A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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"Kayla, you look like you just saw a ghost!" Mom's eyes widened as her gaze honed in on me, "Is everything okay?" She inquired as I stepped away from Sam and back to Mom in the bread and pastry aisle.

I nodded. "I'm fine, Mom." I desperately wanted to disclose to Mom the jarring news that Sam had just laid one. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was as if the words were caught in my throat, with my mind reminding me of how devastated Mom was after Dad's murder. I couldn't share this new information with her; it felt too cruel. I knew how much the murder hurt her, how it dug up emotions and memories she tried so hard to bury. It wouldn't be fair to upset her with the news Sam had just told me.

"Ok, if you say so." Mom shrugged and continued strolling her cart to the checkout line, and I walked beside her.

"So, what did you and Sam discuss?" Mom asked, trying to pry any bits of information she possibly could out of me, like a dentist pulling out a stubborn tooth.

"Nothing important or exciting," I replied, trying to hide the tension that was deeply buried in my bones.

"Hi, ladies!" The cashier with thin, stringy hair and bifocal glasses greeted us.

Mom smiled back. I didn't; I just wanted Mom to hurry and pay for her groceries so we could finally go home and I could begin my search into this Albert Schiff guy.

"Any plans for tonight?" The cashier asked excitedly.

Mom shook her head, "Well, I'm cooking up a roast for dinner, and Kayla here..." Mom's eyes veered toward me, "..will probably be doing some schoolwork."

The cashier's gaze shifted onto me, "Oh, what school do you go to Kayla?"

"I'm actually on a break right now." I slightly fibbed. I was on a break but was still able to complete coursework for a few of my classes. Besides, I refused to share any information about myself with a stranger, such as the cashier. If I had told her I was a student at Cal State Irvine, we'd have probably gone down the rabbit hole of the Crimson Lake Killer, and I wasn't in the mood.

A young male bagger stopped in our lane and began to bag up our groceries. Setting them neatly in our cart.

Once the bagger was done packing our groceries and stuffing them back into our cart, we were finally on our way.

"Thanks for shopping at Costers!" The young male with curly hair smiled.

Mom and I strolled toward the exit sign, with Mom steering the clunky metal cart full of groceries. The wheels on the cart were annoyingly squeaky. It sounded as if they were in desperate need of some WD-40.

As we stepped outside, the sun's rays smacked us with its beaming heat. A reminder of a typical day in Arizona regardless of the season.

While I walked beside Mom, I was tense and robotic. My emotions a whirlwind of uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Mom pressed as she halted the cart in the back of her gray Camry. It's squeaky wheels now mute, "You're my daughter Kayla, I'm not stupid. I know something is up. I can sense it." Mom raised her brows as she gave me her "You know, I know" stare. The stare I was all too familiar with.

I nodded, "I'm fine, Mom."

Mom pressed her thumb down on the keyring, and the trunk popped open. She then lifted it higher, "You seemed to be shaken up ever since talking with that Sam girl." She admitted while squinting her eyes against the sun's rays. Reaching down into the cart, she picked up the triple-pack carton of milk and plopped it down into it. I stood next to her, helping her unload the rest of the groceries.

"What did Sam share with you that was so upsetting?" Mom inquired once more, holding her hand above her forehead, blocking out the sun's rays.

Since Mom couldn't stop fishing for information, I decided to ask a question that may upset her but would lift the weight of uncertainty off my back.

"What's the name of the man that murdered Dad?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

Mom appeared to be taken aback as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped, "Kayla." Mom began, shock evident in her tone, "Why?"

"Sam." I started, my gaze drifting to the parking lot's ground, "She said there may be a connection between the Crimson Lake Killer and my dad's murderer."

Mom gasped, taken aback, her eyes widened, "Why would she say such a thing?!"

Mom was acting as if Sam was disclosing some wicked and conspiracy-theory type of information to me. Sam wouldn't do that. She was studying journalism, for goodness sake. Ethics plays a big role in journalism.

"Mom, Sam, maybe onto something," I admitted.

"We don't need Sam poking around in an eighteen-year-old murder case," Mom said, her voice firm. "It's already been solved, so why is he so bothered by it?" Her eyebrows knitted together, deepening the wrinkles on her forehead.

"Well, I had better took into it. I refuse to leave any stone untouched."

Mom's gaze met mine, and she shook her head at me as if she were disappointed.

"Kayla, don't you go poking around either." Mom warned, "If you do, you just might find out the Crimson Lake Killer has made his way to Sedona all because of your crazy investigative tactics."

I folded my arms across my chest and rolled my eyes up toward the sky.

"Alright, Mom."

***

That evening, I curled up in bed, the soft pink comforter wrapped around me like a cocoon.

My laptop rested on my legs, its dim glow the only light funneling through my room, casting a shadow on my bare white wall. The darkness pressed in from all sides, making the screen feel like a small, flickering television in the night.

My heart pounded into my ears, and my fingers trembled as I typed in the name.

A-l-b-e-r-t S-c-h-i-f-f

The icon began to spin. And my heart pounded faster, like a bullet train at high speed.

The results loaded, and the first article read, "Convicted Murdered To Serve Life in Prison."

As I scrolled through each article presented on multiple websites, I couldn't find anything that tied the Crimson Lake Killer to Dad's murderer.

I decided to try another search.

The Crimson Lake Killer's ties to Albert Schiff.

I waited once more for the new results to load.

One article caught my eye, "Albert Schiff claims that the infamous serial killer The Crimson Lake Killer is his biological dad."