Page 45 of Symphony for Lies

“And wind chimes.”

I flinched.

“The same pattern as the last crime scene.”

For a short moment, my vision blurred as images from the pavilion flashed through my mind.

Spencer gave me the time to process before he continued, “We consulted a few experts about the notes. But none of them found anything unusual.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

Nothing unusual? The notes weren’t a message? Or maybe… Maybe it wasn’t the sheet music at all...

“Honestly, we’re out of ideas. But I remembered your words. So, I’m trusting your instincts here.” He handed me the sheets of paper.“These are copies of the sheet music found at the crime scenes.”

I swallowed thickly.

The papers had dark stains that blotted out parts of the notes.

A wave of nausea rolled through me.

“The second victim had no connection to the first,” Spencer disclosed with a tight jaw. “That’s what makes this much harder.”

My fingers trembled slightly as I traced the notes with my eyes.

Beethoven. More specifically,Moonlight Sonata.The first two movements.

I could almost hear the melody as I scanned the paper. The first movement is calm yet tragic, a silent despair washing over the listener like gentle waves.

The second movement is slightly brighter but still hesitant, as if fighting against an invisible storm.

The third movement was missing.

It was hectic, uncontrollable—a complete explosion of emotions.

Were these sheets a message? Was the missing movement a warning of what was to come? Or was the real message hidden in the wind chimes?

I wasn’t sure anymore.

“The experts were right,” I whispered. “There’s no hidden message in the sheet music.”

“So?”

“I think the real message might be in the wind chime sounds. I tried to recall the melodies and figure out if they formed a message, but I didn’t know the exact order.”

Spencer’s brows lifted in surprise.A flicker of shock crossed his face.

“Did… I say something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No. I just didn’t expect you to remember that much detail.”

I lowered my gaze to my lap, my fingers twisting together in a nervous gesture as shame coiled in my chest.

Spencer must have noticed because he reached out and gave my shoulder a light tap.“That was a compliment, Amelia.”

I sighed nervously.

“My teacher once taught us something that might be relevant.” My words became hesitant. “It’s not common to hide messages in music, but it is possible. And there are different methods to do it.”