A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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The phone clutched in my hand as I froze. My breath caught in my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I was completely engulfed in silence while my mind was going a million miles a minute, trying to make sense of the words that were just dumped into my ears.

Did I hear her right?

"Is this some kind of joke?!" I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of shock and disbelief. "It has to be a joke." The thought of Steve being dead tore through my mind like a nightmare I couldn't shake. All I wanted was for Patricia to laugh and admit it was just a sick and twisted joke. Just like the prank they pulled on me for my birthday. Patricia's a known prankster. It's all a joke.

Patricia sighed, "I wish it were a joke." She replied, her voice heavy with sadness, dripping like sap from a tree.

My mind spun like a twisty tornado, conjuring up images of Steve. The memories we made. Our investigation into the Crimson Lake Killer. Our late-night movie marathons. Our love for true crime.

"It can't be true!" I protested, my words sinking into my heart. A tear swam down my cheek.

"I know it's overwhelming and sad, Kayla. But it's the truth."

All I could think about was how my relationship with Steve was evolving. We were growing closer, maybe even inching toward a full-blown romantic relationship.

"I'm so sorry, Kayla," Patricia said, offering her sympathies.

I felt a rise of defensiveness clamoring through my body. I still struggled to come to terms with Steve's supposed death, "How did you find out?!"

"It was announced today by that FBI guy. The one who told all of us sorority girls that we had to move back home."

"Do you mean Sterling Matthews?" I asked, the salty tears running into my mouth.

"Yes, that's him. Special Agent Sterling Matthews."

"Patricia, I'll call you back," I promised and quickly ended the call.

I grabbed my backpack from the chair and yanked it open, dumping everything onto the floor. Textbooks from Irvine, crumpled receipts, and candy wrappers spilled out. Frantically, I shuffled through the mess, searching for Sterling's business card. I needed to talk to him—now.

I swiped my hands through the junk and finally felt something like a card. Without a second thought, I grabbed it and held it up to my face—it was exactly what I was looking for. Snatching my phone, I dialed the number on the card. My fingers trembling as if tiny earthquakes were rumbling through them.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I impatiently waited for Sterling to answer. But he didn't. The call shot to voicemail quicker than Michael Jordan could dunk a basketball.

Was the detective ghosting me?

Confused, I held the phone in my hand and stared down at it, curiosity striking me in my face like a flash of lightning. I didn't understand how a Special Agent, who was sent by the FBI to take over a local serial killer investigation from a supposedly corrupt police department, would not answer his phone. Especially now, after I just found out one of my closest friends—and would-be romantic partner—is dead.

***

Albert Schiff. I couldn't forget about him. I needed to dig up more dirt on him, but I couldn't now. I had to find out what happened to Steve and if the Crimson Lake Killer was responsible for his death.

Did the Crimson Lake Killer know that Steve had romantic feelings for me and vice versa? Is that the reason why he took Steve out?

I shook my head violently at the thought, "No!" I shouted to myself. Disbelief surged through me like hell's floodgates bursting open.

My world began to spin. I couldn't concentrate or focus on anything. I even tossed the thought of my school assignments aside, like stuffing papers in an overstuffed drawer; I ridded my consciousness of them. My mind was a cluttered and chaotic mess.

I felt like I was hallucinating. Or trapped in some sort of sadistic nightmare. I needed to speak with someone. The only other person who was on the same wavelength as me and had a deeper understanding of the Crimson Lake Killer was Lorena. She was my new co-investigator in the Irvine murders.

Kayla: Hey, can you talk?

A bubble appeared, indicating Lorena was typing out a response. I impatiently waited. Stuffing the tip of my fingernail into my mouth, I nervously chewed on it with each nerve-wracking second.

Lorena: Mom is beside me; we're watching one of her dumb housewives reality shows, so I have to go to my room. I'll call you in a sec.

Kayla: K.

My eyes were glued to my phone like a bow and arrow on a target as I waited for Lorena's call to come through.

My phone lit up with a flashing green light. Without further thought, I answered.

"Hello?" I said, impatience trailing my voice.

"Hey, Kayla. It's me, Lorena."

"Lorena! Oh gosh, I'm so happy to hear from you." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Why?" Lorena inquired, "What's going on?"

"Well, I just got the most disturbing news." I could hardly speak the words. My lips quivering, and the tears behind my eyes were ready to pour out like a storm on a cloudy day.

"What?!" Lorena asked, intrigued, "What is it, Kayla?" She repeated.

My quivering lips turned into a frown, "Steve is dead."

"No way!" Lorena responded, "How? What happened?"

"We don't know yet. Patricia called me today and let me know."

"Uh. Patricia." Lorena said, irritated, "I'm not fond of her. Did you double-check? She's not a reliable source."

"Why do you say that?"

"Do you remember that sadistic surprise birthday party they threw for you?" Lorena asked.

"Yeah, I remember. And I was thinking the same thing. It has to be some sorta prank or joke. But Patricia vehemently denies it is."

"I still don't trust her." Lorena said, "We need to find out if this is true or not. We need to contact the FBI. Who's the person handling the case?" She inquired, a serious tone in her voice.

"Agent Sterling. I tried to contact him to no avail. He's the Special Agent investigating the Crimson Lake Killer and all the recent murders. But he hasn't answered my calls. I left him a message, and now I'm just waiting to hear back from him."

"Ah. I see." Lorena breathed into the phone. In a hushed tone, she added, "We need to go to visit the Arizona Department of Corrections in Florence, Arizona. I looked up Albert Schiff, and he's currently an inmate there."

A lightbulb lit up in my head.

"Lorena, that's a great idea!"