Chapter 89*

Aria's POV*

I felt like I was about to collapse. My body had been shaking for so long, the anxiety and stress of the interview not dissipating, no matter how long this went. And it went for so long. I had gotten through three cups of coffee before Mrs. Hastings had cut me off and switched me over to water. That had been more than two hours ago. I was glad I hadn't made any plans for dinner, because it seemed that I was probably going to have dinner with Agent Reid and Mrs. Hastings.

"So tell me about the investigating you and the girls have been doing since the dollhouse. What have you learned?" he asked, taking a drink from his coffee, he hadn't been cut off the coffee and was working on cup number six, I think.

"I haven't been the most active with that." I admitted, a little uncomfortable. "My dad put me on pretty tight lockdown early on, where I either had to be at home or Hollis with him."

"And that worked?" Mrs. Hastings asked, her tone thick with disbelief.

"Kind of." I shrugged. "I didn't go with the girls to Carol Wards farm, which is where they found Charles' headstone."

"Who is Carol Ward?" Agent Reid asked.

"She was Jason and Alison's aunt, she died a couple years back." I explained, leaning on what Emily had told us.

"And why was that a lead?"

"So we snuck into a data center, where they were holding the records from Radley after it shut down. We didn't find a lot on Charles, just a couple of months really. But there were only two names on the list of people that visited him. Jessica DiLaurentis and Carol Ward."

"How did you sneak into a data center?" Agent Reid asked, face the picture of curiosity.

"There was a group moving bins out of the storage onto a truck, and they left the back door open. There wasn't a camera, so we went in that way."

"Aside from Charles' headstone did you find anything else at the farm?" Agent Reid asked, and he jotted down a couple of words.

His notetaking had been off and on this whole time, he'd sometimes just jot down a few words, never more than a full line. In the four plus hour conversation, he hadn't filled an entire page.

"Not that I'm aware of. You'd have to ask the others."

He nodded, taking another drink of coffee. And I wondered if we would need to take another break. We'd been at this for so long.

"What other things have you learned?" he got me back on topic.

"I think there's someone working with him. A girl." I had been thinking about it since the previous night, going over everything that might be important. "I went to a junkyard with a friend, to take photos. And I think someone followed us there. I didn't get a picture of them." I took a breath. "But Clark did. I stole his negatives, and it looked like someone in a black hoodie, with a bust."

His eyebrows creased in the middle, as he took that in. And I realized that it hadn't even been on their radar. My heart sunk a little more into my stomach at that. Knowing how far from catching Charles they actually were. And just why Charles hadn't wanted us talking to the cops.

"Do you have that picture still?" he asked, having just noted something else down in his surprise.

"Yeah, I have it on my phone. And the negatives are in my photo bag at home." I hadn't trusted to leaving a clue like that on just my phone. We'd been burned that way too many times.

"Was that the only time that someone followed you?"

"That they followed me, yes. But there were a few times when things were left places before I could get there." at his expectant look I continued. "There was a doll made to look like me with a knife through its eye left at the junkyard. A bottle of pink hair dye got left in the dark room at Hollis that I had scheduled. And there was a copy of a list I had made in the dollhouse, copied down into one of my notebooks at home."

They already knew about the box with the dress and photos from Charles' birthday, so I didn't bother bringin that one up. Other than that I hadn't gotten anything left, at least not that I could remember.

"What list?" Agent Reid questioned, and I wanted to sink into a hole in the ground.

It wasn't real. I tried to reassure myself. I knew that. It hadn't been real. It didn't change the way I felt talking about it.

"The punishments that we did in the dollhouse. I kept a list of the order of what I selected for each of the other girls. Like I said, we know now that they weren't real punishments. But I wanted to make sure that I wasn't hurting them." I was so exhausted, I didn't even know if I really had more emotions to cry out. But apparently there was still something lingering in my core.

"And this was copied into a notebook in your room? When did you find this?"

"Yeah, it's still in my nightstand. I'm not sure exactly when it got put there, but I found it the day after Charles' birthday."

"The day after you went to meet Charles?" he clarified, and I didn't understand why he was asking about that.

"Uh, yeah." I was suddenly uncertain, worried that somehow my timeline was off. But it had to have been then.

"So after the crime scene techs collected the package from Charles in your room, the next day you found the notebook in your bedside table?" he continued.

"That's right." and I think I understood where he was going with this. That it was one of the only times that someone might have been able to sneak into my room. That maybe whoever had written out that list had snuck in with that group to place it. "But the list was copied into one of my existing notebooks. One that I've been using for months."

"We'll need to have a small team go to your house and look for the notebook. If that's alright with you. It might also mean we can check for prints, though there is a low chance of finding anything since it's been so long." he was already pulling out his phone, apparently this was enough of a thing to warrant calling in someone right away. "I'd like to go through your house with the crime scene techs to collect any of the evidence that you still have. Tonight, if you don't have any other plans."

"This is the main thing." I answered with a shrug, and regretted for a moment that I had gotten rid of a couple of the things that Charles had left me since we had been back. Spencer's complaints about me getting rid of clues coming back strong.

"And then the tracking chip." he got us back on track.

"Right, we don't actually have a friend who works at a Hollis Lab." I admitted guiltily, it had been the best lie that I could come up with to explain how we knew about the chips. "So we found out that Mona met Leslie Stone when she was in Radley. And since Charles was also a patient there, we thought maybe Leslie was involved. So Hanna borrowed her car from a staff lunch and we took a copy of her building access key."

I could feel the tension in the air as Mrs. Hastings heard me skirt around the sort of stealing a car, and absolutely stealing access to a secured building. It was hard to come out and say it outright, admitting things like that was so second nature. And I had thought that I was doing better at this.

"And was she? In your opinion?" he asked, apparently sidestepping the technicalities of what I had admitted.

"I don't think so." it wasn't something that had ever sat right with me. "All we found when we snuck into the lab were some orders for sedatives and that we were chipped."

"Okay, so what makes you think that wasn't related."

I hesitated for a moment, trying to drive it down to one thing that made me feel like it wasn't Leslie. It wasn't just what little I remembered of what she was like in person. Maybe it was that she seemed so insistent on getting her life back on track after Radley, that it made sense for her to try and cover up that part of her life. It made her wanting Mona to shut her mouth about it make sense.

"I trust Mona when she says that Leslie wasn't working for Charles." I admitted after a moment of thought. "Maybe because Leslie is the one who shared that Charles was still alive, and that we should still be looking for him."

He let the silence fill the air, expectation clear that he was waiting for me to continue. That it wasn't enough. I looked over to Mrs. Hastings, and saw the disbelief in her face.

"Aria, forgive me if that's a little hard to believe. But after what you've told us about Mona…" he trailed off, the implication clear.

I swallowed down another gulp of water. Taking the moment to organize my thoughts and hopefully steady my nerves.

"I get that. And do I trust Mona 100% to not be up to something? No way. She's got some scheme going in the background." I started, which was completely true. "But I don't think there's anything that Charles could offer Mona at this point to get her to work with him."

They still looked like they weren't understanding. And I knew that I needed to drive it home, make them understand. Cause chasing after Mona would be a waste of time that we didn't have.

"I know Mona worked with Charles before, including faking her death. But it wasn't supposed to go like that. And if you had seen Mona when we first got in the dollhouse, you would understand. She was destroyed." I remembered the way her skin had gone pale and waxy in her captivity. That it looked like she was slowly dying beneath that blonde dye job he forced onto her. "And that was before the punishment. Before he threw her away in the hole and left her to die.

"Mona is a lot of things. She's scary smart. And manipulative. But she is also self-preserving. She's not about to walk back into a trap where he can kill her again. Because if he gets his hands on her again, I'm sure that's what's going to happen." I finished, my words coming out with puffs of breaths, and I realized how worked up I had gotten about it.

Maybe it was because of her relationship with Mike. Or maybe guilt over how we used to treat her. Or just knowing what she looked like so totally broken like she had been. But I didn't want to see Mona hurt. And it was the weirdest sensation to realize. I wasn't sure that I totally forgave her for all the things that she had done to us as A, or when she was working for Charles. But at some point, it just stopped being enough to drive a wedge between us.

"So you think we should talk to Mona Vanderwal about what she might know about catching Charles?" Agent Reid redirected, ignoring the surprising outpouring of emotion from me.

"Yeah, I think she and Spencer will be able to tell you a lot more than I can." I reiterated, partially because I still wasn't sure why he had wanted to talk to me first.

"Thank you, Aria." he made a few more notes on his page, almost filling in the bottom right corner finally. "I know it's been a long day. And we still need to collect those things from your home. But would you be willing to speak with me again in a few days if I have additional questions?"

I huffed out a breath in disbelief. "You really think you're going to have more questions for me?" I couldn't hide my surprise at that. It wasn't like there was much else I could tell him about what had happened. We had already covered everything. Well just about everything.

"I might yes, and you might have more to tell me in a few days once you've had a chance to rest and talk with your friends." he offered an easy smile, clearly meant to disarm me. It was one that he used several times during our interview, always trying to get me to relax and open up.

"Yeah, sure." I nodded quickly, feeling the last of my energy sapping away as the adrenaline from the last part of our conversation started to wear off.

As I took another drink of water, I realized that I was barely shaking anymore. Apparently my energy for that was also running out, which just left my body feeling incredibly fatigued.

"Would you like a ride back to your house? Or is your car here?" Agent Reid asked, rising from his seat and flipping closed the notebook, leaving the pen between the pages he had been working in. It caused the cover to bulge and was only held in place by the elastic band meant to close the pages. It felt weirdly dismissive of the state of the notes.

"Oh, my car's here." I dismissed, wondering about the weirdness of that offer. Was that normal.

"Then is it alright if I walk you out." he glanced over to Mrs. Hastings, as though seeking permission.

"Yeah, that should be fine. I'll give your dad a call and let him know you're on your way home." she assured me, patting me on the shoulder as she got up from her own seat.

I felt a little shaky getting up, but somehow it felt less like a trap when Agent Reid seemed to want to talk to me, than when someone like Lt. Tanner did. Which might have just been the fact that I had already been talking to him for the last almost five hours. Or that he didn't seem to blame me for everything bad that had ever happened in Rosewood. Which did seem to be a common theme for my friends when it came to Rosewood's Finest.

It only took me a moment to drop my phone back into my purse and move towards the doorway where Agent Reid was waiting to walk me to my car. He had managed to pack up his limited supplies quickly enough that I knew I couldn't delay this part of the conversation any longer.

The silence lingered until we made it to the elevator. The sounds of the office around us were muted as we walked by, apparently six on a Monday was not the high point of hustling in the office. Though given Mrs. Hastings' hours, I was a bit surprised it wasn't busier.

"So what did you want to talk to me about alone?" I asked, breaking the silence as the doors closed around us.

"You haven't talked to anyone about what happened to you in the dollhouse." he stated, as though he knew that for certain.

"I have." I argued back defensively. "My friends know. And my mom knows."

The movement of the elevator was the only noise. And I wondered as it dinged and the doors opened if that would be the end of it. But I realized as we walked towards my car in the parking lot, that he still had more to say.

"Did you tell your mom before or after the photos were revealed Friday night?" he questioned, and I swallowed down the lump that formed in my throat.

"After." I admitted after a moment.

"Look, I get it if you don't trust me. Your experience with the police hasn't been a good one. And no one could blame you for that." he continued as we walked and I glanced up at him. He was much taller than I was, and I missed my heels for a moment. Before remembering that the lower ones I was wearing now would make it easier for me to run if needed. "But Aria, you need to talk to someone. Preferably someone professional. But someone who can understand what you've gone through. And that can help you through it."

I looked away, fixing my attention on the shape of my car as I dug for my keys in my purse. I could hear them jangling inside as I shook my purse for confirmation. But they weren't in the little side pocket that I normally put them in. And my fingers shuffled through the various items in my purse, hunting blindly.

"My friends do understand. And they're helping me." I insisted, even though I knew that they wanted me to talk to someone as well. I didn't want to have this conversation. I wanted to get home and get the rest of the day over with.

"They understand parts of it, yes. But every one of you had a different experience while you were there." he countered, and I knew there was some truth to it. It was what made us feel so alone when we first got back. What made it so hard for us to share the individual tortures that he had put us through. "I understand all your friends have been seeing a therapist. Or at least a support group of some kind."

I crossed my arms over my chest as we reached my car. Forgetting about the hunt for my car keys in my desire not to have this conversation. What did he know about this? Had he talked to the girls about their therapy? I didn't think so, not considering I was the first interview he had scheduled.

"Why do you care?" I threw back at him, feeling my anger spike enough that I couldn't hold it down. The heat of it surprised and comforted me.

"This is a different type of case for me than normal." he admitted after a moment looking away from me. "I normally get called in to interview serial killers, terrorists, or human traffickers."

I froze, the heat of my anger dissolving as I looked at the man in front of me. Why did they pull him for this case? Charles was a living nightmare, sure. But it didn't seem on the same level. He for the most part just seemed content to terrorize my friends and me. I shuddered at the thought of what all Charles had done. With at least one murder that I knew of, but could probably add a couple more onto that.

"And sometimes missing children." he acknowledged with a little shrug. "My point is, usually when I get involved in a case. It's too late for a lot of people. I call it a good day if I get to interview survivors."

I felt like I wanted to be sick.

"So when I get a chance to help a group of survivors. Who have all the potential in the world. And an actual future ahead of them?" his voice tilted up, though the question was clearly rhetorical. "I want to make sure that you get that future, Aria."

My throat was clogged, with what felt like tears blocking my ability to talk. I could feel my eyes watering, and it diluted Agent Reid. I didn't know exactly what I was expecting from this conversation, but it wasn't this. Had he run this conversation past Mrs. Hastings? Or my parents? Was that why she had said it was alright for him to walk me out? I didn't understand why he would care so much about how I handled things. Or that I was okay when it all ended.

"And if it happens to help us catch Charles and whoever else helped him to hurt you, that's just a bonus." he added as a joke.

I felt a reflexive smile pull onto my lips at that.

"Who knows, you might hate it. But give it a try." his hand was outstretched towards me, offering me a small white piece of paper. "I found a specialist in Philly that takes most insurance, she said she had openings this week if you wanted to make an appointment. And there's also the info for a survivors support group."

I hesitated to take it for a moment, feeling the threat of commitment that would go along with it. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Everyone kept telling me that I needed to. And here was someone that their entire job was dealing with heinous crimes. Ones that seemed to make what I had been through in the last several years look pleasant. If Tanner had been the one offering me this paper, I would shoot it down in a second. But Agent Reid wasn't Lt. Tanner. And part of me wanted to trust him. To believe that he knew what was best. And that he would be able to catch Charles.

"Thanks." I accepted the paper, glancing down at it there were a couple of details scrawled in tight lettering. But it was clear enough what it said. "I'll check it out."

"I'll see you back at your house, alright?" he smiled, reminding me that we still weren't done with this tonight. And that there would be a police crew arriving at my house. Ready to comb through my bedroom with cameras and a fine tooth comb to find any trace of Charles there might be.

"Right, yeah." I nodded.

He gave one more nod before heading towards his own car, which appeared to be a black SUV. I turned back to looking for my keys in my purse. I could feel the muscles in my back that had been knotted for the last six some hours starting to loosen. I could get through the check of my room. And then call the girls and count today as over with. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I grabbed my keys and unlocked my car. I was just settling in, tossing my purse onto the passenger side when my phone chirped.

End Chapter*

So a bit of a shorter chapter this week, sorry about that. I hit the rough combination of not having any extra written and being sick all week.

Let me know what you think.