Marilyn Brooks was found in the quad at Baxter High School at 10:37 pm on November 2nd. She had been missing for two weeks and was finally found soaking wet and covered in her own blood. At 16 she had achieved more than most adults had. She was a model student and a remarkable person in general. She was well known by everyone. Everyone loved her.
Well, perhaps not everyone. After all, she was murdered.
~
"Evan Brooks, 14 years old, freshman at Baxter High, brother to the deceased. No record of any criminal activity," Detective David Harris read off the information on Marilyn's little brother. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, scratching his slicked back hair.
"Possible suspect?" Detective Greg Benson questioned, thumbing through Evan's file, every now and then running his hands through his balding gray hair.
Their desks were situated side by side, a stack of papers glaring at them, the answer to this mystery lurking somewhere deep within them.
These two were the greatest detectives of their time. Together, they had solves as many as 50 cases in the four short years that they had been partners. They were mostly known for their knack in solving murder cases.
However, something about this case was different. Benson had two daughters, ages 13 and 10, of his own, while Harris had been a bachelor most of his life. However that didn't stop him from feeling the same penchance towards helping Marilyn, that Harris felt. They couldn't believe something as horrific as this happened to such a good kid. Their usual victims were middle aged men caught in a crossfire of bad business deals, or distressed mistresses; but never an innocent teenage girl. Even worse, there were no leads, she was the only clue they had, and before she was dumped on the campus she was fully submerged in water for an extended period of time, washing away any and all possible clues.
"There's no motive, and when I interviewed him he was too distraught to give me any vital information," Harris stated matter-of-factly.
"What about her boyfriend, Chase Reynolds? 17 years old, junior at Baxter High. He has a few counts of underage drinking and drug use on his file," Harris handed Benson Chase's file.
Once the file was in Benson's hands, his gray blue eyes lit up with mystery
"There's something wrong with that one, Gregg." Harris asked, his pen tapping his desk rhythmically.
"What do you mean?" Benson asked, switching on the desk lamp as day turned to evening.
"I don't know, there's just something off about him."
Harris took his copies of the remaining files from the edge of his desk and shoving them in his dark leather briefcase.
"Well, let's bring him in for an interview."
~
The first day back since Marilyn was found was when all hell started to break loose. The grassy quad was still roped off. A picture of Marilyn was propped up against a wooden pole; flowers and candles were already piling up. Her locker was plastered with pictures and "We Love You" type messages. Various news vans had taken over the campus, reporters interviewing teens who were "best friends" with Marilyn.
But what those reporters didn't know was, Marilyn's real "best friends" were hiding out in their "secret hiding place" or the BirdCage as they liked to call it.
Marilyn's actual best friends were a ragtag group of kids. Chase, Lillian, Opal, and Matthew. They all grew up together, closer than close, always cracking jokes and planning adventures. Not so much these days, since there was a blatant hole in each of their hearts.
