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She hit END. Her phone rang again a split second later. It was her dad’s number. When she answered, her father sounded furious.
“Hanna, someone named Agent Fuji showed up at the house this morning with a team and a search warrant for your bedroom,” he said. “I was able to have my lawyers send them away, but they’ll be back. What the hell’s going on? What are you mixed up in?”
Hanna froze. A search warrant? Spencer had been right: Fuji was systematically going to each of them, trying to find that painting. At least she hadn’t picked Aria as her next victim.
“I-I have no idea,” she lied. “What was the agent looking for?”
“She didn’t say.” Mr. Marin’s voice was strained. “Is it drugs? There were rumors you had a suicide pact—was it a gun? I can’t believe a news van hasn’t shown up here yet. The last thing I need is an FBI vehicle at the house and a bunch of agents searching the place and me not knowing what to say.”
Tears filled Hanna’s eyes. She couldn’t have her father getting caught up in this. “Whatever she’s looking for, she won’t find it in my room,” Hanna bleated. “I’m sorry you had to go through that . . . but it was just a big mix-up. I’ll be home soon, okay?”
She hung up the phone and took deep breaths. If her father had sent Agent Fuji away, she might try someone else’s house. Like Aria’s, maybe. And then what?
There was no way she could continue her shift now. She walked down the hall and turned toward the lobby, ready to tell Sean she’d do a makeup day another time. It was filled with people, tons of voices shouting at once. Mr. Ackard was speaking to two official-looking men by the front desk. A police officer spoke into a walkie-talkie. A man with a news camera walked in, followed by a reporter in a suit. In the corner, another reporter interviewed Sean, whose face was laced with concern.
Hanna’s stomach soured. Was this for Graham?
Kelly stood at the edges of the group, her hand to her mouth. Hanna tugged her sleeve.
“What’s going on?”
The nurse gawked at her with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sounds came out.
Hanna glanced down one of the patient hallways. “Can I go back there and talk to Kyla?” Maybe she could explain what was happening.
A nurse standing next to Kelly widened her eyes. “Honey, get in line.”
Hanna blinked hard. “D-did something happen to Kyla?”
Kelly’s mouth dropped open. “We thought you knew,” she said in a hushed voice. “Honey, Kyla’s dead.”
“What?” Hanna backed away from them and bumped into someone. When she turned around, it was Sean. “What’s going on?” she demanded shakily.
Sean’s eyes darted back and forth. Then he stepped closer. “Someone found a body in a ditch behind the facility early this morning. It was a girl wearing a hospital bracelet from the clinic. Her name was Kyla Kennedy.”
Hanna pressed her hand over her mouth. “No.” Her face felt hot with tears.
She collapsed into Sean’s arms, and he patted her shoulder. “It looks like she was killed a few days ago and dumped there,” Sean said mournfully.
Hanna shot back up. “Wait. That’s not possible. I saw Kyla last night. She was in the bed in the hall, near Graham’s room.”
An uncomfortable look settled across Sean’s face. “That’s the thing, Hanna. I don’t think that was Kyla. It was . . . someone else. This is such a horrible mistake—a huge legal and publicity nightmare.”
“What?” It felt like her brain matter was leaking out of her ears. “What do you mean?”
“The police are certain that the real Kyla, our patient, died several days ago at least. But nurses—and you, obviously—remember someone in Kyla’s bed after that.”
“But . . . I talked to her!” Hanna gasped. “We bonded!”
Sean looked like he was going to be sick. “Last night, the nurses discovered Kyla gone. When the body turned up, we thought that was that, but the coroner’s data is solid. The theory right now is that whoever that was in the bed murdered the real Kyla and put bandages on her face to get into the burn clinic for some reason. And then, for some other reason, she just . . . left.”
“That makes no sense!” Hanna wailed. “Why would someone do that?”
“I don’t know,” Sean said quietly.
Flashbulbs popped around the room. A clump of nurses stood in the corner, crying. A man with a jacket that read FORENSICS began to cordon off some of the room. Hanna leaned against the table and tried to catch her breath. As she shifted, something sharp poked her side. It was something wedged inside the pocket of her shirt. Hanna frowned and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She didn’t remember leaving anything inside her scrubs the last time she wore them.
She unfolded the paper and saw tiny, loopy letters. Familiar loopy letters, in fact. Her stomach started to gurgle. This looked like Ali’s handwriting.
Dear Hanna, it began. I can explain everything, especially why I did what I did. But I think I know what you’re after, and I want to help you. The answer you want is in the Rosewood Day storage shed. It will give you the proof you need and put everything to rest. Go there NOW . . . before it’s too late. Love, Kyla.
Her face must have been pale, because Sean touched her wrist. “What’s that?”
Hanna pulled the note to her chest. “Nothing,” she croaked. And then she turned around and ran out of the building.
