“Maybe he told them it was for a movie he was making,” Aria said. “Maybe he paid them tons of money, and that was it.”
Hanna sniffed. “So, what, we should look for an old ad on Craigslist that says Wanted: Four Girls to Reenact a Murder in Jamaica?” It didn’t sound very realistic, but who knew? Perhaps Team A killed the Hanna, Aria, Spencer, and Emily clones after the video had been made so they’d never talk. It was hard to tell the extent of their madness.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall. The air conditioner kicked back on, and the sharp smell of stale coffee suddenly wafted through the air.
“We should get someone to check out this Lychee Nut hotel,” Emily suggested. “Was this really their video footage? Why would they have had a murder on tape the whole time and not come forward with it?”
“It’s obvious the tape was planted,” Hanna said. “But who do we have on the outside to actually investigate this for us?” On the outside. She wasn’t even in prison yet and she was already using the lingo.
“Excuse me?”
Hanna jumped. Spencer’s father poked his head inside. “Your bail has been posted. You’re all free to go.”
“We are?” Emily didn’t get up.
“Your arraignment is in one month.” Mr. Hastings held the door open for them.
“And then what?” Aria asked nervously. “We come back here?”
Mr. Hastings gritted his teeth. “Don’t freak out, but we just found out that they want to extradite you to Jamaica.”
“What?” Spencer exploded.
Hanna pressed a hand to her chest. “Why?”
“That’s where you committed your crime. Your trial will be there, and you’ll serve your sentence there, too, if you’re convicted. That’s what they’re pushing for, anyway.” Mr. Hastings looked furious. “We’re doing everything we can to change it, though. It’s bullshit. They’re just trying to make an example of you.”
A bomb went off in Hanna’s brain. The prospect of spending the rest of her life in an American prison was bad enough, but spending it in a Jamaican one?
She followed the lawyer out of the conference room, her heart hammering. They walked down a long hallway. Mr. Hastings opened the door that led into the lobby. Hanna blinked in the brightness of the front room, then looked around at everyone waiting. When Mrs. Hastings saw Spencer in handcuffs, she burst into tears. To her left were Mr. and Mrs. Fields, looking shocked and pale. Next to them were Aria’s parents, though no Mike. Hanna’s mom was next to them. Hanna looked around for her dad but didn’t see him.
Hanna’s mother ran up to her. “Let’s get you out of here, honey.”
But Hanna was still looking around. “Dad’s here, too, right?”
Ms. Marin held Hanna’s hand and steered her through a sliding door. They came to a desk, and a guard asked her to sign some papers. The guards gave Hanna back her belongings, including her phone. Hanna checked the messages and texts. Lots of worried texts from Mike but nothing from her father.
“Mom.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Where is Dad?”
Ms. Marin handed the papers back and took Hanna’s arm. “I brought a scarf for you to put over your head when we go outside. There’s a lot of press out there.”
Hanna’s heart banged faster. “He knows about this, doesn’t he? Why isn’t he here?”
Finally, Ms. Marin stopped halfway down the hall. She looked positively heartbroken. “Honey, he couldn’t risk the bad publicity.”
Hanna blinked. “D-did you talk to him? Is he worried about me?”
Her mother swallowed hard, then slung an arm around Hanna’s shoulders. “Let’s get you in the car, okay?”
She handed Hanna a scarf, then pushed through the exit door. At least twenty reporters and cameramen swarmed toward them, flashbulbs popping, video cameras pointed, microphones poised.
The questions came fast and furious. “Ms. Marin, did you know your daughter did it?” “Hanna, how do you feel about being extradited to Jamaica?” “Ms. Marin, is your ex-husband going to withdraw from the Senate race?”
Hanna knew that if her father were here, the press would be asking him these questions instead. But not-so-deep-down, she didn’t care. He should be here. Who cared about his campaign at a time like this?
She blinked through tears and clung even tighter to her mother’s arm, suddenly more grateful for her mom than she’d been in years. Ashley Marin bulldozed through the press, not letting them take even one decent picture of her daughter, not uttering a word except for “No comment” to the leechlike reporters. She didn’t ask Hanna if she did it or not. She didn’t give Hanna shit or think of ways to spin this so it benefited her. That, Hanna realized, was how a parent was supposed to act.
And that was what she needed.
20
SHE’S DEAD TO US
Emily had returned to her house after a fair share of trouble—Ali’s death, A outing her at a swim meet, her banishment to Iowa, her secret baby coming to light. Each of those homecomings had been stilted and strange, but nothing, nothing was like returning to the Fields abode after being arrested for murder.
Her family was silent the whole ride home. Her mother stared straight ahead, unblinking, and her father gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. Only once did Emily dare to protest her innocence, but her parents hadn’t responded. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it. To her astonishment, Jordan had sent her a private message. I’m so disappointed in you, Em.