Heartless by Sara Shepard Page A

an Amish community? Did Lucy Zook know Ali? Had Ali run away from Rosewood and secretly become Amish? That seemed impossible, but hope fluttered at the edge of Emily’s thoughts. Was it possible that Lucy . . . was Ali?
    With each passing moment, Emily thought of more reasons why—and how—Ali might still be out there. There was the time when Emily and her friends met with Mrs. DiLaurentis the day after Ali vanished, and Mrs. DiLaurentis asked if Ali had run away. Emily had dismissed the notion, but the truth was she and Ali did used to talk about leaving Rosewood forever. They made all kinds of wistful plans—they’d go to the airport and pick the first flight that was leaving. They’d take Amtrak to California and find roommates in L.A. Emily couldn’t imagine why Ali would want to leave Rosewood; she always secretly hoped that it was because Ali wanted Emily all to herself.
    Then the summer between sixth and seventh grade, Ali had dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks. Every time Emily called Ali’s cell phone it went to voice mail. Whenever she rang Ali’s house, the answering machine picked up. And yet, the DiLaurentises were definitely home—Emily biked by their house and saw Mr. DiLaurentis washing his car in the driveway and Ali’s mom pulling weeds in the front yard. She became convinced Ali was angry at her, though she had no idea why. And she couldn’t talk to her other best friends about it. Spencer and Hanna were vacationing with their families, and Aria was at an art camp in philly.
    Then, two weeks later, Ali called out of the blue. “Where were you?” Emily demanded. “I ran away!” Ali chirped. When Emily didn’t answer, she laughed. “I’m kidding. I went to the poconos with my aunt Giada. There’s no cell service up there.”
    Emily glanced at the handwritten sign again. As much as she didn’t trust A’s cryptic instructions about going to Lancaster—after all, A had misled them into believing that Wilden and Jason were Ali’s killers, when Ali was in fact still alive—one tiny sentence fragment kept swirling in her head: What wouldyou do to find her? She’d do anything, of course.
    Taking a deep breath, Emily climbed the steps to the front porch of the farmhouse. A bunch of shirts hung from the laundry line, though it was so cold out that they looked half-frozen. Smoke poured from the chimney, and a big windmill in the back of the property churned. The yeasty smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the frigid air.
    Emily looked over her shoulder, squinting at the far-off rows of dead cornstalks. Was A watching right now? She raised her hand and knocked three times, her nerves jangling. Please let Ali be there, she chanted to herself.
    There was a creak and then a bang. A figure disappeared out the back door, slipping through the cornfield. It looked like a guy about Emily’s age, wearing a puffy down jacket, jeans, and bright red-and-blue sneakers. He ran at top speed without looking back.
    Emily’s heart banged in her chest. Moments later, the front door opened. A teenage girl stood on the other side. She wore a dress like Emily’s, and her brown hair was pulled into a bun. Her lips were very red, as if they’d been recently kissed. She searched Emily’s face wordlessly, her eyes narrowed with disdain. Emily’s stomach swooped with disappointment.
    “Uh, my name is Emily Stoltzfus,” she blurted, reciting the name from A’s note. “I’m from Ohio. Are you Lucy?”
    The girl looked startled. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Are you here for Mary’s wedding this weekend?”
    Emily blinked. A hadn’t told her about a wedding. Was it possible Ali’s new Amish name was Mary? Maybe she was being forced to be a child bride, and A had sent Emily here to save her. But Emily’s return bus ticket was for Friday afternoon, the very same time the church group returned from Boston. She couldn’t possibly stay for what was probably a Saturday wedding without raising