“And you had distinguished guests, correct?” the DA asked.
Ridge gazed into the courtroom. “Yes, Ms. Marin.” She pointed to Hanna. “And Ms. Hastings. As well as Ms. Fields and Ms. Montgomery, who are not here.”
“And did those girls seem grateful to be there?”
She adjusted her collar. “Well, not exactly. They seemed quite distracted all night. I wanted to introduce them to people, but all of them just looked right through me. And we wanted to have a little ceremony for the girls—they’d been through so much, or so we’d thought. But when we called them to the stage, they weren’t there.”
“Not a single one?”
The woman shook her head. “The cameras at the main entrance show them leaving the premises around 9 PM.”
“And when you say the girls were distracted, what do you mean?”
Ridge pushed a flyaway hair out of her face. “Well, I noticed Aria Montgomery flee into the ladies’ lounge. Emily Fields was positively catatonic, as was Hanna Marin. And Spencer Hastings, well . . .” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“What?” the DA goaded.
“I’m not sure if this has anything to do with anything, but a few people said that Ms. Hastings had a very heated fight with the boy she brought as her date. They heard the name Alison mentioned.”
The DA put his hands on his hips. “You have this young man’s name, correct?”
She nodded. “It’s Greg Messner.”
He looked at the jury. “I may mention that Greg Messner ended up dead later that night.” Everyone gasped. “Found in a creek bed in Ashland, Pennsylvania. And you know who else was in Ashland that same evening? Spencer Hastings. And her three friends.”
Rubens shot up. “This isn’t a trial for Mr. Messner’s death. And Ms. Hastings had nothing to do with that.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Spencer poked Rubens as he sat down. “Greg was an Ali Cat,” she whispered. “He targeted me through my anti-bullying site. He’d been working with Ali—she’d given him instructions to get close to me and get info. Can’t you tell them that?”
“You should totally tell him that,” Hanna piped up, just trying to be helpful. But Spencer just shot her an I-don’t-need-your-help look. Hanna slumped back down in her seat. So much for trying to be civil.
Rubens glanced at the girls worriedly. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’ll concentrate on our own witnesses. That starts this afternoon.”
Hanna drew her bottom lip into her mouth. It seemed like every avenue they pursued led to a dead end. And were their witnesses really going to save the day?
She ran her hands down the length of her face, her heart thudding hard. It felt like she was trapped inside a dress that was ten sizes too small for her body. She couldn’t move her arms or her torso. She could barely breathe.
After that day’s proceedings, she somehow made her way into the hall, where she could collect her thoughts. She looked at her phone for the first time in hours. She had forty-two new messages, and they were all RSVPs to her wedding.
Her wedding. Well, at least that was something.
She scrolled through each yes, astonished that so many people wanted to come. Ramona had emailed her that the hip-hop/breakdancing group Hanna wanted to perform during cocktail hour at the reception had said yes. She also mentioned that because so many celebrities were attending—not only some of the cast of Burn It Down, but a few local newscasters and young socialites as well—she was thinking of having something of a red carpet before the reception. Us Weekly seems really into the idea.
Us Weekly? Despite the courtroom circus, Hanna felt a tiny, excited flutter. She knew this wedding was a big deal—everything surrounding their lives was these days. The trial was reported on obsessively on most of the news channels every night, there were constant updates about Aria’s whereabouts in Europe—the latest was that she was hiding somewhere in Sweden—and a few people had sent her Instagrams of mentions of her wedding in tabloids all over the globe. But Us was legit—and it didn’t sound like they were covering the wedding just to be snarky.
She dialed Ramona’s number and pressed her phone to her ear. “It’s Hanna. Red carpet’s a go. I think that sounds really fun.”
“Perfect,” Ramona squawked. “It’s all coming together, Hanna. I think it’s going to be fantastic.”
“Me, too,” Hanna said, her voice rising. “And you know what? Let’s have fireworks at the reception, too.”
“Fireworks?” Ramona paused to consider it. “I have some people I can call.”
Hanna hung up and slipped her phone back in her pocket, feeling good about her latest choice. Fireworks seemed totally appropriate for her wedding reception. Most likely, it would be her last moment of happiness—and she might as well go out with a bang.
17
INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a euro as currency,” Noel said on Thursday afternoon as he leafed through a stack of bills in the cheap hostel room he had rented. “I mean, look at this.” He held up a ten-euro note. “It looks like Monopoly money.”
Aria plucked it from his hand. “Be careful with that. Over here, Monopoly money is freedom.”
“I’m just glad we’re free together,” Noel said, pulling Aria onto the small, stiff-mattressed hostel bed.
Aria relished it for a moment, but then she pulled away. She still felt really, really nervous about Noel being here. Especially after some of the, er, mistakes she’d made.