Page 1 of Echoes of Sin

Chapter One

Brooklyn Sloane

August 2010

Wednesday — 7:52am

College.

Senior year.

The campus hummed with a myriad of emotions as students and teachers rushed by one another to reach their first class of the day. It was the start of a new year, and the differences between freshmen and seniors were easily discernable.

Excitement versus relief.

Uncertainty versus pride.

Those experiencing their first day of college were no doubt filled with nervous anticipation. Everything was fresh and unfamiliar. They were embarking on a new chapter in their lives, about to pursue their dreams. Perhaps their palms grew sweaty and their stomachs churned with anxiety. Or maybe questions swirled in their minds, chipping away at their confidences until nothing was left but doubts and fears.

Would they fit into their new roles?

What if they couldn’t handle their coursework?

Then there were the seniors, reflecting on the past three years. This final chapter of their lives was coming to an end. While it was normal for them to experience nostalgia, they conceivably held a sense of pride for their accomplishments. There was a sense of serenity in their movements as their familiar routines washed over them. Yet their apprehension for the future would only continue to mount as graduation grew closer.

What did the future hold for them?

Had they been given enough knowledge to survive the world that existed outside of the classroom?

“Hey, Sloane. What do you think about this outfit?”

Brook should have gotten used to hearing her new surname by now. After all, she’d changed it from Walsh to Sloane back in 2007. She’d driven to the courthouse alone, chosen a name at random that had been scribbled on a clipboard, and had legally become someone else three years ago.

Unfortunately, not even a name change could erase her true identity—the sister of a serial killer.

“That’s my t-shirt,” Brook said wryly after she’d turned away from the one and only window in their dorm room. “And it has a hole in the hem.”

“I know,” Cara Jordan replied with a smile before pointing toward the small knot that she’d fastened right underneath her left breast. “That’s why I made a thot knot. I didn’t get the most amazing tan over the summer to hide it. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Brook winced at the adjective Cara had used to describe her sun-kissed skin. Nothing was perfect in this world. Brook turned back to the window so her roommate wouldn’t notice her reaction. There were moments when Cara reminded Brook so much of her best friend in high school, but she always did her best to push the comparisons aside. The last time Brook had seen Sally Pearson was the day that she’d bled out in an Illinois cornfield.

“A thot knot?” Brook asked after she was able to find her voice. There had been some very dark days in her past as she’d tried to come to terms with her role in Sally’s death. Only there was no coming to terms with anything. Brook had been a bystander in her brother’s crimes, and her lack of action meant that she was just as guilty as her brother. “Did you make up that term?”

“No,” Cara replied as she walked over to her jewelry box. Brook could faintly make out her friend in the reflection of the window as she tilted her head to the side to study her choices. “I heard Misty call it that yesterday. I never even knew tying a knot in a t-shirt had a name. Go figure.”

“Wear the blue feathered earrings,” Brook advised before Cara could ask for another opinion. She tended to always ask which earrings looked better with each outfit. “The color of the feathers goes better with the lettering on the t-shirt.”

Brook refocused her gaze before scanning the heart of campus one more time.

She’d been uneasy lately, but she hadn’t been able to figure out why. Maybe it was because she’d gone back home for a visit. Spending time with her parents after what had happened with Sally three years ago was always hard. It hadn’t helped that Brook thought she’d seen someone watching her while placing flowers on Sally’s grave. Whoever it was had been too far away to make an identification. She’d even mentioned it to Chief Conway when she’d stopped by the police station to see if there had been any updates on her brother.

Jacob Matthew Walsh.

Her own personal brush with evil, and one that had stained her soul. She fought every day not to buckle underneath the weight of her guilt.

Brook had only been ten years old when she’d noticed there was something wrong with Jacob. He’d somehow changed without anyone noticing but her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to bring up her concerns with her parents. Each and every comment had been brushed off with an excuse.

After all, who wanted to admit that their brother, son, or friend was a psychopath?

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