The Biker (Nightmare Hall) (12 page)

She glanced at her watch. Almost noon. The day was speeding by and so far, she hadn’t accomplished a thing. Tomorrow, she’d have classes most of the day, and work. And by tomorrow, someone else could be dead.

She was halfway back to Lester to change into boots for the climb up the hill to the cave when someone called out to her. She turned, half-expecting to see Deejay or Marilyn waving.

Pruitt. Running toward her across campus.

Her heart sank. He’d blackmail her into spending the afternoon with him, and she’d never get near the cave.

Inspiration struck. If she
had
to be with Pruitt, she’d use the time well.

Slightly out of breath, he caught up with her. “Boating,” he said. “We’re going boating on the river. And don’t give me any excuses. I’ve already made plans.”

“Okay,” Echo said blithely, “why not? Such a gorgeous day. But first, I have to make a quick phone call. You don’t mind waiting, do you? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Make it quick,” he ordered, his normal breathing restored, taking her elbow to propel her across the sprawling green lawn. “Who you calling?”

They passed the fountain on the Commons. Echo was vaguely aware of Liam McCullough’s large form sprawled on the low stone wall, sensed that he looked up as she passed with Pruitt. No time to think about that now. She had more important things on her mind.

It was very important that she have a clear view of Pruitt’s face as she answered his question. Her head turned, her eyes focused clearly, and she said, “I have to call my brother. My older brother.” She had no brothers and no sisters, but he couldn’t know that. “We’re very close. He’s helping me through school, and I call him every week.”

“Didn’t know you had a brother. What’s his name?”

Echo went in for the kill. Never taking her eyes from his face for a second, she said proudly, “Ross. His name is Ross, and he’s really cool.”

She didn’t know what she had expected, but she wasn’t prepared for Pruitt’s reaction. He drew in his breath in a shocked gasp, every last ounce of color drained from his face and he stopped short, stumbling and almost falling. When he recovered his balance, he hissed in Echo’s face, “What did you say?”

If Echo had had any doubt at all that the notebook she’d taken from the cave belonged to Pruitt, it disintegrated under the force of his reaction. It was perfectly clear that the name “Ross” shattered him.

Frightened by the strength of his reaction and wondering if she’d overplayed her hand, Echo backtracked. “Well, his name isn’t really Ross,” she amended, her voice still light, and remarkably steady. “It’s actually John Ross. But since my dad has the same name and everyone calls him John, we call my brother Ross. Easier that way.” She looked up at Pruitt with deliberately innocent eyes. “Don’t you think?”

The color returned to his face in a flood and she could almost smell the relief. “Oh,” he breathed heavily, “oh,
John
Ross.” Then he began babbling, “John Ross, yeah, nice name, didn’t know you had a brother, nice of him to help you out with school …”

Echo wasn’t listening. She had found out what she needed to know.

Now all she had to do was decide what to do with it. Before someone else died.

A
TALL BRUNETTE NAMED
Gabriella Stone raced along the river path, ponytail bouncing on the back of her neck as she ran. Her dirty white sneakers barely touched the ground as she went, and her white shorts and tank top were wet with sweat. The sun was hot, the air very still and thickening with humidity, but she never slackened her pace. Her feet, pumping as steadily as her strong, healthy heart, left a fine spray of dirt in their wake.

Gabriella’s concentration was so great, she didn’t hear the motorcycle until it was almost on top of her. It came roaring not straight down the path behind her, but out of the woods, leaping over a growth of underbrush like a stunt cycle in an adventure movie, landing sideways on the path with a bone-shaking thud fifty feet behind the runner.

Crying out in surprise, she spun around, her lips forming the word, “What …?” Then her expression changed from bewilderment to fear as she realized what she was looking at. Her eyes said quite clearly that she remembered, then, exactly
how
that red Miata had gone sailing off the overlook. Her deeply tanned face went as white as her tank top and her eyes widened in dread. “You …” she whispered to the leather jacket and shiny black helmet and custom-made boots, “you …!”

The engine purred for another second or two, and then a black-booted foot pushed down on a pedal, black-gloved hands twisted near the handlebars, revving the engine, and the bike began moving.

But … it moved slowly, this time, leisurely, as if it intended only to peacefully accompany the girl as she completed her run. They might have been two people out for a companionable stroll along the riverbank, one on foot, the other on an ambling motorcycle.

Confused, Gabriella kept her eyes on the biker, so close to her now that she could clearly see the intricate, colored pattern on the boots. She took a step backward, then another, until her shoulders collided with the trunk of a tree lining the path. “What do you want?” she breathed, frightened to the core by the foreboding figure. Black helmet. Dark, smoke-colored face shield hiding even his eyes from her. Black clothing, head to toe, black gloves hiding his hands from her. And the bike itself, the growling monster aimed straight at her, was black as coal. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

The bike stopped, its engine murmuring softly. One booted foot came off the pedal and rested on the path again.

The girl glanced around frantically, up the path toward school and back down it again, the way she had come. There was no one. Only the biker.

“You could,” a voice said softly from behind the face shield, “run for the river. You’re fast. You might get by me and dive into the water before I could stop you. But you’d probably drown. That current is deadly. Or you could try the woods, if a swim isn’t what you had in mind. But this baby,” patting the handlebars affectionately, “can go anywhere. Uphill, downhill, on rough terrain, doesn’t matter. And it’s faster than you’ve ever dreamed of running, Gabriella.”

The girl shrank against the tree. She swallowed hard. Her dark eyes in the ghostly-pale face were round with terror. “I haven’t done anything to you,” she whispered.

The black helmet nodded. “This is true.” The foot returned to the pedal. “But then, you’re not going to die because of something
you
did. You’re going to die because of something someone
else
did.” He shook his head ruefully. “Not fair, I know. But then, hell, what is?”

Gabriella tried to digest his words. Die? She was going to die? He didn’t really mean that, did he? He had killed others, she knew that. But they weren’t
her.
She couldn’t die. Not now, not today, not yet! She had never even thought about dying until she’d heard about Polk and Nancy. And to be honest, she hadn’t thought about it that long then, because after all, it wasn’t
her.

She was too young to die.

But then, Polk and Nancy hadn’t been any older than she was.

He couldn’t mean it. He
couldn’t.
She wouldn’t
let
him kill her. He had no right. No right at all.

The trained athlete in her took over. Her adrenaline pumping, she threw her shoulders back and raised her chin defiantly. She was suddenly very angry with herself for the wimpish way she had spoken to him. She was
not
going to die! Not today. Not at
his
hands. And she wasn’t going to get on her knees and beg, either. It probably wouldn’t do any good anyway.

Her eyes darted to the river. The water looked cold, and he was probably right about the current. She had heard that it was horrendous. Even if she was willing to try it, she’d never make it past the bike. It barred her way, a solid black wall between her and the river.

The woods? What were her chances of darting into the woods and zigzagging fast enough that she’d lose him?

Nil. She knew that. Knew it as surely and sickeningly as she knew she should have listened to the security guard who had called after her as she began her run, “I wouldn’t be running alone just now, Miss. That biker’s still out there somewhere.”

Why hadn’t she listened?

Because until now, until this minute, Gabriella Stone had never been afraid of anything.

She was afraid now. And he
knew
it. She wished, passionately, that she hadn’t allowed him to see that.

Maybe if she fought back, she’d have a chance. Maybe all he was really trying to do was scare her half to death. They weren’t up on the overlook where the Miata had been parked, they were much closer to campus. Pretty risky to kill someone
here.
If she gave him a hard time, maybe he’d give up and let her go. He
was
just a coward, after all, or he wouldn’t need the bike to do his dirty work for him.

She was
not
going down without a fight. “You
hide
behind that bike!” she said with a contemptuous sneer. “Like some lowlife criminal hiding behind a gun. Without that gun, he’s nothing and he knows it. The same goes for you. Without that bike, I’ll bet you’re nothing!”

Although his foot returned to the pedal and he revved the engine, he seemed to hesitate.

That moment’s hesitation was just long enough for Gabriella to convince herself that she’d taken the right approach, that fighting him was her way out, after all. He hadn’t expected any trouble from her, had he? Thought it would be so easy, her out here alone on this path, him on that powerful motorcycle. Well, he wasn’t so sure now, was he? Any second now, if she stood her ground, he’d give up, turn that horrible bike around, and take it and himself out of her sight.

She wasn’t going to die today, after all.

Gabriella began shouting at him again, her voice louder and stronger than before.

She was still shouting when the bike roared straight at her and slammed her against the tree, crushing her instantly.

Then the biker drove slowly, nonchalantly, up the path toward campus.

Leaving no one behind to tell the world that when Gabriella Stone died at the hands of the Mad Biker, she was not on her knees begging for mercy.

E
CHO GOT RID OF
Pruitt by faking a sudden headache. He wasn’t happy about it but he was still too rattled by the name “Ross” to put up much of an argument.

When he had gone, Echo hurried to her room.

Trixie was there. Burning with impatience, Echo had to wait until Deejay, Marilyn, and Ruthanne arrived to pick up Trixie for a trip to the mall before she could call the police about the notebook and the cave. The trio was late, and the clock hands on Echo’s desk seemed to be crawling.

“Where have you guys been?” Echo cried when the two finally arrived. “You were supposed to be here hours ago!” Caught up in her own anxiety, she didn’t notice how quietly they entered or how pale and strained their faces were.

“One
hour ago,” Trixie corrected, giving her a suspicious look. “What’s the big deal, anyway? I used the time to study for finals. You should have done the same thing, instead of pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. Echo, are you waiting for someone?” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t invite Pruitt over here, did you?”

“No! I just … I have to study for finals, and I need peace and quiet for that.”

“Something’s happened,” Marilyn interrupted quietly, taking a seat on Trixie’s desk chair. “Something terrible.”

Oh, God, Echo thought. And Trixie said, “No! I don’t want to hear this! I don’t want to know about it. Let’s just go to the mall and go shopping and pretend that everything is just fine. Can we do that, please? Please?”

Deejay shook her head. Wispy dark tendrils clung to the round, smooth cheeks. “Can’t, Trixie. There are cops down there, checking every car that leaves campus. We can’t pretend
that’s
normal.”

Trixie sighed heavily, leaned against the closet door. “Okay, then, okay! What
is
it? Is it really bad?”

Ruthanne nodded heavily. There were pain lines around her mouth and, as she spoke, she bent and began rubbing her left leg. “It’s horrible. The biker attacked a runner on the river path. Gabriella Stone, the tall, really thin girl on the relay team. Do you know her?”

Trixie and Echo both shook their heads negatively. “Is she okay?” Echo asked, her voice unsteady.

Ruthanne began rubbing the right leg. “No. She’s dead. She was crushed against a tree.”

Trixie burst into tears, and Echo sagged against the wall. Another one! Another victim had died at the hands of the Mad Biker. And Echo had known the whole time who the guilty party was. If only she hadn’t waited for Trixie to leave, if she’d called the police first thing this morning, maybe Gabriella Stone would still be alive.

“That’s why we were late,” Deejay explained. “When I pulled my car out onto Campus Drive, an ambulance was blocking the way, and traffic was backed up. There were policemen there, and I asked one what had happened. He told us. Didn’t want to, I could tell, but I made a pest of myself. Then I turned around and came the back way. Like I said, the cops are checking every car that leaves campus. That’s why the traffic was backed up.”

Sickened by the news, Echo began shaking from head to toe. She moved backward until her legs bumped against her bed, and then sank down on it. She couldn’t think, didn’t want to think. Couldn’t feel, either. She went completely numb.

No one said anything for a while. Then, “Pruitt’s going to be really bummed,” Deejay said quietly. “He knew her.”

Echo’s head snapped up. “Pruitt knew Gabriella Stone?” Like he knew Nancy Becker?

“Yeah. They were on the debating team together first semester. Fighting for the same slot. Gabriella got it, so Pruitt dropped out. He didn’t seem at all upset about it. You know Pruitt. He doesn’t get wrecked over stuff like that.”

That wasn’t the Pruitt Echo knew. The Pruitt she knew got very “wrecked” when things didn’t go his way.

Marilyn spoke up, her face very white. “Pruitt knew Nancy Becker
and
Gabriella Stone?” she asked Deejay.