Good morning, good morning! Long time no see, eh? I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've been away on the most fabulous vacation to end all vacations and I really didn't want to return. It was really nice to not have to think about this stuff for a while and I recommend it to each of you. Take a break. Your mental health needs it. :P Anyway, if you hated me for my absence, you're going to hate me even more for this chapter. I'm sorry. But didn't I warn you that it was going to get way, way worse before it got better?
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review. I came back to the States with over a dozen emails waiting for me with reviews from all of you lovely people. I couldn't ask for anything more. So on with it, shall we? Let's get the ball rolling. Update Tuesdays are a thing again and I'm pretty much ready for you guys to see the end of this thing. Thank you for reading and thank you extra if you choose to review. I love all of you!
Seven
"Stare at the dark too long and you will eventually see what isn't there." – Cameron Jace, "Snow White Sorrow"
She doesn't quite know what to do with this newfound freedom.
Her bedroom door remains open and unlocked and days and days go by and it does not close. They spend every waking second together and every unconscious one lying in a close huddle in the middle of the floor, unwilling to let each other go slinking back into darkness and solitude. Other than the blue running lights on either side of the winding hallways, they remain in darkness, but this has become so ordinary, Spencer's not sure her eyes will ever be able to adjust to natural light again. Days come and go- at least, she assumes they do- and time passes and though they sleep sparingly, they never see their tormentor. The floors no longer come alive with electricity and they're provided with a small amount of food and water each day just so they'll survive. It's an awful, painful, slow and agonizing torture, but compared to what they'd been used to in the beginning, it's paradise.
Their brand new independence does, however, come with a price. –A is watching them, every second of everyday, and is keeping them on a very tight, very specific schedule. She shepherds them all around the house, forcing them to perform odd jobs- chores, she calls them- before ending each day with what she calls family game night in the great room and a bedtime story detailing innumerous recollections of the terrible, gruesome things she's done. Each night, it's getting harder and harder for Spencer to ignore the sorry state she's in and the horrible tyrant currently holding them hostage. She feels as though her resolve, her mental stability, resembles a game of Jenga on its very last leg; one gentle tug, one false move, the slightest, quickest, most careful removal of the wrong block, and it'll all come tumbling down. Her determination is waning; her strength and resilience is at an all time low. She wants nothing more than to escape with her friends and with her life, but she's wondering if all that awaits her when she does is a straitjacket and a brand new bedroom with four padded walls.
The only thing she has to show for her weeks of traveling through –A's shop of horrors is that she has, more or less, memorized each and every last inch of this place. It's hallway after hallway, mysteriously sealed door after door, blind corner after corner. Spencer's bedroom is the one at the very end of the far hallway, but there is another hallway that juts in the opposite direction, one by Emily's bedroom door- which is fifteen steps away from her own- and then one directly across from that as well; a cross they're prophetically nailed to. It takes mere minutes, nearly a hundred steps (exactly ninety-seven; she counts every time) to get to the great room where game nights are held and there are three doors that they pass along the way. One holds cleaning supplies that they'd once used to clean an unidentifiable sludge off of the cement floor, the next is chock full of heavy, heavy boxes that they had been lugging all morning and the third, the one at the very end of the hallway, around the corner… Well. They hadn't ever gotten close enough to find out. But it emits a bright glow from underneath and Spencer's guessing, wildly guessing, that it's their ticket out of here.
Crawling across her bedroom floor, Spencer reaches behind the mirror for the nail she'd pried out of it and carves another slash into the wall, eyes glazing over as she counts, as she does everyday, the time that's passed since she'd awakened here. This newest tick mark is number thirty and her eyes widen in realization. "Guys… We've been here for a month."
"A month? That's it?" Emily asks, shivering, her knees pulled up to her chest. "It feels like it's been a year."
"At least." Aria agrees. "I bet we missed prom."
"I think we did." Spencer nods. "It was supposed to be the second weekend in May and I'm fairly certain we're coming up on Memorial Day, at this rate."
"They better have elected me prom queen." Hanna announces and at the others' looks, she adds, "What? You don't think it would be in extremely poor taste to let the kidnapped girl lose?"
"That actually makes sense." Aria smiles grimly. "It would be incredibly disrespectful to your memory to vote for anyone but you."
"So I was probably a shoe-in. I probably won. There's probably a crown and a sash waiting for me right now." Hanna says and then deflates. "And I'm here. Trapped."
"What do you think it's like at home?" Emily wonders. "Remember when Ali first went missing and there were manhunts and posters and her face on the news every night?"
"Yeah," Spencer nods. "And people would go to the police with the tiniest little detail, thinking they were helping, but they probably actually knew nothing."
"And everyone had their theories." Hanna chimes in. "She ran away with an older boyfriend or her parents sent her away because she got pregnant or she enrolled in boarding school overseas and didn't tell anyone. Everyone knew- everyone thought they knew- and they always jumped at the chance to tell you."
"Yeah," Aria agrees. "And then eventually, after a while, her face stopped appearing on the news. The posters came down here and there. And everyone stopped caring. No one talked about her anymore. She wasn't ever found but… They all stopped looking."
"Exactly." Emily replies. "Do you think it's like that?"
"I don't know." Spencer finally answers after a beat of silence. "I have to believe for my own sanity that people are still out there, looking."
"You're right. Toby's on our side and he's on the inside, so-" Hanna stops abruptly as pain flashes across Spencer's face. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay." Spencer says, but her heart speaks differently. The last time she'd seen Toby, he'd been bleeding out on the forest floor and she doesn't know if he's alright, she doesn't know if he's alive, and her entire soul aches whenever she thinks of him. It's not okay. She's not sure it ever will be.
There's a bit of an awkward silence, after that. Aria, after a minute, asks, "Do you know what I miss most of all? My toothbrush. I really, really just want to brush my teeth."
"Tell me about it. Such a mundane action but the second you lose it…" Emily shakes her head. "God, I'd kill for some toothpaste right about now."
"Yeah. My teeth feel like they're wearing fuzzy slippers and I'm pretty sure my breath smells like a year-old quiche." Hanna adds. "I'm so sorry you're all sitting so close to me."
"Han, we all smell. We haven't showered in a month." Emily says. "Speaking of which- shampoo. I'd also kill to wash my hair."
"Ugh, I need a deep condition so badly," Hanna groans and, glancing at Spencer, she nudges her friend and asks, "How about you? Besides the obvious, what's the one thing you miss the most about home?"
"Coffee." Spencer replies without hesitation and Hanna rolls her eyes as the others laugh. Of course. Defending her decision, Spencer exclaims, "What? These withdrawal headaches have been no joke and I don't see –A handing out any Tylenol."
"Would you be careful what you say?" Emily urges, glancing around in all directions. "She can hear you."
"Over this shitty elevator music? I doubt it." Spencer hisses and it's true. There hasn't been an ounce of silence since their doors had been unlocked. Crickets, elevator music, crashing waves against the shore and falling rain have been playing over the PA system ever since.
Just then, four chimes ring into the air and dread creeps back into Spencer's veins. Aria says, "We should go. Four chimes means it's game time."
Quietly and begrudgingly, they get to their feet and follow the lighted pathway down the hall towards the great room, regardless of the fact that they already know the way. Again, Spencer feels her way downward, running her fingers over the familiar groove of the grains of wood along the chair rail, the peeling of the tacky wallpaper, the walls cold as if they're thousands of miles below the earth. Again, their path takes them around two corners, down two long hallways and away from that glowing door towards the end and again, it itches away at Spencer's resolve. She is so certain that it's their escape and she just needs to figure out how to get to it without –A finding out and preventing them, locking them back in their respective torture chambers. Upon entering the great room, they find their game of the evening on the table in the center, four chairs surrounding the circular table. As they always do, they approach it warily.
Hanna steps closer and peers down, frowning almost instantly. "Mystery Date? That was Ali's-"
"My favorite game." Alison completes Hanna's thought, emerging from the shadows in the corner of the room. "Yeah. –A's a nostalgic little bitch, isn't he?"
Spencer squeezes her eyes shut, blinks, rubs them viciously. But when she reopens them, Alison's still standing there, so close they could reach out and touch her, and when Spencer glances in either direction, she notes the other girls' eyes are just as wide. Surely, Alison can't actually be here; surely, they've spent so long in the darkness and the solitude that they're going mad, descending into insanity, collectively hallucinating. But Alison grins as if she's expecting this reaction and says, "I'm sorry he did this to you. I tried so hard to help you see but in the end… It didn't even matter. I never wanted you to end up here. You have to know that."
"I don't think we know anything anymore." Aria replies. "How are you… I don't…"
"I don't understand." Emily shakes her head and Alison nods.
"I know you don't understand, Em." Alison says. "But you will. You're close. You're so close to the end, now. Help me. Please bring me home."
"We're trying." Hanna informs her. "We've been trying since the beginning."
"I know. I always knew I could trust you. I've known since that Halloween freshman year." Alison smirks and they all grimace at the memory. "You're the best friends a girl could ask for. I don't think I ever thanked you enough."
Spencer purses her lips. "There's still time."
Alison shakes her head. "There's never enough time."
She treads gracefully to the doorway and says, "Do what he says. Play his game. But get out. Please get out. And if you can, take me with you."
"Wait," Hanna blurts out. "Where are you going?"
Alison turns for just a moment and smiles, asking, "You know why Mystery Date is my favorite? Because of the element of surprise. You'd roll the dice, move around the game board and collect the pieces to create the perfect date with that tall blonde on the box. You'd collect the outfit- some cocktail dress with strappy heels- and the meal- a candlelit dinner, of course- and the activity- maybe a movie, maybe dancing, maybe a walk on the beach. And the whole time, you'd picture this perfect night out with that perfect blonde guy grinning up at you from the box. But then you'd spin the handle, open the door and who would be looking back? The brunette with the glasses. And you know what I loved about that, girls? Life is like that. You're always opening doors you shouldn't; you're always finding things you didn't anticipate. And you know what else? It's never who you expected."
With that, she leaves them behind, mouths agape and staring. Aria's the first to ask, "What the hell?"
"You all saw her too, right?" Hanna asks and they roll their eyes collectively. "I swear, I don't know how much longer I can take this. I'm going crazy."
"Aren't we all?" Emily wonders. "I never looked at it that way; the game, I mean. But I don't think she was talking about this."
"Of course she's not talking about the game." Spencer replies. "It's never who you expected. Okay, but I don't know who to expect because so many people have been after us for so many different reasons, it could be literally anyone."
"At one point, while we were cooking on our bedroom floors," Hanna starts. "I began to wonder if maybe it was one of you guys."
"Me too." Emily nods. "And I wanted to believe, so badly, that there's no way it could be but…"
"But if we were willing to electrocute one another," Spencer finishes. "Who's to say what else we'd do?"
"Guys." Aria shakes her head. "Are you out of your minds? If we can't trust each other in here, we can't trust anyone. I didn't believe, even for a second, that one of you was involved. I trust you girls with my life and I couldn't even dream up a scenario where one of you could do this to us. None of you are that violent. None of you are that far gone. But all three of you need to focus and not let your minds resort to that kind of thinking."
"Wow." Emily muses. "Since when did Aria become the voice of reason?"
"I don't know." Hanna replies. "But that was spoken like a true member of the –A team."
Aria narrows her eyes and Hanna backpedals immediately. "Too soon for jokes. Point taken."
"Let's just play the game." Spencer suggests and they remove the top, pulling out the game board, cards and pieces, beginning to play.
There's a grandfather clock that very much resembles the one in Spencer's living room back home on the far wall and throughout the endless rounds of Mystery Date, she keeps her eyes fixated upon it. At eleven fifty-eight, she keeps very still, staring directly into the camera poised in the corner of the room and at that glaring red light, telling her it's recording. The others stop playing also, watching their friend instead of the moving characters on the game board, clearly curious and much more interested in whatever clever plan she's come up with this time. One minute later, at eleven fifty-nine, the elevator music stops, all is silent, and the red light on the camera switches off. At this, Spencer stands, walks toward it, and waves her arms as if a search and rescue helicopter has come to save them. Nothing happens. The girls stand too and come to join her in the corner, perplexed looks on all of their faces.
"Spence, what the hell are you doing?"
"Can you see me?" Spencer asks instead, still staring down the camera. "Can you hear me, you piece of shit?"
"Do you have a death wish?" Emily hisses. "Shut up and sit down before he-"
"He's not going to do anything," Spencer cuts her off almost gleefully, suddenly breathless. Out of the corner of her eye, the clock keeps ticking. Forty-five seconds. "It's off; the camera, the music, everything. Everything cuts off at the same time every night- eleven fifty-nine. Haven't you noticed?"
"I guess." Aria shrugs. "What's your point?"
"The system resets itself every night." She explains hastily and glances at the clock again. Thirty seconds. "The music stops, the camera clears its memory, and then it all switches back on again at midnight. So for one whole minute, -A can't see or hear anything we do."
"Brilliant." Hanna beams and then falters a bit. "I think. What does that mean?"
"It means we're getting the fuck out of here." Spencer tells them and the seconds fly by. Fifteen seconds. "There's a door that leads outside. We're going to wait until midnight tomorrow. We're going to take it. And then we're going to run like hell."
"Are you crazy? We'll never get out of here in only a minute!" Emily shrieks and Spencer nods back towards the game table, where they sink back into their chairs.
"We don't have a choice." Spencer shakes her head. Ten seconds. "It's now or never. This is our only out and we have to take it before we die in here."
"But what about Alison?" Aria asks and Spencer frowns.
"I don't know what we can do for her." She sighs. Five seconds. "We'll just have to turn the police in this direction, once we get to them."
"Okay," Hanna nods. "Okay, but how are we going to-"
The clock strikes midnight and Spencer violently shakes her head. Crickets come over the PA system and that pesky red light on the camera blinks a murderous red. Aria tosses a card towards the center of the game board and shouts, "I win!"
Please return to your bedrooms for quiet time.
And they do, but silently. Exhaustion fills every step as they retreat, this time, to Hanna's room, gathering in the center on the floor. A package awaits them in a patch of dim, artificial light and when they tear it open, they find a small slip of paper with blood red writing and their final wooden horse, pale, with a cloaked skeleton upon it. Spencer sucks in a breath and says, "I was waiting for this one."
"When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, 'Come'." Emily reads aloud, whispering out of fear of waking their tormentor. "I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth."
All four of them know the significance of this, their final horseman of the apocalypse, and in the silence that follows, it weighs heavily on each of their shoulders. Hanna says, her voice small, "We might actually die in here."
"No." Spencer hisses, her voice sharp and quiet. "Tomorrow night. Midnight. We go."
They curl up on the hard, unforgiving floor, hearts racing, and do not sleep a single second.
He tries to focus on the task at hand; really, he does. But bicycle thieves and parking tickets pale in comparison to four teenage girls being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath.
Toby has multiple tabs open on his computer and he switches between them, writes down a few notes, and looks extremely busy and focused whenever Tanner walks by and glares in his direction. Truthfully, he's mentally checked out on this workday. It's been a little over a month since the girls have been gone and he's slowly going out of his mind with worry. Jason and Caleb had teamed up with him to basically ransack Ezra's apartment for his old equipment, but not much had come of it as of yet. Caleb's been working day in and day out combing through the encryption codes and tracking IP addresses that ultimately lead to nowhere and Toby's been trying to search for abandoned warehouses and apartment complexes this unknown person could possibly have taken the girls to while also trying not to get fired. Their plan, for the most part, has a course of action, now. But they don't have any leads on a location and they don't have any manpower and Toby is completely stumped on where to find either of those things.
A moment later, as he's furiously jotting down an address in his notebook, he hears a slightly timid voice ask, "Excuse me? Is Officer Toby Cavanaugh here?"
"Yeah. Back left corner."
At this, he glances up and comes face to face with Paige, who looks as though, at any moment, she could internally combust. Toby drops his pen, closes his notebook, and greets her warmly. "Hey, Paige. You look a lot better."
"I feel better. Physically speaking, anyway." She nods and when Toby motions for the chair in front of his desk, she thanks him and sinks into it. "I was just coming here to ask if you're any closer to finding Emily and the girls. I don't want to sound pushy, but-"
"No, you're not. I get it; you're worried sick. Me too." Toby nods and lowers his voice, eyeing the officers on either side of him. "I'm not supposed to talk about this. I'm not even supposed to be involved in this."
"But you are," Paige points out. "Come on, Toby, you know that they're innocent; that they were taken and didn't run away."
"I know."
"And I know you wouldn't let them drag Spencer's name through the mud like this." Paige continues. "I know you'd want to do everything in your power to find her."
"I wouldn't. I do." Toby shakes his head. "But I can't talk about this here."
"Please," Paige pleads with him, her eyes flooding with tears as she blinks rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. "Please don't shut me out, too. I want to help. I've always wanted to help. But Emily… And now this. I just want to help."
"We're trying our best." Toby tells her. "We don't have much to go by, right now. Did Emily tell you anything?"
"No." Paige replies miserably. "She always kept me in the dark and told me the less I knew, the better. She never told me anything. She wouldn't."
Toby frowns and a familiar feeling of sorrow and helplessness comes over him, then. He's been here; in the early throes of their relationship, Spencer kept so much of her life, so much of her torture, from him, it felt like he was only dating half of her. He'd understood of course; it wasn't intentional, but brought on by her intense fear and anxiety, and who was he to fault her for that? But just because he'd understood doesn't mean it hadn't frustrated and infuriated him; he'd never forced her to talk, he'd always been happy to wait until she was ready to tell him on her own, but he's also sure that many of their problems could have been solved had she decided to enlighten him much earlier than she actually had. Perhaps some of their problems might not have happened at all, but it does not do to dwell on the what ifs or the maybes. He understands where Paige is coming from and he's never empathized with her more in the short time he's known her.
Softening, Toby promises, "I won't shut you out. You can be as much of a part of this as you'd like. I know you're about as worried as I am and you just want to bring Emily home, safe and sound."
Paige nods and glances at her lap. "Thank you."
"But," Toby counters. "We know virtually nothing. So don't get frustrated with our lack of progress. The girls have completely vanished without a trace and this psycho who has them left nothing to go by because he does not want to be found."
Again, Paige nods, a bit warily this time. "Okay."
"Okay." Toby sighs and leans a bit closer, pushing his notebook towards her as well. "Let me- quietly- walk you through what we have so far."
As he does so, Tanner walks by again, eyeing Toby suspiciously, but he pays her no mind, promising Paige loudly that her bike will be returned to her as soon as possible before getting back down to business once Tanner is again out of earshot. He continues, "We're thinking, most likely, that this person is the same person who allegedly murdered Alison and by tricking the girls into thinking she's alive, they've fallen right where he wants them- into his lair. Essentially, we think that maybe… That he's going to…"
"Kill them." Paige finishes, her face pale. "Like he did with Alison."
"Yeah." Toby frowns. "That's more or less what our theory is. We could be totally wrong. This person might be someone completely different or not involved with Alison at all. She could, actually, still be alive for all we know. Without a body, it's hard to prove she's dead. But…"
"But your theory seems the most likely." Paige concludes a second time. "So two years ago, this person messed with Alison, kidnapped her and probably killed her. Now, he or she messed with the girls, kidnapped them and… It's a pattern."
"Exactly." Toby nods. "So we really just need to find out who could've messed with her."
"Well that could be anyone." Paige shrugs. "How are we ever going to narrow it down? The list of people Alison tortured was a mile long, as you and I both know firsthand."
"Yeah. Unfortunately, you're right." Toby says. "Which is why Caleb is trying to use Ezra's computer to track old –A messages and try to find the location from which they were sent. It's not much and it's not one hundred percent accurate, but it's the best we've got."
"Emily hasn't ever really talked about Alison; most likely because she probably thought it would upset me. And she wouldn't be wrong about that." Paige replies. "But… she did say something about Alison getting into it with an older guy on vacation somewhere."
"Cape May. Yeah." Toby nods. "We did know about that, but we always assumed it was Wilden. We'll never know because he's dead, and the only other people that were there are Melissa Hastings and CeCe Drake, who are both impossible to track down."
Paige bites her lip. "You sure about that?"
"Yeah. Melissa was in London last time I asked and as far as I know, she hasn't even had contact with her family in a while and CeCe-"
"No, I mean, are you sure they were the only ones there?" Paige asks. "Who told you about this?"
"Spencer." Toby says. "She said there was a photo of Wilden, Ali and CeCe and that they were all pretty pissed off when Melissa showed up and crashed their fun."
"A photo of Wilden, Ali and CeCe," Paige repeats. "But who took it?"
"I don't know." Toby shakes his head. "I guess I always assumed Melissa did, but if they were so pissed she showed up, they wouldn't ask her to, would they?"
"Someone else was there." Paige nods. "Someone else threatened Alison that weekend and we all just blamed Wilden because it was easy."
"Okay," Toby nods. "If I can get in touch with Melissa to find out where they stayed-"
"-I can find out who it was." Paige agrees without hesitation. "Please. Give me something to do. I want to contribute."
"I'll call her." Toby insists. "And get back to you after I do."
"Okay," Paige says and steals a sticky note and a pen, jotting down her number. "Text me."
"Will do."
She scrambles up and heads for the door as Toby uses his work phone to call Melissa from his desk, carefully scanning the room to be sure no one is listening in. She answers on the first ring and she's nearly bawling with relief, sure his call means he's found her sister, and it takes several minutes for him to get the guts to tell her he hasn't. But after she calms down just a tad, he drops the bomb on her and asks her who the fifth member had been that summer, way back when. Melissa, of course, claims she'd never seen a fifth person and tells Toby she'd been there to tell Alison to stay away from Ian- nothing more, nothing less. She does, however, remember exactly where they had all been staying and the moment she name drops, Toby ends the call, sends the hotel to Paige and receives a quick confirmation text from her in seconds: Got it. Calling them immediately.
Not seconds after this, his cell phone rings and Toby answers immediately, despite the fact that personal calls while on the clock are a big no-no. "Hello?"
"Toby, it's me. Man, have Jason and I really hit the jackpot this time."
"Caleb," Toby says, his voice low. "Make it quick. I'm at work."
"I finally got past Ezra's firewalls and into the bowels of his computer and you wouldn't believe what I found. Absolutely disgusting. I can't believe Aria dated this piece of shit for as long as she did."
Toby frowns and begins to click through the database, searching for the date and time Ezra was arrested, wanting nothing more than to speak with this guy face to face. "Yeah, I know. And?"
"And it was chock full of videos of all the girls, Alison included, and copies of all the texts –A sent them, the messages, the death threats. We were there, too, but there was so much data there that it crashed my laptop for a minute."
He comes up empty. Toby sighs, sure he'd had the date right, and instead, types Ezra's full name into the system, expecting his record to come popping up at any minute with the details of where he's being held. Instead, after the system clocks for a minute, the message reads: No results found. "Okay. But did you find anything after that?"
"I'm getting to that. We had everything, all his spy gear, and we thought hey, why not make this stuff useful and turn it on that son of a bitch instead? And what we found is that Ezra had copies of all of the texts –A sent the girls. Or, so we thought; they weren't copies, they were sent to him as well as them."
This can't be right; he was arrested nearly a month ago, wasn't he? Toby speaks into the receiver quickly to say, "Caleb, hang on a second."
Leaning across his desk, he turns to his colleague, David Harrison, and asks, "Harrison, were you here the day they arrested Ezra Fitz?"
"That teacher from Rosewood High?" Harrison asks. "He was arrested?"
"Wasn't he?" Toby asks and Harrison shakes his head.
"Not that I know of." He shrugs. "What day was this?"
"April twentieth." Toby recalls. "I believe, anyway."
"I was here the whole day." Harrison shakes his head. "No one was brought in here and I definitely would've remembered him. All the teenage girls in the town would be storming this office, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, probably." Toby replies and thanks his friend, getting back to his own desk even more confused than he was before. "Okay sorry Caleb. What's going on?"
"Did you hear me? –A was sending the texts to the girls and Ezra. Why would he do that?"
"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "But you and I have gotten them before, too. It's not that weird."
"It is when you look at what these texts entailed. And when you trace the encryption codes and the IP address from the service that sent them. The codes found in Ezra's computer matched the codes I traced to the cell phone. I tracked them down to a single location in Ravenswood and I think that if we go there, we'll find our lair. I think I know exactly where that is."
"Ravenswood? The texts have been coming from a Ravenswood area code this whole time?" Toby replies and just then, his phone buzzes with a text from Paige. "Caleb, hold on again."
He pulls it away from his ear and the screen illuminates: The name the hotel gave me was F. Scott Fitzgerald. Considering he's been dead for seventy years, what does that mean?
"Oh my god." Toby exclaims and gets back to Caleb immediately. "You know where we're going?"
"Sure do."
"I know exactly who we're going to find."
"Planning a date on company time, Cavanaugh?"
Toby glances up to see Tanner peering down at him with disdain and hastily, without a proper goodbye, he hangs up. "No. I'm sorry. It was an emergency."
"Was it?" Tanner asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or were you just planning a rendezvous with your runaway girlfriend?"
Toby's eyes narrow and he slips his cell phone back into his pocket. "No."
She glances at his computer screen, then, and asks, "What case are you working on?"
"Um, none of them. I'm filing the reports you gave me from yesterday," Toby explains, pulling the keyboard closer with shaking hands. "Just like you asked."
"Just like I asked, huh?" Tanner replies. "Officer Cavanaugh, you haven't done a single thing like I asked since I employed you six months ago."
"Detective Tanner," Toby exhales tiredly. "With all due respect-"
"With all due respect to you, Officer Cavanaugh, you've proven yourself unworthy of my trust." Tanner informs him and Toby feels the familiar pit of rage igniting within his stomach. "I would appreciate if you stopped trying to pull the wool over my eyes and started doing the job you were actually hired for."
"I'm sorry." Toby grits his teeth, clenching his fist. "I thought the job I was hired for was to serve and protect. I thought that in the eyes of the law, everyone is innocent until proven guilty. I thought that by accepting this position, I could maybe become the one cop in this town who wasn't corrupt, but I guess I'm mistaken. I didn't realize that everything has to be your way or the highway."
Tanner frowns. "Watch it."
"Watch what? Watch you run this town into the ground because you're ruling it with an iron fist?" Toby exclaims, rising from his seat with fury so they're eye to eye. "Watch the killer of two girls get off scot-free because you're focusing on the wrong perpetrator? Watch four innocent girls get hunted down like dogs because you've held a vendetta against them since day one? Yeah, I'm already watching that. I don't like what I'm seeing and I'm trying to do something about it, so I'd appreciate it if you got out of my way."
"How dare you." Tanner shakes her head. "How dare you speak to me that way! Your boss! Your superior!"
"You're not any of those things, anymore." Toby shrugs. "You took me off the case, remember?"
"And with good reason!" She replies hotly. "Clearly, you are way too closely involved, personally, in this case to be able to handle it with a sound mind and without losing your head. I should've known better than to put a rookie cop fresh out of the academy on a case this high profile, but I thought I'd take a chance on you. Obviously, I've made some sort of mistake."
"Hey, don't do me any favors." Toby snaps back. "The fact that I'm a rookie has nothing to do with this. It's that I'm opposed to the way you're running things and you trample out any opposition you face!"
"Oh, sure, make this about me." Tanner rolls her eyes. "Don't own up to the fact that you have a personal interest in this case, given its suspects. Pretend it's not about that; you're very good at deception, Cavanaugh, and I have a clue where you've gotten that from."
"It's not about the girls." Toby shakes his head. "It could be four completely different girls and I'd still feel the exact same way. What you're doing isn't fair. It isn't right! Why can't you see that?"
"Why can't you see that you're only fighting me this hard because I'm trying to incarcerate your girlfriend?" Tanner shouts back. "You may think she's incapable of this, but DNA doesn't lie. She does. You're just going to have to accept the fact that you don't know her as well as you think you do."
"This isn't about Spencer!" Toby argues and he's so mind-numbingly angry he can barely see past his rage.
"This is completely about Spencer!" Tanner yells. "It always has been! You would shit on your oath if it meant keeping that girl out of harm's way!"
"I quit." Toby shakes his head and surprises even himself the moment it comes out of his mouth. He wrenches the badge off of his uniform and drops it right in front of her, watching her eyes widen as the cool metal hits the desk with a satisfying clatter. "I quit. I'm done. I can't do this anymore."
"You quit?" She sneers and watches as he pulls the holster off of his belt, surrendering his gun. "You can't just-"
"Detective!" A colleague of his bursts into the room, frantic. "They're here again! The parents! They're pissed."
Tanner sighs and glances back at Toby. "This is not over."
"Actually," Toby counters. "It is."
She narrows her eyes but turns away, following the agitated officer back towards the front of the department, and for a moment, before the door swings shut behind her, Toby can see- and hear- the angry voices emanating from each of the girls' parents. They come everyday, like clockwork, and rip Tanner a new one and it always leaves Toby feeling incredibly guilty and slightly pleased. Ashley Marin and Pam Fields cling to one another and cry, Byron and Ella Montgomery argue and ask a million questions Tanner never has the answer to, and Peter and Veronica consistently threaten the department with closure and Toby has no doubt that they could make it happen. He tries desperately to tune this out as he looks over his belongings upon his desk. There isn't much he'd care to bring with him, save for the photo of him and Spencer that's kept him going on even the toughest days. He picks it up gingerly and tucks it under his arm before nodding and leaving his police days behind.
"Hey! Cavanaugh! Wait!" Harrison stops him as he passes by, his voice lowering automatically the moment he's caught Toby's attention. "You're really leaving?"
"Yeah." Toby shrugs. "I won't be back."
"I'm sorry to see you go." He frowns. "You were a great addition to the team."
"Well, thanks." Toby replies, a bit warily. "And thanks for all your help in the beginning. I don't what I would've done without it."
"Listen," Harrison continues, halting Toby as he goes to leave again. "Don't think that everyone here is under Tanner's spell. I believe you, okay? There's no way in hell these four girls murdered two of their friends. I just don't believe it for a second. But I do believe you."
"Wow. Thanks." Toby repeats, adding, "I never thought I'd hear that from anyone working here."
"Yeah," Harrison shrugs. "Listen… You're still going to try and find them, right? Bring 'em home and go after the real killer?"
"Well, that was the plan. But now that I quit, I won't have a way to recruit any manpower." Toby frowns. "I guess I didn't really think this through."
"Don't ask any of these guys. They don't have your back." Harrison shakes his head. "But I've got a buddy on the SWAT team. I met him back in the academy. And I think I can get you your manpower."
"The SWAT team?" Toby repeats and then nods. "Yeah, that's brilliant. That's perfect. Thank you."
"Yeah, I know the SWAT team sounds kind of intense," Harrison counters. "But I don't think this is a normal situation, so I don't think it should be handled by normal cops."
"You're right. It's not a normal situation." Toby agrees. "He's holding them hostage. And the sooner we get them out of there, the better."
"Right foot blue."
Hanna follows the directions, slides her foot across the plastic, and Aria spins again. "Spencer, left hand yellow."
Spencer contorts her body just a tad in an effort to reach the yellow circle beneath Emily, who's tented over the plastic like a human bridge. This evening when they'd arrived in the great room, the table and chairs had been pushed against the far wall and the game of Twister had been laid out in the middle of the floor for them. The sound of crashing waves and seagulls flying have been playing over the PA system all evening, the grandfather clock chimes with every hour and that finicky red light on the camera in the corner of the ceiling is bright and glaring and unwavering. Spencer can't help herself; she plays the game as well as –A might expect, but on the inside, she's already gone. She can't stop her mind from addressing every contingency in the plan, going over each and every step they would need to take in order to pull it off, and mentally traveling down the hallways, around each corner, until they reach their destination. She's so, so tired. But they have no choice. They must go tonight.
It's eleven fifty-four. They have precisely five minutes.
"Emily," Aria continues monotonously, throwing a cautionary glance at the camera. "Right hand red."
"I can't… I can't reach." Emily strains and when she does, she topples downward, taking Spencer and Hanna down with her.
"Ugh," Hanna groans before pushing strands of hair out of her eyes and climbing to her feet, reaching for the spinner in Aria's hands. "My turn."
Again, Spencer glances at the clock. Two minutes.
"Okay Aria, left foot green." Hanna announces and as she does, the sounds of the sandy shoreline coming over the PA system stop immediately and she mouths, "Do we go?"
"No. It's red." Spencer shakes her head, nodding a bit nonchalantly towards the camera, which remains on. "You meant left foot red, didn't you?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry." She replies. "I guess I got nervous."
"Who can blame you?" Aria shrugs and follows her instructions instantly.
It's eleven fifty-eight. Spencer's heart begins to race.
"Emily, right hand yellow."
"Spencer, left foot blue."
"Aria, right foot green."
And then, it happens; at eleven fifty-nine, as predicted, the camera switches off and Spencer does not hesitate to scramble off of the game board. "Let's go."
Hanna tosses the spinner aside and together, they sprint out of the doorway, heading into the dark hall. "We have sixty seconds. Sixty seconds!"
"We are not going to make it." Emily shakes her head. "There is no way we're going to make it!"
"Not with that attitude." Spencer assures her and Emily purses her lips.
"Are you sure that door you saw is the exit?" Aria asks. "We've seen a lot of doors."
"Yeah, we've seen a lot of things." Spencer replies. "And no; how could I possibly be sure? I was unconscious when I was brought here, just like you were."
"Who cares if you're not sure?" Hanna asks. "It's all we've got. We have to take the chance. If we don't…"
"If we don't, we're going to rot in here."
They dash down the first hallway, doing their best not to trip over one another or run into the wall, take the first corner at incredible speed and head down the adjacent hallway. Their extraordinary fear is heightened in the darkness and Spencer can feel her heart slamming against her ribcage, her veins racing with adrenaline. She's shaking; she's almost glad her friends cannot see her, because she is always expected to be the woman with the plan, the one in charge, the calm and rational one, but right now, she is anything but. She guides them around a sharp corner and wishes she had her watch right about now. They've probably already used up half of their allotted time.
Sure –A is on their heels already, the girls break out into a sprint and with each terrifying step, they grow closer and closer to their destiny. Spencer calls out, "There. It's that one at the end, do you see?"
"The glowing light," Aria points out. "That's what you saw? What made you think it leads outside?"
"Yeah." Spencer nods. "It has to. Even if it's late. That has to be the way."
"Ugh," Hanna wrinkles her nose in disgust. "What is that smell?"
"Oh my god," Emily coughs. "It's disgusting!"
"Damn it," Spencer curses the moment they reach the door. "Of course it's locked!"
"Seriously, that smell," Aria gags. "I'm going to vomit."
"Guys, help me get the door open!" Spencer sputters, coughing a bit as the strong stench hits her. "Jesus, I can't breathe."
"My air's been compromised!"
"Wait," Emily shouts, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. "Don't you have the nail from your mirror?"
"Oh, right!"
She slips this out from her pocket and holds her breath, unable to breathe in the rancid air, and fiddles with the lock on the door. Hanna urges, "Come on! Come on! I need to get away from this smell!"
"Yeah, and we need to get out of here!" Aria adds. "We probably only have about ten seconds before –A comes to find us!"
"Guys, you're not helping!" Emily shrieks back. "Spence, do you want me to try and open the door while you play with the lock?"
"Please!"
At long last, they hear a resounding click and the door handle twists. Spencer cheers in victory. "We did it! We're out of here!"
"Hurry up!"
"Let's go!"
Emily turns the handle and the door pops open and the very first thing they see is that bright white light. Squinting in pain, each of the girls staggers backward and as they do, cockroaches, blowflies and maggots scurry around the floor at their feet. Aria and Hanna scream in terror and Emily and Spencer jump out of the way as the vermin keeps coming and the scent of death grows stronger and stronger. When their eyes adjust to the brand new light, they find not a door to the outside world, not broad daylight and freedom, but an industrial-sized lamp poised in the corner and a small room with shelves full of paint, plumbing parts and electrical equipment. In horror, Spencer realizes she had been wrong all along; this is not their escape. This is not the way out. This is a closet and they're as close to an escape now as they had been when this all started. She's about to crumble and when she glances at the girls, she realizes each of them is suffering the effects of this crushing blow. –A has once again led them off of a cliff, taking advantage of their all-too-hopeful manner.
But then, they notice something else. The floor is stained with blood. The walls have claw marks. The supplies littered on the ground show signs of a struggle.
They see her feet first, skeletal, skin hanging from the bones. Jeans cover her legs and then they lose sight of her, having to peer around the corner of the room to catch the rest of her.
She's slumped over at the waist and they cannot see her face, but likely, there wouldn't be one to see. She's still wearing that infamous yellow top. Her blonde hair cascades from a lifeless skull around her shoulders, matted in places with blood.
And at this moment, at this sight, Spencer turns from the closet and vomits onto the floor of the hallway as the alarm sounds over the PA system.
They're too late.