The first thing Hanna heard on Sunday morning was someone singing that Elvis Costello song "Alison."
"ALLLLLison,
I know this world is KILLING you!" It was a guy, his voice loud and
grating like a lawn mower. Hanna threw her covers back. Was it the TV?
Was it someone outside?
When she stood up, her head felt like it was
full of cotton candy. She saw the Chloé jacket she'd worn last night
thrown over her desk chair, and everything came flooding back to her.
After
her mom retrieved her from the Four Seasons, they'd driven home in
stony silence. When they pulled into the driveway, Ms. Marin jammed the
Lexus into park and stormed crookedly into the house, drunk with anger.
When Hanna got to the door, her mom slammed it in her face, and there
was a loud, solid clunk. Hanna stood back, stunned. Okay, so she'd outed
her mom's worst parenting faux pas, and that was probably a bad move.
But was her mom seriously locking her out?
Hanna pounded on the door,
and Ms. Marin opened it a crack. Her eyebrows were drawn together. "Oh,
I'm sorry. You want to come in?"
"Y-Yes," Hanna squeaked.
Her
mother guffawed. "You're completely willing to insult and disrespect me
in front of your father, but you're not too proud to live here?"
Hanna
had made some sort of blubbering attempt at an apology, but her mom
stormed away. She did, however, leave the door open. Hanna had scooped
up Dot and run to her room, too traumatized to even cry.
"Ohhhhh, ALLLLLison…I know this world is KILLLing YOU!"
Hanna
tiptoed to her door. The singing was coming from inside the house. Her
legs started to shake. Only a crazy person would be stupid enough to
sing that "Alison" song in Rosewood right now. The cops would probably
arrest you just for humming it in public.
Was it Toby?
She
straightened her yellow camisole and stepped into the hall. At the same
moment, the hall bathroom door opened and a guy stepped out.
Hanna
put her hand to her mouth. The guy had a towel—her white, fluffy,
Pottery Barn towel—wrapped around his waist. His blackish hair stood up
in peaks. A silent scream got stuck in Hanna's throat.
And then he turned around and faced her. Hanna took a step back. It was Darren Wilden. Officer Darren Wilden.
"Whoa." Wilden froze. "Hanna."
It
was hard not to gawk at his perfectly formed abs. He was definitely not
a cop who ate too many Krispy Kremes. "Why were you singing that?" she
finally asked.
Wilden looked embarrassed. "Sometimes I don't notice I'm singing."
"I
thought you were…" Hanna trailed off. What the hell was Wilden doing
here? But then she realized. Of course. Her mom. She smoothed down her
hair, not feeling any calmer. What if it had been Toby? What would she
have done? She would probably be dead.
"Do you…do you need to get in here?" Wilden gestured bashfully at the steamy bathroom. "Your mom's in hers."
Hanna
was too stunned to respond. Then, before she knew exactly what she was
saying, she blurted out, "I have something to tell you. Something
important."
"Oh?" A droplet of water fell off a strand of Wilden's hair onto the floor.
"I think I know something about…about who killed Alison DiLaurentis."
Wilden raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Hanna licked her lips. "Toby Cavanaugh."
"Why do you think that?"
"I…I can't tell you why. You just have to take my word for it."
Wilden
frowned and leaned against the doorjamb, still half-naked. "You're
going to have to give me a little more than that. You could be giving me
the name of some guy who broke your heart, for revenge."
In that
case, I'd have told you Sean Ackard, Hanna thought bitterly. She didn't
know what to do. If she told Wilden about The Jenna Thing, her dad would
hate her. Everyone in Rosewood would talk. She and her friends would go
to juvie.
But keeping the secret from her dad—and the rest of
Rosewood—didn't really matter anymore. Her whole life was ruined, and
besides, she was the one who'd really hurt Jenna. That night might've
been an accident, but Hanna had hurt her plenty of times on purpose.
"I'll tell you," she said slowly, "but I don't want anyone else to get in trouble. Only…only me, if someone has to. Okay?"
Wilden
held up his hand. "It doesn't matter. We checked out Toby when Alison
first disappeared. He has an airtight alibi. Couldn't have been him."
Hanna gaped. "He has an alibi? Who?"
"I
can't disclose that." Wilden looked stern for a moment, but then the
corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. He pointed at Hanna's
A&F moose-printed flannel pants. "You look cute in your jammies."
Hanna curled her toes into the carpet. She'd always hated the word jammies. "Wait, are you sure Toby's innocent?"
Wilden
was about to respond, but his walkie-talkie, which was perched on the
edge of the bathroom sink, made a crackling sound. He turned and grabbed
it, keeping one hand on the towel around his waist. "Casey?"
"There's another body," a crackling voice answered. "And it's…" The transmission turned to static.
Hanna's heart started pounding again. Another body?
"Casey."
Wilden was buttoning up his police shirt. "Can you repeat that? Hello?"
Fuzz was all he got in reply. He noticed Hanna still standing there.
"Go to your room."
Hanna bristled. The nerve of him, trying to speak to her like he was her father! "What about another body?" she whispered.
Wilden
put the walkie-talkie back on the counter, whipped on his pants, and
tore the towel off his lower half, tossing it on the bathroom floor just
like Hanna often did. "Just calm down," he said, his friendliness all
gone. He put his gun in his holster and clomped down the stairs.
Hanna
followed him. Spencer had called last night to tell her that Emily was
okay—but what if she'd been mistaken? "Is it a girl's body? Do you
know?"
Wilden flung the front door open. In the driveway next to her
mom's champagne-colored Lexus was his squad car. ROSEWOOD PD was
printed, loud and clear, on the side panel. Hanna gawked. Had that been
here all night? Could the neighbors see it from the road?
Hanna followed Wilden to his car. "Can you at least tell me where the body is?"
He whirled around. "I can't tell you that."
"But…you don't understand—"
"Hanna."
Wilden didn't let her finish. "Tell your mom I'll call her later." He
swung into his car and put the siren on. If the neighbors didn't know
he'd been there before, they sure did now.