Murdered at 17

by Christine Conradt

  “I’m looking for Riley Pratt,” the man said. His voice was low and masculine. They all turned to look at Riley.

  Perplexed, Riley said, “That’s me.”

  “Who are you?” Coach asked the man, protective of her students.

  “Detective Kevin Meyers,” he said and pulled back his jacket so she could see the shiny gold badge clipped to his belt. “Philadelphia Homicide.”

  Eighteen

  More Questions Than Answers

  Brooke’s entire body tightened as the homicide detective stepped through the double doors and cast a stern look at Riley who stood frozen in place. She couldn’t take her eyes off the imposing man and the bulge under his jacket that was most likely a gun.

  “Homicide?” Coach Debbie asked and met him halfway across the floor. “Was someone killed?”

  “The body of a deceased student was discovered about an hour ago at the home of Mr. Pratt,” the detective explained.

  “Who?” Riley asked, the color draining from his face.

  “She was identified by her boyfriend as Madison Fenley.” Keisha gasped and began to choke back sobs. Riley remained completely still and Coach Debbie’s chin dropped to her chest. Brooke felt like she was having some horrible out-of-body experience. Was she even present in the room? It didn’t feel like it.

  “Maddie,” Coach whispered and ran her hand over the back of her neck.

  “Where?” Riley asked. “Where was she?” Tears were forming in his eyes as well and Brooke could see he was in shock. Keisha dropped to the floor and began to weep, letting out tortured, guttural cries.

  “Can I speak to you privately?” the detective asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” Riley said and followed the detective out. Coach Debbie put her arms around Brooke and pulled her into a tight hug. Brooke couldn’t bring her arms up to hug the woman back. She didn’t deserve to be consoled. She didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy or kindness ever again.

  “I’m so sorry,” Coach whispered before letting go and repeating the same with Keisha. As Debbie knelt down, Keisha threw her arms around the woman and bawled into her shoulder.

  Brooke just stood there, watching.

  “Why? Why? Why?” Keisha kept asking. Brooke couldn’t take it. The guilt was too much. She ran into the locker room and sat on a bench.

  Digging her fingernails into her palms, Brooke squeezed her eyes closed, trying to fight the remorse. Coach Debbie came in.

  “Are you all right?”

  Brooke wanted to tell her coach that she wasn’t, that she was to blame for all of this, and she wanted nothing more than to rewind time back to the previous day and skip the party altogether, but all she could do was nod.

  “Tell me the truth, Brooke, was there a party last night?”

  Brooke nodded, unable to find words.

  “Were you there?”

  Brooke nodded again.

  “Then I’m sure the detective will want to speak with you next. Do you feel like talking to him?”

  No, she didn’t want to talk to the detective. She wanted to run out of the gym and get into her car and drive as far away as possible, maybe off a bridge or something, leaving all of this behind. But she couldn’t bring herself to do that either.

  “I understand you and Maddie were close,” Detective Meyers said as he looked up from his notepad. Brooke nodded. She was sure he could hear the pounding of her heart in her chest. It was so loud. “And you had a fight with her at Riley’s party last night?”

  “That’s what Riley and Keisha said. I don’t remember it.”

  “You don’t? Why not?”

  “Um, well, I take this medication and sometimes when I drink it makes it hard to remember things.” Brooke looked down at the cafeteria table and noticed a crumb. She pressed her thumb down on it hard and flicked it away, wishing she could flick Detective Meyers away as well.

  “What’s the medication for?”

  “A brain injury. Last year, I was in an accident.” She wanted so badly to tell him everything she knew from beginning to end, starting with the day she fell and hit her head and how Maddie had initially blamed herself for not catching her. How she’d blown up at Maddie several times and Maddie had tried to keep the friendship going until the night she believed Brooke had gone after Tryg. How Tryg had done everything he could to make Maddie jealous of other girls, including Brooke. That, because of Tryg, Maddie’s self-esteem had progressively bottomed out to the point she was willing to keep going back to him even though she knew their relationship was dysfunctional. Brooke was dying to tell him all of these things, but just couldn’t. Not yet.

  Brooke felt the detective’s eyes bore into her. He scribbled something down, which made her even more nervous.

  “Does that happen to you a lot? Where you black out?”

  “This was the first time.” Brooke lied, finding it difficult to say the words. If she mentioned it had happened before at the lake, he’d want to know why she let it happen again. She couldn’t tell him the real reason, that getting wasted was the only way for her to get away from the reality of living with IED, her symptoms, herself.

  Although she was trying hard to avoid telling him much, deep down, a part of her wanted him to figure it out. Right then and there. To look straight at her and say, “I know what you did, you lying little bitch. I know it was you. You stabbed your friend to death!” Then he’d go on to tell her why and how, the way they do on television, and then she’d know. She’d break down and apologize as they carted her off to jail, but at least the lying would all be over.

  The detective paused. Brooke looked up at him. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Could he read how conflicted she was?

  “Did Maddie ever talk to you about Tryg Bailey, her ex?”

  “Of course,” Brooke replied and exhaled, a little relieved he’d switched topics.

  “Were they on good terms?”

  “It’s kinda hard to say. It was always on and off with them. Maddie was upset with me lately because she thought I was going after Tryg but I wasn’t. I’m pretty sure he was interested in me and that made her mad.”

  “How do you know he was interested in you?” The detective’s eyes drifted over her body as he asked the question.

  “His texts. And also he saw me at a restaurant and told me he wanted to hang out.”

  The detective scribbled again on his pad. It was starting to seem like Detective Meyers believed Tryg had something to do with Maddie’s murder. Had he? Did the cops know something she didn’t? Oh my god, she thought. What if I’m helping Tryg get away with murder by hiding that knife? Conflicted about whether or not she should tell the detective about the hidden evidence, Brooke began to fidget with the pleats on her skirt.

  “What time did you leave the party last night and go home?” Meyers asked before Brooke could make a decision. Her throat tightened. Everything up to now had been the truth. Should she continue being honest or lie? Decide, dammit! Make a choice before he senses something’s wrong.

  Brooke hesitated before lowering her gaze. “I don’t know. Around one in the morning, I guess. I didn’t look at the time.”

  “Did you see Maddie as you were leaving?”

  As she looked back up into his weathered face, the image of Maddie’s corpse flashed into her head.

  “Yes,” Brooke said softly. “I didn’t say anything to her.” Even though she felt guilty lying, she told herself she just needed more time to remember. Then she’d call this detective and tell him every detail of the truth.

  “Where was she?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t really see her. But I could hear her voice as I came down the stairs. She was talking to someone in the other room.”

  “So you do remember that part?” Brooke’s stomach felt like it was filling with acid. Was he suspicious of her answer?

  “Yeah. Everything after I woke up. It’s the stuff that happened before I passed out that’s fuzzy.”

  “
You passed out at the party?” Damn! Why had she told him that?

  “Yes.”

  “Were you ever in any of the bedrooms on the upper level at Riley’s house?”

  “Yeah,” Brooke thought fast. “Upstairs, downstairs, backyard . . . everywhere.” The more she lied, the more horrible she felt, but she couldn’t see what other option she had. She needed to know more about what happened that night before she considered confessing.

  “Is there a number I can reach you in case I have more questions?” Brooke sat back, a little surprised. Was that it? The interview was over?

  “Sure. My cell phone.” The detective tore a piece of paper from his notebook and passed it over to her along with a pen. She wrote her cell number down. Taking the paper, he snapped his notebook closed.

  “Thanks. That’s all I have for now. Could you ask the other girl to come in here, please?” Brooke nodded and got up. She was almost to the door when he spoke again. “Brooke?” She turned around. “I’m sorry about your friend.” She could tell his words were genuine.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Telling her mother about Maddie’s death proved to be more difficult than talking to the detective. Coach Debbie sent the entire squad home. She told them she’d call a coach from another school and see if he could send any of his cheerleaders over to help with the camp.

  “You’re sick, aren’t you? I knew you should’ve just skipped going this morning,” her mother said when Brooke walked in the door.

  “No,” Brooke said. “Coach sent everyone home. We got some bad news.”

  Setting her cup down on the coffee table and leaning forward, her mom asked, “What?” Brooke sat down next to her on the sofa.

  “I didn’t go to a sleepover at Maddie’s last night. Riley had a huge party at his house.” She could see her mother’s expression change. “I’m sorry for lying to you but I knew if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t let me go.”

  “What happened there?” Before Brooke could answer, a text chimed in on her phone. She pulled it out of her bag.

  Jake: Hey. Did you make it home ok? Please call me.

  Brooke set the phone down. She’d have to deal with him later.

  “What happened, Brooke?” her mother asked more forcefully.

  “Maddie . . . Maddie was killed.” She watched her mother’s face register utter shock.

  “Oh my god. Maddie?” Her mother paused as she processed the news. “How?”

  “The police said she was murdered. A detective came to the high school to ask us questions this morning. He said the housekeeper found her in one of the bedrooms.” So far, she was able to tell her mother the truth. She hoped her mom didn’t launch into a series of questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

  “Oh honey.” Her mom put her arms around Brooke and pulled her into a hug. “I can’t believe this. It’s horrible. Do they know who did it?”

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Did you see her there? Did she say anything to you that could help them figure it out?”

  “I don’t remember much about the party. I drank a few shots and I think that, in combination with my medication, made me pass out. According to Keisha and Riley, I got into a fight with her, though.”

  “A fight?” She could hear an edge in her mother’s voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Over what?”

  “I think Tryg. He’s been interested in me for months, and I told Maddie the other day that he was pursuing me and she should dump him but, anyway, somehow I became the bad guy.”

  “Was he at the party too?”

  Brooke nodded. “I think the police might suspect me. Because of the fight. He asked me questions about it.” Brooke wanted to tell her mother more, just spill everything she knew about what happened, but something inside prevented her from doing it.

  “Did you answer their questions honestly?” Brooke nodded, even though she hadn’t.

  “Then I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. They’re probably asking everyone at that party the same thing.” Brooke nodded again, hoping she was right. “You don’t think it could’ve been Tryg, do you?”

  Tryg again. Yes, please! she silently pleaded. Let it have been Tryg and not me. What if he came into the room looking for her, and Maddie caught him and they got in a fight right there while she was passed out? Then he stabbed Maddie and left? As Brooke imagined how it could have happened, she felt a weight lift. But what about her phone? The photos? How would Tryg have taken those? And how would the blood have gotten on her hands and shirt? The evidence pointed at her. Brooke found herself lost in her thoughts for a moment, and as she came out of it, her mother was dialing the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Linda. To give her our condolences.” Her mom stopped short and set the phone down. “I think we should go over there in person. See if there’s anything we can do.” Her mom hurried to the closet to get her coat. Brooke sat there for a moment, unable to move. Tell her, Brooke thought. Tell her the truth. Tell her you can’t handle seeing Maddie’s mom right now because you’re the reason Maddie’s dead. Tell her everything you remember about the party and waking up to find Maddie dead. Every moment that you pretend not to know anything, the lie grows. Stop it now. Tell Mom the truth.

  “Are you coming?” her mother asked as she turned back with their coats. Shoving her hands into her pockets to hide the fact she was shaking, Brooke just stared at her.

  “What’s wrong, Brooke?”

  This was her chance to come clean. But as much as she wanted to blurt out her horrible secret, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Nothing,” she said, slowly accepting her jacket. “Let’s go.”

  Nineteen

  Surprises at the Dead Girl’s House

  Brooke stared, lost in thought, out the window of her mother’s car as the familiar sights in Maddie’s neighborhood sped past. How many times had her mother driven her here over the years so she could hang out at Maddie’s house or brought Maddie back home after a sleepover? Brooke thought it would be hard to drive down Maddie’s street, knowing it would probably be the last time, but it wasn’t. The anguish and guilt and grief had somehow run dry over the last eight hours and Brooke felt hollow and empty, like she’d stepped outside of herself and could only observe. It was the same feeling she’d had when the detective showed up at school. At least it was better than the stabbing guilt.

  There were several cars already in front of the house, so Brooke’s mom parked down the block and they walked together through the piles of red leaves up the walk. Four little pumpkins sat in a row near the door, left there by Maddie. Halloween was her favorite holiday and she’d always wanted to decorate so early that her mother had made a rule that she couldn’t put up anything spooky until mid-September. She’s going to miss Halloween this year, Brooke thought. The reality that all the celebrations and events were going to continue on without her was still sinking in.

  “Carley, Brooke . . .” Linda said, her cheeks stained with tears as she opened the door. “Please, come in.” Brooke watched as her mother wrapped Linda in a hug before giving one of her own. No one said anything.

  They followed Maddie’s mom into the small living room, however, there was no place to sit. There were already eight people there, one that Brooke recognized as Maddie’s older cousin Paul. They all looked like they’d been crying, and one woman who resembled Linda held one of Maddie’s old teddy bears in her lap. This is torture, Brooke thought. But you deserve it. You deserve it for what you did to Maddie.

  “There’s some coffee in the dining room,” Paul told them. “And doughnuts, crackers and cheese . . . people have been bringing stuff over.” Brooke nodded and walked away from the group into the dining room, where several trays of random food items and a carafe of coffee with mismatched mugs were set out. She wasn’t hungry but she took a cracker anyway and poured herself some coffee. She could hear everyone talking in the other
room, and even though she knew she deserved to sit and witness everyone’s grief, she couldn’t bring herself to go back in there. Instead, she decided to go up to Maddie’s room. Something compelled her to go see it one more time.

  The door was open a crack and Brooke hesitated before going in, suddenly feeling like she was invading Maddie’s space. Maybe there was something in there that would help her remember the previous night. There probably wasn’t, but Brooke hoped it was possible.

  She slipped into the room, where Maddie’s clothes were still piled on the bed. She must’ve been trying stuff on, deciding what to wear to the party, Brooke thought as she picked up one of Maddie’s shirts. Green. Maddie’s favorite color.

  Sighing, Brooke let the top fall back on the pile and wandered over to the desk. The screensaver on her laptop was a photo of the squad. Maddie’s smiling face beaming out from the middle of the group. Brooke smiled. In a weird way, it felt good to be in Maddie’s room. Brooke could almost pretend that Maddie was still here, very much happy and alive.

  She thought back to the first time she and Maddie had ever seen a picture of a naked man. It had been in this very room. They were ten, maybe eleven years old, and Brooke had found a tattered romance novel someone had left on the bench at the park. Curious, she’d brought it to Maddie’s house, and when they’d opened it up, there was a little card, the size of a baseball card with a fully nude man on it. He was ripped, with biceps the size of balloons and huge thighs. With the exception of a shock of wavy black hair, his whole body was shaved. It made it easy to see his private parts.

  “Is that what they really look like?” Maddie had asked, aghast.

  “They must,” Brooke had said, semi-horrified. “It’s a photo, right? It has to be real unless they photoshopped it.”

  “Ewwwww!” Maddie had said and dropped the picture, vigorously rubbing her hands on the carpet to eliminate any perceived germs.

  Simultaneously, the two girls had burst into laughter. Rolling around next to Maddie’s bed, they’d howled and cackled until their bellies ached, and as soon as one would stop, the other would laugh harder. It had gone on until Maddie’s mom had come up to see what the commotion was about.