The letter was dated September 19th, six days before Brooke was killed. My eyebrows shot up in surprise as Josh and I looked at each other in silence. Ohmigod. Scott had it bad for Brooke. I’d talked to him. Stephanie and I even skipped school and drove to Mohawk Centennial High School–and he never mentioned he was in love with her.
I don’t want to live without you Brooke, and I don’t think I can let you live without me.
What if he killed Brooke because she didn’t share his feelings?
“Wow, that’s wild,” murmured Josh.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I stuffed the USB stick and letter in my pocket, then closed the locker door and locked it. We scurried out of the bus terminal and hopped back in Josh’s car.
“So, what do we do now?” Josh asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Scott’s obviously the killer. He has a motive.”
“Maybe, but he might have an alibi for the night she was killed. We have to find out where he was the night Brooke was murdered.”
“Yeah, good point.”
“Let’s go to your house and find out what’s on the flash drive,” I said.
He nodded in agreement as he reversed out of the parking space, then veered through the parking lot. A woman pushing a stroller crossed in front of us, and three teenage girls sporting Urban Behaviour clothes giggled while getting out of a teal blue Prius. He swerved around the people walking into the bus terminal and turned right onto the street.
A short time later, we pulled up to Josh’s massive house. He put the car into park and turned off the ignition. We got out of the car, and I followed Josh up the walkway to the antique wooden front door. He unlocked it, and I followed him inside. The entryway floor was made of marble, and high ceilings were all throughout the house. I peeked in the living room and saw that plaque again that said: Rich people plan for three generations. Poor people plan for Saturday night.
Josh led me up the spiral stairs and into his large bedroom. His double bed was in the center of the room, and a large flat screen TV hung on the wall in front of it. Along the adjacent wall was a shelf full of football trophies. His computer desk occupied the corner next to his closet.
I dug the flash drive out of my pocket and handed it to Josh, then sat down on the bed. He walked over to his computer and brought it to life, then stuck the USB stick into the hard drive and gestured me to come take a look. I sprung off the bed and sprinted towards the computer. As a video started playing, my breath got caught in my throat: Brooke and Mike having sex appeared on the screen. My heart leaped in my chest. I slowly backed away from the computer and covered my mouth with my hand.
“Who is that?” Josh asked.
“That’s Brooke’s ex-boyfriend.”
“How do you know him?”
“I thought that maybe he had something to do with Brooke’s murder, so I went to see him.”
He gawked at me in disbelief, and raised his arms to his side “Well…what did he say?”
I sat back down on the bed. “They broke up a few months ago. Plus, he has an alibi for the night she was murdered.”
He looked back at the computer screen and tilted his head.
“Wow, who knew Brooke was so flexible.” I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked.
“Okay, the show’s over.”
Josh quickly pulled out the flash drive.
“Why would she feel the need to keep it hidden in a locker?”
He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “Look, why are we just standing here? I think Scott is the best lead we have. The guy was obviously obsessed with her and didn’t want her to be with anybody but him, which gives him a motive. I think we should go to the police.”
“We will, but first we have to find out where he was when Brooke was murdered.”
“How are we gonna do that?” Josh asked.
“I can send him a message on Facebook to meet me somewhere public. I’ll tell him about the letter we found and make him tell me where he was the night Brooke was killed, or else I’ll go to the police with the letter.” Josh gazed at me as the corners of his mouth curved into a smile. “What?” I blurted.
As he slowly stepped towards me and put his hand on my face, I had flutters in my stomach.
He slowly leaned in, whispered, “You bad ass,” into my mouth, then kissed me. As he combed his fingers through my hair, I rested my hands on his hard chest. He kissed me harder, then gently pushed me towards his bed. He lay me down, climbed on top of me, and buried his face in my bare neck. As I ran my hands up and down his back, he placed his hands on my shoulders and slowly lowered them towards my chest.
“Wait…wait…I can’t do this,” I said, sitting up. “I’m not ready...I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” he said.
An awkward silence passed between us, and I bit my lip. “Maybe I should go,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah…I-I might have something to do for my mom…so…”
“Okay…sure…I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, then stood up and extended his hand to me.
I took his hand, and we smiled at each other, then he led me out of his room and down the stairs. We put on our shoes and left.
***
Shortly after dinner, I was in the kitchen helping my mom wash the dishes. Claire, Jessica, and Katie were still avoiding me like the plague, so I didn’t have any plans. When I was done helping my mom, I went to my room and jumped on my computer, then opened a browser and went to Facebook. I went to Scott’s page and wrote him a message, asking him to meet me at Goodies Café tomorrow afternoon. When I was done, I plopped myself on my bed. I stared at the ceiling and found myself counting the number of tiles. Before long, my Motorola bleeped. I figured it was Mark texting me back. I got up and picked up my phone from my computer desk, but it wasn’t Mark. It was a text from Stephanie:
Wanna come over and watch a movie or something?
I had to think about it for a second. Things between us had been a little weird ever since she caught me snooping through her things. Plus, I’d accused her of killing Brooke; however, if she was willing to put it behind her, then so was I. Besides, I was in no position to turn away friends.
I texted her back:
Sure. Can you come pick me up?
She wrote back:
Be there in ten mins.
Stephanie’s mom wasn’t home, so it was just the two of us.
We decided to make some popcorn and put on a movie. We searched Netflix and finally agreed to watch a movie called Devil. I loved scary movies, but Stephanie not so much. Every time she got frightened, she looked away; she probably missed more than half the movie. When the movie was done, we went upstairs and painted each other’s nails. I painted her nails black, and she painted mine hot pink.
“Thanks for coming over,” Stephanie said.
“Thanks for inviting me…especially after the other day,” I said. She smirked. “I’m really sorry I accused you of killing Brooke.”
“That’s okay. Given the situation, I probably would have thought the same thing.”
“So…have you given any more thought about going to the police?”
“I told you, no cops.”
I told her about the bloody shirt I found in Claire’s closet. She then said she’d think about going to the police. I decided to tell her that Josh and I had broken into Brooke’s house and about the key we found. I also told her what was in the locker.
“So, do you think Scott killed Brooke?”
“Well, he’s looking pretty guilty right now, but I really don’t know what to think. It depends on if he has an alibi during the time Brooke was murdered.” I finished painting her baby toe, then replaced the cover on the nail polish bottle. “I wrote him a Facebook message and asked him to meet me at Goodies Café tomorrow.”
My Motorola chimed, indicating I had a new message. I
carefully stood up, trying not to mess up my wet toenails. I then waddled towards Stephanie’s dresser and scooped up my phone; it was a Facebook message from Scott.
“Ohmigod, it’s Scott writing back!”
“What did he say?” Stephanie asked.
I clicked on the Facebook icon and scrolled to my new message. It said:
I’ll be there at 4pm.
“He said he’s gonna meet me there at 4.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY—I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE A BLUE SEDAN
As I sat by the window in the café and scanned Facebook on my Motorola, I decided to send Josh a text to let him know where I was meeting Scott. I looked around and noticed I was surrounded by many empty seats. A few tables over, a middle-aged man in a striped blue shirt sipped his coffee and read the newspaper. At another table across from me, a young couple was engaged in deep conversation as they held hands across the table.
Jazz music blared from the speakers, and the sweet aroma of flavored coffee wafted in the air. I sipped my vanilla latte and thought about the possible suspects in Brooke’s murder. Claire wasn’t with Angela the night Brooke was killed, and Stephanie saw her by Brooke’s house that same night. Scott clearly was obsessed with Brooke and didn’t want her to be with anybody but him.
The door suddenly opened, sending a cold breeze my way. It was Scott. He wore a black Beatles T-shirt, a black and grey striped hooded jacket, and black skin tight jeans. Our eyes met as he walked towards me. As he sat down at the empty seat across from me, I bit my lip. “So…we meet again,” he said.
“Yeah…thanks for meeting me,” I said.
The smell of marijuana radiated from him.
“So, why am I here?” he said, his voice menacing.
“I just need to ask you something.”
He leaned back in his seat. “Well go ahead,” he said. “Ask me.”
I took a deep breath, and my leg began to shake. “Um…where were you the night Brooke was killed?” I asked, growing nervous.
His mouth slowly curled into a devilish smile. “You know something, don’t you?”
My pulse quickened. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “What do I know?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
“I don’t know, Hanna. You tell me.”
I began fidgeting with a button on my sweater. “I found a letter you wrote Brooke, telling her how much you love her.”
His posture was stiff as he cocked his head to one side. “So?”
“It was dated six days before Brooke died.”
“Are you suggesting I loved Brooke so much, I killed her?”
“No, I’m suggesting you killed Brooke because you couldn’t have her. According to your letter, you don’t want to live without her and you can’t let her live without you.”
He slammed his hand on the table. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You had no right to read that letter! That was private!” His eyes bulged in fury, and the veins on his forehead protruded.
My heart began pounding in my chest. I looked out the window and noticed how dark the sky was getting. A sudden crack of lightning made me jump.
“Just tell me where you were the night Brooke died,” I pressed.
“I’m not telling you shit! I’m not gonna feed into your sick, twisted imagination!” As he stood up and marched out the door, I grabbed my phone and chased after him.
“I’m gonna go to the police with that letter!” I exclaimed.
He stopped walking and slowly turned around to face me. My hair whirled around in the wind.
“Go ahead. You can’t prove anything,” he taunted me, then turned to leave.
As I watched him sprint across the parking lot to his car, the air got caught in my throat: he drove a blue sedan...the very same sedan that had been stalking me...the very same sedan that tried to run me over at the homecoming game.
Scott turned back around and noticed the look of shock on my face, then began to come towards me. I started running.
“Hanna! Wait!” he yelled.
I didn’t stop; I just kept running.
He ran back to his car, jumped in, and followed me. It started to rain; hard. My clothes were soaked, and my hair clung to my face. I was out of breath. My chest was burning, but I kept running. I remembered a shortcut to my house, so I ran across the field–but I slipped on the grass and landed on my knee. I lay there on all fours for a second, trying to get my bearings. Meanwhile, Scott stopped the car at the curb and ran towards me. When I saw him coming, I got up and picked up the pace.
“Somebody help me!” I screamed, but there wasn’t anybody in sight.
My knee was killing me, but I knew I had to keep running; my life depended on it.
There was another bolt of lightning, and a crash of thunder. My heart was thudding so hard, I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Tears streamed down my face.
Suddenly, I could see my house in the distance. As I got closer, I could see that my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I looked over my shoulder as I ran; Scott was getting closer to me. As I ran, I dug my hand in my cargo pants pocket and fumbled with my keys. I dropped them, stopped to pick them up, and continued to run. The more I ran, the more sore my feet got.
“Hanna! Stop!” I heard him yell, but there was no way I was going to do that.
I reached my front door and tried unlocking it with the key; my hand kept shaking, though, and I couldn’t get the key in the hole. The whole time, he kept getting closer. Finally, I unlocked the door and pushed my way inside my house. I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it. Scott arrived and started banging on the door.
“Hanna, let me explain! It’s not what you think!” I leaned against the door and tried to catch my breath. “I saw the way you looked at me in the parking lot! Yes, I was following you, but not to hurt you!”
I slid my back against the door, down towards the floor. I then sat on my bum and lifted my pant leg to look at my knee.
“Go away! I’m gonna call the police!”
“I wanna find out who killed Brooke as bad as you do! You told me you were a suspect, so I figured you were trying to figure out who killed Brooke to clear your name! I thought that maybe if I followed you, you’d lead me to the one who did it!”
“I don’t believe you! I’m calling the police!” I slowly got up and limped towards the phone in the kitchen as he continued to bang on the door. I picked up the phone and dialed 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Please help me! Somebody outside my house is trying to kill me, and I think he killed my friend, Brooke, too!”
“What’s your location?”
The banging suddenly stopped.
“I’m at 544 Fiddler Avenue! Please hurry!”
I slammed down the phone and staggered towards the window. I peered through the blinds, but I didn’t see anybody. It was still raining pretty hard. I went to my room and peeled the wet clothes off my body, then slipped on my pink Juicy velour track suit. I went to the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my damp hair. I’d plugged in the blow dryer to dry my hair when I heard a noise from the other room; my stomach lurched. I carefully put down the blow dryer and lingered into the living room. There was a boom of thunder, and the lights flickered. Somebody was banging on the door from outside. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard, I tasted blood. I tiptoed closer to the door.
BANG! BANG!
“Hanna! Open the door!”
I suddenly realized I recognized that voice: it was Josh! I ran to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it open. Josh was standing there in faded Diesel jeans and a charcoal-colored Hugo Boss sweater. Water streamed down his forehead.
“Josh! You scared me half to death!” I said as I ran into his arms. He was soaking wet, but I didn’t care. “What are you doing here?”
“I got your text that you were meeting Scott. I was worried, so I came to see if you were okay.”
&n
bsp; “Josh Scott is the killer! You were right! He chased me here! I already called the police, and they’re on their way!”
“Good. Everything is gonna be okay now.”
“Josh, he’s the one who’s been following me! He drives the blue sedan!”
“Ssh…it’s okay.”
As he wrapped his arms around me, I felt so safe. The front door was still open, and I saw blue and red flashing lights.
“I think the police are here!” I said, feeling a sense of relief.
Two police officers appeared in the doorway. One was tall and slim, with a long face and pointy chin. The other was a little shorter and kind of stumpy, with a small nose and round face. Detective Walters walked up behind them. He clenched his jaw.
“Hello, Miss Clark.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE—WHICH WAY TO HATERSFIELD?
We gathered in the living room and sat on the couch. I told the cops about the letter we found that Scott had written to Brooke, then got up and retrieved it from my bedroom. When I returned, I handed the letter to Detective Walters. He unfolded it and read it to himself, then shifted his eyes towards me when he was done reading it. I proceeded to tell him that I sent Scott a Facebook message to meet me at Goodies Café, then I told him about the things he’d said to me and how he’d chased me to my house. All the while, Detective Walters wrote notes in his little black notepad.
“You put yourself in a dangerous situation, Miss Clark.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head.
“Just let us do our job, okay?” he said.
I nodded my head.
“We contacted your cell phone provider and it appears you were telling the truth about the texts between you and Miss Tillier.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. “I’m still questioning where you were between the time you called Brooke and your mother though.” He put the letter and his notepad in the inside pocket of his trench coat. “I’ll be in touch.” He stood up to walk away. Suddenly, he stopped short.
Masquerade of Lies Page 18