
Despite their more private location, Aria could still feel everyone in the room staring. Mrs. Kahn peeked up from behind the Food section of the paper. A boy in an Episcopal Academy sweatshirt peered out from under his hood. Mason Byers, one of Noel’s buddies on the lacrosse team, who was sitting at a table across the room, stopped shuffling a deck of cards and cocked his head toward the group.
“I got a handwritten note, not a text,” Hanna clarified. “And it said to go to the shed. I called the cops just in case the threat was real.”
Gates made a mark on his notepad. “It’s good you did. Whoever sent you that note most likely hurt Mr. Kahn—or, at the very least, saw who did it. Do you have the note on you?”
Hanna looked trapped. “It’s at home.”
Gates paused from writing. “Will you bring it to us as soon as possible?”
“Uh, sure.” Hanna rubbed her nose, looking uncomfortable.
Gates turned to Aria. “Mr. and Mrs. Kahn said you called them several times that same morning, asking if Noel had come home. Did you have reason to be worried about him?”
Aria tried very hard not to make eye contact with her friends. She’d made those calls that morning because she was going to turn Noel in. As Ali’s helper. “He wasn’t picking up his phone,” she said simply. “I’m his girlfriend.”
Gates looked at Spencer and Emily. “You two were at the shed as well, correct?”
“That’s right,” Emily said nervously, peeling her paper coffee cup apart.
“Did you see anyone on the school grounds that looked suspicious? Two people who might have put Noel there?”
Spencer and Emily shook their heads. “All I saw were a bunch of kids playing soccer,” Spencer said.
“Wait.” Emily leaned forward. “Two people?”
Gates nodded. “Our forensic team thoroughly inspected the photographs of Mr. Kahn in the shed. The complex way he was bound and gagged could have only been done by a two-person team.”
Everyone exchanged a glance. Ali and Helper A, obviously. It was proof Noel really hadn’t been Ali’s accomplice.
“And you have no idea who could have done such a thing?” Gates pressed.
There was a long silence. Aria swallowed hard. Hanna’s mouth twitched. Spencer and Emily looked anywhere but at the officer. It was probably obvious that they were lying, but it wasn’t as if they could tell the truth.
Finally, Gates thanked them and walked away, his back stiff and straight. Hanna covered her face with her hands. “Guys, what am I supposed to do?” she moaned. “I can’t give them that note!”
“If you don’t give it, they’ll think we’re hiding something.” Spencer slumped back on the couch. “Maybe we should just tell them what’s going on.”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “And risk someone else getting hurt?”
“What we need to do is figure out who Helper A is.” Spencer glanced cagily at the cop, who was now talking to Noel’s parents. “Then we can come clean about everything.”
Hanna stared into her palms. “I can’t believe Helper A isn’t Noel.”
Aria made a small, tortured sound.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hanna said quickly. “I mean, I’m glad it’s not Noel. But we were so close to figuring it out. And now we’re back to square one.”
“I know.” Aria plopped back onto the couch.
Hanna gazed across the room at the large water bubbler. “You know, before Graham died, he said the person’s name who bombed the cruise ship started with N. There are other names that start with N besides Noel.”
“True,” Aria said. Hanna had been volunteering at the burn clinic so she could ask Graham Pratt, a boy they’d met on a cruise they’d recently taken, if he’d seen who had set off a bomb that had almost killed him and Aria—they were worried it might have been Helper A. But Graham was in a coma, so Hanna had to do a lot of sitting around and waiting. For the brief time Graham had gained consciousness, he’d told Hanna that the bomber’s name started with N. But then he’d started seizing, and Hanna had run out of the room to grab a nurse. By the time she’d returned, Graham was dead—and Hanna’s new friend Kyla was gone. That was because Kyla wasn’t a burn victim at all . . . but Ali in disguise. The real Kyla’s body had been found behind the burn clinic yesterday; Ali must have killed an innocent stranger, wrapped her own face in bandages, and taken the girl’s place to prevent Hanna from finding out anything from Graham. It would have been easier to just kill Graham as soon as she had the chance, but Ali probably thought there wasn’t any fun in that. This whole thing was just a game for her.
“There’s also the possibility that Graham didn’t really know the bomber’s name,” Spencer said in a morose tone. “What if Helper A gave him a fake name?”
Hanna raised a finger. “Why else would Ali have killed him? He obviously knew something important.”
The door to the waiting room flung open, and a new nurse rushed in. She whispered something to the woman at the desk, and then both of them glanced at Aria, urgent looks on their faces. Aria’s heart thumped against her ribs. Was it about Noel? Was he . . . dead?
The new nurse padded over to Aria. “Miss Montgomery?” Aria could only nod yes. “Noel is awake. He’s asking for you.”
Aria glanced around for Noel’s parents, figuring they would want to see him first, but Mr. and Mrs. Kahn must have stepped out.
The nurse patted Aria’s arm. “I’ll be waiting by the door.” The nurse spun around and strode to the entrance.
Aria faced her friends. “What should I do?”
“Talk to him!” Hanna urged.
“Ali couldn’t have done it alone,” Spencer said eagerly. “Helper A must have been there, too. See if Noel remembers anything.”
Aria tried to take a breath, but her lungs felt cinched tight with string. Noel could explain everything. But after all she’d learned about him, and all they’d been through, she felt raw and unsteady.
Spencer touched her hand. “If things get too weird, just leave. We get it.”
Aria nodded and stood. They were right: She had to do this.
She took deep breaths as she followed the nurse down the shiny, just-Cloroxed hallway and through a set of electronic double doors that led to the intensive-care unit. Just as she was about to pass through, a woman in jeans and a black sweater coat strode toward her. “Miss Montgomery? It’s Alyssa Gaden from the Philadelphia Sentinel.”
Aria stiffened. Last night, the waiting room had been crawling with reporters asking questions about Noel, but the hospital staff had kicked all of them out. Almost all of them. “Um, no comment,” Aria said. Mercifully, the doors to the ward locked behind her.
Halfway down the hall, the nurse turned into a small, bright, private room. Aria peered inside and gasped. Noel’s face was covered in bruises. Stitches crossed from his jawline to his ear. There were IVs in both of his hands, and his skin was chalky white. His feet jutted straight out under the covers. He looked smaller and weaker than she’d ever seen him.
“Noel,” was all Aria could manage.
“Aria.” Noel’s voice was gravelly, not his own.
The nurse checked Noel’s IVs, then left. Aria sat down in a chair by his bed, staring at the checkerboard pattern on the floor. A machine measured Noel’s pulse. By the number of beeps, it seemed like Noel’s heart was beating very fast.
“Thanks for seeing me,” he finally said in a small voice.
Aria’s chin twitched. She almost said you’re welcome, but then she remembered. Noel had lied to her. He’d loved a girl who’d tried to kill her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. “Everything you know about Ali could get you in major trouble.”
“I know.” Noel blinked at her. “But right now, you’re the only one who knows what I know. So if someone is going to turn me in, it would be you.” He cleared his throat. “You can, though. I get it.”
Aria thought of Noel in a prison uniform. Sharing a room with a possibly violent stranger. Checking out books from the prison library. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it, or if it was the worst possible outcome in the world.
“What happened to you in the cemetery?” she blurted.
“Someone came up behind me,” Noel said slowly. “Whoever it was hit me over the head. At first, I thought it was Spencer, but it wasn’t.”
Aria nodded.
He stared down at his bony knees under the sheets. “I heard a deep voice, but I didn’t see his face.”
A deep voice. Helper A. “And then?”
“I was thrown into a trunk. Then someone dragged me through wet grass. I heard a latch open, then two people whispering.”
Two people. “Was one of them . . . her?”