Masquerade of Lies (20 page)

“That’s okay. Given the situation, I probably would have thought the same thing.”

“So…have you given any more thought about going to the police?”

“I told you, no cops.” 

I told her about the bloody shirt I found in Claire’s closet. She then said she’d think about going to the police. I decided to tell her that Josh and I had broken into Brooke’s house and about the key we found. I also told her what was in the locker.

“So, do you think Scott killed Brooke?”

“Well, he’s looking pretty guilty right now, but I really don’t know what to think. It depends on if he has an alibi during the time Brooke was murdered.” I finished painting her baby toe, then replaced the cover on the nail polish bottle. “I wrote him a Facebook message and asked him to meet me at
Goodies Café
tomorrow.”

My Motorola chimed, indicating I had a new message. I carefully stood up, trying not to mess up my wet toenails. I then waddled towards Stephanie’s dresser and scooped up my phone; it was a Facebook message from Scott.

“Ohmigod, it’s Scott writing back!”

“What did he say?” Stephanie asked.

I clicked on the Facebook icon and scrolled to my new message. It said: 

I’ll be there at 4pm.

“He said he’s gonna meet me there at 4.”

“Just be careful.”

“I will.”

CHAPTER TWENTY—I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE A BLUE SEDAN

As I sat by the window in the café and scanned Facebook on my Motorola, I decided to send Josh a text to let him know where I was meeting Scott. I looked around and noticed I was surrounded by many empty seats. A few tables over, a middle-aged man in a striped blue shirt sipped his coffee and read the newspaper. At another table across from me, a young couple was engaged in deep conversation as they held hands across the table.

Jazz music blared from the speakers, and the sweet aroma of flavored coffee wafted in the air. I sipped my vanilla latte and thought about the possible suspects in Brooke’s murder. Claire wasn’t with Angela the night Brooke was killed, and Stephanie saw her by Brooke’s house that same night. Scott clearly was obsessed with Brooke and didn’t want her to be with anybody but him.

The door suddenly opened, sending a cold breeze my way. It was Scott. He wore a black Beatles T-shirt, a black and grey striped hooded jacket, and black skin tight jeans. Our eyes met as he walked towards me. As he sat down at the empty seat across from me, I bit my lip. “So…we meet again,” he said.

“Yeah…thanks for meeting me,” I said.

The smell of marijuana radiated from him.

“So, why am I here?” he said, his voice menacing.

“I just need to ask you something.” 

He leaned back in his seat. “Well go ahead,” he said. “Ask me.”

I took a deep breath, and my leg began to shake. “Um…where were you the night Brooke was killed?” I asked, growing nervous.

His mouth slowly curled into a devilish smile. “You know something, don’t you?” 

My pulse quickened. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “What do I know?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

“I don’t know, Hanna. You tell me.” 

I began fidgeting with a button on my sweater. “I found a letter you wrote Brooke, telling her how much you love her.” 

His posture was stiff as he cocked his head to one side. “So?”

“It was dated six days before Brooke died.”

“Are you suggesting I loved Brooke so much, I killed her?”

“No, I’m suggesting you killed Brooke because you couldn’t have her. According to your letter, you don’t want to live without her and you can’t let her live without you.” 

He slammed his hand on the table. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You had no right to read that letter! That was private!” His eyes bulged in fury, and the veins on his forehead protruded.

My heart began pounding in my chest. I looked out the window and noticed how dark the sky was getting. A sudden crack of lightning made me jump.

“Just tell me where you were the night Brooke died,” I pressed.

“I’m not telling you shit! I’m not gonna feed into your sick, twisted imagination!” As he stood up and marched out the door, I grabbed my phone and chased after him.

“I’m gonna go to the police with that letter!” I exclaimed.

He stopped walking and slowly turned around to face me. My hair whirled around in the wind.

“Go ahead. You can’t prove anything,” he taunted me, then turned to leave.

As I watched him sprint across the parking lot to his car, the air got caught in my throat: he drove a blue sedan...the very same sedan that had been stalking me...the very same sedan that tried to run me over at the homecoming game.

Scott turned back around and noticed the look of shock on my face, then began to come towards me. I started running.

“Hanna! Wait!” he yelled.

I didn’t stop; I just kept running.

He ran back to his car, jumped in, and followed me. It started to rain; hard. My clothes were soaked, and my hair clung to my face. I was out of breath. My chest was burning, but I kept running. I remembered a shortcut to my house, so I ran across the field–but I slipped on the grass and landed on my knee. I lay there on all fours for a second, trying to get my bearings. Meanwhile, Scott stopped the car at the curb and ran towards me. When I saw him coming, I got up and picked up the pace.

“Somebody help me!” I screamed, but there wasn’t anybody in sight.

My knee was killing me, but I knew I had to keep running; my life depended on it.

There was another bolt of lightning, and a crash of thunder. My heart was thudding so hard, I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Tears streamed down my face.

Suddenly, I could see my house in the distance. As I got closer, I could see that my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I looked over my shoulder as I ran; Scott was getting closer to me. As I ran, I dug my hand in my cargo pants pocket and fumbled with my keys. I dropped them, stopped to pick them up, and continued to run. The more I ran, the more sore my feet got.

“Hanna! Stop!” I heard him yell, but there was no way I was going to do that.

I reached my front door and tried unlocking it with the key; my hand kept shaking, though, and I couldn’t get the key in the hole. The whole time, he kept getting closer. Finally, I unlocked the door and pushed my way inside my house. I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it. Scott arrived and started banging on the door.

“Hanna, let me explain! It’s not what you think!” I leaned against the door and tried to catch my breath. “I saw the way you looked at me in the parking lot! Yes, I was following you, but not to hurt you!”

I slid my back against the door, down towards the floor. I then sat on my bum and lifted my pant leg to look at my knee.

“Go away!  I’m gonna call the police!”

“I wanna find out who killed Brooke as bad as you do! You told me you were a suspect, so I figured you were trying to figure out who killed Brooke to clear your name! I thought that maybe if I followed you, you’d lead me to the one who did it!” 

“I don’t believe you! I’m calling the police!” I slowly got up and limped towards the phone in the kitchen as he continued to bang on the door. I picked up the phone and dialed
911
.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Please help me! Somebody outside my house is trying to kill me, and I think he killed my friend, Brooke, too!”

“What’s your location?” 

The banging suddenly stopped.

“I’m at 544 Fiddler Avenue! Please hurry!” 

I slammed down the phone and staggered towards the window. I peered through the blinds, but I didn’t see anybody. It was still raining pretty hard. I went to my room and peeled the wet clothes off my body, then slipped on my pink Juicy velour track suit. I went to the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my damp hair. I’d plugged in the blow dryer to dry my hair when I heard a noise from the other room; my stomach lurched. I carefully put down the blow dryer and lingered into the living room. There was a boom of thunder, and the lights flickered. Somebody was banging on the door from outside. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard, I tasted blood. I tiptoed closer to the door.

BANG! BANG!

“Hanna! Open the door!” 

I suddenly realized I recognized that voice: it was Josh! I ran to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it open. Josh was standing there in faded Diesel jeans and a charcoal-colored Hugo Boss sweater. Water streamed down his forehead.

“Josh! You scared me half to death!” I said as I ran into his arms. He was soaking wet, but I didn’t care. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your text that you were meeting Scott. I was worried, so I came to see if you were okay.”

“Josh Scott is the killer! You were right! He chased me here! I already called the police, and they’re on their way!”

“Good. Everything is gonna be okay now.” 

“Josh, he’s the one who’s been following me! He drives the blue sedan!”

“Ssh…it’s okay.”

As he wrapped his arms around me, I felt so safe. The front door was still open, and I saw blue and red flashing lights.

“I think the police are here!” I said, feeling a sense of relief.

Two police officers appeared in the doorway. One was tall and slim, with a long face and pointy chin. The other was a little shorter and kind of stumpy, with a small nose and round face. Detective Walters walked up behind them. He clenched his jaw.

“Hello, Miss Clark.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE—WHICH WAY TO HATERSFIELD?

We gathered in the living room and sat on the couch. I told the cops about the letter we found that Scott had written to Brooke, then got up and retrieved it from my bedroom. When I returned, I handed the letter to Detective Walters. He unfolded it and read it to himself, then shifted his eyes towards me when he was done reading it. I proceeded to tell him that I sent Scott a Facebook message to meet me at
Goodies Café
, then I told him about the things he’d said to me and how he’d chased me to my house. All the while, Detective Walters wrote notes in his little black notepad.

“You put yourself in a dangerous situation, Miss Clark.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head.

“Just let us do our job, okay?” he said.

I nodded my head.

“We contacted your cell phone provider and it appears you were telling the truth about the texts between you and Miss Tillier.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. “I’m still questioning where you were between the time you called Brooke and your mother though.” He put the letter and his notepad in the inside pocket of his trench coat. “I’ll be in touch.” He stood up to walk away. Suddenly, he stopped short.

“Oh, by the way...your friend Stephanie came into the police station and told us she saw Claire Miller by Miss Tillier’s house around the time she was murdered. So, we had Miss Miller come in for questioning. Turns out she wasn’t coming from Miss Tillier’s house. She was at…uh…” He scooped his notepad out of his pocket and flipped a few pages. “Chad McCowen’s house. Apparently, he lives very close to Miss Tillier’s house.” He put the notepad back in his pocket. “We had him come into the station, too. He confirmed he was with her. Apparently, they didn’t want anybody to know they were secretly seeing each other.” I looked at Josh, who had a stunned look on his face. I covered my mouth with my hand. “We tested the blood that was found on Claire’s shirt. It was hers. She said she accidentally cut her hand with a knife.”

“Well, then. That solves that mystery,” I said.

“Okay, Miss Clark. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Okay. So you’re gonna arrest Scott, right?”

“We’re going to bring him to the station and take it from there. Goodnight, Miss Clark.” 

With that, Detective Walters and the two police officers were gone. Josh pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. His clothes were still damp from being in the rain.

Suddenly, my mom walked through the front door.

“Mom!”

“What were the police doing here?”

***

A couple days later, I was sitting in the living room eating a bowl of rocky road ice cream and watching
Dance Moms
. The phone rang, so I put down my bowl of ice cream and ran to answer it; to my surprise, it was Detective Walters. He called to let me know they’d arrested Scott Harrison for the murder of Brooke Tillier. Apparently, he told the police he was at home alone when Brooke was murdered. He had a motive, and no real alibi. I was relieved he was behind bars.

When I was done talking to Detective Walters, I hung up the phone and ran through the house, looking for my mom.

“Mom! They arrested Scott Harrison!”

She sprinted out of her bedroom. “Now that’s good news!” she said.

“Yeah! I’m gonna call Josh!” 

After Josh found out Claire was seeing Chad McCowen behind his back, he decided to call it quits…for good. He and I are together now. I decided Mark and I were better off as friends. Besides, he’s been MIA and acting weird lately.

I went back into the living room and collected my Motorola off the coffee table, next to my bowl of melting ice cream. I scrolled for Josh’s cell number and pressed CALL; it rang three times and went to his voicemail. After the beep, I left a message: “Josh, it’s Hanna! Call me text back! I have great news!”

***

A few weeks had passed, and for the first time in a long time my life felt normal. My mom and I were in a good place. She was even letting me borrow her car more. Josh and I were still happily together. I saw Mark around school, but we didn’t really talk to each other. Claire, Katie, and Jessica stopped punishing me for winning homecoming queen. In fact, Jessica stopped by my house the other day to tell me she decided to tell her mother she was raped by that jerk Zack. Her mother was going to press charges.

Josh pulled into my driveway. It was a Saturday night, and we were going to his house to snuggle up to a movie. I jumped in the passenger seat and gave Josh a kiss on the lips, then I put on my seatbelt.

After we got to his house, we sat on the smoky brown leather couch in his living room with a big bowl of popcorn. I convinced him to watch
The Notebook
. After we started watching the movie, I could feel Josh staring at me. He ran his index finger down my face, along my jawline. We looked at each other intensely for a few moments, then he leaned forward to kiss me. I felt a shiver up my spine. As he slowly moved from my lips down to my neck, I could feel his warm breath. I ran my hands through his hair. He put his hands up my shirt, and this time I didn’t stop him. He thrust his tongue in my mouth; right then and there, I knew he was the one. He stopped kissing me and looked at me with a smile that melted all my fears away. I was ready.

“Do you have a condom?” I whispered.

He nodded his head, then took my hand and led me upstairs to his room.

***

I put my shirt back on and sat down on his bed. I could feel the heat on my cheeks. The thought of what just happened made me lightheaded. Josh leaned over towards me, shirtless, and softly kissed my lips. I smiled bashfully.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want something?” he said.

“Sure. Surprise me,” I replied.

He smirked and left the room. After he left, I got up and wandered around his room. I looked at some of the pictures he had on his dresser. When I noticed none of them were Claire; I smiled to myself. I walked over to his shelf of football trophies and admired them. My phone buzzed: It was my mother reminding me what time I need to be home.

“Here you go.”

I turned around, startled. He walked over to me, still shirtless, with a Corona in each hand and gave one of them to me.

“Thanks.” 

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just my mom.”

He took a swig of his beer and put the bottle on desk. He walked over to his bed and put on his shirt. I sauntered towards his bed and sat down. I started to think about Brooke.

Josh sat down beside me. “What’s wrong? Do you regret what happened tonight?”

“No, not at all. I’m just sad about Brooke. I still can’t believe she’s gone.” I shifted my body towards him. “First she’s accused of having a relationship with her teacher, and now she’s dead.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty messed up thing Claire did. I heard Mr. Parsons moved to Hatersfield.” I snapped my neck in his direction.

“What did you say?”

“I said he moved to Hatersfield.”

“Ohmigod.” I stood up thunderstruck and sprinted towards his computer.

“What’s wrong?”

“When we broke into Brooke’s house I saw Brooke’s calendar hanging on the wall, and the word
Hatersfield
was written on September 24th. He dashed towards me.

“That’s the day before she died!”

“I know!”

“So, what are you doing?”

“I’m Googling the last name
Parsons
in Hatersfield.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brow

“Maybe he had something to do with Brooke’s murder.”

“But
Scott
murdered Brooke.”

“What if he didn’t?” Josh gave me a quizzical stare. “Or what if he had help?”

He leaned over my shoulder. I could smell the beer on his breath. There were a few Parsons listed in Hatersfield, so I searched the words
Mr. Parsons teacher in Willowdale
, and an article popped up. It said that he was dismissed from Willowdale High for having an inappropriate relationship with a student. Apparently, he moved to Hatersfield and now owns a coffee shop called
Parsons Café.

“Ohmigod,” I said. Josh and I looked at each other.

“Do you think he had anything to do with Brooke’s murder?” Josh asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.”