Twisted pll-9

by Sara Shepard

  The previous night zinged into Hanna’s head. The weight of that stolen money in her bag as she hopped a late SEPTA into the city. Checking her phone over and over again—for a response from Mike, for a note from A—and receiving nothing. Meeting the flower seller, Pete, who had dirt under his fingernails, a tattoo on his neck, and looked at Hanna like he wanted to shove her behind the springy bouquets of tulips and have his way with her. Handing over the envelope of cash. Looking over her shoulder for A, but seeing no one suspicious.

  She hadn’t felt satisfied just giving the money to Pete, so she’d skulked around the train station until Patrick had shown up, accosting him and demanding that he erase the photos from his camera and hard drive in front of her. “Fine,” Patrick sighed dramatically, pulling out his camera and laptop. Hanna watched as the photos disappeared from the folder and the camera memory. Before she left, Patrick groped her boob, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

  Hopefully, she’d done the right thing. No scantily clad images of Hanna had appeared on the Internet overnight. She hadn’t received any red-alert phone calls from Jeremiah, telling her she’d ruined everything. With any luck, Patrick had taken the first plane to Mexico and Hanna would never hear from him again.

  Ms. Marin shifted her weight in the doorway. “Why is he bothering you on a weekend?” she asked suspiciously. “Is this something about the campaign?” She said campaign with an eye-roll. Hanna doubted her mom would be a Tom Marin supporter on voting day. Whenever there was a mention of him in the paper, she sniffed disapprovingly and quickly turned the page, saying that he’d better not participate in government the same detached way he participated in their marriage.

  “I don’t know,” Hanna mumbled. She rose from her bed, patted Dot’s tiny, diamond-shaped head, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin looked pale and puffy. Her lips were cracked at the corners. Her hair was wild and knotted around her face. Perhaps her dad was summoning her to his office because of his campaign. Maybe they were doing an impromptu brainstorming session. Would they do something like that on a Saturday morning?

  She threw on a pair of Citizens jeans and a Juicy hoodie and drove to her father’s office building. Some of the campaign posters from last night’s party still littered the atrium. The air reeked of catered food and men’s cologne. The elevator dinged loudly in the empty space. When the doors slid open on the third floor, Hanna was surprised to see that her father’s office was lit up like it was a regular workday. Her dad sat on the black leather couch, a mug of coffee in his hands. Hanna pushed through the double doors nervously, trying to keep her knees from knocking together.

  Her father looked up when she came in. “Hey, Hanna.” He didn’t stand. He didn’t rush over to hug her. He just sat there, staring.

  “Uh, what brings you here so early?” Hanna tried to sound light and joking. “Did another focus group say they loved me?”

  Mr. Marin didn’t crack a smile. He took a long sip of coffee, then sighed. “There’s money missing from my campaign petty cash fund. Someone stole it from my office during the party last night. Ten thousand dollars. I counted it myself.”

  A gasp slipped out of Hanna’s mouth before she could control herself. He kept that good a count of the petty cash?

  “I know, I know, it’s terrible.” Mr. Marin shook his head. “But you have to be honest with me, Hanna. Do you know anything about this?”

  “No!” Hanna heard herself say. “Of course not!”

  Mr. Marin set his coffee on the table next to the couch. “Someone saw you go into the stairwell at the benefit last night. Did you come up here?”

  Hanna blinked. “W-who told you that?” Kate? A?

  Her father looked away, staring out the window. The tracks that creepy car had made in the snow last night were still there. “It doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

  “I-I did come up here,” Hanna said, thinking on her feet. “But that was because I saw someone else come up here first. He was acting shady. I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”

  Mr. Marin leaned toward her like he was watching the cliffhanger scene of a thriller movie. “Who did you see?”

  A lump formed in Hanna’s throat. This was where her whole plan either came together or crashed and burned. “Jeremiah,” she whispered.

  Her father sat back. Hanna licked her lips and continued, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart banging in her chest. “I followed him up here. He didn’t see me when he came out. Then I went in after him and looked around. But, Dad, I never imagined he’d actually steal from you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

  “Because . . .” Hanna stared at her lap. “I’m sorry. I should have.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so, so sorry. I would never take anything from you, Dad. I’ve been so happy that I’ve been able to help you . . . that we’ve bonded. Why would I jeopardize that?”

  Tears filled Hanna’s eyes. It wasn’t just an acting job to garner his sympathy—it was, in so many ways, the truth. In so many ways, she wished she could have just told him about Patrick and that it was an honest mistake—then they could’ve gone to the police and settled this the right way. But she couldn’t bear to think of the disappointment on her dad’s face if she told him about the photos—especially not now that she was in his good graces. It would undo everything.

  Mr. Marin sighed. When Hanna dared to look, she saw a sad, conflicted expression on his face. “I’m happy we’ve bonded, too, Hanna,” he said quietly. “We haven’t done much of that lately.”

  Then he rose and paced around the room. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your honesty. Full disclosure, I found something of Jeremiah’s by the safe—something potentially incriminating. He denies everything, of course, but he’s no longer part of the team. This is a serious crime.”

  “Are you going to call the police?” Hanna asked, terrified. She’d figured her dad would just fire Jeremiah and that would be that. Did they really have to get the cops involved? What if they could trace that money to Patrick?

  Mr. Marin patted Hanna’s shoulder. “Leave that to me, Hanna. But you did the right thing. So thank you.”

  Then his phone rang, and he told Hanna he’d see her later and darted into his office to take the call. There was nothing more for Hanna to do except leave. The elevator dinged once more, and she stepped inside and slumped against the wall.

  As if on cue, her phone buzzed. Hanna pulled it out and checked the screen. She had a new text . . . and she had a horrible feeling she knew just who it was from.

  The past is never far, Hannakins . . . and sometimes it’s even closer than you think.

  –A

  “Huh?” Hanna whispered, staring at the screen. Then, just as the elevator began to descend, there was a horrible screeching sound and the car bounced to a stop. She froze. There was no longer that telltale whir of the motor running and the cables moving. The elevator was as silent as a tomb.

  Hanna pressed the DOOR OPEN button over and over. Nothing. The LOBBY button. Zip. She pressed every button on the keypad, including the one with the fireman’s hat on it. “Hello?” she shouted, hoping that her father might hear her through the shaft. “Help! I’m stuck!”

  The lights snapped off.

  Hanna shrieked. Only a small stripe of light at the top of the car was visible. “Hey!” she screamed, pounding on the door panels. “Someone! Please!”

  But it was the weekend; no one was in the building. Hanna pulled out her phone again and called her father’s office number. The cell phone tried to dial out, but because she was in an elevator, the call couldn’t connect. She tried her mother’s cell, then Spencer’s, then Aria’s. She dialed 9-1-1. Nothing. Call lost.

  Beads of sweat stood out on Hanna’s forehead. What if the elevator was stuck for days? What if the building caught fire and she was trapped in here? It was just like being locked in that bedroom in the Poconos when Ali had set fire to the house. Or being caught
in the headlights of Mona’s car as Mona-as-A gunned forward and hit her. “Help me!” she screamed. “Help!”

  And then, horrifyingly, she heard the voice.

  I bet you weren’t always pretty, were you?

  “No!” Hanna screeched, willing it out of her brain. She couldn’t think about it right now. She couldn’t let the memory in.

  But Tabitha’s voice just got louder. I feel like I’ve known you girls forever!

  All at once, Hanna could no longer resist. The memories of Jamaica slipped in sideways, longways, folded up and pressed flat. The voices of her friends swarmed in her ears, and suddenly she could clearly see the hotel room at The Cliffs.

  “Do you think we should go see what she wants?” Aria held up the note Tabitha had pushed under the door.

  “Are you crazy?” Emily stared at her. “That’s a death sentence! Ali’s setting us up!”

  “Em, it’s not Ali.” Aria groaned.

  Everyone else shifted awkwardly. “Actually, it really seems like Ali,” Spencer whispered. “We all think so, Aria. You’re the only one who doesn’t.”

  Hanna looked at the note again. “Maybe Aria’s right, though. If we don’t go upstairs now, she’ll find us another way. She’ll get us alone. At least, this way, we’ll all be together.”

  And so they went. Tabitha was waiting for them on the crow’s nest, which was a smaller, higher platform atop the roof deck restaurant that was perfect for tanning and stargazing. She sat on one of the chaises, sipping a piña colada. No one else was up there. Tons of potted palms swayed around the space, making the little balcony seem private and way too secluded.

  When she saw them, she leapt to her feet, smiling broadly. “Hey, guys! I guess you got my note!”

  The smile on her face had been twisted, diabolical. Hanna’s gaze drifted to the bracelet on her wrist—just like Emily said, it was an exact match to the one Ali had made for them after the Jenna Thing. It was frayed at the edges, just like Ali’s was. And it was that perfect, lake blue they’d all thought was so pretty.

  It was Ali. It had to be. All traces of Tabitha were gone, and Hanna could see Ali so clearly it hurt.

  Spencer wrapped her hands around the top of an empty chaise longue almost like she was going to use it as a shield. “Why did you want us to come up here?”

  “Because I was going to show you something,” she said innocently.

  Spencer’s eyes narrowed like she didn’t believe the girl for a minute. “Who are you?”

  The girl put her hands on her hips and tilted back and forth teasingly. “Are you drunk, Spencer? My name is Tabitha. I told you that.”

  “Your name isn’t Tabitha,” Emily said in a small, terrified voice. “You know things about us. Things no one else could know.”

  “Maybe I’m psychic,” the girl said, shrugging. “And, okay, there’s something about all of you I can’t quite put my finger on. I feel like I’ve known you girls forever—but that’s impossible, isn’t it?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Hanna’s stomach swooped.

  Then the girl fixed her gaze on Hanna, who was still standing by the stairs. “You can come closer, Hanna.” She beckoned, curling her finger. “I won’t bite. I just want to show you the incredible view. It’s amazing from up here.”

  Hanna clamped her mouth shut, feeling immobile. Then, the girl took a lurching step toward her, seemingly crossing the crow’s nest in one step. Her drink sloshed in her glass. Her wide eyes didn’t blink. In seconds, she had pinned Hanna to the low wall that surrounded the deck. Up close, she smelled like vanilla soap and rum. When she gazed into Hanna’s eyes, she let out another lilting, familiar giggle. Hanna’s heart banged. She thought of the times she’d heard Ali’s giggle even after Ali had supposedly perished in the Poconos fire. The mornings she’d woken in a cold sweat, sure Ali was after them. Now, it was coming true.

  “What do you want from us?” Hanna cried, shielding her face with her hands. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

  The girl stuck out her bottom lip. “Why are you so afraid of me?”

  “You know why,” Hanna whispered, staring into the girl’s crazed eyes. “You’re Alison DiLaurentis.”

  A flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe amusement—passed across the girl’s face. “The dead girl?” She pressed her hand to her chest. “The crazy murderer? Now why would you say something horrible like that?”

  “Because of everything you’ve said to us!” Aria said behind Hanna. “Everything you know! A-and because of the burns on your body. Are those from the fire?”

  The girl glanced at her burned arms and smiled playfully. “Maybe. But I didn’t survive that fire, did I?”

  “No one really knows what happened,” Emily said shakily. “Everyone thought you died, but . . .”

  “But what?” the girl interrupted in a teasing voice, her eyes gleaming. “But I escaped? Any ideas how that could have happened, Em?”

  Emily paled and took a step back. Hanna, Spencer, and Aria glanced at her for a moment, not knowing what the girl was getting at.

  Then, the girl advanced toward Hanna. Hanna shrieked and jumped away. “What’s the matter?” The girl looked offended. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “Leave me alone!” Hanna screamed, lurching back. The rough bamboo that lined the walls scraped against her skin. She sensed the open air behind her, the wall giving way to a thirty-foot drop. The ocean crashed far, far below.

  “Don’t touch her!” Aria ran up to the girl, grabbed her arm, and spun her around. “Didn’t you hear her? She wants you to leave her alone!”

  “Just tell us who you are, okay?” Spencer called behind Aria. “Just be honest.”

  A slow smile spread across the girl’s face. “You want an honest answer? Okay. I’m Tabitha. And I’m fabulous.”

  Everyone gasped. Hanna was pretty sure she screamed. Ali always said that.

  Tabitha really was Ali.

  Ali broke from Aria’s grasp and turned for Hanna again. Hanna tried to press against the wall, but her ankle turned and she lost her balance. She wheeled around, face-to-face with the crashing ocean below. With just one push, she’d fall down, down, down . . .

  “Help!” Hanna screamed now in the elevator just as she’d screamed then. “Someone help me!”

  Suddenly, the lights snapped on again. The car bounced once, throwing Hanna to the ground. The motor began to whir, dragging the car toward the lobby.

  The bell dinged. The door opened smoothly at the ground floor, as if nothing had been amiss. Hanna stepped out into the empty atrium, her heart chugging fast, her body both sweating and shivering, and the horrible memories she’d long suppressed now flying around her head like a flock of geese caught inside a shopping mall. It had happened. All of it had happened. A was right—the past was never far away.

  Something off to the left caught her eye. A small, gray utilities closet stood slightly open. ELEVATOR, said a sign on the door. Levers, gauges, and switches lined the wall. It certainly hadn’t been open when Hanna arrived a half hour ago. In fact, she’d never seen it open before today.

  She peered into the room and sniffed. It smelled the slightest bit like vanilla soap. Someone had been in the elevator room, tampering with the controls. And Hanna knew just who it was.

  Ali.

  Chapter 28

  When push comes to shove

  That same morning, Aria pulled on her ski pants, layered on an extra pair of socks and a wooly sweater, strapped on her ski boots, and waddled out to the slopes. The Kahn boys were milling around outside the lodge, gearing up and surveying the latest snowfall. Klaudia sat alone on a green bench, strapping on her skis.

  When Noel noticed Aria, a tiny, repentant smile crossed his face. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Aria crunched over to him.

  “You sleep okay?” Noel said in a stilted, overly polite voice.

  Aria nodded. “Just fine.” Then she turned to Klaudia. “I want to talk to you.”

 
Klaudia glanced at Aria for a split second, then looked away. “I busy.”

  Aria gritted her teeth. This was going to be harder than she thought. But she had to talk to Klaudia. She’d come to a decision.

  After she’d gone up to her room last night, she’d had horrible waking nightmares of the Kahn boys having their way with Klaudia in the tub. She’d picked up her phone a million times, daring herself to compose an It’s over text to Noel, but she kept putting it down, something inside her not quite ready.

  Then, about forty-five minutes later, she’d heard footsteps in the hallway and ran to the peephole and looked out. Noel plunged the keycard into his room across the hall. He was alone. There was no sign of his brothers or Klaudia. And then, five minutes later, a text appeared on Aria’s phone: Good night. See you tomorrow. XX, Noel.

  Nothing had happened between Noel and Klaudia. The jealousy that had been present in Aria ever since she was friends with Ali was eating her alive. It had almost destroyed her relationship with Noel once; she couldn’t let it happen again. Klaudia was going to be living with the Kahns until June. If Aria ever wanted to feel comfortable at the Kahns’ again—with Noel again—she had to make peace with her.

  “Please?” Aria placed a hand on Klaudia’s shoulder. “I need to apologize.”

  Klaudia shook her off. “I have nothing to say to you. I embarrassed and hurt.” Then she skied over to one of the chairlifts and waited for the next gondola.

  “Wait!” Aria cried, snapping on her own skis and sliding after her. Just as Klaudia sat down on the gondola, Aria jumped on, too.

  “Idiot!” Klaudia spat, moving as far to one side of the lift as she could. “What you doing?”

  “I need to talk to you,” Aria insisted. “It’s important.”

  “Aria?” Noel cried worriedly behind her. “Uh, you forgot your poles!” He waved two long, thin sticks in the air. “And that lift is for a double-black diamond!”

  Aria hesitated. They were already twenty feet off the ground. Empty gondolas swayed back and forth behind them. Skiers zigzagged below, suddenly looking like minuscule ants.