And yet, what upset Brooke the most about that image was that she wasn’t there to say goodbye to her best friend. It almost didn’t matter if they arrested her. She just wanted two things: to be able to go to Maddie’s funeral to say farewell, and to know the whole truth about Maddie’s death. If she’d done it, she needed to remember exactly what had happened leading up to her best friend’s death. And if Jake or Tryg had murdered Maddie, why?
Twenty-Two
Ossa Joins the Team
Ossa Weilers’s office was nothing like Brooke imagined it would be. She’d anticipated a big corporate suite in some glass-and-steel high-rise downtown. Instead they had pulled up to a house that had been converted, at least the bottom floor of it, into a law office. This used to be someone’s living room, Brooke thought as she looked around at the heavy drapes and oversize furniture.
Brooke looked over at Alex, who flipped through a magazine, not committing to any of the articles, and at her mother, who just stared at the hardwood floor. On the table, Brooke noticed three piles of business cards. She found the one with Ossa’s name on it and picked it up.
Ossa Weilers, Attorney at Law. Criminal Defense.
Criminal. It sounded so ugly. Why couldn’t it just say defense? Aren’t people supposed to be innocent until proven guilty? Brooke folded the card in her hand. How many criminals had sat on the very chair she was sitting on? Brooke wondered. How many of them were innocent compared to those who were guilty? And how many were like her in that they didn’t know?
“How did you find her?” Brooke asked, passing the card to her mother.
“She was a referral from Alex’s divorce attorney.” Alex looked up at the mention of his name.
“She’s supposed to be very good,” he added and turned his attention back down to the magazine he wasn’t reading.
The door opened and a tall, thin woman with frizzy hair smiled at them.
“Come on back,” she said. Brooke smiled despite the tightness in her throat and followed Alex and her mother into the den, which had been converted into an office. The woman shut the door even though there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
“I’m Ossa Weilers,” she said and shook Alex’s hand, then her mother’s, then Brooke’s. “Please sit.”
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” her mother said.
“My clients are almost always on short notice,” Ossa said with a grin. There was something about the woman that made Brooke feel calm. “I have some questions for you, Brooke.”
Brooke sat up straighter, folding her hands in her lap. She wanted to give Ossa as much information as she needed.
“Sure.”
“Have you ever been taken into custody before? Any brushes with the law?”
“No.”
“Any negative contact in the past with a police officer?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Okay, good. I want you to understand your rights. You have the right to have an attorney present whenever they speak to you. If they try to ask you questions, or engage in any type of conversation when I’m not there, tell them you’re going to refrain from talking to them until your lawyer arrives.”
“Okay.”
“When we go in to see them, they’re going to ask you why you hid the knife. Why did you hide it?”
Brooke suddenly felt put on the spot. She looked over at her mother, who started to answer for her.
“I think she did it because—” Ossa put her hand up, waving her bright red fingernails back and forth.
“Brooke needs to answer. I know it’s uncomfortable, Brooke, but it’s going to be even more unnerving in an interview room down at the police station. That’s why we’re practicing here. Stay calm and think about your answers before you say anything. If you aren’t sure what to say, you can always whisper to me and I’ll let you know if you should keep it to yourself.”
Brooke could feel the stress building. Although it was comforting to think Ossa would be at her side, she was still terrified of going to the police. Right now, if Brooke could’ve walked out of the lawyer’s office and into the street in front of an oncoming car, she would have.
“So tell me. Why did you hide the knife?”
Brooke swallowed. Pressing her hands against her thighs, she thought about her answer. “I hid the knife because I had already picked it up and I was scared that my fingerprints were on it. And that the police would think I did it because I’d touched the knife.”
Ossa smiled.
“Very good. You’re going to do just fine in there. Always follow my lead. If I touch your hand, it means don’t speak until I remove my hand. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Brooke made a mental note of it.
“I’ll make sure you don’t answer any questions you shouldn’t.” Brooke nodded again. “And just so you know, anything you say to me is privileged. That means I can’t tell anyone else unless you give me permission, and I can’t be forced to tell the court anything that you’ve told me. That means you can speak freely to me and be one hundred percent honest. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Brooke said, relieved to hear that she could say whatever she wanted to her attorney, even things that would be considered incriminating.
“It’s also very important that you don’t discuss anything about your case with friends. Just say, ‘My attorney has advised me not to talk to anyone regarding the case.’ It may seem like it sounds rude, but know that anyone you talk to can be brought into court to testify about what you told them.”
Terror filled Brooke. Was she really going to do this? She tried to move but her body refused to. Ossa must’ve seen the fear in her eyes because she leaned close enough to Brooke that she could smell the woman’s perfume.
“You have a team now, Brooke. Your mom, Alex, me . . . you won’t face any of this alone,” she said in a velvety voice. “You just need to follow those guidelines. The only person you talk to about any of this is me from now on.”
Brooke’s shoulders relaxed. She had no idea what to expect but she was sure Ossa did, and like the woman had requested, Brooke would follow her lead. What choice did she have?
“I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?”
Brooke rubbed her palms against her jeans trying to get the sweat off as she nodded.
“Did you admit anything to the police when they interviewed you at school?”
“No, I just told them I was at the party and she was fine when I left,” Brooke said, somewhat confused. “That’s not the question I thought you were going to ask me.”
“What did you think it was going to be?” Ossa said, pausing curiously.
“Did I kill her,” Brooke said, her throat tightening.
Ossa set her pen down on her pad and folded her hands, looking straight into Brooke’s face. “My job is to give you the best defense possible, whether you’re guilty or innocent. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It doesn’t matter if you did it or not.”
Twenty-Three
Police Involvement
“So Jake Campali has evidence including the murder weapon in his possession right now?” Detective Linly asked, dubiously studying the engagement ring. The way she peered right into Brooke’s eyes made Brooke question whether she had, in fact, just told the woman the truth. She had. Everything Brooke knew about Maddie’s death and Jake’s uninvited visit was no longer a secret.
“That’s right,” Brooke said, trying to muster as much confidence as she could. Her mother squeezed her hand under the table approvingly. “Or at least he did have it. I don’t know if he still does.”
“Why did you lie to us when we questioned you the first time?” Detective Meyers, the one who came to school, asked. He’d been standing silently in the corner, propping up the wall until now.
“She’s seventeen, Detective,” Ossa interjected. “And very traumatized. What’s important is that she’s coming to you with the truth now.” Ossa’s got this, Brooke thought as Dete
ctive Meyers backed off.
“We do appreciate that,” the lady detective assured her.
“It doesn’t mean we’ve cleared her as a suspect,” Detective Meyers said and folded his long arms across his chest.
“Of course not,” Ossa said. “But I’m sure once you look into Jake Campali, you will.” She said it with such confidence, even Brooke felt more inclined to believe it could’ve been Jake. I want to be just like this woman someday, Brooke thought. That is, if I don’t go to prison.
Linly turned her gaze toward Brooke. “Tell us everything you know about him,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Starting with how and where you met.”
Brooke walked with Ossa and her mother down the long, dimly lit hallway of the police station. When they reached the lobby, Ossa stopped. “You did well in there. I’m sure they’ll have more questions for you eventually and we’ll answer them as they come.”
“Thank you so much,” her mom said and shook Ossa’s hand. Ossa extended her hand to Brooke.
“Stay strong. There’s a process to all of this and we have to go through it step-by-step.”
“Thank you,” Brooke said, shaking the woman’s hand.
Ossa turned and walked toward the door, the heels of her pumps clicking on the tile floor. Brooke sighed.
“Let’s go home,” her mother said. As Brooke followed her out, she stopped suddenly. Sitting in a chair in the waiting area was Tryg. His arm was still in the sling and his hair was wild and uncombed. He looked so different, she almost didn’t recognize him.
For a moment, they locked eyes and Brooke tensed. The man sitting next to Tryg noticed him staring and followed his gaze to Brooke. It has to be his father, she thought. They looked a little alike. Had the police called him in to ask more questions too? Was she staring at Maddie’s killer? Brooke didn’t have time to say anything to Tryg, not that she would have wanted to, as her mom ushered her out the door and into the sun-filled parking lot.
Had she just given the police information about Jake that would send them in the wrong direction? What if Jake really had nothing to do with the murder at all? What if he was arrested because of what she told them and went to jail, totally innocent? A wave of guilt shot through her. There was so much guilt lately, it actually felt good. It felt familiar. And better than the fear and confusion she couldn’t seem to get a grasp on.
As her mother unlocked the car, Brooke looked back at the police station. She wondered what Tryg would tell them. He’ll lie, she thought. Just like he lied to Maddie about wanting to be with her. Just like he denied hitting on Brooke while she was at the restaurant. That was the night Tryg was attacked in the parking lot. Brooke froze. The realization sank in slowly. First Tryg was attacked, then Maddie was killed. Two separate nights, two separate incidents. The common denominator? Jake.
He’d met each one only hours before. Oh my god, Brooke thought. What if Jake went back to the restaurant after it closed and waited for Tryg in the parking lot? What if he’d hoped to kill Tryg and, when that didn’t happen, he couldn’t try twice so he decided to frame him for Maddie’s murder instead? Is that why he stole the evidence from the dumpster? To plant it at Tryg’s house? But if that was the plan, why didn’t he just take the knife with him that night? Was it so he could make Brooke think she’d done it and force her to be with him or go to jail? Brooke wasn’t sure what the connection was, but there had to be one.
“Are you coming?” her mother asked, leaning over the console.
“Mom, I need to go back in and tell the detectives one more thing.”
“What?” Her mother got back out.
“Something about Jake. I think he may have been the one that beat up Tryg.”
“Did he tell you that?” There was alarm in her voice.
“No. It’s just a feeling.” Brooke knew she was right, though. Even if she couldn’t prove it, the cops needed to know.
“You heard what your attorney said. You can’t talk to them without her present.”
“I know, but . . .” Brooke didn’t have an answer. She wanted them to have that piece of information, but she didn’t want to go against her lawyer’s wishes either.
“Like she said, they’ll probably have more questions. You can tell them next time.” Brooke heaved a sigh. She knew her mother was right. Now was not the time to run back in there and open herself up to more questions. They hadn’t cleared her as a suspect.
“Yeah, okay.” Brooke climbed into the car and strapped on her seat belt. She was more sure than ever that Jake was involved in the murder. But she couldn’t prove it. At least not yet.
As her mother’s car rounded the corner, Brooke could see the red-and-white van parked in front of their house. Jefferson Home Security. Keeping families safe for more than 20 years.
“We’re getting a security system?” Brooke asked.
“Alex thought it would be a good idea since we aren’t sure how Jake got in.”
Her mother parked behind the van and they got out. Heading up the walkway, Brooke stuffed her hands into her pockets and felt the engagement ring. She’d forgotten she put it there when the detective handed it back to her.
“He’s just finishing up with the upstairs windows,” Alex said, coming out the door and meeting them on the lawn. “How’d it go at the police station?”
“Hard to know,” her mother answered. “They seemed open to the possibility that Jake had something to do with it. Ossa was great.”
“He’s driven by twice,” Alex said as they entered the house. Brooke whipped around, shocked.
“Jake?” she asked.
Alex nodded. What the fuck? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Before any more could be said, the installer came down the stairs in his red shirt and black pants.
“You’re good to go,” he said. “Let me show you how it works.” He walked over to a white panel that now protruded from the wall near the door. “Every window and door has a corresponding light. When they’re armed, the lights are green. You can open them whenever you want, but you need to put in the code first. Which you’ll create after I leave.” Brooke stepped closer to examine the panel. It was a double line of solid green lights. “When you enter the code and then open a door or window, the light for that door will start to flash.” The man entered #### and opened the front door. One of the lights on the panel blinked green. “See?” Alex and her mother nodded. “Go ahead and shut it.” Alex shut the door and the light turned solid again.
“Okay,” her mom said. “So what happens if someone tries to open it without the code?”
“A very loud alarm will go off and the corresponding light will turn red.” He punched in a code again and placed his hand on the doorknob. “You might want to cover your ears.” Her mother jabbed her index fingers into her ears. The man opened the front door and the alarm squealed until he punched the code in again.
“That’ll certainly wake us up,” Alex said.
“Us and the whole neighborhood,” her mother added, her sarcastic wit surfacing from under all the seriousness. The man chuckled. Brooke began to pick at the newly formed scab on her knuckle. She wasn’t sure why this man’s laugh irritated her so much. Except that there was nothing funny about this situation.
“To stop it, you have to punch a different code in. The emergency code. If you don’t, your phone will ring within one minute, and if you don’t answer and give them a verbal code, police will be dispatched to your house. There’s also a panic button right here on the keypad and I have six remotes that you can put in whatever rooms you want that work just like the one here on the wall.”
“So if we want to open an upstairs window, we don’t have to come all the way down here to disarm it,” Alex said, more for Brooke and her mother’s benefit than his own.
I don’t want to use a fucking remote just to open my window, Brooke thought, her anxiety building. None of this is what she wanted. She wanted Jake to just leave them alone so they could go back to being regular, everyd
ay people who didn’t need codes and alarms to keep them safe.
The more he explained, the more angry Brooke felt herself becoming. This was Jake’s fault. If he hadn’t broken into their house, they wouldn’t need any of this. Damn him, she thought. Damn Jake for making me and my mother have to live like this.
“Pretty high-tech,” her mom said, impressed.
“Any questions?” the man asked. Alex shook his head, and so did her mother. Then everyone looked at Brooke. “Young lady?” Suddenly all the pain and turmoil of the last two days came barreling up inside her and Brooke exploded.
“No!” she screamed, bursting into tears. “I don’t want to live like this! I hate it! I hate these stupid fucking codes and being locked inside like a prison!” In a whirl of emotion, Brooke grabbed a vase off the table and threw it against the wall, where it shattered into rice-size shards. As she ran to the stairs, she could hear them crunching under her feet.
“Brooke!” she heard her mother call out after her.
Then she heard Alex’s voice. “I’m sorry. She just lost—” Brooke slammed her bedroom door, shutting out the rest of his sentence. No longer in control of her body, Brooke smacked her hands down on her comforter and ripped it off her bed. Turning around, she kicked her closet door as hard as she could, letting it bang closed.
“I hate him! I hate Jake! I hate Tryg! And Maddie! I fucking hate you for leaving! Why did you have to die, you stupid bitch?! Why’d you leave me?!” Heart racing, Brooke dug her nails under her nightstand and toppled it over, sending her lamp and alarm clock crashing to the floor. “Why couldn’t it be me instead?! Why?! Just let me out of this horrible life!”
Murdered at 17 Page 17