A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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My mind tumbled back to the day when Mark and I witnessed Lydia's devastated aunt visiting the site at the park where she had supposedly committed suicide. However, her aunt knew the painful truth- Lydia couldn't have committed suicide and her death had to have been a murder.

I myself was convinced it was a murder. And with that, I knew I had to do some deep research, so I headed to the campus library.

***

The double doors of the library swung open, and I strolled inside. The nostalgic scent of book pages filled the air, and I wiggled my nostrils, reveling in the joy. Walking into the library brought back pleasant memories of the days when reading was my beloved pastime. However, since I started running track, I found myself reading less and less.

As I made my way to the front desk, I was greeted by a young librarian wearing eyeglasses, her dark hair neatly wrapped in a bun.

"Hi!" I greeted as I approached the desk, gazing down at the librarian sitting in a rolling chair behind it.

Her big brown eyes met mine, "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Do you have any information about serial killers who have once plagued this town?" I inquired.

The librarian's eyes widened in shock.

"I know, it sounds pretty strange." I chuckled nervously, "But I'm a criminal justice major and need this information for a project." I fibbed.

The shock slowly dissipated from her face into one of stoicism.

"OK, let me check." She replied, furrowing her brows. Her face shifted to her computer screen, and she began typing away on the keyboard.

While I waited, my gaze swept across the book-filled space, watching the various patrons. College students focused with their heads shoved into their textbooks, and others had their eyes glued to their laptops as they studied.

I spotted a few older adults checking out the crime fiction section. Many of the retired individuals used our campus library on occasion because it was in close proximity to their homes.

"The last known serial killer in Irvine was the Crimson Lake Killer." The librarian offered, "Would you like information on how to access the older newspaper articles from back in the '80s when his crimes were committed?"

"Yes!" I replied excitedly, "That would be great!"

She grabbed a bright pink-colored sticky notepad and scribbled down the information. Then she ripped off the sticky note and handed it to me.

"Good luck!" She offered with a smile.

"Thanks," I replied as I peered down at the list.

I leisurely strolled through the book-lined aisles, looking for a microfilm machine, when I suddenly heard the sound of chimes and bells ringing outside. I furrowed my brows as I scanned the area. Others didn't seem bothered by it, but I certainly was. The musical tunes echoed through the library's walls, piquing my curiosity.

I shifted my walk toward where the sounds were coming from, venturing down the historical fiction section. I peeked out the dust-smeared window. Our university's procession band was playing outside. I shook my head in disbelief.

Don't they realize how disruptive that is?

I shrugged and resumed searching the different rooms for the microfilm machine. Once, I had found it in a tiny room near the Young Adult section, where a string of books was lined up on the countertop. I reminisced about the ones I used to read, particularly the R.L. Stine *Fear Street* series, which I devoured in one sitting.