Murdered at 17

by Christine Conradt

  “I just wanted to say goodbye,” she said softly. “There’s a note in my bedroom that explains everything.” There was a brief but heavy silence on the other end.

  “No!” Jake pleaded in earnest. “Brooke! Listen to me. Before you do that, we need to talk. Where are you?!” My god, Brooke thought, he actually believes me. I have him.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Brooke began to cry again, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  “There is. There really is!” He was becoming frantic. She waited for him to say more just like Linly and Meyers had taught her. “There are things you don’t know!” Yes! Please! Keep going! Tell me what I don’t know! She waited again, but he didn’t say anything else.

  “All that matters is that I’m at fault for my best friend’s death. And an innocent person is going to spend his life in prison. No one will miss me.”

  “I will! Please. Let’s just talk in person.”

  “Goodbye, Jake. I hope you can forgive me and I hope you find the love you’re looking for.” Brooke was ready to hang up. If she did, she was certain he’d call right back.

  “You didn’t kill Maddie!” he yelled, strained, pushed into a corner. Brooke sat back in her car seat, stunned. Had he really just admitted it?

  “What?”

  “You’re not the one who killed her. Where are you? Tell me where you are and I’ll explain everything.” She’d done it. She’d convinced him to tell her the truth. Would he tell her more?

  “What do you mean I’m not the one who killed her?” Please, please, please just tell me everything over the phone, she wanted to beg. “Who did it?”

  “Where are you, Brooke?!”

  “I’m . . . I don’t know where I am. Some gas station,” she said, reminding herself to stay in character. She knew exactly where she was, but she needed to sell the idea she’d been driving around aimlessly, contemplating suicide.

  “What street?”

  “Lawson . . . and 145th I think . . . ? Yes, 145th.” She could hear the sudden jingling of his keys and the slam of a door.

  “I’m coming to you right now. Don’t do anything. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Brooke touched the glowing red button on her phone, ending the call. The display went dark.

  “Did you get that?” she asked, speaking to no one in particular.

  “You need to get him to say he’s the one who killed her.” It was Detective Meyers’s voice on the line this time. “It’s not enough for him to say you’re innocent. Do you understand what we need?”

  “Yes,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind or get spooked on the drive. Getting him to actually say the words might be a different story. She had less than ten minutes to figure out her next strategy—the face-to-face conversation. Wrapping her finger around the trigger guard of the gun, she picked it up and pointed it at her head. Even though it wasn’t real, and neither were the bullets inside, feeling the barrel pressed to her temple was frightening. This is real. You have to believe that and make him believe it. You’ve come this far. You can do it. Convince him to save your life.

  Thirty-One

  The Coup De Grâce

  Brooke was still sobbing uncontrollably when the headlights of Jake’s Ferrari swerved into the parking lot and cut through the darkness. She wasn’t sure why she was crying exactly. Hearing Jake tell her she hadn’t killed Maddie made something inside her snap and the release of emotion took over. It was what she’d needed to hear since that horrific moment she woke and found her friend dead—she wasn’t responsible.

  Brooke watched as the Ferrari screeched to a stop a few feet away and Jake leaped out of his car and ran to hers. He yanked open the door and got in on the passenger side.

  “Brooke!” he exclaimed, relieved to see her alive. “You scared the shit out of me.” Brooke looked down at the gun in her lap, drawing his gaze downward also. She still had her finger wrapped around the trigger.

  “You were lying, weren’t you?” she asked, sounding as pathetic as she could. “When you said I didn’t murder Maddie. Just so I wouldn’t kill myself . . .”

  “No. You are completely innocent. I killed her.”

  Brooke stared up at him in shock. Jake had just confessed. He had just fucking confessed.

  “What? Why?” Those were the only words Brooke could form. Her head was spinning.

  “Just listen, okay? She wasn’t your friend. She kept accusing you and causing all this emotional turmoil.” Jake was unraveling quickly now, his hands trembling as he tried to explain.

  “You killed her because of that?” Brooke could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “No. I . . . that night . . . when I saw you talking to that moron Tryg, I got so jealous. Before we even got to that party, I could feel you pulling away from me. Things were so perfect the first few times and then it started to change. . . .” She could see him searching her eyes, hoping she would forgive him.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying to me right now,” Brooke said, forgetting that the conversation was being recorded. Lost in the moment, all she wanted were answers.

  “You told me to get lost and I knew you didn’t mean that. I knew you didn’t. But you went upstairs and I wanted to go after you and just talk, but you were so drunk. I didn’t leave. I went back outside and did a few shots and sat by the pool. The more I sat there, the angrier I got, so I went back in and I found you. I found you passed out on the bed. . . .” Brooke shook her head, not sure she wanted to hear what was coming, but she needed him to give her every gory detail.

  “You were so innocent lying there, so beautiful. But I was pissed off,” Jake continued. “Then Maddie came stumbling in. She was drunk and I could tell she’d been crying. I figured she must’ve got into a fight with Tryg and I could understand what she was feeling. Her jealousy . . .” Jake paused, and Brooke figured he was thinking about his next words. She needed to keep him talking before he changed his mind.

  “Then what?”

  “She saw me sitting on the chair and she came up and started kissing on me and saying things like ‘If Brooke wants Tryg, maybe we should be together’ and ‘Let’s show them what happens when they treat us this way’ and . . .” Jake’s voice trailed off for a moment. Brooke waited, silently begging him to continue.

  “I didn’t mean for anything to happen, but before I realized it, her panties were off and we were kissing and she was touching me and then I looked up and saw you lying on that bed five feet away and I got mad. I got so mad that she would do that to you. That she would make me cheat on you. I just hated her. I felt so much guilt and rage.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I shoved her off and told her to put her clothes on, that she was a filthy slut. She called me a bunch of names and I walked out. I felt so guilty. I’d fooled around with your best friend, and as I went downstairs, all I could think about is how I was going to tell you that I’d done that. And the hate just kept growing. She was supposed to be your best friend. How could she do that to you?”

  Brooke swallowed hard, knowing they were close to what the police wanted to hear. “So you went to the kitchen and got a knife?” she asked.

  “I went to the kitchen to get a drink, to get away and clear my head, but it wasn’t helping and I was standing there by the sink and I looked over and saw the knives in the block and the thought came to me. It came to me that I should teach her a lesson. Teach her that you don’t try to seduce your friend’s boyfriend. And I took one out and I went back upstairs. . . .”

  Brooke braced for what was coming next. Her stomach was turning, her hands sweating profusely.

  “When I walked back in the room, she was passed out next to you on the bed. Like the devil sleeping next to the angel. And I said her name. And she didn’t wake up. And I just—I just raised the knife up and brought it down as hard as I could in her chest.”

  “Oh god,” Brooke gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks. She imagined the terror and pain Maddie must’ve fe
lt at the hands of this monster.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.” He tried to grab for her hand but she pulled it away.

  “Did she wake up?” Brooke asked, hoping the answer was no, hoping her best friend died in her sleep.

  “She opened her eyes and made a noise,” Jake said, tears now forming in his eyes too. “And I raised the knife up and stabbed her again and again. I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. And it felt really good, Brooke. Like I was cutting out a cancer that kept festering and growing, like I was making it all clean again.” That’s all my best friend was to him? A cancer? Brooke could barely process the thought. Even if what he said Maddie did was true, even if she really did try to get with him because she was angry and jealous, she didn’t deserve what he did to her.

  “Why’d you take the pictures on my phone?” Brooke asked, horrified by the atrocity he just described.

  “Mine was dead and I wanted to remember it. So I texted the photos to myself, and as I was doing that, I saw all these text messages between you and Maddie and the ones between you and Tryg and I wanted those to be gone too. Gone with Maddie. So I erased them.”

  “How’d you get my password?” she asked, still in shock.

  “I came into your house one night while you and your mom were asleep and I sat in your living room and cracked your password.”

  Brooke was speechless. It all made sense now, and yet it seemed so impossible.

  “What happened after you took the pictures?” she managed to ask, her voice wavering.

  “I got blood on your phone, so I went into the bathroom to wash it off. While I was in there I heard some guy come up the stairs so I listened at the door until the guy went into a bedroom and then I ran out of there.”

  “And left me to find her? To believe I’d done it? Take the blame?”

  “It wasn’t the plan at all. After I got home, I tried to think of a way to frame Tryg for it. I wanted you to be okay. I knew seeing her body would bother you, but I didn’t think you’d blame yourself. When I saw you hide the evidence, I was surprised. I thought, ‘What is she doing?’ Then I looked at your clothes, and realized they had blood on them. I didn’t notice in the dark. But then it made sense. You must’ve seen your clothes and thought you did it. So I took ’em and the knife too, because if anyone found it, you’d be screwed.”

  So he was trying to protect me? Bullshit.“You used it to blackmail me into staying with you,” she accused.

  “I would do anything not to lose you, Brooke. Anything. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I knew someday I’d tell you the truth about that night but . . . I had to tell you now so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.” Jake looked down at the gun. He seemed fragile in that moment, even frightened. She knew he was terrified to lose her. And she didn’t care. Not one bit. She couldn’t find a single shred of sympathy.

  “Jake,” she stated slowly. “The cops are going to arrest me. You need to go to the police and tell them the truth.” It was a gift she was giving him. The opportunity to turn himself in, and eliminate the risk of being shot by one of the hidden snipers that surrounded her car.

  “No! They don’t have enough evidence to convict you. You’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine. If Tryg gets off, which he should because the case against him is flimsy as fuck, Maddie’s murder will go unsolved. End of story. You and I get to live happily ever after. Anywhere you want.”

  “But I don’t want her murder to go unsolved. Tell me you’ll go to the police and turn yourself in.” She could see the resistance in the way Jake stared at her.

  “I’ll never do that. Ever.”

  Suddenly, a swarm of black-clad SWAT members surrounded the car, rushing so fast that even Brooke had no idea where they’d been hiding. At least twelve rifles were pointed at Jake. Bewildered, he looked around, then back at Brooke, the realization sinking in that she’d betrayed him.

  “Open the car door and show us your hands!” one of the SWAT members ordered. Jake ignored him.

  “You mean you . . . ?” he asked, pained.

  “It was all recorded. Your entire confession.”

  “Jake Campali, show us your hands. Now!”

  Jake glared at Brooke, hatred flashing in his eyes.

  “Please just do it,” she pleaded, knowing he only had a few seconds. “They’ll shoot you.”

  “How could you set me up?” His face twisted into a sneer. “I love you.”

  “Jake . . .”

  “I love you!” In a single swift motion, Jake grabbed the gun in Brooke’s lap and pointed it at her. Brooke’s heart hammered in her chest. Even though the gun wasn’t real, it was terrifying to look down the hole in the steel barrel, knowing the person holding it wanted to send a lead slug into her skull.

  Then Jake pulled the trigger. Brooke gasped as she heard the benign click. Jake’s brow cinched together, confused.

  They stared at each other in tense silence until Brooke finally whispered, “It’s not real.”

  Jake was breathing so hard she could see the rise and fall of his chest. What was he going to do? Smack her? Strangle her? Sink back in his seat and give up?

  She waited for him to do something, say something, but he just peered down at the gun, devastated. Suddenly, Jake’s car door swung open and the end of a rifle shoved up against his back.

  “Get out of the car!”

  Jake hesitated, then let the gun fall from his grip, spreading his fingers. A pair of hands grabbed the back of his shirt and violently yanked him out.

  Brooke couldn’t take her eyes off him as he landed on his back on the wet pavement. Their eyes connected only briefly before the SWAT team threw him over onto his stomach and cuffed his hands. Relieved, Brooke looked away.

  “Are you okay?” Her door opened abruptly and Detective Meyers knelt down next to her.

  “Yeah,” Brooke said, not even sure she’d heard the question. She felt Meyers’s warm hand on her forearm, helping her out.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  Brooke closed the door and subconsciously reached for the wire taped to her side.

  “Brooke!” Jake bellowed. She and Detective Meyers turned to see the police hoisting him to his feet.

  “I did it for you! Don’t forget that!” he screamed. “I did it for you!” The words cut through Brooke.

  “And I did this for Maddie,” Brooke said, her voice calm and even. She wasn’t sure if Jake heard her, but Meyers did and smiled. They watched as the cops carted Jake off into a waiting van. As Brooke angled back toward the building, she saw her mother running toward her over the slick concrete, her coat flapping in the wind.

  “Mom!” Brooke yelled and jogged toward her, meeting her halfway.

  “You did it! I can’t believe you really did it!” Brooke hugged her mother as tight as she could. “I was so scared!”

  Brooke closed her eyes, feeling her mother’s warmth. All the irritation and resentment that had been building since her accident melted away, leaving nothing but love and gratitude. Brooke felt, for the first time since her fall, empowered. She felt like herself.

  Thirty-Two

  Dust to Dust

  The weather turned uncharacteristically warm on the day of Maddie’s funeral. Brooke slipped off her sweater and looked up at the sky, letting the sun shine down on her face. A gift from Maddie, she surmised.

  The wind rustled gently in the trees as Brooke opened the trunk and heaved out a perfectly round, bright orange pumpkin. Maddie’s name was written across it in gold lettering, outlined in sparkly rhinestones.

  A perfect autumn day, Brooke thought as she carried the pumpkin low, like a pregnant belly, toward the church where other students, dressed in dark clothing, somberly made their way inside.

  “Hey, Brooke.” Brooke heard Riley say her name and she stopped, turning around. He hurried toward her in his suit, Keisha by his side. Sensing it was heavy, Riley took the pumpkin. Brooke straightened up, happy to see them.

  “Did you hear?” Keis
ha asked. “Jake pled guilty at his arraignment yesterday.”

  “How long will he get do you think?” Brooke had asked when Ossa had called with the news the night before.

  “It’s a minimum twenty-five years, but I expect the judge to give him life given how brutal the crime was. And don’t forget the battery charge for what he did to Tryg,” Ossa had reminded her. Brooke pictured Jake in a prison cell, stripped of his expensive watch and clothes, covered from neck to ankles in an orange prison jumper. It felt right. It felt like that’s where he belonged.

  “Are you going to his sentencing next month?” Keisha asked. “It’s at two o’clock on the eighteenth. I kinda want to be there. To represent Maddie.”

  “Me too,” Riley added and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Brooke’s answer.

  “No,” she said.

  “You’re not?” Keisha was puzzled.

  “I don’t need to see Jake ever again. At two o’clock when he walks into the court room, I’ll be at the park where Maddie and I went when we ran away from home together.” Rather than dwelling on all the horror, Brooke wanted to relive those wonderful moments she and Maddie had shared growing up.

  “You ran away from home together?” Riley asked, amused. He shifted the heavy pumpkin to his other arm and they started to cross the parking lot.

  “When we were twelve. Our moms wouldn’t let us go to an R-rated movie we wanted to see, so we bounced.” Brooke smiled at the memory of her and Maddie packing their backpacks with snacks they’d raided from their refrigerators and printing a map of Texas from Google. She couldn’t remember why they’d decided to go to Texas, but she thought maybe there was a band or something from there they’d liked. They got as far as the park a few blocks from Maddie’s before deciding to eat their snacks. They were completely bored and cold and, a few hours later, ended up walking back home.

  Brooke wanted to take a day and do nothing but remember Maddie. Not at the funeral, which would start soon, where people who barely knew her would be crying and saying nice things like what a good cheerleader she was and how friendly she could be, but a real day, alone, just Brooke and her good memories of the best friend she lost too soon.