Between the Spirit and the Dust

Chapter Two

The media was the one who first came up with the name Sorority Row Killer but it hadn’t been any stretch of the imagination. Personally, he’d been flattered that they’d even paid attention.

 There had been six other girls before Sylvia. At first it had been an accident that he happened to find them at frat or sorority parties. But later on, it was easier to keep it that way. There were no questions asked about girls who disappeared with guys like him at these parties. He’d been careful to find them from different states to avoid detection. However, the FBI had finally caught up with him with Sylvia Wilkins.

America’s imagination had been captured by Sylvia, a pretty brunette from a small hometown with dreams of becoming a Broadway star. And she’d nearly achieved her dreams too; in fact the summer before her first year of college she’d done a few internships in theaters off Broadway, making an impression. He hadn’t known any of these details about Sylvia before but the media had later seized upon every detail. And the Wilkins had foolishly believed that they would have the public’s opinion in the trial. Unfortunately for them, what they failed to realize was that America’s imagination was fickle, easily bought and sold.

 He smiled to himself. It’d been two years since he’d claimed a girl and wasn’t it a nice touch that he’d left the newest girl where Sylvia was found? He hadn’t realized before the trial how heady the attention could be, how fear was something tangible in the air and how stupid people could be.

 Except for that Wilkins girl. There was something different about her. The horror in her eyes when she saw him, saw the real him rather than the façade, had been rather amusing. She’d seemed more aware of her power than the others had been, which meant that there could be a challenge there. Interesting. He hadn’t had those in quite a while.

 By the time Emily Wilkins realized what exactly it was that she was dealing with, it would be too late for her. And he would enjoy breaking her down.

 ***

When I’d asked Max for a ride home, he barely hesitated before agreeing.

The ride home had been quiet because I spent it staring out of the window. Images flashed before my eyes. Sylvia’s smile when she saw me at the frat house. Gabriel St Clair’s smirk at the courthouse, his arrogance that there was nothing I could do to him. The way the cops had described how her body had been found—naked, with her head being severed from her body.

And now I was home, with Mom who couldn’t stop crying and refused to come out of her room and with Dad, who was still speaking to the FBI. Max had disappeared back to his own home, claiming that he wanted to visit his folks as well, and I hadn’t stopped him. I didn't know what to say him. The easy conversation that we’d shared earlier that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

I sat at the kitchen table, trying to force down the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I’d made as breakfast. I wondered how long Dad would spend talking to the FBI in his study before I could ask the questions that I could feel were burning within me. Did the girl really die at 5 a.m.? Did she die the same way as the other girls had?

And what was I becoming? I laughed, a sound devoid of any real joy. If only they could answer that one.

The doorbell rang and I flinched. It was probably one of those reporters. I’d turned my phone off because of the reporters had somehow gotten hold of my unlisted number. If I’d thought that the story was newsworthy because Sylvia’s death anniversary, it was even worse now that another girl had been found.

I turned away, about to head to my bedroom before I remembered that the FBI had my house surrounded, for safety purposes. Whoever it was outside, it was someone who’d gotten past them and probably had their approval. Another agent maybe?