Page 90 of Symphony for Lies

Something about Zane had changed since Spencer’s phone call. It wasn’t very obvious. But his touches lingered longer, and his sentences became shorter.

He avoided the topic and pretended everything was normal, but I still felt it. I could see it in the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly as he drove me home. His eyes flicked toward me every few seconds, checking on me, even though he didn’t say a word.

I wasn’t okay.

Everything felt shaken, like the ground beneath my feet had shifted. The week had been a storm, tearing apart everything I thought I knew, and I was sitting in the wreckage, trying to make sense of it all.

And Tristan’s arrest sent a shockwave through me, leaving me raw and exposed.

Zane pulled up in front of my house. “Do you want me to stay?”

I wavered but said, “No, it’s okay.”

He studied my face as if trying to catch me in a lie. His warm hand slid over my thigh. “If anything happens, call me.”

I nodded.

As I reached for the door handle, his phone rang.

The moment he glanced at the screen, his entire demeanor shifted.

“Everything okay?”

He let out a deep sigh.“Some… family matters.”

I hesitated for a moment but decided not to interfere.

When I entered the house, it was quiet. Too quiet.

I half expected my grandmother to be waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, ready to give me a speech about not coming home, but she wasn’t there.

The silence felt unfamiliar.

Frowning, I walked upstairs to my room, glancing at the time. Afternoon… MaybeGrandma isvisiting a friend.

I pulled off my clothes and changed into something more comfortable before collapsing onto my bed.

My thoughts started spinning, from Zane to his family, to Tristan, to the murder cases, to the poor animals, and then to Spencer.

Grabbing my phone, I pressed play on his new message.

The unsettling notes of the wind chime filled my ears. The sounds were distorted and uneven, as if the wind was desperately trying, and failing, to form a melody.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I walked to my desk, grabbed a pen, and scribbled on a sheet of paper.

“Underneath the bride of flowers lies the answer.”

The answer.

I stared at the words.

In frustration, I crumbled the paper in my fist and threw it in the trash. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

There was no answer in that message, only more riddles.

A loud noise rang throughout the house, causing my pulse to spike before I belatedly realized it was just the front doorbell.

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