A/N: Just an FYI, my life is a chaotic mess right now, but I'm trying to stay on schedule.
Chapter 16:
Gravity
Alison hadn't been to the cabin in years. It was the one place that was left unmarred by her family's legacy. It had belonged jointly to her mother and her aunt. Her mother never used it. It was too far from civilization for her. It was below her. The only reason she invested in it was for the tax break.
Her aunt loved it.
The best part about it was that the men in their family didn't know of its existence, so Mary used it as an escape…a safe house. It's where she'd disappeared after her pregnancy started showing. She'd gone there so her father wouldn't learn about the baby.
It's where she'd secretly given birth to Spencer. She'd been out in the wilderness all alone...sweating and screaming through a tedious labor.
She'd cried after Spencer was born. She'd wiped her gooey little blood-covered body clean, swaddled her in a towel, and kissed her perfect little forehead. She had laid with her, too exhausted to move.
She'd spent several precious hours with her before the child's father, Peter Hastings, had arrived to get her.
Protecting Spencer had been the most important thing in the world to her. She knew the child would be safe away from her family.
Parting ways with her felt like giving away a vital piece of her heart…something she never thought she'd be able to function without. But knowing that the little girl would be safe was more important than her pain.
She'd spent nearly a month in the cabin after the birth, trying to find a way to live with herself for giving her child away.
She knew she'd made the right call when her sister got in touch about the birth of her own child, Mary's niece.
Mary's father had plans for little Alison. It was sobering when Mary found out that he was already dictating what the child's life would entail. It was in that moment that Mary knew she'd made the right choice for her own baby.
The cabin was a reminder of what Mary had lost, but at the same time she'd cherish the few hours she'd had with her daughter there. She'd rebuilt her life and was able to see the quaint place as a vision for the future. A quiet place to reflect.
She had taken Alison there after her family was killed. Alison remembered how peaceful it was at the cabin. She remembered peeking out the windows at the trees at the edge of the property, which seemed to be never-ending. Their darkness was a comfort to her.
They were cut off from the rest of the world…cut off from anyone who would do them harm.
o ~ O ~ o
~ Then ~
They'd left Mary's house in a hurry in the middle of the night. Alison remembered hushed voices. Her aunt was arguing with someone.
The little girl's automatic response was to hide in the closet and cover her ears. She crawled beneath her hanging clothes and curled her little legs up, resting her chin on her knees. Her nightgown slid up against her thighs.
She felt Pepe sidling up next to her, but she was too scared to pet him. She rocked back and forth as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. She'd learned to cry quietly. If she sobbed or made any noise her daddy would be able to find her. So she'd adjusted, internalizing the screams as the silent tears fell.
Her daddy was gone. Dead. He couldn't hurt her anymore, but there were bad men out there who still could.
Jason wasn't around to protect her anymore. It all came down to what he'd taught her. She had to remember his lessons.
Hide. And when you can't hide…fight.
Pepe licked her face, whining out a concerned noise. She shushed him.
"I have every right! She's my flesh and blood!" The voice downstairs made Alison shudder.
She thought she might wet herself when she recognized his tone.
"I told you at the funeral...and I'm telling you again…you stay away from her." Mary sounded mad.
"Mary…" His voice came out angry and harsh.
Alison clutched a chunk of Pepe's fur, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
The voices settled into angry murmurs again. Alison closed her eyes and squeezed out more tears.
Minutes passed. There was screaming and crashing and the sound of things being broken. Then there was a loud bang downstairs, like a door slamming.
Thump thump thump. Whoosh whoosh whoosh…
Her heart was beating in her ears.
She heard nimble footsteps approaching. She started to squeak out a cry, but slapped her hand over her mouth to stop the noise.
I have to be brave.
The door to the bedroom crept open, flooding the cracks in the closet door with light from the hallway.
Please, please, please. She begged in thought. Please don't be him…
Alison buried her face in her knees and bit down to keep from screaming.
"Alison?" It was her aunt's voice, barely a whisper. "Alison? Sweetheart?"
Alison bit down harder on her skin, drawing blood, though she didn't realize it.
She'd been with her aunt for almost a month, and so far everything had been okay. No creepy pictures. No angry daddy. No strange men she didn't know.
But she didn't trust that she would be safe forever. What if her aunt turned out to be just like her mommy and daddy?
Her entire body was violently shaking as the footsteps approached the closet. Pepe betrayed her with a grumbly "woof!"
Traitor…
She curled up, trying to make herself as small as possible as the door slowly opened. Out of pure reflex she screamed.
"Please don't hurt me!"
A shadow fell over her. The soft features on her aunt's face were illuminated by the light coming from the hallway.
"Oh…honey…" Mary gently reached out to touch her face and wipe her tears away. Pepe licked her hand.
"It was Grandpa." The little girl sobbed. "He wanted to take me away."
"Alison…it's okay now. I…"
"I heard him. I heard him." She closed her eyes and tried to push it away. "He told Jason to hurt me. He wanted him to hurt me bad. Then he was going to let his friends hurt me. He said he was going to make me ready for them. He told my daddy to make me ready…"
"That's never going to happen again." Mary pulled the shaking child into her lap.
Alison's instincts were torn. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around her aunt and never let go. The other part of her wanted to claw her way out of her arms and dive back into the safety of the closet.
She let out a choked sob, for the first time tasting the flavor of copper in her mouth. She looked down to where she'd been biting her knee and saw bloody teeth marks.
Mary glanced at the injury.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry you got scared…"
There was a loud banging noise downstairs, someone pounding on the door.
"Mary! Mary, you can't shut me out! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!"
Alison froze. The sound of his voice terrified her. She gripped her aunt's shirt and buried herself in her aunt's body.
Her bladder let loose, a warm liquid trailing down between her thighs.
"Don't let him hurt me." She whispered. "Don't let him touch me."
"Never let anyone touch you." Jason had warned. "Because once they start they'll never stop."
Hearing her seven-year-old niece beg in a way she never should have had to beg shattered something inside of Mary.
She stood up, gripping Alison's tiny trembling body. She held the back of her head and swayed, shushing her like she was a fussy baby. Alison sobbed into her shoulder.
They waited for the angry old man to tire himself out.
Once the silence settled back over the house Mary cleaned Alison up and changed her pajamas. She sat her down against the edge of the bed.
Pepe sat at her feet, staring between Alison and Mary.
Alison watched as her aunt hastily started packing things.
"You're not going to send me away, are you?" She sniffled.
She was mad at herself for wetting herself.
Mary kneeled down in front of her.
"Never, baby. We're just going to go away for a little while. Somewhere safe." She wiped Alison's face.
"Somewhere Grandpa can't find us?"
Mary nodded, cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead.
"I will never let him hurt you, Alison." There was a vicious fire in her eyes. It was intense, but not scary. It made her feel…okay…like everything would be okay.
Alison had only been with her aunt for a month, but she believed her…she believed the conviction in her voice. Most of all, she believed that Mary knew what a monster her grandfather was, because Mary had been his daughter all her life.
After Mary finished packing she bundled Alison up and picked her up. She clipped a leash on the dog and rushed through the house. Alison wrapped her little arms and legs around her aunt as they fled.
She only saw glimpses of the house as they left, but she noticed a bunch of her aunt's favorite figurines all smashed to pieces. A table had been knocked over. When she looked up at her aunt she saw a purple welt on her jaw.
That's when she closed her eyes.
She didn't remember the drive to the cabin. She only remembered the night sky, black with vast little sparkling dots.
She liked to imagine the biggest and sparkliest was her big brother watching over her.
Alison drifted in and out of sleep, clutching Pepe. He laid calmly in the backseat with her.
When she woke up she was in a bed snuggled between her aunt and Pepe. Mary had her arms wrapped protectively around her. Pepe's head was resting against her hip.
What struck Alison the most about the cabin was how quiet it was. It was a different kind of quiet than the rich suburbs of Rosewood. It was like being in the vastness of space. She was in an entirely new world.
She snuggled up close to her aunt's warm bosom, trying not to think about her mother's father. He was even worse than her mommy and daddy. The last time she'd seen him he'd talked about getting her "ready" for something that didn't sound like much fun.
The safety of the cabin gave Alison a sense of stability again. Though nothing could ever make her feel normal again, she felt like perhaps serenity could be enough.
They stayed for nearly a month, which is when Mary got word that her father had died of an apparent heart attack.
When Alison got older she realized the timing of it was almost too perfect. She never questioned her aunt about it, though she deduced all she needed to know after overhearing Mary talking to someone on the phone the night before they left the cabin.
The older woman paced around the living room near the nook next to the fireplace.
"Are you absolutely certain?" Mary questioned as she walked towards the sofa.
There was a pause, then a sob, and a relieved sigh as she gripped the back of the couch.
"Thank God." Her fingernails tore at the leather couch. "This whole thing has been such a nightmare."
Alison closed her eyes and tried to hear what the other person was saying. She thought she could make out a muffled, "How is she?"
"She's terrified. He completely traumatized her."
Another reply on the other end, and then Mary replied in a very resolute firmness.
"I should have done this a long time ago. He ruined us when we were kids, and as for Alison…I should have gotten her away sooner."
Another pause. Heavy breathing.
"I know. I just feel so guilty for not coming forward before all of this happened. I was so scared of him. But if I had said something…"
Whoever was on the other end cut her off.
"I'm sorry. I don't know anything else. I already told you everything. I wish I knew more, but he kept his affairs surrounding that particular part of his life secret. He was a silent partner. That's all I know. I can't tell you how deep it runs or who else is involved, but perhaps his death will serve as a warning to others out there."
Mary straightened up and walked across the hardwood floor to the front door. She put her hand on the knob and pulled it open, walking out on the front porch.
Alison heard Pepe's toenails tapping against the hardwood floor, rushing towards the door. He loved his walks and he knew when the door opened he got to go out.
But when he got there the door was closed. He cocked his head curiously and then looked towards the corner where Alison was peeking out.
He pranced over to her and knocked her over to lick her face. She was giggling so loud she didn't hear the last three words of her aunt's phone call.
"Thank you, Detective."
o ~ O ~ o
They visited the cabin many times when she was a child, but when she started branching off on her own it had become an asset, an investment. After Mary died Alison kept it to rent it out for extra income. She hadn't been there in years.
Seeing it on the news was surreal. She felt like she was watching a movie. Flashes of reality clashed with a scene that was playing out like some horrifying fantasy on screen.
"That's my cabin." Alison squeaked out quietly. "Well…it's my family's cabin…"
"What?" Emily turned her head so fast that Alison was sure she'd get whiplash.
"Oh, God. The killer was in my cabin." Her voice trembled. But it wasn't because she was afraid.
She was fucking pissed.
It was a violation. This person had violated her.
"You're going to be okay, Alison." Emily pulled her close.
Alison could feel what Emily meant with her actions: I love you. I'll protect you.
Emily's phone buzzed. Alison saw Toby Cavanaugh's name appear on screen.
"I'm going," Alison said, no emotion in her tone whatsoever. "When you go there, I'm going with you."
"It's an active crime scene." Emily frowned.
Alison was prepared for the pushback, but she had to go.
When she killed someone she was very careful. It's why she never got caught. She even had an alibi, albeit a fake one, for when he was killed. But someone had sought out her cabin and put a man she murdered there. She had to make sure nothing linked her to the body.
"At my cabin." Alison argued.
"All the more reason to stay out of sight."
"Emily." Alison put her foot down, literally, kicking her foot against the floor, planting it there like she was ready to run a marathon.
Emily sighed.
"Cavanaugh isn't going to like this."
"So don't tell him."
Emily grumbled under her breath, which normally Alison found quirky and cute. But her head was spinning way too fast for her to comprehend anything.
Tim Roland. At my cabin. How?
Had she been followed? Did someone know who she was?
There was no way in hell it was a coincidence.
Unless…perhaps someone saw she was with Emily and wanted to mess with her to get to Emily. That was another possibility. But who would do that?
After Emily's brief phone call with Toby they were both up and ready to go. Alison called the hospital and explained what was happening, telling Chief Hastings that she would be late for her shift. Then they were on their way to the Poconos.
Her mind was racing. Was she walking into a trap? Had someone set her up? Or was someone fucking with her?
But who would do that?
She replayed the night of Tim's kill in her mind. She had done everything right. Scouted everything out. There is no way anyone could have seen her.
The most disturbing part about everything was the fact that someone had discovered that the cabin belonged to her family.
Why else would the body have been dumped there?
It was going to make her look guilty.
So guilty.
But then she remembered the brunette sitting next to her.
The one who would be an alibi.
I'm being paranoid.
Surely they wouldn't look at her as a suspect just because the guy who had tried to rape her was found dead at her family's old cabin. That would be too obvious.
Maybe I can spin this…
She'd already planted the seed that someone was watching her and Emily in the park the day she met Tim Roland. Maybe she could twist the story…deceive the police into believing that this killer was trying to make it personal for some reason.
They ARE making it personal… She realized.
But if someone knew her identity why wouldn't they just turn her in? Why play with her like she was some doll? It was sick. Demented.
She stared down at her hands in her lap.
She was fiddling with her fingers like a child in church fretting about whether or not stealing a piece of gum was a sin that would send her to hell. Only the piece of gum in her case was murder.
Justified murder, but still murder in the eyes of the law.
"Hey, you okay?" Emily reached over and gripped the blonde's hand.
"I…" Alison blinked. Her mind was a foggy night. She couldn't see the sky for the clouds. "I haven't been out here in a very long time. It's bringing back some memories."
"What kind of memories?"
'My aunt might have had my grandfather killed' kind of memories.
R.I.H. Rot in Hell, old man.
Maybe she wasn't a psychopath. Maybe killing people was just in her blood.
"My aunt." She tried to stick to as close to the truth as possible. She was getting close to Emily, and eventually the detective would call her on her lies, so Alison was practicing the art of making her lies into palatable truths. "I miss her."
Her eyes filled with tears.
Real tears.
"Who would do this?"
Seriously? Who?
"I don't know, but we're going to find out. I promise." Emily rubbed her knuckles with her thumb and forefinger.
That's what I'm worried about.
Emily's phone jolted to life. She kept one hand on the steering wheel and answered the cell with her other.
"Hey Montgomery, you get the Poconos alert?" She stared intensely at the road.
Alison was surprised that the local Poconos Detectives were ringing up Rosewood's Medical Examiner.
Aria is being dragged into this?
The blonde was grinding her teeth so hard that she almost didn't hear what Emily was saying.
"Yeah, looks like our unsub's MO. The Chief Medical Examiner wants a co-op. You up to come to the scene? There shouldn't be any territorial bullshit or turf wars. Apparently it was brutal enough for them to put aside jurisdiction…"
Alison chewed on her lip. She knew that Emily would see her restlessness as grief. Maybe part of it was grief. She couldn't decipher what she was feeling. She just knew something was there beneath the surface making her feel.
"Oh." Emily replied with a laugh. "Jeeze, you start early. I guess I'll see you there. You may even beat me there."
Emily was going well over the speed limit, so if Aria was ahead of them that meant she was tweaking on coffee.
No surprise.
After Emily hung up the phone Alison faced her curiously.
"You didn't tell her I was coming?"
"I thought I'd make you the surprise witness." Emily put her phone in its charging dock.
Alison let out a little nervous laugh, but the thought of being in a courtroom, no matter how jokingly theoretical…was not something she wanted to think about while they were on their way to her family's cabin…
…where a dead body with her signature was waiting.
The person watching her was either incredibly ballsy or straight up petty.
This fucker is playing mind games with me.
By the time they got to the cabin Alison had managed to get herself under control. She presented a calm front, convincing her girlfriend she could handle the scene.
"You're sure about this?" Emily touched her hand tenderly.
You're trying to decide if bringing me was a mistake.
They'd both gotten so caught up in the moment that neither one of them had been thinking clearly.
Beyond being terrified at being caught at the scene…though not really the scene…of her own crime, she was also excited to see one of her kills from this unique perspective. She'd never been this close.
"I'm fine." Alison assured her. "I just…I need to be here. I need to…understand." I need to understand my way right into hacking off some body parts…
"I only ask one thing." Emily clutched her hand. "You tell me if it's too much. Sometimes seeing crime scenes at a familiar location can dredge up memories…"
Don't I fucking know it…
"I'll let you know." Alison squeezed her fingers.
"You've taken forensic pathology, so you know the importance of preserving evidence. It's a lot like surgery. We have a certain procedure. This is not our jurisdiction, but the Poconos Authorities were kind enough to co-op with us and we don't want to make things messy for them…"
"I'll respect their investigation." As long as it doesn't point towards me. I'll tamper with evidence if I have to.
She felt sweat beneath the collar of her shirt, terrified that Tim Roland's body would lead right back to her.
Emily had Alison put on gloves before they even got out of the car. Emily slipped her gloves on and they walked towards the flurry of activity.
Crime scene tape pushed as far back as the woods. Large lights had amassed around the cabin, all over the lawn. Bright orange extension cords covered the grounds like snakes. The entire area was lit up like Broadway on opening night.
The CSIs were slowly surveying the scene, collecting evidence and taking photographs. They were combing the grounds around the cabin, too.
Local reporters had already made their way out to the cabin, but they were being kept far far away from the scene. Even so, they made their presence known. They had their own lights set up and cameras pointed towards the activity.
Among the vultures was Alex Drake, aiming her camera directly towards the privacy tent the authorities had put up. The flash of it in the night blinded Alison momentarily.
Alison reached up to rub her eyes, grumbling to herself.
It wasn't the first time she'd been blinded by the little bitch. The girl had practically come out of the womb aiming a camera.
o ~ O ~ o
~ Then ~
She'd been sitting on a swing at the playground. Most kids were in school, but her aunt was giving her time to adjust since they'd gotten back from the cabin.
Mary was trying to teach her at home so she wouldn't fall behind when she eventually went back to school, which Alison hoped wouldn't happen any time soon.
Other people exhausted her. She had to fake so many emotions and it was hard. She liked the solitude her homeschooling offered. Not only did she get a reprieve from other kids…she could focus more on her studies.
Mary believed in a healthy balanced day, so she set a schedule for her that she would follow in school.
It was recess time, so they were at the park. Pepe lounged beside her as she swayed on a swing, kicking the mulch beneath her feet.
She missed the way Jason used to push her.
"Higher! Higher!"
She liked sailing through the air. It made her feel like she was flying. The ghost of her giggles echoed in her mind.
"That's it, kid! Pump your little legs!" A gentle tap on her back, her brother giving her more momentum as she swung as hard as she could.
She went so far up that she thought she might do a loop over the top railing.
Pepe let out a satisfied grunt from beside her, rolling in the mulch.
Funny doggy.
She loved having a dog. She'd played with Pepe when she visited her aunt before that night. But now she had him all day, every day. It was a lot of fun. Like having a best friend who never judged her and never asked her stupid questions or tried to make her do things she didn't want to do.
She glanced down at him. He was upside down on his back. His jowls fell over his teeth, his gums flapping.
He looked so funny. Alison giggled.
When she looked up a flash blinded her.
She rubbed her eyes, lights still bespeckling her field of vision.
"Sorry." Someone sat down on the swing next to hers. "It's really really bright."
Alison turned to see a gangly little girl with brown hair and buck teeth. She was about her age.
"I know you." The girl poked a bony finger at Alison.
"Well, I don't know you." Alison didn't mean to be rude, but she had come out to the quiet area of the playground to think, and this little girl was ruining it.
"I'm Alexis." The girl was like an annoying fly Alison wanted to swat away.
She didn't answer. She just slightly swung back and forth. Her therapist told her that she needed to make friends, but she didn't feel much like being this girl's friend. She was annoying.
"My daddy got this for me before he went away." The girl ignored Alison's cues and stared at her camera.
Alison's curiosity got the better of her. She lifted her head.
"Where did he go?"
The little girl's face dropped.
"Away. I don't know." She sighed. Her expression remained a placid unreadable plain to Alison. She couldn't tell what the girl was feeling.
"I don't have a mommy or a daddy." Alison wasn't sure why she said it. It had tumbled out of her mouth before she realized it.
Or a big brother. Her lips trembled. She wanted to cry, but the tears were stuck.
"Why don't you go to school?" The girl prodded.
"I do." Alison puffed her chest out and gripped the chains on the swing. "My aunt is my teacher."
"Sounds boring!" The girl rolled her eyes.
"Is not!" Alison felt a growing ball of anger in her tummy.
I don't like this girl. She's creepy. Go away, creepy girl.
She peered at the chain on the swing, wondering what it would feel like around the girl's neck.
"What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in school?" Alison's face twisted into a sneer.
"I played sick, silly. My mommy doesn't know I sneaked out. I like to take pictures." She aimed the camera at Alison again.
Before the blonde could tell her not to snap the picture, Pepe was on his feet between the two of them.
His blocky head bumped the girl's hand, making her unsteady. She almost dropped her camera, but managed to hold on to it as she steadied herself with the chain on the swing.
"Bad dog!" She shrieked.
Good dog. Alison thought to herself as she reached out and stroked Pepe between the ears where he loved to be petted.
His stiff tail gave the slightest indication of a wag, but he was still on high alert.
"If your dog bites me he'll get put to sleep and you'll never see him again." The girl warily moved back in her swing.
The words did something to Alison's mind. Made her think all kinds of bad thoughts.
Blood.
Lots of blood.
Alison would kill anyone who tried to hurt her dog.
I want to hurt her.
"Nuh uh!"
"Uh huh. If he's a bad dog they will. They'll come and take him away. It happened to my cousin's dog."
Alison felt a pulse of fear rip through her. She'd already lost Jason. She didn't want to lose Pepe, too. She loved Pepe.
The dog sensed her fear. He raised his hackles and barked at Alexis. It startled her so much that she lost her grip on the swing and fell on to the mulch on her butt.
Alison grinned in amusement as Alexis stumbled to her feet.
She took two big steps back.
"No! Stay away!" She swatted the air to try and deter him.
"Don't you hit my dog!" Alison leaped to her feet. She stood beside Pepe, unwavering. Her little chest was heaving.
She wanted to hurt this Alexis girl. She wanted to hurt her bad.
Pepe stood perfectly still by the blonde's side. Her hand rested an inch above his head. She wished she had teeth so she could bite the girl, rip into her flesh.
"Tell your stupid dirty dog to leave me alone!"
"He's not stupid." In fact, Alison was convinced the dog knew more about humans than she knew about humans. "And you leave us alone." Alison added, puffing her chest out.
Before I make you bleed like my parents bled.
o ~ O ~ o
"Ali, you still with me?" Emily was standing in front of her, leading the way.
I'm always with you.
The feeling of Emily's fingers bristling against her arm snapped her back into reality.
And that reality was that a man she killed was at a cabin she owned.
"Yeah." Alison nodded, staring ahead blankly.
They navigated the prying eyes of nosy reporters, managing to dodge Alex Drake.
Camera shudders lit up the surrounding darkness, reflecting the early morning dew beneath their feet.
A Poconos police representative was speaking with the crowd, fielding questions left and right.
Emily flashed her badge at the local law enforcement there. Rosewood PD was working with the local police department. It was not Emily's jurisdiction, but the case was related to their open investigation, so the locals hadn't hesitated to call them. Because everyone had heard of the Scarlet Letter Killer.
Emily led Alison through the crowd of growing media spectators and then ducked under the police tape, holding it up for Alison to slide under.
The blonde followed her lead.
Emily spotted Toby by the edge of the porch, phone to his ear. His back was to her.
She slowly approached him, ready for the onslaught of shit she was going to get for bringing Alison without telling him.
"Yeah, Fields and Montgomery are both en route. I'll update you as soon as I know anything else, Chief." He pulled the phone away from his ear, taking a moment to end the call before sliding it into his pocket.
His expression was already intense as he turned towards them. He was clutching a large cup of coffee in his free hand. He had a permanent scowl fixed to his face, like a boxer pissed off and ready for a fight. His eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted.
When he saw Alison his anger intensified.
Eyes tight. Creases in his forehead. Wrinkle on his nose. Heavy breathing.
He's more upset that she didn't tell him than he is about me being here.
"Fields…" The tone in his voice confirmed his disapproval.
"It's her cabin, Toby." Emily cut him off.
Her voice was steady. Calm. She had been prepared for his reaction, and she'd known exactly what to say.
"What?" He stared at the notepad in his hand. "No. That's not right. It says the cabin is owned by a corporation…The Carissimi Group."
"My mother and my aunt knew they'd get better kickbacks by going through a charity foundation than if they were to purchase it under their names." Alison explained.
And it was a safe place for them to run when their father got to be too much.
Not that her mother had ever used it. The woman had been brainwashed by dollar signs. She hadn't cared about the cabin at all once she'd given birth to Alison.
Mary had gone the opposite route when she learned about her own pregnancy. She'd stayed hidden. Her father's dirty money didn't matter to her. Her child's safety was all that mattered.
Would I be normal if my mom had given me up like Mary gave up Spencer?
"When my aunt passed away the deed was transferred to me. I stay too busy to use it, but I do rent it out." Alison stared at the structure.
It had seemed so much bigger when she was a child. It was like a deep cavernous wonder. It had been overwhelming at first.
When she woke up in an unfamiliar bed in the middle of the night she was disoriented. Even though her aunt's arms were around her she felt unstable. Not physically, but emotionally. It was terrifying.
She remembered staring at the ceiling fan as it went around and around, creating shadows from the moonlight. Pretty soon monsters were dancing around her and she wanted to scream.
Pepe had licked her hand and she'd whispered that he was a good boy. If he wasn't scared, then maybe she didn't need to be scared either.
He'd given her courage. She'd slipped out of her aunt's arms to look out the window at the full moon.
The night sky was different away from the city lights. The moon was bigger, and it was so close. She almost felt like she could reach out and grab it. She'd marveled at how it took up the whole sky. The stars twinkled, burning brighter than she'd ever seen them. She stared at the sparkliest one and thought to herself, Jason, will I ever be okay again?
The cabin was beautiful in the day. Calm soothing décor, plenty of space, comfy furniture. She could hear every creak beneath her feet when she tiptoed across the wooden floors.
Despite the eerie calmness she'd quickly learned to love the cabin. It was like her own little cocoon of safety.
"It's really your place?" The sandy-haired detective wasn't sure what to do with that bit of information.
The scowl was gone, replaced by a mixture of emotions.
Intrigue. Curiosity. Concern for my well-being?
The way he rocked on his heels and bunched his shoulders told Alison a story.
He'd come to the conclusion that someone was watching their cases and that someone had seen her with Emily.
Alison had played everything perfectly at the park that day. The only part she hadn't planned was Tim's attack. But it made her look like the victim. It made it seem as though the "killer" would try to get to Emily through her loved ones.
Emily's eyes connected with Toby's.
Come on, Emily. Connect it to the park. See what your partner is seeing.
"Someone is watching us." Emily kept her voice low.
That's my girl.
Alison had to fight back a smile. Her plan had played out exactly how she wanted it…other than the dead body at her cabin.
Such an inconvenience.
But Emily believed that the "Scarlet Letter Killer" was watching them. She was in the clear…for now.
Emily made an unconscious move to stand closer to Alison. There was no doubt in the blonde's mind that Emily would shield her from harm. It was sweet. Sexy.
"You saw someone in the park the day we were talking to Roland." Emily's arm brushed against Alison's.
The blonde had made that up. But perhaps it had been true. Perhaps someone really was watching them.
"I…I thought I did." She had to remind herself to keep her breathing unsteady. She needed to seem confused and unsure. "I thought I was just being paranoid."
"Maybe not." Emily shook her head. "We never found anything on the follow up, but if it was the Scarlet Letter Killer they'd know how to avoid detection…"
"If that's the case then we've got a bigger problem. You played right into this psycho's hands." Toby grimaced. "I'm not sure what's more reckless. Bringing your girlfriend to a crime scene or leaving her home alone where you two were potentially being watched."
Watch it, Big Boy… Alison didn't like the way he was talking to Emily.
Alison gnashed her teeth. She didn't like Grumpy Toby. He was a lot like Bitchy Spencer.
A match made in Heaven. Or hell.
Then again, hearing him call her Emily's girlfriend felt pretty fucking good.
"It's not her fault." Alison's chest flared and expanded as she side-stepped in front of Emily. "I made her bring me. So if you're going to blame anyone then blame me."
She narrowed her eyes, trying to perfect a look between tenderness and timidity. It was a tricky balance to maintain. She needed to be clear in her resolve, but not to come across as too controlling.
"I can be very persuasive." More than you know.
"Even so, you didn't make her break protocol…" He jabbed a cranky finger at Emily and gave her a serious look.
"Oh, give the bureaucracy a rest, Cavanaugh." Emily cut him off. "I knew you wouldn't let me bring her if I told you."
"Ah, so we're going for the age old 'it's better to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask permission' thing." Toby sipped his coffee, still staring, still judging.
Yes, please…caffeinate. Maybe it will make you less of an asshole.
"You know me." Emily didn't seem phased. She plucked at a loose fingertip on one of her gloves. "So stop pouting and let's get on with it."
Toby faced Alison, pressing his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose.
"I'm not trying to be a jerk. We just have very strict protocols." He sighed. "Not to mention that crime scenes can really do a number on your psyche."
He did seem truly concerned, so she backed off of her murderous train of thought.
"I think my psyche can handle it. It's been through a lot...and I'm still standing."
Toby opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed just as quickly and then sighed through his nose. He glanced between the two girls, both damaged with shadows of trauma hanging over them.
His brows did a sad little dance on his forehead and his eyes widened just enough to look like a puppy who had been kicked.
Alison could see what he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for the loss of her family, but at the same time…he knew she didn't want to hear his pity.
Smart boy.
"Furey is going to kill you." Toby finally relented, moving aside so they would have access.
"Been there, done that. This one…" Emily jutted her thumb towards Alison, "…will just get my heart beating again."
"Kind of what I do." Alison reached up to stroke her arm, nearly forgetting about the gloves on her hands. She dropped her hand back to her side and then looked at Toby. "Thank you, Detective Cavanaugh."
"Mmmhmm." He clearly wasn't satisfied, but he wasn't going to argue. "At least you're already following procedure." He glanced at her gloved hands.
He made a little grumbly noise.
Dare I say that sounds kind of cute. Like a grumpy old man.
She'd heard Emily call him that from time to time, but had never seen him act like a grandpa.
She could see it now. He was staring at her like she was a child that he wanted to yell at to get off of his lawn.
Instead of finding it annoying, she found it endearing.
"Oh, cheer up, Captain Grumpy-Pants." Emily pinched his cheek, which was sporting a 5 o'clock shadow.
Captain Grumpy-Pants. Alison fought back a snicker.
"We've got a murder to solve." Emily patted the stubble on his cheek with her gloved hand.
He swatted at her hands, but he was smiling. Finally.
"She go over the rules with you?" Toby peered at the doctor.
"Yes. But I'm always up for a refresher course."
"Don't touch anything, and watch where you walk. Consider this your sterile surgical field." He wasn't just Toby anymore. He was Detective Cavanaugh. "And if you're going to puke…do it away from the body."
"I can manage that." Alison knew how to play the part of a docile good girl.
He reached towards a table that had been set up in a designated area for the investigators. He grabbed a pair of blue shoe covers. The same kind that she used in surgeries. He handed them to her.
"Put these on."
Emily reached for a pair and put them on over her shoes.
"I'm going to talk to the locals. Let them know she's here so there's no surprises." Toby paced down the porch steps.
He walked with a confident air of gravitas that all cops seemed to have. It was part arrogance and part confidence.
"The local cops might want to talk to you since you own the property." Emily nodded towards the detectives convening inside the house. They were still searching the premises. "When was the last time you were here?"
"Not since I was a kid. It was my Aunt Mary's until she died. I thought about selling it after her death, but decided against it. I wanted to come up, but it was too painful a reminder of her…" The pain on her face didn't have to be faked. She saw Emily cast her a sympathetic glace. "It's been about four months since I last rented it out. I can find the paperwork when we get home if you'd like."
"They might want it." Emily replied. She was in detective mode now, too.
Detective Fields turned around to observe the area. The look on her face was the look of a woman who was determined to keep the area controlled. She was watching for abnormal behavior, searching for faces that didn't belong.
A short dark-haired woman with a bob who did belong bounded towards them.
"Hey, Fields! Hey-a!" Aria walked up to them, bag slung over her shoulder, trusty cup of coffee in her hand.
"Hey, Aria." Emily smiled.
"Hi there." Aria's lips turned down in confusion when she saw her coworker. "Okay, I know you like keeping me company, but this is a whole new level of dedication."
Aria adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder.
Her portable little crime scene investigation kit.
"I made Emily bring me." Alison wanted to reach for the detective's hand out of habit, but she stopped herself, remembering where they were and how many cameras were out there.
"Kind of a weird date to be on." Aria shrugged. "But I'm not going to kink-shame or anything."
"It's my cabin." Alison glanced back at the cabin.
Fuck this fucking fuck for bringing Tim here.
"Oh." Aria frowned at the steps leading up towards the crime scene. Her normally pale cheeks somehow managed to lose even more color. "Well, had I known that I would have brought more coffee."
The smaller girl gave Alison a look that was equal parts inquisitive and apprehensive. She bit down on her lip.
"I'm so sorry, Alison. You've been through the wringer lately. You deserve a break."
Or maybe I don't. Maybe this is karma rearing its stupid shiny little head at me.
Aria put her coffee down on the table, forcing herself to part ways with it so she wouldn't contaminate the scene.
"Shall we?" She motioned.
They worked their way through the crime scene investigators. Alison gave them a wide berth. She needed to seem unsure and timid. She couldn't appear to have too much of an interest in the body.
The detective stopped before they walked towards the privacy drapes that had been put up.
"Are you sure you want to see this?" Emily touched her shoulder.
"I'm a doctor. I deal with blood and gore all day. I've seen dead bodies. I did the autopsy on one of your victims." It was so hard for her to say victim. Because Garrett Reynolds wasn't a victim. He was a vicious predator. He deserved to die in agony.
Emily nodded and led the way through the uniformed officers. Aria bounded ahead of them, introducing herself and showing off her credentials.
Alison watched as the CSIs worked with Aria like she hadn't just come in and taken over.
How the hell does she do that? The surgeon wondered.
Aria could probably charm mosquitoes into flying themselves directly into an open flame. She'd never met anyone with more charisma, especially someone who spent most of her time with dead people.
As Alison got closer she was able to make out the three people Aria had introduced herself to. The two in front were blocking her view of the slimy bastard.
A young photographer, another forensics tech, had his camera aimed at the person she couldn't see. The kid barely looked eighteen, and he certainly didn't look like law enforcement with his large nose-ring and purple streaked hair.
He's too young for this. It was a strange thought to have…to want to protect younger people from the horrors of the real world.
It was a kindness she'd never been offered as a child.
The other two techs were taking some kind of mold of a hand. One was an older woman with dark hair sporting a few proud grey streaks. The other was a young Middle Eastern woman, hair pulled back in a careful bun, like she'd done it specifically to keep the scene clean.
When they moved to the side Alison was taken aback. Not because of the dead body. But because of who the dead body was.
Female. Blonde hair. Glassed over icy blue eyes. She was stripped bare and her breasts had been sliced through diagonally from each angle, an X over each of them. Blood was pooled around the deck chair and had oozed out all over the porch, some of it dripping down the stairs. Her fingertips had been sutured together. They laid on her lap, covering her naked pelvis. She had Alison's trademark signature on her right cheek.
The only problem was…Alison hadn't killed her.
Well, that's…interesting.
Someone had taken her design and copied it.
What are you playing at? She addressed the psychopath hiding in the shadows. Imitation is the highest form of flattery?
It certainly didn't feel like flattery. It was infuriating.
But a copycat had its advantages. She had been with Emily all night, so perhaps she could look at it as someone doing her favor, giving her an alibi. But then she saw the horrible job that the person had done and it angered her that someone was marring her perfect work.
I'll fucking kill this second rate plagiarist…
Alison watched as Aria did a circle around the body. The mortician was used to seeing corpses, but this one in particular seemed to bother her.
"Definitely should have brought more coffee." She murmured.
Alison tried to see the scene through Aria's eyes.
The girl was pale from the blood loss, which only made her eyes stand out more. A cloudy film had formed over her corneas, the life gone, but the expression of immense fear forever seared into her gaze. Whoever had attacked her had played on her fears. A page right out of Alison's playbook.
The girl's stringy blonde hair was dirty from being outside in the elements all night. Bugs had made her body their home, but they hadn't completely infested her yet.
Why do you look so familiar?
Alison didn't realize she was gawking at the body until she caught a reflection of herself in one of the front windows.
The house was active. People were stomping around in blue booties, searching for clues. Alison tried not to focus on whether or not she was being framed.
When she turned back to the woman she saw one of the forensic techs gently lowering her eyelids to look for marks there.
As soon as her eyes were closed Alison realized why she looked so familiar.
The girl on Tim Roland's cot.
The lighting hadn't been very good in the warehouse. Her hair had looked dirty blonde in the shadows, and Alison hadn't seen her eyes.
But she was certain it was the same woman.
Her body was fresh though, which meant she'd been killed some time after Roland.
Oh, you poor girl…
Alison thought she'd saved her from a terrible fate that night. Turns out, fate was against her.
Fate, you bastard. You're just another word for the world screwing people over…
Alison had to fight back her rage. She had to work to keep her face a vacant expression of horror. She didn't have to try hard to look horrified.
I should have taken you somewhere safe.
How the hell had the woman gotten wrapped up in this mess? Alison was so certain she would wake up with hangover and go home.
Is this my fault?
She blinked, her eyes focused on the girl with the flaxen hair.
Do I feel guilty?
Since when did she blame herself for death? She reveled in death.
But not innocent people. Never innocent people.
"Who is she?" Alison didn't mean to speak out loud, but the thought materialized before the filter in her brain could catch it.
She regretted asking it the second it came out. All three pairs of eyes that were processing the scene looked up at her. Two of the forensic techs searched for a badge. The third looked directly at her.
"She's a consult," Aria explained quickly. "She's a colleague from my hospital."
The last thing they needed to do was piss off the locals.
"And she's with me." Emily had her 'formal' voice on.
Note to self, ask her to use that in the boudoir.
"Detective Fields. Rosewood Homicide." She flashed her badge.
That shiny piece of scrap metal made Alison horny as hell. The power she wielded was incredible.
Be still my quivering vagina…
"She owns the cabin. Rents it out." Emily added, solidifying her reason for being there.
"Ah…well, that's unfortunate." The young CSI taking pictures aimed the camera at the body again. "Going to suck for business." He took a shot. "Or maybe not." He shrugged.
How are you already so jaded? You're a fetus.
"Some people like the freaky-deaky murder-houses. Ghost-chasers and True Crime buffs and dumb rich teenagers who come to play Ouija games." Another picture, a different angle. "Who knows? You may have a booming business."
What a freaky little thing you are. Though, he was right.
"You'll have to forgive Luke. We don't let him out of the lab much." The Middle Eastern woman chuckled.
It felt strange to be at a murder scene with smiling people. She thought only she smiled when people died.
But she wasn't smiling now.
Because someone had murdered a woman and used her brand to do it.
"Yeah, sorry, that probably sounded morbid." Luke looked at the ground sheepishly. "I just meant people get obsessed is all."
"It's okay. I'm fluent in morbid." Alison answered, her tongue rolling around her mouth like sandpaper.
Why is my mouth so dry?
She coughed and then cleared her throat, turning away for a second. Toby's words taunted her.
"If you're going to puke…do it away from the body."
She wanted to flip him off for putting the idea in her head.
She'd never felt nauseated seeing murder victims. She had dreams about dancing body parts and oceans of blood. So why did this woman's death upset her?
She felt Emily's hand against her waist, but the detective's eyes were still on the forensics team.
"We appreciate you letting us work with you." Emily smiled warmly.
"Hey, our bosses want this solved as much as yours." The older woman picked up a baggie and slid something inside of it.
"What can you tell us about her?" Aria questioned.
When Alison faced the group again she saw that Aria had moved down to observe the A on the woman's cheek.
Alison admired that Aria had called the woman her and not the body.
"My prelim?" A voice that didn't belong to anyone on the porch cut smoothly through the air. "Jane Doe. Early to late twenties. From the track marks on her arms, probably a junkie."
Alison turned towards the voice, finding that it came from a young man in his early thirties. Handsome in a wholesome way, but just enough edge to make him look overconfident. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame watching the crew work.
"And what's your assessment?" The question he posed was to Aria.
Her eyes met his, a glint of intrigue in them. Her lips threatened to twitch into a smile.
"I agree with you for the most part, though I'd lean on her being younger." Aria looked down at the body again, tracing her gloved fingers over the crease near her elbow joint.
"Interesting. And why is that?" The man pushed off of the door frame and moved over next to Aria.
"Track marks on her arms. She was a junkie. Heavy drug usage ages people prematurely. Also, if you look at the size and shape of her skull you can determine that a portion of it is slightly flat…indicating the brain might not yet be fully developed."
She's like Rain Man with corpses…
"You're good." The man grinned at her. His smile took up his whole face.
Aria mirrored it back at him and then she giggled.
She fucking giggled.
That is the weirdest damn mating call I've ever seen. Alison looked at Emily, her eyes screaming, "Is this really happening? Do you see this shit?"
Emily looked back at her with a coy smile, clearly thinking, "Don't judge, Doctor Love. We would have been banging in the hospital the moment we met if we could have."
"You must be Doctor Montgomery, the Magical M.E. straight out of Rosewood that I've heard so much about." The young man extended his gloved hand. "Holden Strauss, Poconos M.E."
"Ah, so it's your territory." Aria nodded.
"I'm not much into the whole territory thing." He scoffed, waving a nonchalant hand in the air. "That's for people who need to overcompensate. Mi Crime Scene is Su Crime Scene. My team will be happy to help with whatever you need." Holden smiled at the forensics team.
To the man's credit, they all smiled back. He seemed likeable enough.
"Appreciate it." Aria slowly turned her focus back to the woman.
In the blink of an eye, the young forensics expert was back in her crime-solving mode. She reached in her bag so she could get supplies to gather samples.
She started collecting fingerprints and dusting areas around the porch floor near her feet. She pulled out a UV Scope, which used UV light to reflect off of surfaces to search for fingerprints.
Aria was like a work of art when she worked.
Sometimes Alison forgot that Aria was cross-trained in medicine and forensic science. She forgot she had a badge to get to crime scenes.
It was fascinating watching her work a crime scene up close and personal. Before Alison met Emily the surgeon had only watched her friend examine the scene from afar.
Aria was very serious…very focused. Meticulous.
Fuuuck me…if someone planted evidence she'll find it.
"You must be Detective Fields." Holden nodded towards Emily's badge. "Your partner said we'd be expecting you."
"Yes, sir. Just wanted to see what we have here."
"The cops are thinking it's your guy." The older CSI replied. "We'll see if the evidence turns anything up."
"Hate to tell you this, but if it's our guy you're probably not going to find evidence." Emily peered at the glassy blue eyes staring back at her.
She took a moment to observe the blonde. She bore a striking resemblance to Alison. The detective couldn't help but worry that someone was sending her a message.
She walked back over to the blonde. She wanted to wrap a protective arm around her and never let her go.
Aria handed Holden an evidence bag so he could log it with their department before she took it back to analyze it at her lab.
"Detective Fields is right." Aria plucked a lock of blonde hair off of the porch. "This particular killer is practically a ghost. Or they wear a spacesuit when committing these murders…"
Close. Surgical gear…
"…because we never find anything." Aria bagged the hair.
Fuck, what if that's MY hair?
Don't panic, Alison. Don't panic. You're here at the scene. Your hair can be explained. It's fine. I'm fine.
"You doing okay?" Emily pulled her aside.
"It's different…" Alison kept her voice low. She has to believe I'm disgusted. Overwhelmed. Dead bodies in the hospital are different than active crime scenes. "Seeing this…here. I…" She purposefully swallowed hard, "…this is terrible. How do you do this all day?"
"Someone has to." Emily sighed.
"I haven't seen anything like this since…" A calculated pause, "…since my family."
She closed her eyes and saw her brother's face.
It was Emily's warm gloved palm against her arm that forced her to open them back up again.
"Fields…" Toby's voice came from behind them. He'd brought a local detective with him, a young black man. "This is Detective Clark Wilkins."
A Detective? Oh…what fresh hell is this?
The Detective reached out and shook her hand.
"Detective Emily Fields." Emily introduced herself.
Her professionalism made Alison smile.
Look at her, all cute in her work-face.
"That must make you Alison DiLaurentis." Detective Wilkins shook her hand as well.
He had a kind face. Alison liked him.
"I am. I own this cabin." Alison replied.
"That's what I hear." He put his hands on his hips and looked at the large structure. "Sorry about all this."
"I'm just sorry that a young woman lost her life." The response was automatic.
She meant it.
"Yeah." He sighed. "Hey, I've got a question for you."
And the interrogation begins.
"That storage shed with the padlock in the back...is there a key to it somewhere?" Detective Wilkins glanced over his shoulder.
"Yeah. My aunt kept it in a planter box over by the side of the shed." Alison nodded. "It's been a while since I've been here, but I think I remember which one it's in."
"Great. Can you show us?"
"Sure." I can think of nothing less I'd like to do than go on a treasure hunt with you.
"I'm going to tag along. I'd like to check the vicinity." Aria grabbed her bag.
I am surrounded by people who want me to get caught. Why the fuck did I come here?
They walked off of the porch and Alison led them around the house and down a pathway to the storage shed.
Aria leaned forward as she walked in sync with Alison. She turned her head towards the blonde, her voice low.
"Are you okay?" She whispered.
"Fine." But she was choking back bile.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a strung out Powerpuff girl."
How am I not supposed to take that the wrong way?
"I used to watch that show." Emily interrupted their pow-wow with a smile. "What was that cute blonde one's name?"
"Bubbles." Aria couldn't help but grin.
"I'm going to start calling you Bubbles." Emily teased the doctor, trying to put her at ease.
"Okay, Buttercup." Alison retorted without thinking.
"Guess that makes me Blossom." Aria didn't miss a beat. She paused to think about something. "God, we're the demented Powerpuff Girls solving serial murders." She shook her head. "Come on, let's go catch this Mojo-Jojo." She paced in front of Alison and Emily.
Emily watched as Aria turned a corner in front of them, following Clark and Toby. The brunette put her hand against Alison's back as they walked down a marked path.
"You're shaking." Emily pointed out. "Aria won't call you out on it, but I will. You promised, Ali. You promised if it got to be too much for you…"
"I know. I'm good. I just…had a moment." She faced Emily. "I promise I'm okay now."
Emily looked at her skeptically, but she didn't push it.
When they reached the edge of the path Alison led the detectives to the front.
I could be leading them right to evidence that would implicate me…
She pushed the thought away.
There were three identical planter boxes on either side of the structure, each with little marble animals in front of them.
"It's in the one with the turtle in front of it. The stick in it is a fake." Memories of her childhood vacations with her aunt flooded back to her.
It was so peaceful out here, away from everything. Away from everyone.
Maybe if I had stayed out here away from society I wouldn't be a monster.
Detective Wilkins put on a pair of gloves. He reached for the stick and observed it. At the very edge there was small turn-style opening. He twisted it and pulled the top out. He poured the key into his gloved palm.
"Clever." He lifted his brows.
They walked to the front of the shed and he gripped the padlock, slipping the key into the lock and turning it. He popped the lock off of the door and pulled the latch. Then he pulled the door handle.
As soon as it opened an overwhelming pungent odor wafted through the air.
"Jesus Christ." Wilkins pulled the back of his fist up over his mouth, trying not to breathe it in.
The detective stumbled back, and that's when Alison saw him.
Tim Roland. Almost exactly how she'd left him in the woods. Fingers hanging all around him. Severed arms across his crossed legs in the lotus position. He'd probably already been stiff when her copycat found him.
How the hell…
Not only had this person moved the body. They knew where the key to the shed was hidden.
"Holy Crow!" Aria exclaimed.
Somehow, it was the most ludicrous thing Alison had ever heard her say. Aria Montgomery, Might Medical Examiner and Physician of the Dead, Flipper of Tables and Thrower of Bonesaws…saying Holy Crow.
Alison fought back an inappropriate laugh.
Wilkins grabbed his radio.
"We've got another body in the storage shed out back."
"It's Tim Roland." Emily had been obsessively staring at his picture since he'd attacked Alison. She would know him anywhere, even bloated and dismembered. She looked at him like someone would peer at a train wreck, unable to look away.
"From Chloe Roland's mouth to that psychopath's ear." Toby uttered.
"You know the guy?" Detective Wilkins questioned.
"He's a person of interest in a serial rapist case. Rapes women repeatedly and then kills them. Youngest victim was sixteen. She managed to survive." Emily kept staring, making sure it was him.
"If that's the case then I'd say this psychopath did you a favor." Wilkins grumbled out.
You're welcome. Alison tried not to smile.
Instead she grimaced.
What should I be thinking? What's the proper response? What's the human way to act? How can I prevent all the wrong things from happening not just now, but in the future? And why am I having a moral quandary now?
It was hard for her to believe that some people just knew how to act…that it was as automatic as breathing to them.
She was an enigma in the way that she could read the emotions of others, but not herself. She could profile everyone in the world, but still not understand the way her mind worked.
Time for my Oscar-winning performance.
"I…he attacked me outside of the hospital where I work, but I got away." Alison forced herself to tear her eyes away from the body. She had to appear disgusted and unable to look at him. "I got away before he had a chance to…" She tapered off, unable to finish.
She didn't have to fake her fear. It wasn't often that monsters feared other monsters, but she had certainly feared Tim Roland that night.
He was so close. His hand was in my pants…
Aria put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Alison flashed her an appreciative look.
You're too good to me.
"That…could be relevant." Wilkins made a notation in his phone.
"I'd say it's more than relevant." Emily's hands balled into fists. Her body was shaking.
My protective girl.
"You'll find a stab wound on the side of his neck. Not only did she get away. She stabbed him in the process." She looked at Alison, a mixture of pride and sympathy in her eyes.
"Making it personal." Wilkins put the pieces together.
Seed planted.
"She was also his last known victim." Emily's jaw was rigid. Her stance was tense.
Alison shuddered at the word.
I am not a victim. I am strong. I am a survivor.
"That might explain the location away from Rosewood," Wilkins said as he waved a growing crowd of cops and CSIs their way.
Aria had already moved towards the body, observing it.
"Either that or the Scarlet Letter Killer is moving on from Rosewood." Toby suggested.
Now there's an intriguing idea.
Perhaps this had been a gift, not a threat. Maybe someone idolized her.
Had this copycat given her an out? If the cops thought the killer had moved on maybe she could retire her old habits and focus more on her relationship with Emily.
She'd stopped killing during some of her college years and then again when her aunt was sick. She could do it again, especially if it meant she could be with Emily without having to hide things from her. That is, given the copycat wasn't actually back in Rosewood.
But how could she realistically go on like life was normal when someone was out there killing innocent people in her name?
They watched as Holden approached Aria.
"Based on the state of the body…" The body. Not him. The body. Aria clearly didn't have the same respect for him as she did the woman on the porch. "I would say he was killed long before the woman." Aria faced them. "A day or two at least."
"I concur." Holden nodded his head in agreement.
"And her?" Toby jutted a thumb towards the porch.
"Probably a few hours ago." Holden replied.
"Ms. DiLaurentis?" Wilkins walked through the crowd of officers. "Do you have time to answer a few questions?"
"Of course." Comply, and they'll see you have nothing to hide.
She knew that being amenable was vitally important. She'd fooled cops for years. But her heart still jumped in her chest every time they questioned her.
Emily went with her as they walked off to a less crowded area. The questions were standard.
Who else has access to the place? No one that she's aware of.
When was the last time you were here? Her teenage years.
Who was the last person to rent the cabin? She has all that paperwork for him back in Rosewood.
The questioning just took a few minutes. The way Clark Wilkins looked at her was not how a detective would look at a threat. He saw her the way she presented herself. Stunned victim and homeowner. Meek. Afraid. Not capable of the horrors they were witnessing.
Serial killers are mostly men.
That was an advantage.
After the detective finished, he walked back towards the scene. As soon as he was gone Emily dropped her stoic mask and wrapped her arm around Alison's waist.
"How are you holding up?"
You're worried. Alison realized. You're worried that talking to Clark might trigger the times I talked to Furey when I was little.
Emily's caring nature was the only thing keeping her from completely losing what was left of her sanity. She had many rampant thoughts running through her mind.
How do I feel?
Loved.
But also…
Pissed off.
Insecure.
Annoyed.
Strangely aroused.
Insulted.
Cranky.
Claustrophobic.
Like I could murder this copycat.
Like I might have just literally handed myself over to these inept mountain people police unit.
And a little bit like I want to rip your shirt off and grope you.
"I'm hanging in there." She managed a sweet smile back at her girlfriend. "But…uh…" She curled into Emily's body, knowing the brunette could never say no when they were so close. "When you go back to the station can I go with you? I'm a little freaked out about all this and I don't want to be alone."
"Of course." Emily wrapped her arms around the blonde, not caring who saw them.
"I promise I'll stay out of your way." And by that I mean I'll lay on your couch and pretend to be asleep and listen to every word you say.
"You could never be in my way." Emily swayed, moving to kiss the top of her head.
Except for the fact that I'm impeding your Scarlet Letter Killer case by being the Scarlet Letter Killer. But I'm not THIS Scarlet Letter Killer. This isn't me.
Alison knew she needed to shake it off, but this other killer was getting into her head. She knew if she wasn't careful she'd screw up. She'd make a mistake, which is something she couldn't afford to do, not now that Emily was in the picture.
The game was changing, and she didn't like not knowing the rules. Because things were different now.
She felt about love the way she felt about gravity.
It was always there.
Gravity was unchanging. If you dropped something it would always fall.
It was science. But science wasn't always absolute. If you went out to space and dropped something...it didn't fall.
Things were different when the rules were changed.
Love complicated matters.
Because now she had something to lose.
She was free-falling through space. The ground was far far away from her. And the only person who could hold her down was the same person who was responsible for her gravity-defying acts.
The only falling she was doing was falling in love.
And that meant she had to find this psychopath killing in her name and get rid of them. Because she sure as hell wasn't going to lose the one worthwhile thing in her life. She would fight like hell to keep Emily Fields by her side.
Game on.
A/N: Twists and turns, twists and turns. I know the Baby Alison scenes mess with people's heads, but I've enjoyed peeling back her layers for you all. I've also really loved writing Quirky Aria and Cranky Toby.
I also love hearing your theories and thoughts.