“I doubt it,” Hanna said sharply. “She just doesn’t want to be wrong.” She leaned over and picked up the hoodie. When the heat hit it, Hanna got a whiff of something sour, sweaty, and vanilla-ish from the fabric. It was sickening to think that was Ali’s smell.

Then she noticed a single, long blond hair attached to the sleeve. “Guys. Look.”

Aria noticed it, too. “Be careful! It might be our only link to Ali!”

Hanna carefully placed the hoodie back on the floor, but then her fingers clamped down on something that made a crackling sound. It felt like paper. She plunged her hand into the pocket and extracted a small receipt.

TURKEY HILL, it read at the top in purple ink. That was the name of a local mini-mart—Hanna loved its homemade iced tea. Below that was printed an address in Ashland, a town about forty-five minutes away, along with a date and time from several days ago. A few items had been purchased, though they came up as generic beverages and hot food items. The bill had been paid in cash.

“My mom loves the outlets in Ashland,” Emily said softly. “What do you think Ali was doing there?”

“Probably not outlet shopping,” Hanna deadpanned. Her eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s where she’s hiding out?”

“That could make sense,” Spencer said slowly. “No one would be looking for her all the way up there. But it’s not so far away that she couldn’t pop down here.”

“There’s a SEPTA bus that runs there, too, in case she doesn’t have a car,” Aria said.

“But where is she sleeping?” Emily asked. “In a barn?” She made a face.

Aria shrugged. “Don’t forget, she and Nick were staying in that bombed-out shack next to Hanna’s dad’s office. A barn probably seems like the Four Seasons.”

Everyone looked at one another. Hanna could tell they were all having the same thought.

“DNA testing might take a while,” Aria said cautiously.

“But if Ali visited that Turkey Hill once, she might go there again,” Emily added.

Hanna nodded excitedly. Spencer sighed. “Looks like we’re going on a road trip,” she said in defeat.

Everyone squeezed hands, knowing what was coming next.

10

MAXI STALKING AT THE MINI-MART

The girls took one car to Philly to drop off the hoodie, but Spencer insisted on taking her own car up to Ashland—partly because Hanna’s driving made her carsick, and partly because she only felt 100 percent comfortable when she was behind the wheel. It was almost dark by the time she pulled into the mini-mart’s parking lot, and her mood was just as ominous and muddled as the low-hanging clouds.

Their trip to the Philadelphia FBI office to drop off the hoodie hadn’t exactly been encouraging. Agent Fuji hadn’t even been there, leaving instructions with her assistant to deposit the sweatshirt with a thuggish guy named Fred who worked in Evidence. Fred had barely looked at the girls when he’d taken the hoodie from them, manhandling the thing into a ziplock bag and tossing it in a bin. “Please be careful!” Hanna had cried. Fred had stared at her, a wisp of a smirk on his face.

Now Spencer turned into a parking spot. The windows of the Turkey Hill Mini-Mart were slathered with posters for the signature ice cream and iced tea, Marlboro cigarettes, and two-liter bottles of Mountain Dew. There was also a poster that said ROSEWOOD RALLIES in red letters at the top. A FUND-RAISER TO BENEFIT DISADVANTAGED AND TROUBLED YOUTHS. It gave directions to the Rosewood Country Club and said that tickets were $100 apiece. Spencer doubted that people up this way would spend their money on that.

Her phone beeped. Two messages had come in from the bullying site. One was from DominickPhilly. You just can’t stand it when you don’t have all the attention, can you? That’s why you’re doing this site. Not because you care.

Spencer felt a sting. Obviously Dominick hadn’t read the tab of the blog called “My Story.” Spencer had written about Ali as plainly and soberly as she could, hitting on the emotional aspects of how it felt to be picked on day and night by a bully so rabid and determined she’d actually burned down multiple properties in an attempt to kill Spencer off. Or maybe Dominick had, and he still thought she was a phony?

The next note was from Greg Messner, the same boy who’d contacted her the other day. How did you get to be so brave? he’d written. I would kill for a tenth of your strength.

She smiled. It was almost like Greg had read the horrible Dominick email and found the perfect thing to make her feel better. Thank you, she wrote back. Sometimes I doubt myself. It’s nice to know someone cares.

She put her phone away, then spotted Hanna’s Prius across the lot. Her friends were sitting in it, staring at the mini-mart.

Spencer crossed the line of gas pumps and tapped on Hanna’s window. Hanna unlocked the doors, and Spencer climbed into the backseat. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Did you go in yet?”

Hanna shook her head. “We decided to stake out the place for a while. Maybe Ali will just . . . show up.”

Spencer bit her thumbnail. “With the Prius right here? Ali’s smarter than that, guys. She can probably see us coming from a mile away.”

Hanna frowned. “What do you mean?”

Spencer knew she couldn’t forget about Ali anymore, not after she’d hurt Emily. But she wasn’t sure about this plan. It seemed like a good idea to retrace Ali’s steps in theory, but what if Ali had planted that receipt in the hoodie pocket? Perhaps she’d wriggled out of that hoodie willingly to lead them here. She glanced nervously at the gas pumps behind them. What if Ali materialized with a lit cigarette and sent the whole place up in flames?




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