Hanna had been looking for Iris for the past hour, but Iris seemed to have vanished. She wasn’t in the theater watching Ella Enchanted with the other patients. She wasn’t in the dining room, the gym, or the spa. Aggravated, Hanna leaned against the locked door. There were a few doodles on the jamb. At the top left corner was the name Courtney, Iris’s old roommate. Next to Courtney’s name was a winking smiley face. Hanna was dying to get back inside the attic and see the drawing of Ali—she had no idea how she’d missed it when she was up there.
Hanna was sure Iris knew Ali, she just didn’t know how. From Jason, perhaps? Iris had said she’d stayed at different facilities besides this one; perhaps she’d been at the Radley, where Jason had been treated. She could have met Ali when she came to visit her brother, instantly striking up a friendship that turned to jealousy. The day after Ali went missing, Ali’s mom grilled them with questions they couldn’t answer. Did Ali ever talk about anyone teasing her? Certainly no one from Rosewood would tease Ali . . . but someone from a mental hospital might. When Hanna and Ali had been trying on clothes in her closet and Ali had gotten that prank call, maybe it had been Iris moaning on the other end, not Jason. Perhaps Iris was furious that Ali was able to come and go from the hospital, whereas she was condemned inside. Or maybe Iris was simply jealous that Ali was Ali.
She’s psychotic, Tara had warned Hanna in the hall a few days ago. Don’t cross her. Hanna should have listened.
And maybe . . . just maybe . . . Iris had killed Ali. Iris had told Hanna that she’d been out of the hospital at the exact same time Ali had vanished. Hanna thought of that letter with the slash through it on Ali’s Time Capsule flag—it might have been a J, but it also could’ve been an I. For Iris. Had A sent Hanna to the Preserve so she’d learn about Iris . . . or was Iris A, leading Hanna right into her trap?
She wants to hurt you, Ali had said.
Hanna jogged down the hall, her Tory Burch flip-flops smacking against the soles of her feet. As she rounded the corner, a nurse stopped her. “No running, honey.”
Hanna paused, out of breath. “Have you seen Iris?”
The nurse shook her head. “No, but she’s probably watching the movie with the other girls. Why don’t you go in too? There’s popcorn!”
Hanna wanted to smack the cheerful grin off her face. “We need to find Iris. It’s serious.”
The nurse’s smile wilted a little. There was a flicker of fear behind her eyes, as if Hanna was a homicidal maniac. Then Hanna spied a red phone on the wall.
“Can I use that?” Hanna begged. She could call the Rosewood PD and tell them everything.
“Sorry, sweetie, but that phone is switched off until four P.M. on Sunday. You know the rules.” The nurse gently took Hanna’s elbow and began guiding her back toward the patient rooms. “Why don’t you get some rest? Betsy can bring you an aromatherapy eye mask.”
Hanna wrenched away. “I. Need. To. Find. Iris. She’s a killer. She wants to hurt me, too!”
“Honey . . .” The nurse’s gaze flickered to the red emergency button on the wall. Staff could press it to summon help with a patient disturbance.
“Hanna?”
Hanna spun around. Iris stood about ten paces away, leaning casually against the water bubbler. Her blond hair gleamed, her teeth so white they almost looked blue.
“Who are you?” Hanna whispered, walking toward her.
Iris pursed her ultra-red lips. “What do you mean? I’m Iris. And I’m fabulous.”
A bolt of electricity slashed through Hanna’s chest as Iris parroted Ali’s old mantra. “Who are you?” she repeated, louder.
The nurse swept forward and stepped between them. “Hanna, honey, you seem really excited. Let’s just calm down.”
But Hanna didn’t listen. She stared into Iris’s wide, glowing eyes. “How do you know Alison?” she cried. “Were you in the hospital with her brother? Did you kill her? Are you A?”
“Alison?” Iris chirped. “That friend of yours who was murdered? The one you told me you wanted dead? The one you thought got what she deserved?”
Hanna backed up, keenly aware that the nurse was still standing right behind her. A few stunned seconds crept by. “I was just . . . talking. It’s not true. And I told you that in confidence. When I thought we were friends.”
Iris threw her head back in cruel laughter. “Friends!” she hooted, as if it was the punch line to a joke.
Her laughter made Hanna’s hands quiver. This was all painfully familiar. Ali laughed just like this when she teased Hanna about overeating. Mona laughed like this when Hanna’s too-small Sweet Seventeen court dress ripped and split its seams on the dance floor. Hanna was everyone’s punch line. The girl everyone loved to ruin.
“Tell me how you knew Alison,” Hanna growled.
“Who?” Iris teased.
“Tell me how you knew her!”
Iris giggled. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Something inside Hanna stirred, struggled, and then broke free. Just as Hanna lunged for Iris, a loud boom sounded behind them. A bunch of nurses and guards burst through a side door, and two strong arms grabbed Hanna from behind. “Get her out of here,” yelled a voice. Someone dragged Hanna into the hallway and pressed her up against the far wall. Searing pain shot through her shoulder.
Hanna kicked her bare legs, fighting to get free. “Let go of me! What’s going on?”
A security guard swam into view. “That’s enough,” he snarled. There was a click, and then Hanna felt hard metal handcuffs close around her wrists.
“I’m not the one you want!” Hanna screamed frantically. “It’s Iris! She’s a killer!”
“Hanna,” the nurse scolded sharply.
“Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”
The guards began to push her down the hall. Every other patient in the ward was standing outside the theater room, gaping at the commotion. Tara looked thrilled. Alexis had her knuckles in her mouth. Ruby looked Hanna up and down, giggling.
Hanna twisted around and stared at Iris. “How do you know Alison?” But Iris just gave a mysterious smile.
The guards marched Hanna through a door and down an unfamiliar hallway. The vinyl floors were dingy, and the overhead fluorescent lights snapped and buzzed. There was a strange smell in the air, too, kind of like something in the walls was decaying.
A tall figure in a police uniform came into view at the end of the hall. He calmly watched as the guards dragged Hanna to him. As they got closer, Hanna realized it was the Rosewood chief of police. Her heart lifted. Finally, someone who would listen to her!
“Hello, Miss Marin,” the chief said.
Hanna breathed a sigh of relief. “I was just going to call you,” she blurted. “Thank God you came. Ali’s killer is here. I can lead you right to her.”
The chief chuckled reproachfully, looking almost amused. “Lead me right to her? That’s a good one, Ms. Marin.” He leaned down until his face was parallel with hers. His skin glowed red under the neon EXIT sign. “Considering that you’re under arrest.”
Chapter 29
Master of Puppets
When they reached the Rosewood police station, the cop undid Aria’s cuffs and showed her into a dark interrogation room. “We’ll be back for you later.”
Aria stumbled inside, her hip banging against the sharp edge of a wooden table. Slowly, her eyes adjusted. The room was small and windowless and reeked of sweat. Four chairs surrounded the table. Aria dropped into one of them and started to cry silently.
The door squeaked, and someone else staggered into the room. It was a girl with long, auburn hair and thin legs. She wore a pair of black yoga pants, a long-sleeved striped T-shirt, and gold flats. Aria shot to her feet.
“Hanna?” she cried.
Hanna slowly raised her head. “Oh,” she said in a numb, subdued voice. “Hi.” Her eyes were glazed over. There was a small cut near her mouth. Her eyes darted to and fro.
“What are you doing here?” Aria gasped.
Hanna’s lips parted slowly. A sarcastic smile flickered across her face. “Same reason you are. Apparently we were part of some conspiracy to kill Ali. We helped Ian escape and obstructed justice.”
Aria clutched the sides of her head. Could this really be happening? How could the cops believe such a thing?
Before she could answer, the door opened again. Two more people were thrust inside. Spencer wore a green sheath and tall black heels, while Emily had on a prairie dress, thin leather shoes, and a small white skullcap. Aria gaped at them in astonishment. They stared back. For a moment, everyone was speechless.
“They think we did it,” Emily whispered, walking to the table. “They think we killed Ali.”
“The cops found out about Ian’s IMs,” Spencer admitted. “I talked to him online earlier today. And they thought . . . well, they thought we were conspiring together. But, guys . . . I’m not sure it is Ian we were talking to. I think it’s A.”
“But you swore it was Ian!” Aria spouted.
“I thought it was,” Spencer said defensively. “But now I’m not sure.” She pointed at Aria. “The cops said they know about Ian’s ring. Did you give it to them?”
“No!” Aria cried. “But maybe I should have. They thought I was keeping this huge secret.”
“How could they have known about Ian’s ring?” Hanna wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on a black stain on the linoleum floor.
“Jason DiLaurentis was at the cemetery,” Aria said. “The cop said he told them, but Jason claimed he didn’t. I don’t know what to think. I have no idea how Jason could’ve known about the ring.” She thought of the other thing Jason said after Aria exposed that he’d been a mental patient. You’ve got it all wrong. What did she have wrong?
“Maybe Wilden told him,” Hanna whispered. “He could have heard us talking at the hospital. He was outside the room.”
Aria slumped in her chair and watched as a spider climbed industriously up the gray cinder-block wall. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Spencer piped up. “Wilden’s a cop. He wouldn’t tell Jason—he’d just handle it on his own.”
“And why would Wilden wait days to ambush me?” Aria added. “Besides, I thought Wilden was on our side.”
Emily snorted. “Right.”
Aria glanced at Emily, really taking in her bizarre outfit. “What on earth are you wearing?”
Emily bit her chapped lip. “A sent me to an Amish commune and then told me to get the DNA report from the evidence room.” Her green eyes were wide. “Some cop found me before I could get inside.”
Aria squeezed her eyes shut. No wonder the cops thought they were guilty. They probably figured Emily was tampering with evidence.
“But, guys, Wilden is lying about the DNA of the body in the hole,” Emily went on. “It’s not Ali—it’s an Amish girl named Leah Zook.”
