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“Every fraternity is under a huge investigation. But you know how political those things get. No one ever is held responsible.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Probably because the big alumni investors were also part of the same fraternities their sons belong to now.”
“Yuck. Dammit,” Claire yells. “I don’t trust these people in authority positions to fix this mess.”
Two years ago, several freshmen nearly died after a hazing ritual went wrong involving the consumption of vodka shots. The university completely disregarded the seriousness of what was happening during the initiations into these iconic groups. Articles were written focusing on the bad lifestyle choices that the victims led and did not bear light onto the fact that hazing was a real peer pressured norm on college campuses. Instead of trying to make a change with how students enter into sororities and fraternities and use the incident as a teachable moment, the victims became further damaged. So, Claire is right. Trusting the university to do something about these drugging cases is not very realistic. They have their own agenda to upkeep.
“I’m going to head to the hospital and try to talk with Monica. This is some scary shit.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get home. Oh, and Angie?”
“Yeah?”
“A bunch of cars were vandalized on our street. Mine was spared but only because I had it parked at Ethan’s place while we were camping.”
“Shit.”
My phone buzzes again with another text.
“Okay, thanks for the heads-up. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I open the message up from Zander and backtrack to catch up on his texts. He is just worried about me after hearing about the drugging cases. I type out a quick response.
Angie: I am fine. Don’t worry about me.
I flop back into the leather cushion of my seat and listen to the voice message from the car garage. I redial the number and get connected to the service technician. “Hey, this is Angela McFee. I received a voicemail message instructing me to call you guys right away. It was pretty vague, so I’m curious what is up.”
“Oh yes, Miss McFee, there’s a huge problem with your car.”
I groan. “Great, how much is this going to cost me?”
“Hard to say, but you may need a new car,” the technician replies.
“What? Why?” I ask in a panic.
“Our lead technician discovered that your car stopped running because there was bleach added to your gas tank.”
“Bleach? How?” Is this the type of vandalism Claire just warned me about?
“It is a criminal offense to tamper with someone’s vehicle. Bleach contains chlorine, which is a highly corrosive oxidizer.”
“But my car worked and then just stopped.”
“Well, your car probably had some gas in the tank, but when the gas wore off, the car stopped. Did you smell any bleach fumes while you drove it?”
I think back to the night it broke down. It was the same night I started getting the creepy unknown number text messages. “No. I don’t recall any weird smells.”
“Okay. Well, we may have caught the issue early and can still save your engine and your car. But we need to keep it for another week to make sure it’s safe. Or you will need a whole new engine. And at that point, I would take the insurance money and try to buy a new vehicle.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“In the meantime, contact the police and file a report. We have never seen anything like this come through our shop. This was definitely a new one for the team here.”
I get off the phone as the driver pulls up to the front of the hospital.
“Thanks for the lift,” I say as I scoot out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk leading up to the sliding glass doors.
Once inside, I make my way to the gift store and purchase a get well card and a small bouquet of flowers with a tiny balloon sticking out of the top.
