Sara Shepard - Killer

The front door whooshed open, and a bunch of Hollis students paraded in. Someone in the corner lit a cigarette, blowing filmy smoke into the air. Jason checked his watch and reached into his pocket. “I’m really late.” He pulled out his wallet and fished out a twenty, enough to cover both their drinks. Then he looked at Aria. “So,” he started.

“So,” Aria echoed. And then she leaned forward, grabbed his hand, and kissed him the way she’d wanted him to kiss her years ago outside the journalism barn. His lips tasted like lime juice and vodka. Jason pulled her close, kneading his hands in her hair. After a moment, they broke apart, grinning. Aria thought she might faint.

“So I’ll see you later,” Jason said.

“Definitely,” Aria breathed. Jason strode across the room, opened the door, and was gone.

“Oh my God,” Aria whispered, turning back to the bar. A huge part of her wanted to climb up on the bar stool and scream to the whole room what just happened. She had to tell someone . But Ella was busy with Xavier. Mike wouldn’t care. There was Emily, but Emily might be a buzzkill, determined to believe that Ali was truly good at heart and Jason wasn’t.

Her phone began to bleat. Aria jumped and stared at it. One new text message, the little window said. The sender was Caller Unknown.

Aria’s excitement instantly dimmed. She looked around the packed bar. People sat on couches, deep in conversation. A college-age guy with dreadlocks whispered to the bartender, every so often gazing in Aria’s direction. A draft wafted from the back of the room, making the candle flames bow to the right. It was as if an unseen back door had just open and shut.

One new text message. Aria ran her hands through her hair. Slowly, she pressed read.

Enjoy your gimlets? Well, sorry, darling, but the fantasy’s over. Big Brother is hiding something from you. And trust me…you don’t want to know what it is.

—A

An hour later that same night, Hanna idled outside the Montgomerys’ freaky modernist house, waiting for Mike to emerge. Earlier this afternoon, she’d called her dad at work and asked if she could please go to the library tonight to study for a French test… without Kate. She needed to be alone to sufficiently memorize the long list of irregular verbs, she explained.

“Fine,” her father agreed gruffly. Thankfully, he was loosening up on his go-everywhere-Kate-goes rule—yesterday, he’d let Hanna shop for Meredith’s baby shower present alone too. It appeared that he’d also allowed Kate to do some private baby gift shopping…at the very same store. Immediately after Hanna had received her get-out-of-Kate-jail-free pass from her dad, she’d texted Mike and told him she wanted him to take her on a date… one-on-one . What her dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She stared out the window at the small cubic lights over the Montgomerys’ front porch. It had been ages since she’d been to Aria’s house, and she’d forgotten how strange it was. The front of the house had just one window, positioned off-kilter above the stairwell. The back of the house, on the other hand, was nothing but windows, stretching from the first floor to the third. Once, when Hanna and the others were in Aria’s den watching a family of deer traipse through her backyard, Ali gazed at the huge windows and clucked her tongue. “Don’t you guys worry about people spying on you?” She gave Aria a nudge. “But then, I guess your parents don’t have any secrets they don’t want anyone to know about, huh?” Aria had blushed and left the room. Hanna hadn’t known why Aria had gotten so upset, but now she did—Ali had discovered that Aria’s dad was having an affair, and she was torturing Aria with the information, the same way she used to torture Hanna about binging and purging.

Such a bitch.

Mike appeared on the front porch. He wore dark jeans, a long wool coat with the collar turned up, and carried an enormous bouquet of roses. Hanna felt tingles in her stomach. Not that she was excited for this date or anything. It was simply nice to get flowers on such a gray winter day.

“Those are gorgeous,” she said as Mike opened the door. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Okay.” Mike pulled the flowers back to his chest, the cellophane crinkling. “I’ll give them to my other girlfriend.”

Hanna caught his arm. “Don’t you dare.” That definitely wasn’t funny, not after the stunt he’d pulled with Hanna and Kate at the baby shower yesterday. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of her Prius. “So. Where are we going?”

“The King James,” Mike quipped.

Hanna glanced at him warily. “No Rive Gauche.” With her luck, Lucas would be their waiter. Très awkward.

“I know,” Mike said. “We’re going shopping.”

Hanna wrinkled her nose. “Ha.”

“I’m serious.” Mike held up his hands. “I want you to shop all night. I know that’s what girls love to do, and I’m all about making you happy.”

His earnest expression didn’t waver. Hanna thrust the car into gear. “We’d better get there, then, before you change your mind.”

They took the back roads to the mall, Hanna slowing every time she saw a DEER CROSSING sign—they were relentless this time of year. Mike slipped a CD into the Prius’s stereo. A throbbing bass filled the car, then a singer’s screechy voice. Mike immediately started singing. Hanna recognized the song, and sang along quietly, too. Mike stared at her. “You know who this is?”

“It’s Led Zeppelin,” Hanna said matter-of-factly. Sean Ackard, Hanna’s ex-ex-boyfriend, had tried to get into the band last summer—it seemed to be a Rosewood Day soccer and lax boy thing—but he’d decided they were too dark and moody for his pure, virginal ears. Mike’s brow was furrowed with disbelief. “What, did you think I listened to Miley Cyrus?” she snapped. “The Jonas Brothers?” Actually, Kate listened to the Jonas Brothers. That and Broadway show tunes.

By the time they were pulling into the King James Mall, both were belting out the lyrics to “Dazed and Confused.” Mike knew every verse by heart and even did a dramatic air guitar solo, which made Hanna buckle over in laughter.

The mall parking lot was packed. A Home Depot was off to their left, the Bloomingdale’s doors in the middle, and the haute section—with stores like Louis Vuitton and Jimmy Choo—was on the right. As they stepped out into the crisp night air, Hanna heard someone grunt. A man stood next to a white car in the Home Depot lot, struggling to lift a heavy barrel of what looked like propane into the trunk of his car. When he moved out of the way, she noticed the writing on the car doors. Rosewood Police Department . The guy had an angular chin and a pointy nose. A shock of dark hair stuck out from the bottom of his black wool hat.

Wilden?

Hanna watched as he lifted the second tub of propane, struggling to fit it in the trunk next to the other one. Did his house not have a normal heater? She considered waving, but then turned away. Wilden had told the press that they’d made up seeing Ian’s body in the woods. He’d turned all of Rosewood against them. Asshole .

“Come on,” she said to Mike, giving Wilden one last look. He had shut the trunk and was now holding his cell phone to his ear, his posture rigid, his shoulders square. It reminded Hanna of a time a few months ago, back when Wilden and her mom had been dating. He’d spent the night, and early in the morning, Hanna had heard whispers in the hall. When she peeked out, she saw Wilden standing in front of the hall window, looking out into the yard, his body rigid and his voice hoarse and harsh. Who the hell was he talking to? Was he sleepwalking? Hanna had slunk back to bed before Wilden noticed her.