and then returned to room 324 at Lester to “study.” Echo usually escaped to the library long before the group arrived.
But tonight, all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and crawl into bed. She needed peace and privacy to decide what to do about the cave. There’d be no peace or privacy in her room tonight.
She was surprised to find the room unusually quiet when she opened the door and walked in. They were all there, sprawling on the floor or sitting on Trixie’s bed (not on hers, Echo noticed gratefully), but the usual loud music was absent, no one was laughing, and even the conversation seemed subdued.
“Wow, what happened to you?” Trixie cried when Echo walked in and plopped down on her bed. “I thought you had a date. You look like you’ve been mud-wrestling instead. I told you you were nuts, going out with someone like Pruitt. He’s too weird.”
“Hey,” Deejay protested. “Pruitt’s not nuts! He’s just … different, that’s all. You don’t even know him, Trixie. Leave Echo alone.”
“I don’t want to know him,” Trixie said. “And I don’t understand why Echo does.”
“I wasn’t with Pruitt,” Echo said wearily. “The date ended a long time ago. I went for a walk and I … I fell.”
No one seemed to care where Echo had been, and Trixie went on to explain, “We were just talking about those two kids in the Miata. The car that went over the cliff? Polk Malone and Nancy Becker. No classes tomorrow, because of them. Marilyn said the dean’s going ballistic, because she’s had to field a lot of phone calls from parents about the Mad Biker.”
The topic of conversation explained why they were all so unusually quiet. It was a depressing subject.
“Well, if Nancy Becker had kept dating Pruitt,” Deejay said, “she wouldn’t be dead now, would she?”
You don’t know how right you are, Echo thought bitterly. She knew Deejay meant that Nancy would have been with Pruitt, instead of in Polk’s car. She didn’t mean that if Nancy hadn’t dumped Pruitt, she’d still be alive.
Echo went into the bathroom, closed the door, and sank down on the floor with her head in her hands. She was going to have to keep seeing Pruitt, horrible though the thought was, until she had something to take to the police. And not just because she wanted, needed, to prove him guilty. Because she feared for her very life. Ignoring Pruitt’s threats would be foolish, even crazy.
When she came out of the bathroom, Ruthanne was saying vehemently, “Well, somebody has to do something! Everyone’s scared to death. It could be any one of us next time. People are going to start hiding in their rooms pretty soon.”
“I agree with Deejay,” Marilyn said quietly. “At least Echo won’t be alone like she usually is. She has Pruitt to keep an eye on her now.”
That was so close to what Pruitt was actually doing, Echo fought an urge to laugh aloud. She was tired, and scared, and sick at heart. Unless that notebook she’d taken from the cave proved valuable, she’d wasted two hours when she should have been studying for finals, and she had almost been caught by an insane killer in the process. “That part about hiding in our rooms,” she said, not caring if she was being rude, “sounds like a great idea. Since you guys aren’t really doing anything here, maybe you could go back to your rooms and do nothing, okay? I need to sleep.”
No one took offense. It was late and they were all still shaken by the afternoon’s tragedy. They left quietly.
When they had gone, Echo took a hot shower and crawled into bed, tired and aching.
But she didn’t go to sleep right away. Two people had been killed today, brutally, in what looked like a random, vicious act of cruelty.
And she, Echo Glenn, knew who had done it. She couldn’t prove it, not yet, but she knew.
Ruthanne, for once, was right. Somebody had to do something.
There had to be some way to prove what Echo Glenn knew about Aaron
But tonight, all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and crawl into bed. She needed peace and privacy to decide what to do about the cave. There’d be no peace or privacy in her room tonight.
She was surprised to find the room unusually quiet when she opened the door and walked in. They were all there, sprawling on the floor or sitting on Trixie’s bed (not on hers, Echo noticed gratefully), but the usual loud music was absent, no one was laughing, and even the conversation seemed subdued.
“Wow, what happened to you?” Trixie cried when Echo walked in and plopped down on her bed. “I thought you had a date. You look like you’ve been mud-wrestling instead. I told you you were nuts, going out with someone like Pruitt. He’s too weird.”
“Hey,” Deejay protested. “Pruitt’s not nuts! He’s just … different, that’s all. You don’t even know him, Trixie. Leave Echo alone.”
“I don’t want to know him,” Trixie said. “And I don’t understand why Echo does.”
“I wasn’t with Pruitt,” Echo said wearily. “The date ended a long time ago. I went for a walk and I … I fell.”
No one seemed to care where Echo had been, and Trixie went on to explain, “We were just talking about those two kids in the Miata. The car that went over the cliff? Polk Malone and Nancy Becker. No classes tomorrow, because of them. Marilyn said the dean’s going ballistic, because she’s had to field a lot of phone calls from parents about the Mad Biker.”
The topic of conversation explained why they were all so unusually quiet. It was a depressing subject.
“Well, if Nancy Becker had kept dating Pruitt,” Deejay said, “she wouldn’t be dead now, would she?”
You don’t know how right you are, Echo thought bitterly. She knew Deejay meant that Nancy would have been with Pruitt, instead of in Polk’s car. She didn’t mean that if Nancy hadn’t dumped Pruitt, she’d still be alive.
Echo went into the bathroom, closed the door, and sank down on the floor with her head in her hands. She was going to have to keep seeing Pruitt, horrible though the thought was, until she had something to take to the police. And not just because she wanted, needed, to prove him guilty. Because she feared for her very life. Ignoring Pruitt’s threats would be foolish, even crazy.
When she came out of the bathroom, Ruthanne was saying vehemently, “Well, somebody has to do something! Everyone’s scared to death. It could be any one of us next time. People are going to start hiding in their rooms pretty soon.”
“I agree with Deejay,” Marilyn said quietly. “At least Echo won’t be alone like she usually is. She has Pruitt to keep an eye on her now.”
That was so close to what Pruitt was actually doing, Echo fought an urge to laugh aloud. She was tired, and scared, and sick at heart. Unless that notebook she’d taken from the cave proved valuable, she’d wasted two hours when she should have been studying for finals, and she had almost been caught by an insane killer in the process. “That part about hiding in our rooms,” she said, not caring if she was being rude, “sounds like a great idea. Since you guys aren’t really doing anything here, maybe you could go back to your rooms and do nothing, okay? I need to sleep.”
No one took offense. It was late and they were all still shaken by the afternoon’s tragedy. They left quietly.
When they had gone, Echo took a hot shower and crawled into bed, tired and aching.
But she didn’t go to sleep right away. Two people had been killed today, brutally, in what looked like a random, vicious act of cruelty.
And she, Echo Glenn, knew who had done it. She couldn’t prove it, not yet, but she knew.
Ruthanne, for once, was right. Somebody had to do something.
There had to be some way to prove what Echo Glenn knew about Aaron
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