The Biker (Nightmare Hall) by Diane Hoh Page A

that?”
    Echo was so sure she could never make him understand, she didn’t even try. All she wanted to do now was get rid of him and begin her search for the motorcycle.
    Getting rid of him wasn’t that easy. He insisted on coming up to her room and then wanted to come in. Echo opened the door just a crack, peeked inside, then shook her head. “You can’t come in. Trixie’s asleep.” Actually, Trixie wasn’t even there but Pruitt didn’t know that.
    Clearly disappointed and annoyed, he finally agreed to leave. He didn’t try to kiss her. If he had, Echo was positive she would have lost it altogether and smashed in his face. As he turned away, he said cheerfully, “See you tomorrow. And don’t go riding in any red Miatas, okay? I wouldn’t like that.”
    How could he be so casual? He had murdered two people that day, coldly and deliberately, and yet there he was telling her good-bye the way almost anyone would tell someone goodbye. Except for the threat about the red Miata.
    She had to stop him. Somehow, she had to stop Pruitt.
    She waited a safe fifteen minutes to make sure he was gone, armed herself with a flashlight, and slipped out of the empty room to begin her hunt.

Chapter 9
    T HE LIBRARY BOOK IN Pruitt’s room that had caught Echo’s attention was a volume titled The Caves of Twin Falls. Everyone knew the hill on the far side of the old railroad bridge crossing the Salem River behind campus was dotted with caves, large and small. The bridge was supposedly off limits to all students because of its state of disrepair, a rule generally ignored by all but the most timid souls. The rickety old bridge was the fastest, easiest way to get to the woods and caves on the other side, and almost no one had the patience to take the long way around via the river road. Echo had crossed the bridge more than once, but she had never explored the caves.
    She was about to remedy that situation now, late on this cool, moonless, Sunday night.
    Maybe Pruitt was just writing a report on those old caves, Echo told herself as, flashlight off, she hurried across campus toward the river. But if he wasn’t, then he had to have another reason for having that book in his room. Wouldn’t one of the larger caves be a great place to hide something as big as that motorcycle? Getting it across the bridge without falling through one of the holes in the flooring could be a problem, and hauling it up the hill through the woods to the caves wouldn’t be a picnic, either. But if you were determined …
    Pruitt certainly seemed determined. Not to mention heartless. Poor Polk and Nancy! And Lily was going to be paralyzed if she lived. Pruitt hadn’t blinked an eye when he heard that. No sudden flush of guilt had crossed his pale features. He hadn’t even stammered when he’d made that crude, unnecessary remark.
    Echo’s blood chilled anew, thinking of the total lack of emotion Pruitt had displayed upon hearing the news about those two kids on the cliff, too. They were dead. Didn’t he feel anything? Had he hated Nancy that much for dumping him?
    Then what would he do to someone who turned him in to the police?
    Echo Glenn’s life wouldn’t be worth two cents.
    Cursing the day she had gone to Pruitt and asked for that bike ride, Echo flicked on the flashlight as she neared the bridge. The sudden, yellowish beam made her uneasy. It wasn’t likely that anyone would be on the riverbank this late on a Sunday night, but you never knew. If someone saw her light and came out to check, how would she ever come up with an explanation for being there herself?
    Hastily concocting a story about “research for a paper,” Echo kept going.
    The bridge was in worse shape than she’d remembered. Every step she took brought a screech of protest from the rotting wood beneath her feet. She only weighed a hundred and ten pounds. What kind of noises must the bridge make when Pruitt pushed the heavy motorcycle across it? If he had.
    She could hear the