A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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Lorena had me completely puzzled. She had first accused Steve of being the Crimson Lake Killer, but now she suddenly had some form of proof that Patricia could possibly behind the murders-evidence that she seemed to have pulled out of thin air-that she hadn't even revealed to me yet.

Given her antics surrounding Steve, I wasn't sure I even wanted to know. Not only that, but the idea of Patricia being behind the murderer was honestly laughable. I mean, seriously-Patricia was a petite 5-foot-5, 123-pound woman. The thought of her committing those crimes seemed like a bad joke.

"Hey, can you talk now?" Lorena's hushed tone drifted through the phone like a rock rolling into a pond.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"My mom's in the next room watching her favorite reality show. You know, one of those deranged Housewives shows. I don't want  her to overhear us talking about the Crimson Lake Killer."

"Why not?" My curiosity still lingering.

"Ever since she dragged me back home to San Francisco, she's been adamant that we never mention the Crimson Lake Killer again. She told me to put it all behind me and move on."

"Oh." I didn't understand why Lorena's mom wanted to forget about it and move on. "But don't you think you might need therapy or something? What you went through was traumatic - very traumatic, I might add."

"Yeah, my mom told me I could see a therapist if I choose to, but she doesn't want me to talk about it at home. It's weird. Mom has her own way of dealing with traumatic things, and this is just how she handles it. She honestly just wants the Crimson Lake Killer caught."

"That's understandable." I replied.

"Kayla!" I heard my mom's voice call, followed by a few knocks on my bedroom door.

"Hold on!" I informed Lorena, "My mom's at my door."

I set the phone down next to me, slightly burying it into my mattress as I called back, "Come in, Mom."

The door swung open, and Mom stood there in her purple yoga pants and a white tank top. "Hey, do you want to come with me to Costers? I need to pick up some groceries for this week."

I wasn't in the mood to leave my room, especially since I was on an important call with Lorena trying to find out what informatoin she on Patricia, if any. 

"I can't, Mom. I'm on a call with Lorena."

"Okay, sweetie. Just let me know when you're done, and we can go."

"Alright, cool," I said with a smile. "Thanks, Mom."

Mom smiled back, her hand still on the doorknob, she slowly closed the door behind her. I heard her footsteps fade down the hallway as she walked away.

"Sorry about that," I said, placing the phone back to my ear, "Mom wanted me to go grocery shopping with her."

"No worries," Lorena replied.

"Tell me about Patricia and the dirt you found," I said, my tone carried a hint of skepticism as I clung to the phone as if it were a lifeline, desperately awaiting the details.

"Well, I have a friend in Irvine named Jerad Stone." Lorena began.

"Yeah." I replied impatiently.

"He works at a hardwood store there. He told me Patricia is a regular customer, always buying suspicious items like shovels, duct tape, rope, and even an axe."

I gasped and a wave of unease settled in my stomach, "What the hell? That definitely sounds suspicious. I'm curious why she always at the hardware store?"

"I have no idea," Lorena replied.

"Do you think your friend, Jerad, could follow her home next time he spots her in the store?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and anxiety grew in my voice.

"I'm not sure, but I can find out."

A memory sparked, and a thought tumbled into my head. I leaned in. "Oh, that reminds me! When Steve was investigating John, he found both John and Patricia together at the same hardware store. And afterward, they drove to some shack on the outskirts of Irvine. Some rural area."

"Are you serious?!" Lorena asked in disbelief.

"Dead serious."

"Well, it looks like I've got a lot more research to do. A ton more." Lorena said, her tone revealing a deep determination within.

***

Mom strolled the metal cart down the spices and condiments aisle of Costers; a wholesale grocery store.

"Mom, why do you shop here? I mean, it's just us two, we don't need all these bulk groceries." I commented as my eyes scanned the aisles of bulk ketups and mustards.

"Well, I like to keep things on hand and you can never run out when it's in bulk. Plus the price point is an advantage, so why not?" Mom shrugged.

"Kayla?" A woman's voice called out, "Kayla Collins?!"

"Oh, look, one of your friends." Mom said as she strolled the cart to the next aisle, leaving me in search of the voice.

Turning my head, my eyes scanned the area, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, they landed on a woman with curly brown hair wearing a knitted brown sweater and wide-legged blue jeans.

"Hey, Sam!" I replied with a slight wave of my hand.

"How are you?!" She asked, her eyes filled with compassion and empathy, "I heard all about Irvine. I'm so sorry."

"How did you know?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I hadn't seen Sam since high school and we weren't the close of friends. We had lost contact after graduation and went about our lives.

"Well, I'm studying journalism at Arizona State and the Irvine case has been such a hot topic in one of my courses." She confessed with wides eyes filled with intrigue.

I sighed, the weight of the Crimson Lake Killer and the trauma he left behind settling heavy on my chest. The last thing I wanted was to rehash it all, but knowing Sam, there was zero chance of changing the subject.

"I'm sorry, Kayla. I hope you're safe now." Sam's lips curved into a sympathetic frown.

"Thanks, Sam," I replied, my voice low.

"Do you need anything? I know we weren't close in high school, but I'm here for you, Kayla."

I forced a half-hearted smile. "That means a lot. Thank you."

Sam hesitated before speaking again, her voice dropping. "I do have one question, though." Her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "Do you think there's a connection between your dad's murder and the Crimson Lake Killer?"

Caught off guard, I narrowed my eyes and stammered, "Wha?.. what?.. No. Why.. why.. would you even say that?"

"Kayla, please forgive me, but... haven't you looked into it?" Her brow furrowed as she questioned me.

"What are you talking about?" My curiosity flared, despite the creeping unease and tension that were arising within.

"Your dad's murder back in 2002... it was linked to Albert Sciff. And Albert Sciff was the son of the original Crimson Lake Killer." Sam explained.

I froze, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. My heart pounded, thudding violently against my ribcage.

What the hell?!