Page 151 of Symphony for Lies

Nothing.

Only silence answered me.

“Mr. Cole,” Spencer called from the kitchen. “You need to see this.”

On the fridge sat an old conductor’s baton.

My blood turned to ice.

Slowly, I opened the fridge.

A dead bird lay inside, its body torn apart, blood smeared against the walls. Next to it were aster flowers and a folded note.

My stomach twisted violently, and I was not able to move.

Spencer snatched the paper up, unfolding it. His expression darkened.

“We don’t have much time.”

I couldn’t hear him. I was still staring at the bloodied bird, at the crimson streaks dripping onto the shelf.

The room spun.

Spencer’s voice snapped me back. “Pull yourself together, damn it!”

More damn notes.

I felt sick.

Amelia’s friends ran into the apartment, frantic and demanding answers.

Spencer filled them in as I struggled to think and breathe. I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was Amelia. Where was she? What was happening to her…?

The note was blurring before my eyes.

“Maybe Tristan knows something,” Stacy suggested as she stared at the note.

At that name, rage snapped through me like a live wire.“Why the hell would we ask him?”

“He studied under the same teacher as Amelia,” she reasoned. “He might recognize the pattern.”

I hated it, but I nodded.

Spencer called Tristan and put him on a video call. He showed him the notes, explaining everything.

There was a too-long silence.

Then, finally, Tristan recited,“A labyrinth leads through dead ends and hope. Who will find the way first?”

“How did you get that?” Spencer questioned.

“You have to read the G and F notes differently.It’s a technique Mr.Watson taught us.”

My head throbbed.

That name.

Again.

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