Did they know? No.

Did Haley want them to know? Also no.

Her friends suspected she was some kind of inappropriate and intimate dancer, but she wasn't. Truth be told, she's never actually undressed for a man or woman. But, back to the story.

Haley--as usual--was dealing with her 'business', which was frankly, very violent.

Suddenly her phone rang. It was Maya. Her friend.

"Maya, I'm kind of busy right now-" Haley said.

The men behind Haley groaned, trying to get her.

"What are you doing?" Maya replied. "Are you-?"

Haley knew what Maya was about to say. "No-! I'm not."

One of the men lunged at Haley, pinning her tight against the floor.

"Maya, I really need to go." Haley muttered, feigning the man off her.

"Why?" Haley could practically hear Maya's smirk from behind the phone.

The man pinned her wrists down, smirking above her. "Eight years, Echo. We finally caught you."

Echo? That was the name of the mass murderer in New York. Was Haley 'Echo'?

"Maya." Haley growled low. "I'm closing the phone now."

"Wait-!" Maya yelled. "Are you Echo?"

Haley froze. "No-!" She answered.

The man on top of her chuckled. "She is." He replied.

"My phones about to die-" Maya said, and the line cut off.

Little did Maya--or Haley know, Maya's phone wouldn't be the only thing dying.