A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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Lorena and I slid into the backseat of an Uber.

"Hello!" The Uber driver greeted us; turning his head, he gazed our way, watching while we climbed into the backseat. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and bushy eyebrows decorated his face, resembling the bushy-eyed muppet from Sesame Street.

"I'm Alejandro." He said, smiling.

"Hey." Lorena and I both replied unenthusiastically. Our voices slow and sluggish, barely escaping our lips. Telling of our near-drunken and exhausted state.

I shut the door behind me, using all my strength in my tipsy state of being. Grabbing the seatbelt strap, I pulled it over my shoulder and buckled myself in. Lorena did the same.

"Long night at the bar, I take it." He commented as he turned his head back to his windshield, staring out at the road ahead.

Lorena nodded. I just wanted him to stop speaking entirely and just take us home.

Before we left the bar, Lorena made sure to exchange numbers with Trisha, our bartender for the night. Lorena was convinced Trisha could be a goldmine of information, and honestly, I couldn't agree more.

I gazed out the window, watching as we drove away from the Moonlight Den. From the outside, it looked like a dilapidated shack, similar to the one Steve had described to me back in Irvine—the one where he saw John carrying a large black bag. And with that thought...

Whatever happened to John? And Sandra?!

"Have you spoken to Sandra?" I turned my head, gazing at Lorena's profile. Her eyes were pinched shut, and her head leaned back into the headrest. I wondered if she was sleeping.

"Sandra?" Lorena asked, her eyes still shut.

"Yes. I haven't spoken to her since I left Irvine. I wonder how she's doing."

"I haven't spoken to anyone from Irvine since my mom dragged me back to San Francisco," Lorena explained. "Except for you, of course."

I just hoped Sandra was alright and that nothing bad had happened to her. After all, John was at the top of our list of suspects—and as far as I was concerned, he still was.

"When can we schedule that meeting with Albert Schiff?" I asked Lorena as we were slouched in the backseat. I was still a little tipsy from the margaritas and cosmos we drank.

"We need a good reason why. We can't just walk into a prison and ask to speak with Alber Schiff. That's why I exchanged numbers with Trisha. She might be able to help us."

"What if she can't?"

"Well, then we'd have to settle for my initial plan, which was to pretend we're grad students working on a project with the Arizona State Journalism Department."

My eyes immediately lit up, "Sam!"I blurted.

Lorena's brows furrowed in confusion, "Who?" She gazed at me, "What?"

"Sam," I replied, meeting Lorena's gaze. "She's my friend from high school." Excitement radiated from my voice, "She's now a journalism student at Arizona State. And better yet, she is fully aware of what's going on with the Crimson Lake Killer. She told me she was studying the case." I explained with intense enthusiasm.

"Will she help us get an interview with Albert?"

"I don't know, but I am definitely going to ask," I replied confidently.

***

I opened my eyes to the sound of birds chirping outside my bedroom window. Beams of sunlight spiraled through my curtains, and I sat up in bed, yawning as I gazed around my room. My temples pulsed, so I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the pain would magically dissipate. But, of course, it did not. And I knew the culprit: the alcohol I drank at the bar last night. I needed some relief, and soup would definitely be it- specifically, a steaming bowl of pho.