A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

|-44-|

The day was dwindling as the moon's crescent ricocheted off the setting sun. Its light peeked through the slit in my curtains like a burglar glaring into my room. 

I caught Albert Schiff's name floating in my head like clouds on a stormy night. The first thought that ran through my mind was how much of what I'd read in that article was true. Or was Albert just trying to throw the police off before he went to trial for the murder of Dad? 

He was ultimately convicted of my dad's murder, but what was his reason for inserting the name of the Crimson Lake Killer and claiming it was his father? An icy shiver crawled up my spine as I realized I had so many questions and no answers. 

I hopped into my leather swivel chair, grabbed a blue pen from the desk, and started jotting down all the questions swirling in my head about Albert Schiff:

Did he know Dad before he offed him?

Why did he do it?

Is the original Crimson Lake Killer his biological father?

My eyelids began to grow heavy; I knew I had to sleep soon—my Forensics class on Zoom was first thing in the morning, and I didn't want to miss it. I'd been looking forward to it all week. But with the bombshell about Albert Schiff hanging over me, I only hope I could stay focused.

My phone vibrated against my wooden desk, startling me. I picked it up and gazed down at the bright screen.

Lorena: Hey, Kayla! So, have you decided? Can you come out here to San Francisco?

Kayla: I just got an update from a former classmate of mine named Sam. She told me the man who murdered my father was related to the Crimson Lake Killer. And I just found an article that may confirm this. 

Lorena: What?!! NO WAY!

Kayla: I wish I were lying, but unfortunately, it's the truth. Read this article http://www.sedonanews.com/albertschiff.com

Lorena: Sounds like I may need to come down to Sedona. Is that Albert Schiff guy still in prison?

Kayla: Yes, he's definitely in prison.

Lorena: We may need to pay him a visit soon.

***

The sun rose, and its light crept into my bedroom, funneling straight into my eyes and causing me to squint. I sat up in my bed and yawned, stretching my arms above my head, I gazed around my room. My laptop screen was flashing as it sat atop my desk, its bright display still showing the Albert Schiff article I had eagerly consumed—like a shark catching a whiff of blood. I was sniffing for clues and building a trail. That is, until my eyelids grew heavy, and I toppled over, snoring in my chair.

Lifting the blankets, I tossed them off my legs and turned to the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. As I sat there, I thought about how nice it would be to just forget about the Crimson Lake Killer and move on with my life. Hell, I was back in Arizona anyway—far away from Irvine, where his reign had haunted the town. Residents were on edge as he lurked around, killing young women one by one. But now, with Albert thrown into the mix, there was no way I could put it behind me—especially if his current terror was tied to Dad's murder.

I stood up and logged onto my computer. My first class of the morning was Forensic Psychology, the one I was looking forward to, with Dr. Adam Smith. I set up my Zoom and positioned my camera to face me as I waited for class to start.

"Welcome, students!" He spoke loudly into Zoom's microphone. His expression did not match his voice, which was optimistic and cheerful, yet his face was stoic, "Today, we'll be learning about psychology and human behavior." 

Why did Albert murder my Dad, to begin with?

I yawned once more as I sat there, listening to Dr. Adam Smith. I wanted to be interested in the course, but my mind kept drifting off like a racecar that steadily veered out of its lane. 

Was Dad an enemy of Albert Schiff? 

"Kayla." I heard Dr. Smith voice, it knocked me back to consciousness. 

"Yes?" I replied, my eyes honed onto the screen as Dr. Smith's eyes met mine. His gray hair was disheveled, and his mustache appeared to be a few months overdue for grooming.

"Tell me something that you find fascinating about human behavior?" He asked me. All the other students looked at me from their cameras.

"Ummm," I replied, stammering, not knowing what to say. Although I knew I had something to offer, being that I loved Criminology and psychology and human behavior were two big components of that, "I find it fascinating that some humans can justify hurting or killing someone."

A girl in one of the Zoom squares on the top corner of my screen appeared confused, "Kayla?"

"Yes?" I answered.

"Why is that fascinating to you?"

"Because I don't understand how someone can justify a cruel and evil action," I responded.

"There you have it." The girl replied, her tone matter-of-fact, "You just answered your own question. You do understand. The people who justify killing or hurting others are just that, 'cruel and evil."

Dr. Smith raised one of his eyebrows and pressed his lips as if he found her insight intriguing. 

"Tell me more, Tasha." His eyes veered up, I suppose eyeing the intriguing girl, Tasha.

"Well, I personally believe that people who are not remorseful for their actions and lack empathy are essentially psychopaths. We shouldn't expect any more from a psychopath. A psychopath will always be a psychopath." She shrugged.

Dr. Smith nodded as Tasha spoke. Then, another student chimed in, a male with a bald head.

"We're currently living with a psychopath. We're allowing him to reign over our once quaint college town." He said.

Dr. Smith's eyes widened, "Michael, I wouldn't necessarily say we're allowing him to reign over our town. Law enforcement is doing their best.."

Michael interrupted again, "I heard a rumor that someone from the Irvine Police Department might actually be the Crimson Lake Killer. Or have ties to him." He smirked. 

"OK, let's get back to our assignments." Dr. Smith informed, "While this conversation was getting  intriguing and bringing forth much thought and varying perspectives, we need to get back to work."

The class gradually quieted down, and Dr. Smith began his lesson in his usual monotone voice, the kind that easily lulled me to sleep.

While I sat there, trying my hardest to pay attention, I got the most gut-wrenching text message from Patricia, devastating me.

Patricia: Hey, Kayla. I got some very bad news. Steve was found. Unalived.