Page 94 of Freshmeet
Smoke billowed from under the crushed hood.
“Are you guys okay?”
Jamie lifted his head from the airbag. “I think so.”
“Tom?” Grant said, his voice sounding worried.
There was a guttural noise from the backseat, but I couldn’t turn to see.
“What the fuck was that?” Tom groaned.
“They’re gone,” Grant said. There was the click of a seatbelt, and he said, “Let’s get out of the car and call 9-1-1.
NINETEEN
HIS GIRLFRIEND
SARAH
After a long day of meetings with the university and the other sororities regarding safety during recruitment, Mona, Rae, Amira, and I were finally back at Frattic.
“Thanks again for letting me stay here this week. Jasmine is gone until work week, and the idea of being in our apartment alone scares me.” Amira flipped her long locs over her shoulder.
As the vice president of our sorority, she’d made the trip back from Kansas City for the security meetings.
“No worries,” Rae said, pouring herself another glass of water. “I can’t imagine staying alone with a killer on the loose.”
Her brothers lost in game seven of the playoffs, so she came back to Kirksville to escape her family’s disappointment.
Don’t know that I would trade the safety of home for a town under a serial killer watch, but to each their own.
Kat frowned down at her phone before slamming it face down on the counter. “Langley said he found us a new drummer.”
“So why do you look so pissed?” Mona asked from the stove. She’d eaten one of the gummies Morgan had left behind and decided late-night pancakes were in order.
“Because I’m sure it’s just some guy he hooked up with, and they’ll end up bailing on us as soon as we get some shows booked.”
I checked my phone, but there were no new messages from Connor. In desperation, I’d even texted Jamie.
It’s almost midnight. Jamie should’ve taken them out to the train bridge by now.
“You okay, Sarah?” Amira asked, handing me the bowl of popcorn.
Frowning, I grabbed a handful. “I haven’t heard from Connor all night.” I shoved the popcorn into my mouth and refreshed my messages.
Nothing.
“That ungrateful bastard. He’d better be lying in a ditch.”
“Kat!” we all yelled.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off. Sarah gave him and his boys a couple hundred dollars’ worth of good ass fireworks. If he can’t find a second to text thank you, he sucks.” Shrugging, she finished her beer. “I’m going to bed. I have to open at The Depot.”
Kat threw her can into the recycling and gave us a small salute.
“Night,” we called out to her.
My phone vibrated against the laminate countertop. I snatched it up, my buttery fingers fumbling it. “Come on,” I mumbled, holding onto it with both hands. “Hello?”
