Sara Shepard - Heartless

“We were planning a special dinner for you.” Her mom looked up, the fight suddenly draining from her voice. Melissa uttered a sigh of disgust and walked away. “Andrew and Kristen Cullen are in there. We were going to take you all to the new production of The Importance of Being Earnest at the Walnut Street Theater.”

Goose bumps rose on Spencer’s arms. Her stomach roiled. Her family had been trying to show how much they loved her, and look what she’d done.

Tears began to cascade down Spencer’s cheeks. Of course her mother hadn’t killed Alison. Her mother hadn’t even known about the affair. Whoever had IMed her had lied.

A shadow fell over her. When she turned, she saw a gray-haired, stern-looking Rosewood cop. His gun gleamed in his belt.

“Miss Hastings,” the cop said, shaking his head solemnly. “You’re going to have to come with me.”

“W-what?” Spencer shrieked. “Why?”

“It would be better if you did this quietly,” the cop murmured. Wordlessly, he stepped in front of her, nudging her mother out of the way. He pinned Spencer’s hands behind her back, and she felt cold, hard metal on her wrists.

“No!” Spencer cried. It was happening so quickly. She looked over her shoulder. Her mother just stood there, mascara running down her cheeks, her mouth a small O. “Why are you doing this?” she begged the officer.

“Communicating with a criminal on the lam is a serious crime,” he said. “Conspiracy after the fact. And we have the IMs to prove it.”

“IMs?” Spencer repeated, her heart sinking into her gut. The IMs from Ian. Had one of the cops overheard what she just said to her family? Had Melissa run to the police and told on her?

“You don’t understand!” she pleaded. “I wasn’t conspiring with anyone! I don’t even think those IMs are from Ian!”

But the cop wasn’t paying any attention. He opened the door to the backseat, placed a hand on Spencer’s head, and shoved her inside. He slammed his own door shut, then pulled out of the lot, sirens blaring, lights flashing, heading straight to the Rosewood police station.

Hanna skidded down the Preserve hall past the cafeteria, arriving at the entrance to Iris’s secret lair. “Let me in, Iris,” she snarled. She pressed her ear to the door, but there weren’t any sounds from upstairs.

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.