Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël. Alyson Noel

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СКАЧАТЬ fact that they’d let her go probably meant they’d deemed her entirely innocent.

      She rolled the thoughts around in her head until they gathered enough strength to edge the darker ones out.

      “Did they ID the body?” She studied her dad, realizing that while it might not be Madison, there was still a dead body. “Was it Paul Banks?” The body had been found on his property, so it was entirely possible. Maybe she wasn’t in the clear, after all.

      “It’s an adult male. That’s all so far.”

      “And the others—Aster, Ryan, and Tommy—are they out too?”

      Her dad shrugged. “I got the call to come get you, that’s all.”

      Layla slid her fingers beneath her sunglasses and rubbed the delicate skin around her eyes. The good news—it wasn’t Madison—was delivered in potentially bad news—it could still be Paul, who was connected to Madison—and Layla had no idea how to read it. All she knew for sure was that for the moment she was free. She just hoped it would last.

      The rest of the ride home was spent in silence. H.D. had never been one to dodge the important conversations, but for now, Layla figured he was giving her space. The talk would come later.

      Her dad pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to roll open as Layla nervously scanned the street, searching for signs of paparazzi. Deeming it clear, she seized the moment to slip free of the car and tilt her face directly into the sunlight.

      “What’re you doing?” Her dad’s worried tone prompted her to laugh.

      “Making good on my promise,” she said. “I’ll never take my freedom for granted again.”

      She lowered her gaze to meet his. The beginnings of a smile were lifting her lips when her phone chimed from inside the plastic bag she carried, and the latest text, in a long stream of them, popped onto her screen.

      There was an image of a cartoon cat, this one with a deep, jagged gash that stretched across his throat. Just below were the words:

      You’re more stubborn than most

      And though I don’t like to boast

      I meant what I said

      And now, because of you, someone is dead

      While you were away

      I took the liberty of having my say

      M’s diary is now live on your site

      Just a matter of time before the world sees it and bites

      Will they bite you?

      I haven’t a clue

      Though I can’t take all the glory

      Seeing as how I used your own story

      But before you feel bad

      Or even start to get mad

      Don’t forget it’s your refusal to play

      That brought you to this day

      If you want this to end

      Then consider me your best friend

      Only I hold the key

      So whatever you do, do not disappoint me

      Further instructions will come

      And I’m warning you to keep mum

      If you share any of this with your gang

      I promise, someone will hang.

      Her heart pounding, Layla scrolled to her blog. An unvoiced cry died in her throat as she skimmed the post she’d written and had been dumb enough to leave in the draft folder instead of deleting.

      BEAUTIFUL IDOLS

       Through the Looking Glass

      By Layla Harrison

      Her stomach churned. It was all there, every word. Her gaze fell to the most incriminating part. If it turned out to be a hoax, and the entry wasn’t really pulled from Madison’s childhood diaries, Madison, or even Madison’s estate, could sue her for slander.

      But of course, just as she feared, the words were now posted for the whole world to see.

      . . . without further ado, I present to you the first installment of Madison Brooks’s journal.

      Make of it what you will, but please note that I did not make this up, this is not a work of fiction, and it came to me via a reliable source.

      As always, feel free to exit through the comments section on your way out.

       October 5, 2012

       I’m so over it!!!!

       So over absolutely EVERYTHING!

       Including my so-called friends, my family, my stupid fake boyfriend, but mostly, this stuffy, boring, stick-up-its-ass town.

      Layla could hardly breathe as her gaze skimmed the words.

       The Ghost saved me—spared me from a future too horrible to contemplate. . . .

       I guess you could say I owe him my life.

       Then again, he owes me his too. . . .

       If I ever go down, he’s going down with me. Though I’m pretty sure that only works one way. Because if P goes down first, he’ll go down alone. And he’ll take all my secrets with him as well. He already proved it six years ago when he made a choice to save me. Which is why I guess, in a lot of ways, I consider him my real father.

       Anyway, tomorrow is the day I board the bus to LA and never look back. . . .

       It’s crazy to think how next time I write in here, I’ll be living an entirely different life!

      ☺☺☺

      Layla’s hand flew to her mouth. “Omigod,” she whispered through trembling fingers.

      “Everything okay?”

      Her dad watched with concern from inside the garage.

      “Mmm . . . Yeah. Of course.” She sank her phone into her pocket and followed him inside.

      She’d been hacked, that much was clear. And though her first instinct was to delete the post, the chilling text convinced her to leave it untouched.

      According to whoever had sent it, her failure to play along before had landed them all in jail, possibly even getting someone killed.

      Her СКАЧАТЬ