Page 107 of Symphony for Lies

But there were no signs of a break-in. No shattered glass. No mess. His car and motorcycle were parked in the same spot as the last time I was over.

I fumbled for my phone, my hands ice-cold as I dialed his number. It rang, but after three rings, it went straight to voicemail.

I bit my lip, torn about calling Spencer. But then I remembered the bridge and the false message.

I had been wrong before. What if I was wrong again?

What if I dragged the police into the situation, only to find out he was perfectly fine?

My gaze swept over the grounds, falling on a single aster flower next to his car. I bent down to pick it up. Was it a coincidence?

No...

I forced myself to take a step back.

No... one single flower can’t mean nothing.

My gut screamed at me to do something, but my mind told me I was overreacting. And in the end, logic won.

I turned away, took a deep breath, and called a cab to take me home.

Hours passed.

I sat in my room, staring at the ceiling as my thoughts spiraled.

Mrs. Cole. Simon. Zane. Spencer. Bella. The victims. The notes.

“Don’t believe the rumors.” - Zane

“The killers had connections to the rich.” - Bella

“He’s already spoken for.” - Mrs. Cole

“He hasn’t texted me.” - Simon

“I trust your instincts.” -Spencer

The words twisted, tangled, and looped in my mind.

A dull ringing settled in my ears.

“Maybe the person hasn’t left anything here yet.”

I sat up abruptly as I recalled Tiana’s words on the bridge.

And then it hit me.

The third movement of Beethoven’sMoonlightSonata—sudden, raw, unrestrained. Just like Zane’s disappearance.

My pulse thundered.

What if Zane was the third victim?

No. No. Maybe?

But what if I was wrong again? What if I wasted Spencer’s time for nothing? I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing heavily.

No.

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