By Ann Ingalls,Ronnie Rooney
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I was certain that they both belonged to someone I knew. Someone I hadn't seen or heard from in months. Someone named Jordin Cole. " I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders involuntarily clenching up to my neck. I was crossing the courtyard outside Greene Hall and had almost made it to my dorm in peace when the intruder called out my name. I knew I was being followed from the moment I'd left Forensic Science class, but I was silently praying the whole way to my room that whoever it was would go away.
The nightmare is coming. What did it mean? And what was going on with Jordin? Was that really her I saw Saturday night? I looked around my solitary dorm room, thankful that Jill wasn't there to talk my ears off. This year I'd splurged and reserved a room at the highly sought after Hogan residence hall, where only seniors were allowed. No roommates in my private room, though I shared a common area and kitchen with a few other girls. I even had my own private bathroom, so there was rarely a time when I ventured outside of my glorious privacy.
Jordin was reveling in romanticized notions of what the paranormal was like, but her ideas were an insult to the reality I knew. And I wasn't finished. "Making matters worse is the fact that a lot of the investigative groups out there don't get along with each other. My parents have done a lot to legitimize the field, and they've never done anything underhanded, but there are other investigators out there-highly reputable ones-who will swear to you on a stack of Bibles that they know my parents fake most of the evidence they find.