“Hanna, calm down,” Fuji interrupted. “Everyone is safe. Every time you girls call, it takes me away from solving this case. I’m sure you understand.”
CALL ENDED flashed across the screen. Hanna recoiled, not sure whether to feel dissed or reassured. But Fuji was doing her job—she had to trust that. Soon enough, this would all be over.
Thirty minutes later, Mr. Marin’s SUV pulled through the gates of Immaculata University, a liberal arts school not far from Rosewood. Girls in rugby sweaters and plaid kilts crossed the quad. Boys carrying lacrosse sticks over their shoulders climbed the steps to a dorm. Nearly everyone was wearing Sperry Top-Siders.
They parked at Madison’s dorm and got out. “Come on.” Mr. Marin took Hanna’s hand and led her to the path toward the dorm entrance. The inside of the building smelled like a jumble of perfumes and bustled with girls.
“This is it,” Mr. Marin said when they got to a door marked 113. There was a white board filled with messages for Madison. Hanna paused to read a few. Dinner, 6? And, Are you going to that meeting tomorrow? And, Did you do the chem homework? Did that mean Madison had a relatively normal life?
Hanna hesitated before knocking, dread squeezing her chest corset-tight. “You can do this,” Mr. Marin said as if reading her mind. “I won’t leave your side.”
Hanna was so grateful, she almost burst into tears. Mustering up the courage, she reached out and knocked. The door flung open immediately, and a blond girl with an oval face and overplucked eyebrows stood on the other side.
“Hanna?” she said.
“That’s right.” Hanna looked at her dad. “And this is my dad.”
Madison’s brow crinkled, her focus still on Hanna. “Huh. I thought you were the blond Pretty Little Liar.”
“That’s Spencer.”
Madison leaned against the jamb. “Wow. I really don’t remember that night at all.”
She stepped aside and let Hanna and her dad into her room. A neatly made twin bed with a downy, white comforter stood near the window. There was a desk filled with books, papers, and a Dell computer pushed against another wall. A pile of laundry was near the bathroom, and shoes lay in a heap by the closet.
“You have a single,” Hanna commented, only noticing one bed. “Lucky.”
“It’s on account of my leg.” Madison pulled up her jeans to reveal a brace around her calf. “They took pity on me, I guess.”
A heavy weight settled on Hanna’s chest. Naomi had told her that Madison’s leg had been shattered in the accident. She wouldn’t be able to play field hockey ever again. “Does it hurt?” Hanna said in a small voice.
Madison shrugged. “Sometimes. I’m having surgery to reset the bone this summer. The doctors say I’ll be good as new after that.”
Surgery. Hanna glanced at the door, tempted to run out and never come back. But then she peeked at her father. He nodded at her encouragingly.
She took a deep breath. “Look, Madison, I’m sure you know by now what went down that night, right? I drove you home . . . and then someone swerved into my lane and we crashed and I left the scene. I never should have left you.”
Madison sat down in her desk chair. “It’s okay, Hanna. I forgive you.”
Hanna’s eyebrows shot up. Well, that was easy. “Okay, then,” she said, starting to stand. Done and done!
But then she paused. Maybe that was too easy. “Wait. Are you just saying that? If you’re really pissed, you can tell me. It’s okay. I would be pissed.”
Madison twirled a pen between her fingers. “It sucks that we got in an accident. It sucks that you felt you had to leave. But as far as I’m concerned, I would have been in way worse shape if I would’ve driven myself.”
“I should have been more forceful about getting you a cab.” Hanna perched on the edge of Madison’s neatly made bed. “They wouldn’t have crashed.”
Madison spun around in the chair. “We don’t really know that for sure. The same person might have crashed into them.” She paused, her eyes lighting up. “Did you know we found video footage?”
“Of the other driver?” Hanna leaned forward. “Did you see who it was? Was it Ali?”
“They had part of a license plate, and for a while I thought they were on to something, but they couldn’t figure out who the driver was,” Madison answered. “The only thing the cops figured out was that the car was an Acura.”
Spots formed in front of Hanna’s eyes. An Acura? Hadn’t Spencer found an Acura keychain in her stepfather’s trashed model house?
Madison pinched the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could remember who the driver was. I wish I could remember anything from that night.” She grabbed her phone from her desk. “I barely remember going into that bar. I’d had a couple drinks at this other place that never cards down the street before I even went there, but I kind of remember this hot bartender really, really wanting me to come inside.”