Thanks to everyone who reviewed! nick2951, I know that's super frustrating to you. But I promise, once we get through this Ezra arc, Viola's loyalties are going to become a bigger part of the story. Right now, she's mostly just dealing with shock, not necessarily taking sides. But things are going to be changing soon, so just hold on! This is a pretty exciting chapter...think we can get back up to five or six reviews? That would be delightful!

Chapter 34

I wake up the next morning feeling like I have a fire burning in my heart. I feel a certain kind of energy that I never thought possible when I fell asleep last night, after hours of tossing and turning, my dreams filled with shovels and yellow tops.

I jump out of bed and grab the same pair of jeans that I had on yesterday, pulling them on without a second thought. Who cares if they're dirty? Today isn't a day for sitting around worrying about clothes.

Today I'm going back to Ravenswood. To "A's" lair.

I'm not sure where this idea came from, only that as soon as I opened my eyes, it hit me. This has gone on far enough. I want answers, and I want them now. And there's only one person who seems to know everything.

I finish getting dressed and grab my purse and a jacket, checking my phone one last time as I head down the stairs. I'm hoping for a text from one of the girls, about how the big celebration in Ravenswood went down last night, if they found Alison or not. But everything is silent.

Knowing what I do now, I'm a little relieved. I'm aware that I need to tell them about what I remembered yesterday, but I already know that I won't be able to bring myself to. They probably wouldn't even believe me. I mean, who actually represses memories, anyway? It sounds like something out of a bad movie.

And besides, I can't throw my sister under the bus like that. Yes, of course it was wrong of her to whack Alison in the head, as awful as that girl could be. But it's not my story to tell. And before I decide what I'm going to do, I need to get my own feelings under control. Those girls don't need another reason to fly off of the handle.

I set my purse down on the steps and walk into the kitchen. I'm barely in the doorway when I freeze.

"Viola. Hey." Mona stands up from the table, a mug of coffee in her hand. She smiles. "Everything okay?"

I wonder briefly how pale my face is as I turn away, opening the refrigerator and trying to regain my composure. "Fine," I say sharply, hoping my voice doesn't sound as shaky as I feel. I pull out the carton of juice and raise my eyebrows. "Where have you been?"

Her purse is hanging over the back of the chair. She reaches into it and pulls out a set of car keys. "Buying a car. Oh, thanks for giving Shana the first deposit."

I take a sip of juice, trying to steady my breathing. I try to picture her slamming a shovel into someone's head, with a lot of difficulty. But she did. That memory was too clear. Somehow, I know it's true.

I clear my throat and say, to focus on one crisis at a time, " 'A' sent messages to the girls. They made us think they were going to hurt you. It scared the crap out of me." My voice is flat, despite the thousand emotions that are rushing through my head.

Mona shifts uncomfortably, setting down the coffee. "I know."

"What?" I whirl around, my fear temporarily forgotten.

"I got a message from 'A' a few days ago," she explains, "telling me to leave town…or else. I went to that bed and breakfast place, about an hour from here. Shana met me there, and I gave her the rest of the money for the car."

So it really was just a setup, I realize, shaking my head in disgust. Of course. That's what "A" does best – making your fears way worse than the reality. But I can't say that I'm not still suspicious. "Why did you buy Jenna's car?" I ask, setting my empty glass in the sink and folding my arms.

Mona looks directly at me, smiling. "Sometimes it's just nice to change things up."

I have no idea what that means, and I'm positive that she's lying. But I'm too fired up to question her further, and still very freaked out by the memory that resurfaced yesterday, so I back toward the exit. "Whatever. I have to go."

"Are you sure you're okay, Viola? You look a little weird."

"I'm fine," I snap, and stomp out, grabbing my purse and jacket and not stopping until I'm in my car. I should have asked her about what I remembered. Keeping secrets has never helped me before, so why should it now? But I press a hand to my chest. I'm not ready for that conversation.

It takes about half an hour to get to Ravenswood, and thirty more minutes to locate the run-down building that I'm looking for. I park my car a block away and head down the street, not even completely sure that I'm in the right place. Everything in this town is so monotone and bland that it all looks the same.

I arrive at what I think is the right building and swing open the door, walking up the set of stairs. Sure enough, the wooden door waits at the top, same as yesterday. I grab the doorknob, but this time, it's locked.

Why? I wonder as I pull a bobby pin out of my hair. Why would "A" leave the door unlocked yesterday and not today? Did he somehow realize that we were there, that something was out of place or missing?

I've never picked a lock before, but I've seen Spencer do it enough times to figure it out. I stick the end of the bobby pin in the keyhole and wiggle it around. After a moment, I hear a small click and smile triumphantly. I'm in.

Proud of my sleuthing skills, I push open the door quietly and glance back to make sure no one is watching before I slip inside. The lights are on in the room and I freeze for a moment, terrified that "A" is in here. I should have knocked before I came in. I could be walking right into my own death.

But it quickly becomes apparent that the lair is just as empty as it was yesterday. I shut the door quietly behind me and step further inside, gazing around warily. It occurs to me that I should have brought a knife or mace or something with me.

I approach one of the whiteboards and stare up at it. It looks to be some sort of timeline, and sure enough, under the heading listed "Fire at Thornhill Lodge" is a list of events that includes "Alison – red coat – alive?"

I force myself to look away as I feel my heart rate increase. I'm not here to think about Alison. Actually, I don't think I can think about Alison. And the fact that I haven't heard from anyone regarding what happened last night is making me increasingly nervous.

I try to clear my head and focus on why I'm really here: To find out who "A" is. I walk slowly around the room, scouring each of the whiteboards for information. It seems like there's information on every person in Rosewood packed into the timeline, but I try not to cross anyone off the suspect list. After all, if "A" was smart, he would include details about himself in his lair, to throw everyone off his trail.

I lose track of time as I study the boards and the information crowding the walls. I avoid the computers altogether – I'm not stupid enough to think that I have even the slightest chance of cracking the security. There's tons of info about me in here – including all of the illegal things I did as "A." I resist the urge to rip it all up. I have to leave everything in place.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear the echoing footsteps until they must already be halfway up the stairs. I freeze, an unclear picture of someone in a black hoodie that very well might be me clutched in my hand.

Someone's coming.

Spinning around, my vision blurring with terror, I shove the photo back up on the wall and scan the room frantically for a place to hide. The footsteps slow to a stop just outside the door, and all too soon, the knob begins to turn.

I clap my hand over my mouth to hold in a scream. My eyes land on the wardrobe, and I run toward it, leaping inside and backing up until my back connects with the opposite end. Hoping I'm completely hidden by the row of suits, I pull the door partially closed, like it was before, just as the door to the room slams open.

I can only see a sliver of the room through the crack in the wardrobe doors, but I hear the male voice loud and clear. "A's" voice. And he sounds angry. "Who's in here?" he shouts, and I close my eyes, trying not to breathe. There's something very familiar about that voice, but it's slightly distorted, echoing in the small, tight wardrobe, and I can't quite figure it out. "Who picked the lock?"

I nearly gasp. Crap. The bobby pin. I must have left it stuck in the keyhole. I press both hands over my mouth, terrified of making a sound. I am alone in a room with "A." If I were to push the wardrobe open even an inch, I would be looking right at him. But I don't dare move a muscle. Finding out who this mysterious stalker is seems much less important than my life.

"I know someone's in here!" the person yells, and I am once again struck by how familiar his voice sounds. I shift slightly, as much as I dare without scratching against one of the suits. But I can't see a thing.

I hear the footsteps walking around the room, the echo beginning to give me a headache. They seem to be growing fainter, and then, all of a sudden, everything is silent.

I let out a silent breath. Maybe he'll eventually give up, realize that no one's here. Maybe he'll leave, and I can slip out unnoticed. I listen hard, and hear nothing. Hey. Maybe he already left.

And then the doors to the wardrobe fly open.

I let out a yelp before I can stop myself, but it's too late. Hands reach out and push the suits aside, and in that moment, I come face to face with "A."

I gasp out loud, so shocked that I reel back, my head smacking against the wood. "Mr. Fitz?"

...

Thanks for reading, and remember to review! The next chapter is a direct continuation of this one.