The Scream Sisters: A Troubled Spirits Novel, page 15
Sloan: Pledges to Rho Upsilon Nu STAT!
Blair threw her food away and ran up the stairs of Willow Hall two at a time, wanting to change before walking to the sorority house. She found her dorm room slightly ajar and, when she pushed inside, Colette was dragging her green tote toward the door.
“Oh, hey, Blair.” She smiled, face flushing. “I’ve actually been moved to another room. I was going to leave you a note.”
Blair scanned the space, saw Colette’s pictures, computer and books were gone. Her twin bed had been stripped of its boho-style bedding.
“Okay, yeah. That’s fine.” Blair thought of her mother the very first day demanding Blair have a different roommate. Apparently, her request had been granted. “Are you still in Willow Hall?”
Colette nodded. “First floor, so definitely stop by. Okay?”
“Yeah. I will. Thanks, Colette.”
After Colette left, Blair stood in the little room. Her sketchpad, which had been tucked between two books on her bookshelf, now sat on her desk. She eyed the book and wondered if Colette had paged through it. Probably not. More than likely it had fallen out when she was getting her own books from the shelf.
When Blair arrived at the sorority house, the other pledges were already there. They stood in the hall, passing curious glances to one another.
“All right, girls,” Sloan announced, sweeping into the hall with a broom in hand. “Your big sisters are off for a much-needed spa day. While we go out, you’ll be cleaning this place from top to bottom.”
Winona, another pledge, put up a shaky hand.
“What?” Sloan asked, clearly irritated.
“I have an English paper due tomorrow. I’m not even halfway done and—”
Sloan glared at her. “Then you better get started cleaning now. And FYI, girls, this isn’t a suggestion. This is a probationary period for all of you and whether you become a Rho Upsilon Nu is going to depend on what happens over the next few weeks.”
The sisters, dressed in matching pink sweat suits, left the house and trailed down the sidewalk laughing.
“This is disgusting,” Paula said, wiping a glob of toothpaste from the sink.
“Yeah,” Blair murmured. “Does it make you… like, regret rushing?”
Paula shook her head. “No way. Rho Upsilon Nu is the best sorority at Husher. I’ll wipe the girls’ asses if that’s what it takes to live here.”
Blair laughed. “God, I hope that’s not on the schedule for tomorrow night.”
“Nah. They balance out the shitshow with a party. This weekend we’ll get to party with the Alpha Lambdas. Can’t complain about that.”
“They seem like pretty cool guys,” Blair said, though her thoughts wandered to Teagan staggering off the porch steps and her later admission that she suspected Brody had drugged her.
“Pretty hot guys. Have you met Dane? Or Corbin? I wouldn’t mind gettin’ a piece of either of those two.”
“Yeah. I’ve talked to Corbin a bit. He’s really nice, but… I sort of think he and Sloan are a thing.”
“Yeah, maybe. That’s the rumor, though I never see them making out or anything. How boring. That being said, I’d never in a million years go after Corbin if it meant inviting the wrath of Sloan. She’s hardcore.”
“Yeah. She’s… intense.”
They cleaned together in silence for several minutes, and Blair thought about Harley Rand. “What do you think about the girl who disappeared?”
“Cassie?”
“Well, her too, but I actually meant the first girl, Harley. She was rushing Rho.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. I saw her. She was super pretty and seemed cool. I talked to her a few times, but… I don’t know. She acted a little skittish. I think Sloan’s right and she just got overwhelmed and took off.”
“But don’t you think her family and friends would have heard from her by now?”
Paula shrugged. “Not if she didn’t want them to. Maybe she had a secret boyfriend or something.”
“Yeah. So, you haven’t heard any of the girls talking about her? Sloan or anyone?”
Paula glanced at Blair, puzzled. “No. I mean, other than complaining about all the fliers her friend keeps putting up and how it’s totally dampening the vibe around school.”
Blair bent over to spray behind the toilet, but only a spritz of air came out. “It’s empty,” she said, shaking the bottle.
“Sloan said there’s more bleach in the basement.”
“I’ll grab some,” Blair told her, relieved for a few moments away from the cramped bathroom, nauseatingly pungent with the smell of disinfectant.
Blair opened the basement door, flipped on the light, and followed the narrow wood steps down. Though large, the space was cluttered. Plastic shelves lined the walls, filled with cardboard boxes. One side of the basement consisted entirely of bicycles and sports gear—skiing equipment, tennis rackets, a box of volleyballs.
Blair maneuvered through the stuff to a shelf filled with bottles of cleaners. The bottom shelf held four half gallons of bleach.
The lights flickered and Blair grabbed a bottle of bleach and stood, hurried back toward the stairs. They flickered again and went out. She froze, bleach clutched in her hand. The room grew cold, and she wanted to book it for the stairs, but in the total darkness, she was afraid she’d trip or run into something.
Her skin prickled, and she heard a sound—a scraping along the cement floor.
The lights flickered back on. Several feet away, a girl dragged herself toward Blair. She used only her arms; the rest of her body, shriveled, bloody, stretched behind her. The girl had blonde hair darkened with blood, her face drooped, her lips peeled back from her teeth.
“Peggy,” she croaked.
The lights blinked out again. Blair clutched the bleach and listened to the sound and wanted to scream as it got closer and then she felt the hands of the girl, sharp nails digging into her bare legs as the thing clawed her way up Blair’s body.
Blair dropped the bleach, shoved the dead thing away and ran. She rushed full speed into a heavy object that stopped just above her knees. Blair launched over the top of whatever had tripped her, sprawled forward, and landed hard, palms first on the floor. Fear sweat poured into her eyes as she pushed onto hands and knees and crawled forward, terrified that the dead girl would soon overtake her.
The lights blinked and came back on. Blair froze, inches from smacking head first into a concrete wall. Shaking, crying, she twisted around, searched for the dead girl, but she wasn’t there.
It’s happening again.
And it was, and Blair could not stop it, could not make it go away. She turned over and pushed her back against the icy wall, pulled her knees to her chest.
“Blair?” Paula called from upstairs. “Did you find the bleach?”
Blair swallowed, swiped her hands beneath her eyes, and gathered her voice. “Yep. Got it. I’ll be right up.”
As she stood, she saw what she’d run into—an enormous black steamer chest. Something shiny poked from beneath it. Blair knelt and wriggled it free. She stared at the cracked face of a Minnie Mouse watch.
When the sisters returned, they weren’t alone. The Alpha Lambda fraternity guys flooded into the house behind them. Blair swiped self-consciously at her hair. There was no mirror nearby, but she knew she looked rough, sweaty and dirty, more like she’d been hit by a truck than cleaned a bathroom.
“Okay, pledges, get up, come on. Up, up, up!” Heather yelled, walking down the hall. “Shirts off, up against the wall.”
Blair looked at Paula, who climbed hesitantly to her feet, looking to the other pledges, who all appeared equally confused.
“Your superior told you shirts off!” Sloan screamed, her voice slightly slurred.
Paula went first, yanking her t-shirt over her head and dropping it on the ground. She wore a black lacy bra and her chest glowed with a sheen of perspiration.
The frat guys watched her and clapped. One of them whistled.
“Definitely a C, maybe a D,” Brody said.
Blair caught sight of Corbin near the back of the group. He offered her an apologetic smile.
Sloan moved to stand directly in front of Blair, glared at her. “Get your shirt off now or you’re out, Davenport.”
Blair blinked at her, wanted to refuse, to run from the house, but every other pledge had stripped out of their shirt. One of them was braless, but seemed unfazed by the hoots of the guys. Blair took off her shirt, held it balled at her stomach, her whole body trembling.
“Ooh, the baby of the group,” a guy near her leered. “As flat-chested as a boy.”
“Not another anorexic in this house. Sloan, we told you we like curvy girls, not beanpoles.”
“Eat a penis, Kurt,” Sloan snapped.
“Sure, whip it out,” he told her.
Sloan flipped him off. “Go ahead, boys. Put ’em in order.”
For five minutes, the fraternity haggled over which girl had the best boobs, or tits as they called them. The braless girl, Jocelyn, ultimately came in first. Blair, unsurprisingly, was last.
When it was over, Jocelyn announced that her prize should be to kiss whichever boy she liked. She selected Corbin and pulled him against her, mashing her face against his.
The rest of the Alpha Lambda guys cheered them on, but Blair put her t-shirt on and slipped out the door.
A heavy cloud cover darkened the evening sky, and as Blair walked back to her dorm, she jumped at every sound. The girl from the basement hovered in her mind’s eye, a grisly, terrible image that wouldn’t leave her.
It had happened before, the visions, but never as intensely as they were coming now.
Footsteps suddenly registered behind her-heavy, fast. She glanced back as a figure, hood covering their head, gained on her. She froze, eyes wide, as the man brushed past her, not even glancing in her direction.
For several moments, Blair remained still, her heart hammering, watching the figure turn onto a side street and disappear from view.
35
After another sleepless night, Teagan walked downstairs to the cafeteria and forced down a plate of scrambled eggs. On her way back to her room, she spotted a copy of that day’s student newspaper in the community room.
Three girls gone in two years. What’s going on at Husher University?
Teagan snatched the newspaper from the rack and read the article published that day by Nate Dryden.
It started on a warm September evening in 2015. Jessica Meyers, a freshman at Husher University, studying here from out of state, left her job at the Husher Student Store to return to her dorm. She never arrived. It would be two days before her roommate reported her missing to campus police, two weeks before campus police notified students and staff that a freshman had disappeared. It’s now been two years and no sign of Jessica Meyers has been found. The Husher police say the investigation is ongoing. Jessica’s cousin in Oregon says ‘what investigation?’
Why is Jessica’s case especially concerning right now? Because in the last seven days, two more Husher University coeds have vanished from campus. Like Jessica Meyers, both girls were rushing sororities, both were freshman and both were last seen on campus after dark.
Harley Rand is an eighteen-year-old from Baldwin living in Willow Hall. Last Wednesday, she worked her shift at Curly’s Sandwich Shop and she has not been seen or heard from since.
Disturbingly, a campus-wide email went out yesterday about a second missing girl, Cassie Ward, also eighteen, from Muskegon, Michigan.
Teagan’s cell phone rang. Her grandma.
“Hi, Gran,” she said, tucking the paper under one arm and taking the stairs back to her room.
“Hey, TT. I’m just checking in. How are you holding up?”
“Another girl disappeared.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it’s true. Also a freshman, also rushing a sorority. It’s so crazy and yet everyone is walking around like nothing has changed.”
Her grandma was silent for several moments. “Maybe you should come home.”
“Come home? And do what? Harley went missing from school. I can’t come home.”
“Honey, I know how desperate you are to find her, but you’re eighteen. You don’t even have a vehicle there. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry. Okay? I’m fine. I have to stay here.”
Her grandma sighed. “All right. You’ve never been one to back down. I don’t see why I thought you would now.”
“I won’t. Not until I find her.”
“That could take a long time, honey.”
Teagan ignored the comment. “How’s Lisa?” she asked.
“Not well. I’ve been trying to coax her back into AA, but she refuses. She’s ignoring my calls. No matter how many times I learn that you can’t force a person to change, the lesson never seems to stick.”
“I can’t believe she’d do this to Harley. When we find Harley, she is going to be heartbroken. Lisa is being so selfish.”
Teagan’s grandma said nothing and Teagan gripped the phone tighter, understood her grandma’s silence, the fear that Harley would not be coming back.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” her grandma said finally.
“Yeah.” Teagan’s call waiting beeped. The caller I.D. displayed ‘Husher University.’ “I have another call coming in, Gran. I’ll call you back later.”
“Bye, TT. Be safe.”
Teagan ended the call with her grandma and clicked over. “Hello?”
“Teagan, it’s Officer Key. I need you to come to campus police.”
“Why? Did you get a tip? Do you know where Harley is?”
“Someone brought in a backpack. We need confirmation that it’s Harley’s. We’ve been unable to reach her mother.”
“You found her backpack…” It wasn’t a question. The teal flowery backpack rose in Teagan’s mind, made the thump of her heart a thunder in her ears.
“We suspect it’s hers, yes.”
“Who found it? Where did they find it?”
“We can cover those details when you come into the office.”
“Was her cell phone inside?”
“We can discuss that when you come in.”
“Fine. I’m coming right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Teagan stood and ran from the dorm.
36
Teagan didn’t stop running until she’d pounded up the steps to the building that housed the campus police and stood panting in front of the door. She caught her breath, then pushed into the air-conditioned office.
The boy who’d been there the first day when Teagan reported Harley missing again sat behind the desk. He smiled, but the expression fell away when he remembered her. He pushed back in his chair as if she might start yelling at him.
“Is Officer Key in there?” Teagan asked, bypassing the front desk and heading straight for Key’s office.
The front desk guy didn’t say a word, just watched as she walked to the office door, turned the knob and pushed inside.
Key stood at his desk, cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Mm… hmmm. Yes. I understand. I’ll send someone over this afternoon.” He ended the call and set his cell phone on his desk. Purplish shadows hovered beneath his eyes. His skin looked sallower than when Teagan had previously seen him. He put a hand over his mouth and muffled a cough, waving her in.
Teagan’s eyes shifted from the phone to the item sitting next to it, which had been shoved into a large, sheer plastic bag. She wanted to reach for it, but her body no longer listened to her mind’s commands as she stared until her eyes burned at the too-familiar backpack.
“Is it Harley Rand’s?”
Teagan blinked, opened her mouth, wished she could unsee it. The bits of mud clinging to the teal fabric. The little cow keychain dangling from the zipper.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“We found identification inside, but I wanted to ensure the bag was a match.”
Teagan’s eyes slipped up to Key’s. “Identification? Her wallet?”
“Yes. Her wallet, which included her student I.D., her driver’s license and a few other cards.”
“Her punch card for Sweet Scoop.”
Officer Key frowned, then nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe I did see a card like that in there.”
Harley chose a different flavor every time. Green tea, bubble gum, watermelon sorbet. Teagan stuck to her tried-and-true favorite, mint chocolate chip. She never veered. When Harley challenged her to try other flavors, she refused. ‘I like what I like,’ Teagan would say. There were probably eight punches on the card. Two more and Harley would have had a free cone.
“Now she never will,” Teagan said.
Key studied her. “What was that?”
Teagan shook her head and stepped back from the table. She no longer wanted to look at the bag, didn’t want to notice the discolorations—just dirt, she told herself. “Where was her bag?”
“I can’t disclose specifics, but a student found it discarded on the side of a county road near a cornfield.”
“Not on campus?”
“No. About six miles away.”
“But a student found it?”
“Yes. He’s a commuter to school here. His parents own the farm where the bag was found. It looked as if it had been thrown from a car window, but obviously that’s speculation. He looked inside, saw Harley’s I.D. and immediately brought the backpack in.”
“Was there anything else inside? Her phone?”
“No cell phone.”
“Well, did you search the cornfield and the house that kid lives in?”
“A ground search of the cornfield is underway. There won’t be a search of the farm house because we’d need a warrant for that and there’s no probable cause.”
“No probable cause? Her stuff was on their property!”
“Currently we have no reason to suspect they have knowledge of Harley’s whereabouts. If new evidence comes to light an investigation will be conducted.”
