Twenty-Nine: They Were All So Wrong.

It was 9 P.M., and Spencer had been rereading the same paragraph in The House of Mirth for an hour and a half. Lily Bart, the scrappy, eager New Yorker, was trying to make her way in high society at the turn of the twentieth century. Like Spencer, all Lily wanted was to find a way to escape from her dreary, uncertain life, but also like Spencer, Lily was getting nowhere fast. Spencer kept waiting for the part in the book where Lily finds out she's adopted, gets scammed by a wealthy woman claiming to be her mother, and loses the money in her dowry.

She laid the book down and gazed drearily around the barn apartment, which she'd retreated to as soon as she'd returned from New York. The fuchsia accent pillows splayed across the almond-colored couch looked washed-out and drab. The few bites of Asiago cheese Spencer had found in the fridge and eaten and eaten over the sink for dinner tasted like dust. In the shower, the water hadn't felt hot or cold, just lukewarm. All of Spencer's senses had been ripped away. The world was murky and joyless.

How could she have been so stupid? Andrew had warned her. All the signs that Olivia was scamming her were there. When she'd visited, Olivia hadn't let them stop in the apartment, not even for a minute. And Olivia had struggled with that big file folder, conveniently forgetting it when she boarded the helicopter. She'd probably snickered once she was airborne, knowing exactly what Spencer would do. And to think Spencer had looked into Olivia's eyes and thought they looked alike! She'd hugged Olivia tight before she left, finally feeling like she was connecting with a member of her family! Olivia probably wasn't even her real name. And Morgan Frick, Olivia's so-called husband, was definitely a fake. How could she have missed that? Morgan Frick was just the names of two New York museums sloppily shoved together.

The barn creaked and buckled. Spencer flipped on the TV. There were tons of shows in her sister's TiVo, not yet watched. Earlier this evening, Spencer had heard a woman from the Fermata spa leaving a message on Melissa's machine, saying Melissa had missed her appointment for an oxygen facial today, and did she want to reschedule. Why had her sister left in such a hurry? Had that been Melissa in the woods yesterday, searching for something?

Spencer turned the TV off again, not interested. Her gaze wandered to Melissa's bookshelves. They were piled with old textbooks from high school, among them the book she'd used for AP econ. Next to those was a leaf green Kate Spade boot box marked High School Notes. Spencer mustered up a small, sarcastic snort. Notes, as in the kind you passed back and forth in class? Prissy Melissa didn't seem the type.

She pulled out the boot box and opened the lid. A blue spiral-bound notebook that said Calculus was on top. Melissa must have meant notebooks. There were smiley faces on the cover, and Melissa's name and Ian's name doodled over the over in flowery cursive. Spencer opened the notebook to the first page. It was filled with math problems, diagrams, and proofs. Boring, Spencer thought.

On the next page, a shock of green ink caught her eye. There were notes in the margin written in two different-colored inks. It looked like a conversation between two people, passed back and forth from desk to desk. Spencer recognized Melissa's handwriting in black, and someone else's in green.

Guess who I made out with at the party last weekend? said the first message in Melissa's telltale scrawl. Below that was a bubbly, green question mark. JD, was Melissa's answer. Then came a green exclamation point. And then, Naughty, naughty! That boy is so in love with you…

Spencer held the page inches from her face, as if studying it closely would make it clear. JD? Her brain scrambled for a logical answer. Could that stand for Jason DiLaurentis? The day they tried to steal Ali's flag and Jason had stormed out of his house, he'd glowered at Melissa and Ian in Spencer's backyard. He'll get over it, Melissa had murmured to Ian later. Could Jason have been jealous that Melissa was dating Ian? Could he have secretly been in love with her?

She pressed her fingers to her temples. It didn't seem possible.

There was a forceful knock on the door, and the notebook slipped from Spencer's lap to the rug. Then, another knock. "Spencer!" she heard someone call.

Emily and Hanna stood on the porch, Emily in a long red gown, Hanna in a short lacy black one.

"Are you okay?" Hanna rushed into the barn and clutched Spencer's forearms. Emily burst in behind her, carrying a large book with a dingy leather cover.

"Yeah," Spencer said slowly. "What's going on?"

Emily set the book on the kitchen island. "We just got a note from A. We worried something happened to you. Have you heard any strange noises outside?"

Spencer blinked, stunned. "No…"

The girls looked at each other, breathing signs of relief. Spencer's eyes landed on the leather book Emily was carrying. "What's that?" she asked.

Emily bit her lip. She glanced at Hanna, and they both launched into the explanation of what they'd figured out earlier that day. They also said that Aria had run back to her house to retrieve Ali's long-lost flag—it might hold a vital clue—and would meet them here. When they finally went quiet, Spencer gaped at them, stunned.

"Jason and Wilden know something," Hanna whispered. "Something they're covering up. We need to reach Ian again. All that stuff he IM'ed you about—that he had to run, that they hated him, that they'd found out that he knew—we need to know what Ian knows."

Spencer bunched up a throw pillow in her hands, feeling uneasy. "What if it's dangerous? Ian was driven out of town because he knew too much. That could happen to us too."

Hanna shook her head. "A's begging us to do this. A might ruin us if we don't."

Spencer shut her eyes, thinking of the big red zero on the balance line of her college savings account. A had already ruined her.

She shrugged and walked over to Melissa's laptop, not sure what else to do. Slowly, she swirled the mouse around, jolting the screen to life. The computer was still signed on to Melissa's IM account, and there were the online friends in her buddy window. When Spencer saw the familiar screen name, her heart began to pound.

"I can't believe it. That's him," she said, pointing to USCMidfielderRoxx. This was the first time she'd seen him online in a week.

Hanna eyed Spencer. "Talk to him," she said.

Spencer clicked on Ian's icon and started to type. Ian, it's Spencer. Don't sign off. I'm here with Hanna and Emily. We believe you. We know you're innocent. We want to help you figure this out. But you have to tell us about the conflicting evidence you hinted at when you were on my porch last week. What happened the night Ali was killed?

The cursor blinked. Spencer's hands began to tremble.

And then, the IM screen flashed. They leaned forward. Spencer? the message said. The girls clasped hands. Another message popped up right after. We shouldn't talk about this. If you know, you could be in danger.

Spencer paled and looked at Emily and Hanna. "See? Maybe he's right."

Hanna pushed Spencer aside and typed. We have to know.

The IM window flashed again. Ali and I were planning to meet up that night, Ian wrote. I was nervous to meet her, so I got drunk. I went to wait for her, but she didn't show. When I looked across the yard, I swear I saw two people with long blond hair in the woods. It looked like one of them was Ali.

Spencer gasped. Ian had told her this when he met her on her porch last week. She and Ali had ought that night, but Ian said it might have been someone else. She shut her eyes, trying to imagine yet another person being out there that night…someone they hadn't ever suspected. Her stomach started to ache.

Ian's messages kept coming. It seemed like the two people were arguing, but they were too far away for me to tell. I figured Ali wasn't going to come over, which maybe was good, because I was pretty wasted. After Ali went missing, I didn't realize the person she was fighting with that night could've hurt her—that's why I didn't say anything at first. She'd talked a lot about running away when we were together, and that's what I thought she did.

Spencer looked at the others, puzzled. "Ali never talked about running away, did she?"

"I used to talk about running away from my strict family," Emily whispered. "Ali said she'd come, too. I always thought she was just saying it to be nice…but maybe not."

The screen flashed again. But after I was arrested, I figured out a lot of things. I found out who was really out there…and why. They were coming for me, not for her. They found out what was going on, and they wanted to hurt me. But got to Ali first. I don't know what happened. I don't know if it was an accident, but I'm pretty sure they did it. And they've been covering it up ever since.

Spencer's vision narrowed. She thought about the figure in the woods last night, scrabbling for something in the dirt. Maybe there was something out there, some kind of proof.

Who are they? Spencer typed. Who did it? She had a feeling she knew Ian's answer, but she wanted him to confirm it.

Doesn't it seem weird that he went into law enforcement? said Ian's next message, ignoring Spencer's question. He was the least likely guy to do something like that. But guilt is a crazy thing. He probably wanted to absolve himself of what happened any way he could. And they both had a solid alibi that night. They were supposed to be up at the Poconos house. No one knew they were really in Rosewood. That's why they were never questioned. They weren't there.

Hanna pressed her hands to her cheeks. "The Poconos house. Wilden's sticker."

"And Jason was allowed to go up there by himself," Spencer whispered.

She turned back to the keyboard. Say who it is. Say their names.

You could get hurt, Ian typed. I've said too much already. They're going to know that you know. They probably know already. They'll stop at nothing to keep this secret.

SAY IT, she typed.

The cursor flickered. Finally, the next message arrived with a loud bloop.

Jason DiLaurentis, Ian wrote. And Darren Wilden.

Spencer pressed her hand to her clammy cheeks, a fault opening in her head. She remembered the photo that had been on her dad's screen saver, the one of all of them at the DiLaurentises' house in the Poconos. Jason's wet hair had stretched down past his shoulders, as long as a girl's. She widened her eyes at Emily and Hanna. "Jason's hair used to be long back then, remember? So if Ian saw two people with long, blond hair…"

"It could've been him," Emily whispered. "And Ali."

Spencer shut her eyes. It fit the memory she had of that night, too. After she'd fought with Ali and fallen, Ali had run down the path. Spencer had looked across the yard and had seen Ali talking to someone. Of course she'd assumed it was Ian—so many signs pointed to him. But as she squeezed her eyes shut and thought hard, the picture began to change. The person no longer had Ian's chiseled jaw and short, wavy hair. His hair was straighter and blonder, his features more delicate. He leaned into Ali intimately, but also protectively. The way a brother would, not a boyfriend.

How could it have happened? Was it a twisted accident? Was Jason overcome with disturbing rage over what his sister was doing with Ian? Had they fought, and had Ali accidentally fallen into the hole? Had Jason and Wilden run off into the woods, petrified by what had happened? Ian wouldn't have told the cops about seeing anyone in the woods with Ali, because that would've put him at the scene—and he'd also have had to explain his and Ali's secret relationship. But when he came forward with what he really knew after his arrest, the person who'd most likely taken his statement was Wilden…and Wilden obviously wouldn't pass on Ian's story to a higher authority. Once Ian got a lawyer and started ranting about how he wasn't the killer and the truth was still out there, perhaps Wilden threatened him. Which was why Ian had to flee.

Everyone was silent for a long time. There was a neigh of a horse, far off in Spencer's stables. A swish of wind, rattling the tree branches. Then Emily raised her chin, sniffing the air. A disturbed look crossed her face.

"What?" Hanna asked, concerned.

"I…smell something," Emily whispered.

They breathed in deeply. There was a strange smell in the air, one Spencer couldn't immediately identify. As it grew stronger and more concentrated, Spencer's head began to pound. Her eyes fell to one of Ian's last IMs. You could get hurt. They probably know already.

Spencer's heart leapt to her throat. "Oh my God. It's…gasoline."

And then they heard the telltale sound of a match being struck.