“What’s her name?”
“Jordan.”
Iris crossed and uncrossed her legs. “What’s she like?”
Emily smiled, trying to think of a simple way to sum up Jordan. “She’s funny. And brave. And beautiful.”
“Is she the first girl you’ve liked since Ali?”
Emily slowed down to take a turn. “I had a girlfriend for a little while last year. Her name was Maya. She was cool, but she was also a little pushy.”
Iris twisted a silver ring around her finger. “Sounds like you fell for Ali all over again.”
Emily laughed uneasily, then glanced at Iris. “Was Ali pushy with you?”
Iris wrapped a tendril of hair around her finger. “I guess. She was always manipulating me into doing things I didn’t want to do.”
“That sounds like her,” Emily said. Until she remembered: They were talking about two different Alis.
They came to a T in the road, and Iris told her to turn right. “So will you tell me about your crush?” Emily asked, remembering what Iris had said the other day.
Iris twisted her mouth. “It’s boring.”
“Come on. I told you.”
Several houses flew past the window before Iris spoke again. “His name is Tripp,” she said softly.
Emily nodded, suddenly remembering Iris’s list. Find Tripp, it had said.
“He was a patient at The Preserve, too,” Iris went on. “We were really great friends, and things were definitely going in a romantic direction. Until they let him out. He promised to visit me every Saturday, but he never did. And we can’t make calls or send e-mails at The Preserve, so I had no idea where he was. I never heard from him again.” She sniffed loudly. “Then again, who wants a girlfriend in the loony bin?”
“So you have no idea what happened to him?”
“Nope.” Iris tied the Burberry scarf she’d stolen for Emily’s mom into a messy knot. “Which is why I want to find him. He owes me an explanation.”
Emily paused at a stop sign, waiting for two girls walking a standard poodle to pass. “Why were you at The Preserve in the first place?” she asked, choosing her words delicately.
Iris snickered. “Isn’t it obvious?” She waved her hands up and down her frail, skinny body. “Anorexia nervosa. Sometimes, I choose not to eat. For days.”
Emily blinked hard. “Has being there . . . helped?”
Iris’s shoulders rose and fell. “Some days yes, some days no. My therapist insists that I do the eating thing for attention. My dad left when I was really little. My mom had to work a bunch of jobs to support us, and then she started dating all these guys, each one worse than the last. She had no time for me anymore. Getting skinnier and skinnier got her to sit up and notice. But then I got dehydrated and ended up in the hospital for malnourishment. The doctor had this whole medical plan for me, and my mom tried to be there for a while, but she just couldn’t do it. So off to The Preserve I went.” She sucked in her teeth. “My home away from home.”
“Is she paying for you to be at The Preserve?” Emily asked.
Iris smiled crookedly. “Her new boyfriend is. He’s rolling in cash—lucky me!”
Emily knew Iris wanted her to laugh, but it really wasn’t funny. Thinking of Iris’s mom, she felt a renewed sense of gratitude for her own family. Imagine if, instead of caring for Emily with ice cream and storybooks when she’d had her appendix out in sixth grade, her mother had declared Emily a burden and sent her off to a facility. Even Emily’s banishment to Iowa after she’d been outed by A had been short-lived: Her parents came to their senses quickly and begged for Emily’s forgiveness.
Up ahead on the road was a wooden sign that read KEPPLER CREEK STATE PARK. Emily pulled into a space in the parking lot and shut off the engine. A lake shimmered in the distance, but there was no one in the water; it was still too cold. The rental booth was shuttered, and there wasn’t a single paddleboat anywhere. Only a few fishermen in Woolrich plaid jackets sat on the other side of the pond, staring at their fishing poles.
Iris got out of the car and surveyed the scene. “Well, this sucks,” she grumbled. “Now what are we going to do?”
Emily wandered over to a shed where the boats probably were kept, but when she tried the lock, it was bolted tight. “Is there something else you want to do instead?”
Iris didn’t answer. When Emily turned around, Iris was standing next to a tall oak tree, its branches still bare. There was a strange, faraway look on her face.
“What is it?” Emily asked, walking over to her.
Iris turned. “I used to come here when I was a lot younger with school friends. When Ali and I were at The Preserve together, we found out that she used to come here, too.”
“She did?” Emily asked, cocking her head. That didn’t make sense—the DiLaurentises had a bunch of kayaks, but they took them to Pecks Pond, which was much closer to Rosewood.
Iris nodded. “She said she loved it here. She said she couldn’t wait to come back when she got out of the hospital.”
Emily shoved the toe of her sneaker into a tuft of dried grass. “Do you think she came here after she was released?”
“Definitely.” Iris leaned against the tree trunk. “She even made plans. We weren’t allowed to watch TV at The Preserve, but we heard things. Even the nurses wanted to know what happened to poor Courtney DiLaurentis’s murdered sister. One had a portable radio, and we gathered near her office when the report came in that Ian Thomas had been arrested. Ali got this excited look on her face, and she kept glancing at her watch. My parents are coming, she kept saying. I just know it. They’re coming today. And then I’m going to Keppler Creek Park. We had no idea how she knew for sure that she was getting out.”