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Hanna opened her mouth and shut it again. She had no defense. Naomi was totally right.
“That accident caused a lot of anguish for all of us,” Naomi hissed, her cheeks flushed. “It was torture when we weren’t sure if Madison was going to pull through. And you think you can just say you’re sorry and be done with it?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Hanna hung her head. “You can tell the police about me if you want. And your parents. And Madison. They deserve to know the truth.”
Naomi set her jaw and stared at the horizon. “I just don’t understand how someone could do something like that. And then, after you knew, you pretended you were my friend, like nothing was wrong!”
“I didn’t know Madison was your cousin until I saw the fake ID,” Hanna said. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “When I made the connection, I freaked. I thought you knew about me and Madison from the very beginning—I figured that’s why you were being so nice to me. You knew, and you wanted to get revenge.”
Naomi scoffed. “I was being nice to you because I wanted us to be friends. I was sick of our stupid fights.” She stared at her in disbelief. “Is that why you were on my computer when we got back from the club? To see if I knew for sure?”
Hanna nodded, overwhelmed with guilt. “I was convinced you knew about Madison. I read an e-mail exchange between you and her, and you said you’d narrowed down who the suspect was. I figured you knew it was me.”
“Have you ever thought about just talking things out? Coming clean?” Naomi asked.
“It’s complicated,” Hanna mumbled. It wasn’t like she could tell Naomi about A.
“Did you put those photos on my computer, too?”
Hanna frowned. “What photos?”
Naomi balled up her fists. “A whole folder of new photos was mysteriously added to my desktop. I thought they were a virus, actually, so I didn’t look at them, but when I went to delete them, they were gone. Were you trying to crash my computer?”
Hanna’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Were the photos Naomi was talking about the ones of the girls in Jamaica? Had someone planted them there?
“I’m sorry,” she said one more time, not knowing how to explain.
Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. She watched the waves for a few moments, then turned back to Hanna sharply. “Just to be clear, I had no idea Madison had someone with her in the car. She was so wasted that night she didn’t remember, either. What she did remember, though, was flashing headlights coming head-on just before the crash. That’s who we were investigating, you idiot. Not you.”
Hanna winced, but then nodded sheepishly. “I remember that car. It was like, one second, there was no one on the road, and the next, there it was, heading right for us.”
“We managed to find a witness,” Naomi said begrudgingly. “A lady lives in the house on the hill where the car crashed. She wasn’t home at the time, but she has a security camera in the driveway, and it caught some of the accident. There was this shadowy image of Madison’s car—I couldn’t tell there were two people in it. There was an image of a second car, too, forcing the BMW off the road. It was like they meant to do it.”
Hanna’s heart started to pound. “Do you have any idea who it was?”
“We have part of a license plate number, but that’s it. The cops asked Madison if she knew anyone who hated her so much they would want to hurt her, but she didn’t know anyone. I guess I should ask you the same thing.”
A shiver danced down Hanna’s spine. If only she knew who wanted to hurt her. But maybe that was how A knew what had happened that night: A had been the driver of the other car, forcing the accident. Of course A had had a front-row seat to what happened next. All A had to do was pull over around the bend, turn off the lights, and watch Hanna freak.
The boat slowed, and the port of Hamilton rose into view. Hanna’s friends, who were all the way across the boat, out of earshot, leaned over in their seats, and then turned back to Hanna. They were probably watching the conversation, trying to figure out what Hanna was saying. Hanna wondered if just by her body language they could deduce that Naomi wasn’t A.
Hanna glanced at Naomi again. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to Naomi. A thank-you was in order—they would have died without the rescue boat. She wanted to try and make it up to her, too, although she had no idea how. But saying either of those things seemed completely inappropriate. It was one thing when what she’d done was a contained secret, something she was tortured by but internalized. It was another when she saw how many lives it touched, altered. It added a whole new layer of guilt and shame.
“I’m really sorry about everything,” she mumbled once more.
“Yeah, well, you should be,” Naomi growled. When she glanced at Hanna, there was disgust in her eyes, but then she shrugged. “I’m not going to tell, if that’s what you’re worried about. But you owe me—got it? And let’s just hope they nail whoever that other driver was.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Hanna was surprised by Naomi’s sudden generosity. But Naomi just rolled her eyes and turned away.
A wave splashed up, misting Hanna’s face. She settled back in her seat, feeling a mix of shame and regret. All at once, she knew that the seed of friendship that had started to grow between them was probably lost forever. Too much had been said. Too much was damaged—and it was all Hanna’s fault. They might not taunt each other in the Rosewood halls anymore, but they wouldn’t sit together at Steam, either. It was just another thing A had wrecked.
