Echo Bridge by Kristen O'Toole

of the car. We watched him stare through the passenger window, probably at Molly as she made her way up the walk to the Winslow’s front door. Then he started the car, and his music pounded over Grieves’ speakers once again.
    I breathed out and felt all the tension go out of my shoulders, the way I did when the curtain dropped after the bows at the end of a show. “He’ll do it at the Revelry after-party.”
    “You’re sure she’s safe tonight?” asked Mr. Grieves.
    “What’s the deal with Elaine Winslow?” asked Lexi. “Molly said her sister didn’t want her dating Hugh?”
    “That’s all I know,” I shrugged. Elaine hadn’t come out and said it when she’d spoken to me, but it definitely seemed possible that Hugh had done something to her, too.
    “All right,” Grieves leaned forward and hit a couple of keys, and the map of Belknap disappeared. “So what do you want off this guy’s phone? Texts?”
    “And emails and voicemails,” Farah leaned forward. “We want everything. Will you show me how you get in without the service provider picking up the breach?”
    While they conferred, Lexi and I stood by the window and stared out at the glowing skyline. “I’m sorry I got so aggro about Molly,” she said softly. “But it’s just like…you, me, Farah, maybe Elaine—how many girls do you think he’s done this to? How many more will he go after before he graduates?”
    “I get it,” I said. “I try not to think about it. Some days that’s the only way I can get through the school door, you know?”
    “Yeah, I do. That’s why we need to get him kicked out.”
    “How do we do that?” I asked. “I mean, if Farnsworth is willing to ignore a rape accusation for the hockey team’s record, what could Hugh possibly do that Farnsworth couldn’t brush under the rug?”
    “Something public.” Lexi fiddled with the end of her braid, brushing it against her lips. “Something with lots of witnesses.”
    “Thistleton Hall?” I suggested, thinking of the Panopticon. “A slanderous website?”
    “You guys, come over here,” said Farah. “What the hell is this?”
    “It’s from his notepad app,” added Grieves.
    It was a list of dates, in reverse chronological order. Near the top of the screen, I saw “9/23/13.”
    “This is the date of Melissa’s party,” I said. “The night he…” I swallowed my words.
    “That’s mine.” Lexi pointed to 9/4/13. “Do you think this is, like, a record?”
    “It has to be,” I said. “It can’t be a coincidence that both dates are here.”
    “What do you mean, both dates?” Grieves asked.
    I felt the blood rush to my face, and Lexi cleared her throat. Grieves looked back and forth between us. “Holy shit. Both of you?”
    “We’re here,” Lexi said meaningfully, gesturing at Grieves’s humming computers and the guy himself. “You must have known we had a good reason.”
    “Sure, but—” He looked at both of us again and interrupted himself. “All right. I’m waiving my fee on this job, and I’ll have my guys throw in a little bonus work. Delete his homework off his computer and flag his license plate so he won’t be able to drive two feet without getting pulled over for unpaid parking tickets, that kind of thing.”
    “Thanks, Grieves,” said Farah. “But we need to do more.”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “Revelry,” Lexi said. “Getting drunk at the dance. If everyone knows, then Farnsworth will have to make an example of him.”
    “I hate to break it to you,” I said. “But Hugh already drinks at dances. He’s always got a pint of Jack Daniels in his jacket. He knows exactly how drunk he can get and still hide it.”
    “Then we’ll spike his whiskey,” said Lexi, with her naughty smile. “Isn’t that sort of fitting? Roofie-ing a rapist?”
    “You are insane,” said Mr. Grieves.
    “I don’t know,” said Farah. “Where would we get roofies? And wouldn’t that just make him pass out?”
    “I don’t