Page 94 of The Forbidden Note

Everything is going to be okay.

At the end of the day, I get a text from Jarod Cross.

My contact hasn’t found anything yet. As soon as he does, I’ll get back to you.

I read and re-read the message.

There’s something so… distant about it. Jarod Cross jumped at the chance to help me. He was the one who pushed to meet me immediately after the funeral.

Now, that energy is missing.

My head is pounding.

Something tells me I need to make progress on my investigation before things get worse.

I linger in the teacher’s lounge until everyone has gone home. When the hallways are clear, I tiptoe to the basement. In the bowels of Redwood Prep are dusty sports equipment, broken chairs, and a ton of boxes with old files. I’ve been methodically going through them since my first day here. So far, I haven’t found any information about Sloane’s case—not that I thought it would be so easy. However, I’ve taken pictures of everything dated six years ago.

I might not have the answers I need now, but I’m hoping it’s only a matter of time before I stumble on the key behind her murder.

The steps creak eerily when I tiptoe down the stairs. Once I get to the door that leads to the basement, I push confidently.

Chains rattle.

The door doesn’t budge.

Stunned, I shine my light down and notice that the broken lock’s been replaced. There’s a new gleaming, silver deadbolt.

I grit my teeth.

Harris.

He must have changed the locks after our argument.

I open my phone, maneuver to YouTube and choose a lock picking video. Sliding bobby pins out of my hair, I follow the steps on the screen. The person in the video makes it look so easy, but my hands tremble too much and I can’t get the bobby pin to twist right.

“Dammit!” I yell, sending the bobby pin flying into the wall.

I toss a frustrated look at the door.

On the bright side, Harris reinforcing this room means there reallyissomething incriminating down here.

The bad news is… he’ll know if I tamper with the lock.

Sighing heavily, I give up for the day and tiptoe to the main floor. Next time, I’ll come back with a solution. For now, I’m exhausted. All I want is some of mom’s homemade cobbler, a bubble bath and an audiobook drifting me off to sleep.

Wearily, I drag myself back to the teacher’s lounge, collect my purse, and head through the exits.

Redwood after dark is far more sinister than it is during the day. Black light oozes through the stained glass windows. Shadows sweep over the floor.

I quicken my pace, heading for the rear entrance since the front doors are locked. The rear of the school is isolated. Trees claw toward the ground, branches heavy with leaves.

Across the lawn, I see lights on in the sports centre. A loud whistle tells me the football team is practicing. It’s late. I guess the coach is punishing the team for their leader’s mistake.

I make my way down the stairs and check my phone, considering whether or not to spring for a taxi instead of catching the bus.

“Miss J?” Someone peers at me from across the parking lot. He’s wearing a loose pair of basketball shorts and an arm band around his forehead.

It’s Theodore Hall.

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