Ms. Marin drove them without a word, mercifully keeping the radio off for the trip to the courthouse, which was only a few miles away at the very top of Mount Kale, just past a cemetery and the Botanical Gardens. Hanna gazed over the cliff that overlooked Rosewood and Hollis, feeling nostalgic and lonely. There was Rosewood Day and its sports fields—she’d never sit at a lacrosse game again. There was the Hollis Spire and surrounding buildings—she’d never go to another bar. Even Ali’s old house was visible through the trees. Okay, she wouldn’t miss that place very much. All it held were bitter memories.
A shiver ran up her spine as she remembered the last time she’d been at the courthouse. It had been for Ian’s arraignment almost a year and a half ago. When they’d come back outside, Emily had grabbed them, swearing she saw Ali’s face in the back of a limo. Of course no one had believed her. But they should have.
The car pulled into the courthouse entrance. As usual, protesters marched in a circle on the sidewalk. The same line of news vans was parked by the entrance. Immediately, a gaggle of reporters swarmed them, staring at Hanna through the window. “Miss Marin!” they screamed, slapping at the windows. “Miss Marin! Miss Marin, will you answer a few questions?”
“Ignore them,” Hanna’s mother said.
It was no surprise that the reporters surrounded Hanna as soon as she got out of the car. They thrust their microphones at her and pulled at her sleeves. Their questions were still the same—stuff about Hanna being a killer and Mr. Marin’s campaign and predictions about going to Jamaica. Hanna’s mom draped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the doors. Hanna’s ankle twisted as she climbed up the first step, but she barely felt it and kept going. She barely felt anything.
Up ahead, Aria, Spencer, and Emily were scrambling inside. After the double doors shut, the shouts and screams and crowd noise disappeared almost completely. Hanna blinked in the marble lobby. Stone statues of Rosewood founders surrounded them. A Pennsylvania and an American flag hung from the balcony. Aria’s parents and Spencer’s mom stood in the metal-detector line, digging stuff out of their pockets. Beyond them stood their legal team, including Spencer’s father and Mr. Goddard. Hanna was surprised to see Kate on the other side of the conveyor belt, dressed in a blue blazer and pinstriped pants. Hanna’s father was noticeably absent. Hanna reached for that familiar stab of sadness, but it didn’t come. Maybe because she wasn’t really surprised.
As Hanna joined the metal-detector line, a hand slipped into hers. Mike’s ice-blue eyes were full of tears. “I know you were trying to find her,” he whispered. “You should have let me help.”
Hanna shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Did you have any luck?”
Hanna almost wanted to laugh. “What do you think?”
Mike answered by squeezing her hand harder than ever before.
After the scanners, the legal team joined the girls, and they walked to the courtroom as a group. As soon as Mr. Goddard opened the double doors, a hundred heads turned around. Hanna recognized every face: There was Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe. Boys from Mike’s lacrosse team and girls from Hanna’s old cheerleading squad. A girl named Dinah she’d met while doing a boot-camp program last Christmas. Sean Ackard, Sean’s father, Kelly from the burn clinic. Phi Templeton, Chassey Bledsoe, and then—horrifyingly—Mona Vanderwaal’s parents, both of them looking older and much more haggard since Mona’s death a year and a half before.
Everyone stared at Hanna as though she’d already been convicted. Hanna hadn’t felt this vulnerable since Mona-as-A had broadcast that video of Hanna’s court dress ripping at the seams at Mona’s Sweet Seventeen. Hanna leaned into Mike. “You don’t have to stand by me, you know. Save yourself. Go sit with your friends.”
Mike pinched her palm. “Shut up, Hanna.”
Mike held fast to her hand as they walked down the aisle to the front bench. Hanna sat next to her lawyer, the wood cold through her thin dress. Mike retreated to the bench behind her. Emily, Spencer, and Aria slid into the front bench as well. They all exchanged a glance, but no one bothered to say anything. The defeat was clear on their faces. They’d tried every avenue to find Ali, and they’d failed again and again.
The heavy doors slammed shut, and a bailiff ordered everyone to rise. A rotund, balding judge in flowing black robes entered and settled down on the bench, gazing wearily at the girls. After a few beginning remarks, the district attorney rose. “There is reasonable evidence to prove that Miss Hastings, Miss Marin, Miss Montgomery, and Miss Fields murdered Miss Tabitha Clark at a resort in Jamaica last April.”
The judge nodded. “Their trial will take place there, as will their sentence. Extradition to Jamaica will happen immediately.”
The lawyers and the judge said more than that, but that was all Hanna heard before the sound of her heartbeat drowned out their voices. She shut her eyes, seeing only darkness. When she opened them again, Mr. Goddard was standing. “I motion to allow my clients one more night in Rosewood with their families.”
“Motion granted,” the judge decided. “All of the girls must leave the country tomorrow. Flights will be arranged, paid for by their families. US marshals will accompany each prisoner.”
And then the gavel banged, and everyone was standing again, and then Mr. Goddard was rushing them out of the courtroom and into a conference room where they could talk. The same reporters had made their way into the halls; they clawed at Hanna fiercely as she passed. Hanna glanced over her shoulder for Mike, wanting to spend every remaining second with him before she had to leave the country, but all she saw were angry faces.