Masquerade of Lies (12 page)

“Wanna listen to some music, Stephanie?” I offered.

“Sure,” she replied.

I sauntered over to my computer and turned it on, then opened the music folder to find my playlist and selected
Katy Perry
. I logged on to Facebook to see what was going on in Facebook world. I had a friend request waiting, so I clicked on it to see who it was. O.M.G! It was my mother! There was no way I was adding my mother as a friend, so I decided to ignore it.

As Stephanie leaned over to take a closer look, she placed her right hand on my shoulder. I noticed a charm bracelet dangling from her wrist. It was sterling silver, and it had four charms on it: a book, a star, a key, and a heart with an inscription on it.

“Nice bracelet,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said as she removed her hand from my shoulder and lowered her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mother gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday. It came with one charm attached, and every year on my birthday she gives me a new charm.”

“Oh, that’s so nice. What does this one say?” I placed the heart charm in my hand and read the inscription
Happy Birthday, Love Mom.
“Nice. What about your dad?”

She sauntered over to my bed and sat down with her legs crossed, then picked up one of my pillows and gently placed it on her lap.

“My dad passed away when I was ten.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She squeezed the pillow between her hands. “I barely knew my dad. While I was growing up, he never visited or called me. Birthdays would go by with not so much as a card or a phone call. I figured he just didn’t give a damn about me, that maybe I was a mistake. Then a couple months ago, I was looking for something in my mother’s room and found an old shoebox filled with letters addressed to me from my dad. In each letter, he said he loved me and the reason he didn’t come see me is because my mom kept him away. I was so angry at her, because for the past ten years I thought
I
did something wrong. That he didn’t want anything to do with me.” She brushed some hair away from her face. “When I confronted my mom about the letters, she broke down and finally told me the truth.” A tear glistened like silver in the corner of her eye. “My mom told me he cheated on her when she was pregnant with me, so she kicked him out. She said she was just trying to protect me. Apparently, he knocked up the woman he was cheating with and ended up moving in with her. Like one big happy family.” Her bottom lip began to tremble as she sniffed and wiped tears and grime away from her face with her hands. “Because of that bitch, my parents split up. She ruined my family.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry. I always get upset when I talk about my dad.” As she pushed some hair behind her ears, she suddenly cast an angry look while fiddling with her charm bracelet. “You know what, I think I’m gonna go,” she said as she sprung from my bed and adjusted her top.

“What? Why? I’m sorry I brought up your dad. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please stay.”

“No, it’s okay. I really have to get home. Please tell your mom thanks for the invitation. Maybe some other time.”

“Okay, see ya,” I said.

Stephanie grabbed her stuff and left. I heard the front door close, then my mother suddenly appeared in my bedroom doorway.

“Hanna, I thought your friend was staying for dinner?”

“So did I.”

“What happened?”

“I asked her about her dad, and she broke down.”

“Oh, dear. Well, I guess it’s just you and me, then. Come on, let’s go eat.” I stood up, and she put her arm around me. “By the way, did you get my Facebook request?”

***

The next morning before Claire picked me up for school, I sat at the kitchen table, eating a vanilla
Activia
yogurt when my mother came in all chipper.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” I said. “I guess things are blooming between you and Hank?” I asked before putting a spoonful of yogurt in my mouth.

“Well, if you must know, yes, they are,” she said with a smile on her face, her cheeks rosy.

I took a swig of my orange juice, stood up, and smoothed out my shirt. My mom poured a cup of coffee as she surveyed my outfit.

“You look nice. New clothes?”

“New for me. Claire let me borrow them.”

“That was awfully generous of her.”

“I know, right?” I heard a car honk from outside. “That’s Claire. I gotta go to school,” I said as I grabbed my purse and books.

When I got to the car, Claire was applying her lip gloss in the visor mirror while Katie sat in the passenger seat fiddling with her phone.

“It’s about time,
new girl!
” Claire exclaimed.

“Whatever! Where’s Jessica?”

“Who knows? She’s been acting weird ever since Angela’s party.” 

I hopped in the back seat. “Do you think she’s okay?” I asked.

“She’s fine. She’s probably just looking for attention. She can be such a toddler sometimes,” Claire said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at Katie as the two of them laughed.

Claire put the car in drive, and away we went. When we got to school, we settled in the quad until the first bell rang. As Claire looped her arm through my elbow and started walking with me, a familiar looking woman suddenly charged towards us. Her hair was dishevelled, and she was dressed in black slacks and a burgundy bow blouse. The muscles in her face looked tense, her eyebrows were pulled together, and her lips were thin enough to form a line.

She walked right up to me and spat, “You! You did this!”

“Excuse me? Did what?” I asked, recoiling from her.

Her face was red, and tears spilled from her swollen eyes. Just then, I knew who she was: Brooke’s mother. I recognized her from the pictures I saw in her house the night I found Brooke dead. Everybody stood there in awe of what was happening. Brooke’s mom looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She put her hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath. I unhooked my arm from Claire’s and cautiously walked towards her.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” she said, clenching her teeth. “I don’t know how you two did this, but I know you’re involved!” She had a bulging vein on her forehead.

“Mrs. Tillier, I’m really sorry for your loss, but I’m telling you, like I told the police, I didn’t do this,” I said in a calm voice.

“And you!” she said, turning to face Claire. “You hated my daughter. She knew things about you that nobody else does. You might have everybody else at this school fooled, but I can see right through you,” she said, pointing her finger in Claire’s face.

“Get your finger out of my face!” Claire snapped.

“Or what? You gonna kill me, too?” Brooke’s mother shot back.

Claire started laughing.

“What is so damn funny, Claire?!” I exclaimed.

Claire looked at me, then circled around Brooke’s mom. “She’s delusional,” she said. “Besides, she can’t prove anything. If she could, they would have arrested us already.” She faced Brooke’s mom. “You’re just a crazy, lonely lady mourning her daughter. It’s time for you to leave now,” she said with a smug look on her face.

By that time, flocks of students surrounded us. I spotted the school principal, Mr. Drake, leafing through the crowded hall in our direction.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Brooke’s mother muttered, then looked at me. “You both will.” She spun on her heels and marched in the opposite direction, then stopped abruptly and turned around. “And don’t even think about coming to the funeral! You’re not welcome!” she yelled, then proceeded to walk away.

As the tapping of her heels trailed off down the hall, my heart seized in my chest. I looked at Katie and saw her lips parted in shock, but Claire surprisingly remained calm.

She smiled and took hold of my hand. “Relax. It’s gonna be okay,” she said.

“Okay, everybody get to class now!” yelled Mr. Drake. The flood of students began to dissipate. “Come on, girls, let’s get to class,” he said to us.

“Hey, Claire?” I said. She turned around and gazed at me. “What did she mean when she said Brooke knew things about you that nobody else does?”

“Who knows,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders. “She’s crazy.” With that, she left.

I watched as she walked away. Everybody left but me; my legs felt like they were made of lead. I just stood there thinking about what Brooke’s mother had said. What did Brooke know about Claire that nobody else knew? Whoever did this wanted to make sure their secrets died with her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN—GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT

After school that day, Claire dropped me off at home. When I walked in the front door, the smell of fresh coffee grounds filled my nostrils. As I made my way into the living room, I saw Detective Walters and my mother sitting on the couch talking.

“Hi, honey! I heard what happened at school today!” my mom said as she shot up from the couch and threw her arms around me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Hi, Detective Walters.” 

“Hi, Miss Clark.” He stood up and fixed his jacket. “I need you to come down to the station with me.”

“Why? Am I under arrest?” I said with a smirk.

“No, no, we’re just going to have a conversation.”

“Okay.”

I looked at my mother, and she nodded her head in a
you-have-nothing-to-worry-about
sort of way. I could see the worry in her face, though. She was just trying to be strong for me.

“I’ll come, too,” she said. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen table, and we left.

I rode in the car with my mother, and we followed Detective Walters to the station. Shortly after, we pulled up to the drab grey building. When we got inside, he put me in the same room as last time, and my mother sat in the waiting room.

“Have a seat, Miss Clark,” he said, gesturing to the grey plastic chair.

I sat down, and he took the seat on the other side of the table. He had a manila folder in his hand. He tossed it on the table and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Hanna, did you know that Brooke was pregnant?”

I felt a rush of heat to my face. My mouth fell open. “No, I didn’t.”
That’s probably what she wanted to tell me
, I thought.

“Well, she was eight weeks pregnant. Do you have any idea who the father could be?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “No, sorry.”

The autopsy report showed that the estimated time of death was between 8pm and 10pm on September 25th. Where were you during that time?”

“I went to the bleachers to meet Brooke around 8pm, but she never showed up. I left about eight thirty and went to her house, but she wasn’t there.”

“Did anybody see you go to the bleachers?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Have you located your phone?”

“Yes…but…”

“But what?”

“The text messages are gone.”

He stood up and paced around the table. “So let me get this straight. You and Brooke planned to meet at the bleachers, but she didn’t show up, and nobody saw you there; so really, you have no alibi. Then your phone was missing at the scene of the crime, and now you have your phone, but the texts messages between you and Brooke are gone.”

“I know how this sounds, but–”

“I don’t think you do, Miss Clark.” He leaned over and put his hands on the table, gazing at me as he furrowed his brow. The stench of spearmint gum and Old Spice stifled my nose. “You’re being suspected of murder! You can go to jail! You have to give me something.” He sat down in the chair. “With your permission, we would like to contact your cell phone provider to see your phone records.”

“Go ahead! I have nothing to hide!” He nodded his head and sat down.

“We traced the cell phone tower you used to text Brooke, and it appears you
were
where you said you were; at the school by the bleachers.”

“I told you,” I said with a smirk.

“Wait a minute,” he said holding up one finger. “At around eight forty-five you used a cell tower by Brooke’s house to call Brooke’s cell.”

“I just told you that I went to her house!”

“Yes you did, but you failed to mention that you were there for over an hour. You used the same cell tower to place a call to your house at nine fifty-two. I asked your mother what time you got home that night, and she said you didn’t get home until ten o’clock.” He stood up again. “So, if Brooke wasn’t home, where were you during that hour?”

“I was waiting for her in my car and I fell asleep.”

“Really? You fell asleep? That’s the best you got?” My heart thudded in my chest. “I don’t know what else to tell you!” I exclaimed.

My palms became sweaty, so I hid them under my legs. Detective Walters sat back down and opened the folder to a bunch of photos of Brooke that were taken at the crime scene. He tossed a few of them on the table.

“Look at her!” he yelled, pointing to a picture.

As I shifted my eyes to look at it, I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. A single tear rolled down my cheek. He sat forward and clutched the folder in his hands as he flipped through the pages. 

“The autopsy report confirmed that Brooke died from blunt head trauma.” He tossed the folder back on the desk. “So why were her wrists cut?”

“I don’t know!”

“
You
cut her wrists, didn’t you, Miss Clark?”

“No!”

“Who helped you?”

“Nobody helped me!”

“Oh, so you
did
do it by yourself?”

“No! You’re twisting my words!”

“Just tell me the truth!”

“I didn’t do this,” I said, shaking my head from left to right. Unable to suppress all my tears anymore, I broke down. “Please, can I just go home?” 

He gazed at me for a long moment, then said, “Sure.” He straightened up and walked over to the door, then opened it and stepped aside. “But I suggest you get a lawyer.”

I sprung up from the chair and scurried out the door. When my mom saw me, she stood up and I ran into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

***

The next day, I pulled into Brooke’s driveway, shifted my mom’s car into
park
, and cut the engine. I took a deep breath and opened the door. My pulse quickened; the last time I was here, I found Brooke breathless and motionless...I couldn’t get that image out of my head.

As I sauntered up the walkway to Brooke’s door, I bit my lip. I didn’t know how Brooke’s mom was going to react to seeing me after yesterday’s fiasco at school, when she blatantly accused me and Claire of killing her daughter. I wanted to turn around, get back in the car, and drive away, but I had to talk to her. I needed to convince her I was innocent. I wanted her to know that Brooke and I were like sisters and I could never do the things I was being accused of doing. I wanted to explain that Brooke was going to tell me something the night she died, and maybe with her help I could figure out what it was. I just needed five minutes. My freedom depended on it.

As I rang the doorbell, my hand was shaking and my heart was in my throat. I could hear footsteps approaching the door. Suddenly, the door jerked open and Brooke’s mom stood in the doorway. She was in an ivory plush bathrobe, and her hair was pulled back. She gazed at me for a moment with her mouth slightly parted, then she stood up straight and tied her robe closed. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Hi, Mrs. Tillier. I’m sorry to show up unannounced like this, but I need to talk to you about something.”

“You have some nerve coming here.”

“I swear, I didn’t kill your daughter. If you give me five minutes, I can explain everything.”

“Get out of here! If you come here again, I’ll call the police! Now get off my property!” she yelled before closing the door in my face.

I turned around and quickly walked back to the car, then unlocked the door and got in. I crossed my arms over the steering wheel and rested my head on them. At that moment, I felt so hopeless. I was gonna go down for Brooke’s murder, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I thought about my mother. I thought about how my father had left us and how in the long run all we had were each other. I couldn’t abandon her, too. I couldn’t give up. Come hell or high water, I was going to figure out who sealed Brooke’s fate before they sealed mine, too.