Wanted. (Book Eight)

Nine: Secrets, Secrets Everywhere.

"Welcome to the Ruff House Grooming Salon!" a chipper woman in a red smock said to Spencer and Melissa as they guided the family's two labradoodles into the luxurious doggie spa. Grooming duty was usually Mrs. Hastings's job, but Mrs. Hastings couldn't even groom herself right now.

As the dogs stopped to sniff a large potted fern in the corner—and then lift their legs on it—Melissa let out a dramatic sigh and shot a resentful glance in Spencer's direction. Spencer grimaced. Okay, so Melissa still hated her for turning their mother into a catatonic agoraphobe. Duly noted. Did she have to ram it down Spencer's throat every chance she got?

A pigtailed groomer, who didn't look much older than Spencer, said she'd be with them in a few minutes. Spencer flopped down on a leather chair, and Beatrice slumped at her feet, chewing on one of the toes of Spencer's Kate Spade ballet flats.

Someone cleared her throat across the room. Spencer looked up. A wild-haired old woman holding a teacup Chihuahua was giving her the stink eye. "You're that girl whose dead friend had a secret twin, right?" she said, pointing. When Spencer nodded, the woman made a tsk sound and pulled her dog close, as if Spencer were possessed. "Nothing good can come from that. Nothing good."

Spencer's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Abernathy?" a voice called from the hall. "We're ready for you and Mr. Belvedere." The old woman stood, shoving her dog under her arm. She gave Spencer a final foreboding look and disappeared around the corner.

Next to her, Melissa let out a baffled sniff. Spencer sneaked a tiny peek at her. As usual, her sister's chin-length hair was smooth and straight, her peachy skin was flawless, and her checkered wool coat was lint-free. All at once, Spencer was so sick of their stupid rift. If crazy old ladies in vintage Chanel had opinions about the bomb Mrs. DiLaurentis dropped yesterday, then certainly Melissa did, too. Ali wasn't the only one with a secret sister—Courtney was Spencer's and Melissa's half sister, too.

"What do you think we should do about Courtney?" Spencer asked her.

Melissa dropped an organic dog biscuit back into a crystal bowl. "Pardon?"

"Courtney said that Ali told her a lot about us. Should I get to know her since...you know, we're related?"

Melissa looked away. "I didn't realize Ali and Courtney were very close. What kind of stuff did she know?" She unscrewed the cap to her purple Nalgene bottle and took a long gulp.

Spencer felt an anxious pull in the pit of her stomach. "What do you say to Jason at the press conference, anyway?"

Melissa nearly choked on a mouthful of water. "Nothing."

Spencer clutched Beatrice's leash. Somewhere in the spa, a dog let out an unhappy yowl. It was clearly not nothing. "And since when are you friends with Jason? I haven't seen you two talk since high school."

The bells at the front door jingled, and a man walked in with an enormous poodle, a bandana around her beck. Both Rufus and Beatrice jumped to their feet, instantly alert. Spencer kept her eyes on her sister, determined not to back down until Melissa told her the truth.

Finally, Melissa sighed. "I was telling Jason that he should've told me that Courtney was back."

The New Age music that had been tinkling through the stereo suddenly went silent. "What do you mean 'back'? Did you know about Courtney?" Spencer whispered.

Melissa kept her eyes on her coat in her lap. "Um, kind of."

"For how long?"

"Since high school."