Murdered at 17

by Christine Conradt

  “No fever. Have you been drinking?” Was it a trick question? Of course she’d been drinking. Her mother had to be able to smell it on her breath, right? The stench of booze must’ve been emanating from her pores.

  “No,” Brooke lied. Her mother stepped back. Brooke could tell from the way she studied her that she didn’t believe her.

  “You’re acting really weird tonight. Did you get into a fight or something? Did Maddie ask you to leave?” Brooke could feel the pressure building inside her. With every question, her mom was getting closer to the truth and she needed her to stop.

  “No! I’m fine!” Brooke retorted. “I have cheer camp today and I’m exhausted and I wish you’d stop interrogating me every time I walk in the door.”

  “Brooke!”

  “Please. Just let me take a shower and get some sleep!”

  Brooke blew past her mom and locked herself in the bathroom. She turned the hot water on full blast. Expecting her mother to bang on the door and demand that she talk some more, Brooke waited for a moment as steam filled the little bathroom. But there was no knock on the door. Maybe her mother was too tired to fight too.

  Taking off the hoodie, Brooke tossed it on the floor and then peeled off her shirt. Some of Maddie’s blood had soaked through the fabric leaving a reddish smear on her bare skin. Brooke shoved the shirt into the trash, pulled out the bag, rolled it up, and hid it behind a pile of towels in the cabinet. She hastily replaced the trash bag with a new one, stripped off the rest of her clothes, and stepped into the shower.

  Brooke closed her eyes and let the hot water splash into her face and mouth, mixing with her tears. She pictured Maddie sitting across from her at lunch, laughing and talking and eating sweet and sour chicken with chopsticks. Brooke dug her nails into the grout between the tiles, trying to push the image from her mind. She’d never see her again, or talk to her, or share a frozen yogurt after school. They’d never sit together at their favorite table at the Mexican restaurant. She’d never walk into the gym for cheer practice and see Maddie perched on the bleachers scrambling to do the homework she should’ve done the night before. She’d never walk to class with her and gossip about the teachers at school or why the football team couldn’t seem to win a game or what they were going to wear to prom. There would be no Maddie at graduation or spring break. There was no more Maddie.

  Brooke thought about all the dreams and plans Maddie had shared with her over the years. She wanted to be married by twenty-five and have kids by twenty-seven. She wanted to live somewhere warm. Maddie hated the cold. She wanted to major in hospitality and be the manager, or even owner, of a big hotel somewhere near the beach.

  “What a perfect job that would be, don’t you think?” she’d asked Brooke when they were sitting at lunch in the cafeteria last year. “You’d go to work every day and look out at the ocean. Everyone you deal with would be in a good mood because they’re on vacation.”

  “You’re still going to deal with pissed-off people,” Brooke had said. “Especially when they’re on vacation. It’s their one chance to get away from work and school, so they want things to be perfect.”

  “You might be right about that. But at least it’s better than working someplace where people are always unhappy. Besides, if I was the manager, I could give them discounts and stuff. I’d give you free nights in a suite so you could come hang out with me. The next morning, I’d just go downstairs and already be at work.” That was Maddie. Always trying to find a way to spend time together.

  Twisting the faucet off, Brooke wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out, trembling. Did she resent Maddie for the accident? Deep down? For not catching her and allowing her to fall? Was that why she killed her? When Maddie had accused her of going after Tryg, it had certainly hurt, but that had a lot to do with the mind games Tryg had been playing for months. She’d watched Maddie become obsessed with getting Tryg back, doing anything she could to garner his attention. The accusation made her mad but Brooke was convinced that Tryg, with all his manipulation intended to make Maddie jealous, was at fault. Was she secretly angry that Maddie broke her promise to stick by her no matter what? Hearing Maddie say she wanted space had cut through her like nothing ever had before. She’d always believed that Maddie would hold true to her word and be the one person still standing even if everyone else had walked away.

  Brooke sat down on the edge of the tub and rubbed her eyes. The pain in her head was getting worse. Maybe there wasn’t a reason, she thought. With her disorder, maybe she didn’t need one.

  She tried to analyze her motives for taking her best friend’s life, but in her current state, it was hard to find any clarity. She couldn’t think about the whys. She needed to think about what she was going to do next.

  Through the steamy glass she could see her own distorted image. Even her reflection was unclear. How disgustingly apropos.

  Wiping the steam from the mirror, Brooke studied her face. I’m not a bad person, she thought. I would never hurt anyone on purpose. I have a disorder that I can’t control. I didn’t ask for it and I’m doing everything I can to get better. I’m not some coldhearted killer who doesn’t care about anyone else. I loved Maddie. She was my best friend.

  It was just a matter of time before the cops came to ask her questions. What would she tell them? The truth? That she got into a fight with Maddie, passed out, and then freaked completely when she woke up to find her dead? They’re going to assume I did it, Brooke concluded. They’re going to ask questions I don’t have answers for. I just need time to remember. To see if the missing memories come back.

  Once she remembered what happened, she’d go to the police and tell them the truth. Even if I realize I’m the killer, I’ll be honest, she promised herself. Or if I recall someone else doing it, I’ll tell them that. Either way, I just need time to remember.

  Okay, you need to take a pill and get some sleep. Then get up and act normal. Go to cheer camp today just like you’d planned. If anyone asks, you saw Maddie as you were leaving and she was perfectly fine.

  Brooke wondered if anyone had found her body yet. At any moment, the phone would ring and someone would be calling with bad news. News they thought would shock her, news they thought she didn’t already know. When they called, she’d have to pretend she was hearing it for the first time. She’d have to act normal. But Brooke was convinced nothing would ever be normal again.

  Pulling her phone from her jeans, Brooke wiped it off with a wet tissue. Then she logged on and deleted the photos of Maddie’s body one by one in rapid succession, trying to erase each one from her memory as it disappeared. Once they were gone, the last picture that she and Maddie had taken together popped up. It was at the karaoke bar the night she’d met Jake. Right before they’d sang their favorite song. The same night Tryg had sent her that stupid text that sent Maddie over the edge.

  Brooke stared at it for a long time. She wanted more than anything to somehow rewind and go back to that night and change it all. She wanted the laughing, happy Maddie back. The one she saw in the picture, their heads pressed together, caught up in the fun. Happiness died with Maddie, she thought. Neither one of us will ever be happy again.

  Brooke opened the medicine cabinet and scanned the prescription bottles until she found the painkillers the doctor had prescribed after her accident. That’s exactly what she needed right now. Kill the pain. Escape all of this. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, hopefully this will all be some crazy nightmare that never really happened. Brooke popped two of the pills in her mouth and sucked them down with a handful of water.

  Hiding the garbage bag in her dresser, Brooke climbed into bed. There was still no call. She pictured Maddie’s body lying there against the wall, waiting to be found. What if no one found her until Riley’s parents came home from their trip? The thought sickened Brooke. Forcing her eyes closed, she whispered into her pillow, “I’m sorry, Maddie. I’m so sorry.” Then she closed her eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

&nb
sp; Seventeen

  Before the Ax Falls

  Do it now, before anyone sees you. Brooke drummed her fingers against the open window of her car door as she stared at the back door of the shoe store. This is what being a criminal feels like, she thought. This is what it feels like to be a vile human being.

  When Brooke had awakened, unsure if she’d ever really slept, the painkiller had kicked in enough that the tension in her neck and shoulders was gone. Her anxiety level had dropped, artificially of course, but at least it was something. And she was able to remember a little more about the previous night. She recalled doing a shot with the guy in the brown leather jacket. She wasn’t sure at what point in the evening that happened, but it gave her hope that perhaps more memories would surface once she could find her focus.

  The little bit of rest she did get allowed her to make a mental list of what needed to be done:

  One, get rid of the knife and pillowcase and shirt so Mom doesn’t find them.

  Two, go to cheer camp and act normal.

  Three, focus on remembering what happened.

  Should I do this? Brooke wondered, looking around again to make sure she was alone. This is crazy. I should just drive myself to the police station right now and turn over the knife, telling them everything. But then the question came: Tell them what exactly? Until she remembered more, there was nothing to tell. And her fingerprints were now on everything. Getting rid of the knife made sense. She never saw anyone come back here. Not store employees, or vagrants, or anyone else. If she hid the knife in that filthy, abandoned sofa that had been there for months, she could always come back and show the cops where it was when she was ready.

  How ironic that she picked the dumpster belonging to one of Maddie’s favorite stores. A store they shopped at regularly on the weekends or when they felt like ditching class. Brooke looked at the clock. 7:25 a.m. The shoe store didn’t open for two and a half more hours. There was probably no one inside. No one would see her. Just do it already.

  Holding her stomach in a feeble attempt to calm her nerves, Brooke popped the trunk and got out of her car. She pulled out the plastic garbage bag, hurried to the gray sofa wedged behind the dumpster. It was disgusting. As soon as Brooke stepped up to it, a musty smell hit her. Months of being in the elements had stained the fabric and the yellowing stuffing was sticking out of seams and holes, probably eaten through by rats.

  Grossed out, Brooke peeled back one of the cushions. Several glossy brown cockroaches scattered. Brooke jumped back, disgusted. Finding her nerve once again, she closed her eyes and stuffed the plastic bag deep into the sofa, then replaced the cushion exactly the way it was. There. Done.

  Glancing around again, Brooke ran back to her car and got in. Grabbing the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer from her purse, she squirted a huge glob onto her hands and rubbed them together. Brooke breathed in the clean, bleachy smell, wishing it would erase all traces of what she’d just done.

  Was she doing the right thing? I can’t risk Mom spotting them at home, she thought. Besides, no one saw me. I can come back and get it at any time.

  Brooke started the car and drove away.

  On her way to the high school, she considered driving past Riley’s house just to see if there were any police cars there. She hoped someone had found Maddie’s body by now, that it wasn’t still lying there in that strange, contorted position.

  I can’t go there, she rationalized. That’s exactly the type of thing killers on those crime shows do. They get caught hanging out at the scene of the crime or volunteering to help search for a body they’d hidden themselves. Oh my god, she thought, disgusted with herself. I’ve become one of those criminals on TV that hides evidence and lies to the cops.

  Resisting the urge to detour past Riley’s, Brooke drove to Bellamy and parked in the student lot. She looked toward the entrance and the banner she and Keisha and Maddie had made welcoming the kids from the neighboring middle schools to cheer camp. She couldn’t believe she had to go teach twelve-year-olds how to toe tuck and do back handsprings and full twists now. It all seemed so trite. Fuck.

  Zipping up her jacket, she exited the car and walked into the school. There was no one there yet. The wide-open, silent hallways felt creepy, so she decided to go to the gym. When she opened the door, she saw Keisha and Riley pulling puffy blue tumbling mats from a stack against the wall. Keisha waved.

  “You’re here! I thought you’d bail,” Keisha said in her effervescent morning voice. Riley looked exhausted.

  “You must be so hungover,” he said. Brooke nodded, unsure what to say. She wanted to ask him what happened last night, what he remembered, but wasn’t sure how.

  “I drank way too much,” she said, hoping one of them would offer to fill in the gaps.

  “That’s an understatement,” Keisha said, judgment in her tone.

  “We all did,” Riley said and then addressed Keisha, “Well, except you.”

  “The last thing I remember was sitting by the pool with Jake doing shots.” It was a lie. She remembered the fight with Maddie afterward but she wanted to know how much they recalled. It worked.

  “You don’t remember getting in a fight with Maddie?” Keisha asked. It worked. Yes, please, Keisha. Continue.

  “We fought?”

  “Big-time.”

  “Over what?” Brooke noticed she was wringing her hands and forced herself to separate them. She felt guilty lying to them the way she was, but what choice did she have? She needed to find out as much as she could.

  “The asshole,” Riley interjected. “You know who I mean.”

  “Tryg?” Brooke asked, still playing innocent.

  “Yeah,” Keisha added. “When I came into the kitchen, you two were going at it hard. I thought you were going to hit her.”

  “I didn’t, though, right?” Brooke asked, praying she hadn’t punched Maddie in front of all those people. She’d hoped hearing Keisha relay the details of the fight would help her remember, but nothing was coming back. Yet.

  “Maddie kinda removed herself from the situation and your boyfriend came over and tried to calm you down.”

  That’s right. Jake had tried to calm her down. That was something she hadn’t remembered. And she hadn’t been violent with Maddie. At least not at that point. Brooke felt at least a little encouraged.

  “I don’t even know what happened to him. I guess he left the party without me,” Brooke said, hoping one of them would take the bait and give her more information.

  Riley shrugged and dropped his end of the mat. The three walked back across the gym to get another. Brooke wanted to ask if either had seen Maddie after the fight, but knew she shouldn’t.

  “I thought you guys left together to be honest,” Riley said.

  “He wanted you to, but you wanted to stay,” Keisha said. “You were screaming at him by the front door. I decided to stay out of it.” That part was new information. Had she really been screaming? Or was Keisha exaggerating? She could probably find that part out from Jake later. She was more concerned with the last time anyone had seen Maddie.

  “What a night,” Brooke muttered. “Did Maddie go home with Tryg?” Even as the question came out, Brooke’s heart began to beat harder.

  “I don’t know. I left around midnight,” Keisha said. “They were still outside trying to talk it through.”

  So Maddie and Tryg were together at midnight. That was after Brooke had fought with Jake. At least the timeline was becoming a little more clear. Maddie was killed sometime between midnight and 2:37 a.m., which was the time stamp on the first photo.

  “Me either. That girl Ciara and I went into the den and ended up falling asleep.”

  “Good thing I woke your ass up this morning,” Keisha said to Riley, proud of herself.

  “Yeah, thanks a lot,” Riley said sarcastically as the three heaved another mat off the stack.

  Brooke felt the anxiety rise as Riley and Keisha turned the conversation back to meaningless chitchat. How could
Riley get up and get ready for camp without noticing one of his friends was dead in a guest room? He’d had a freaking party. Didn’t he even bother to look in the various rooms and clear out hungover party guests before locking up his house and leaving?

  Brooke found herself getting angry at Riley for leaving Maddie’s body there alone, and then caught herself. Stop being hypocritical. That’s no different than what you did, she admonished. Except you also took evidence.

  “Good morning!” They turned to see Coach Debbie in her typical black track pants and gray polo shirt entering with a box of pom-poms.

  “Good morning!” Keisha yelled back, ebullient as always. The elation in her voice stabbed Brooke’s brain.

  Debbie set the box down and looked at the watch on her wrist. “Where’s Maddie?” She looked directly at Brooke.

  “I don’t know,” Brooke said, another pang of guilt shooting through her. Then added, “She said she’d be here.” Brooke could hear her voice wavering. She’s going to know I’m lying. Just come clean right now and tell her where Maddie is.

  But she couldn’t. Could she? No. What was she thinking? You’ll eventually piece it together and then you can come clean. Just stick to your plan.

  Coach looked from Brooke to Riley.

  “You guys didn’t party last night, did you?” Coach was cool, but not cool enough to be honest with when it came to minors drinking alcohol. Brooke and Riley shook their heads.

  “Well, good. Because you’re role-modeling school spirit today for these kids. I’m gonna go get more pom-poms from the storage closet. Brooke, can you help me?”

  “Sure,” Brooke said, knowing she couldn’t get out of it. The last thing Brooke wanted, though, was to be alone with Coach Debbie, answering questions about Maddie’s absence.

  As she followed Coach toward her office, a tall man in a crisp blue shirt and sport coat stepped into the doorway of the gym. Brooke immediately noticed the serious look on his face.

  “Can I help you?” Coach asked, cautious. It was odd that some man they’d never seen would be roaming the halls of a high school so early in the morning on a Saturday. Maybe it was the father of one of the campers?