More police arrived. As they did, she recalled the apparently random assaults that Coach Burnett had mentioned. This student was the latest victim—and she had seen the culprit!
The student stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he coughed up blood.
“Hang on, son. An ambulance is on the way,” a policeman said.
“I’m okay,” the boy gasped.
“No, you’re not. You’re hurt. Don’t move . . . just tell us what happened. Can you identify your assailant?”
“I . . . no. I didn’t see him,” the boy said.
What! That was impossible, Nancy knew. The beating he had received must have lasted several minutes. How could he not have seen his attacker in that time?
“Are you sure?” the policeman asked. “Anything you can tell us will help.”
“Sorry, I . . . I didn’t see his face,” the student insisted.
He was lying! But why?
Nancy stepped forward. “Excuse me. I saw the man. I was standing in the parking lot when he ran from the building. He nearly ran me down with his car.”
Instantly she was surrounded by policemen. She gave her statement slowly and carefully. Her only regret was that she couldn’t describe the man’s face, only his approximate height and weight. That was all she had been able to see in the split second it had taken him to sprint from the dorm to his car.
When she was finished, the policemen turned to the student who had phoned them. He had heard the beating taking place and called from his room.
Nancy stayed until the ambulance arrived. As the student was wheeled away on a gurney, she heard him murmuring, “Please don’t tell my parents! Please don’t call them!”
There wasn’t much hope of that, she knew. But why did he want his parents kept in the dark? Was he afraid they would be angry at him? Maybe he was just delirious. She didn’t know.
“That was one crazy night you had!” George said the next morning.
Nancy pushed her scrambled eggs around her plate. “No kidding! Crazy and strange. I feel lucky to be here.”
“Too bad that student wasn’t as lucky as you.” Bess shuddered. “Honestly, Nancy, I don’t know how you could stand to look at him.”
“I’m not sure, either.”
That was the truth. At the time, the sight of his battered face hadn’t bothered her. When she pictured it now, though, in the cold light of day, she felt sick.
“Well, at least it’s over,” George said, squeezing her hand.
“Not quite. This morning I remembered some details about the Camaro. It had smoked windows and custom hubcaps . . . you know, the ones that look like wire wheels? I should add that to my statement.”
“What about the practical joker case?”
“I’ll get back to it right after I visit the police station.”
Outside, the air was warmer than it had been during the previous few days. The sun was bright. Nancy had to step around the puddles in the sidewalks as she strolled across the campus toward the police station.
As she walked, her thoughts returned to Ned and their argument the night before. She couldn’t blame him for sticking by Mike, but she couldn’t understand it, either. How could he ignore something as obvious as the evidence in Mike’s room? To her, that was like ignoring a Detour sign on a highway. It was foolish and dangerous—and it didn’t make sense!
Her thoughts vanished, though, as she drew near the administration building. A demonstration was going on outside it—Tom Stafford and his crew again! What were they protesting this time? she wondered. The budget for the P.E. department again?
No. This time the campaign was a lot more serious, she saw. Their signs read “End Illegal Payments to Emerson Athletes!” and “No More Bucks for Burnett’s Bribes!”
As she walked up, Nancy heard a reporter from the school newspaper quizzing Tom. “. . . so can you prove these charges?”
The student council president avoided a direct answer. “We’re forcing the issue into the open. Pat Burnett must come clean!”
“You don’t have proof, then,” the reporter said knowingly.
“Look, it’s common knowledge that illegal salaries are paid to college athletes,” Tom said. “If you want hard evidence, then . . . then talk to her!” He pointed a finger at Nancy.