Page 30 of Symphony for Lies (Tangled Truths #2)

One day passed.

Then two.

By the third day, Zane hadn’t contacted me at all.

I called, texted, and waited for him to show up unannounced like always. But nothing.

It felt like he had been a fever dream—too intense and raw to be real. Like he had never been there at all. Yet the ache in my chest told me otherwise. Something was wrong.

The city moved on as if nothing had ever happened.

No more poisonings.

No more murders.

The news barely mentioned the case because they had a suspect. People went back to their everyday lives.

But somehow, I couldn’t.

That evening, I forced myself to function.

I had tutoring with Simon, and I really tried to push everything aside and focus.

He was calm and polite, just like always.

And for a short while, it helped. Numbers made sense. Numbers were logical. But when the session was coming to an end, Simon put the pencil down and looked at me with big, uncertain eyes.

“Amelia, do you know where my brother is?”

My heart stopped.

“What do you mean?” My voice sounded thin and way too fragile.

Simon fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.“He always texts me. Just once a day, but he never forgets. But he hasn’t sent anything lately.”

A cold wave swept through me.

“We went to his house yesterday. He wasn’t there, either. Mom says he’s probably just rebelling again. But I don’t believe her… I’m scared.”

The terrified child’s small frame shook.

And so was I.

“He’s probably fine,” I lied to reassure him, but the words felt hollow. “He’ll reach out soon.” I didn’t know if I was trying to comfort him or myself. But inside, my mind was screaming.

Something was very, very wrong.

With clammy hands, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and moved to the door.

Simon’s tiny hand wrapped around my wrist just as I reached for the handle.“I like you, Amelia. And Zane likes you a lot, too.”

My chest tightened.

Almost hesitantly, he pulled me into a small hug. “My mother is strict, but I think she’ll like you, too.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just returned the hug.

The door swung open, and my stomach dropped.

Mrs. Cole’s expression was stone-cold, utterly unreadable. But her eyes… Oh, her eyes burned with something sharp and bitter.

She barely glanced at me before sweeping her gaze over Simon.“Good, You’re still here.”

Her posture was pristine as she walked into the room, her presence chilling.

Simon backed away but still held my hand.

“Where is Zane?”

“What?”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice cut like a knife.“Just tell me the truth.”

For the first time ever, she sounded almost… desperate.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He hasn’t spoken to me since that night.”

Mrs. Cole stared at me. Long and hard. “Good.”

What?

I blinked.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow. “Say your goodbyes, Simon.”

“What?” the boy’s voice cracked.

“What do you mean?”

Mrs. Cole lifted her chin, looking down at me like I was nothing.“From today onward, you will no longer be tutoring my son.”

For a second, I didn’t react.I just… stared.

“You heard me,” she pushed.

Something in me snapped. “Why?”

“Because there are better tutors. Tutors who know how to behave.” Her gaze turned icy. “Tutors who know their place.”

Oh.

Oh, so this is about him.

“Just because I’m with Zane—”

“That’s nothing serious,” she cut off my sentence as if my words were ridiculous. “He’s already spoken for. ”

It felt like the floor vanished beneath me. Like someone had ripped the air from my lungs.

He’s already spoken for?

No… that’s not… Before the panic could take hold and the sting of her words could sink too deep, Zane’s voice echoed in my head. Don’t believe anything you hear.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Was this what I shouldn’t believe?

“What’s happening right now doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Cole continued, feigning concern. “But I’ll say this for your own good, don’t be a home wrecker. That never ends well.”

The words sliced through me too deep.

I was speechless.

A small, broken sound pulled me from my frozen state.

Simon.

His tear-filled eyes stared up at me, helpless and trembling.

And in that moment, I hated her.

I hated what she was doing to him.

I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down.

Kneeling down to Simon’s level, I whispered, “You’re going to be okay. You’re a smart child.” My voice was calm, but inside, everything was wailing.

I turned away from Mrs. Cole, keeping my posture strong and unwavering. I refused to let her see me break.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked away.

But I didn’t go home.

I couldn’t.

I flagged down a cab and told the driver to take me to Zane’s house.

When I arrived, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

No lights were on in the house. No movement could be seen in the windows.

My fingers hovered over the doorbell before pressing it.

Silence.

I knocked once, twice.

Nothing.

Something was wrong. I knew it. I felt it.

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’s Moonlight Sonata—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.

I had to check.

I jumped to my feet, yanked on my jacket, and reached into the drawer where I stashed my fake gun. Just in case. A precaution. A foolish one, maybe, but my fingers curled around it, nonetheless.

“I’m just going to check.”

My hands were ice-cold. My heart was racing.

I slipped out of the house, grabbed the old bicycle from Susan’s yard, and pedaled into the night to the bridge.

The wind bit at my face, but I barely felt it. I couldn’t.

The pounding in my chest, the weight in my stomach, and my panting breath drowned everything else out.

I pedaled harder, faster.

The path stretched on forever, and my muscles burned, but I didn’t stop.

When I arrived, I jumped off the bike, my shoes scraping against the pavement.

Silence.

Just the soft whisper of the water, the distant hum of insects.

Nothing. There was nothing.

My breathing was shaky.

I doubled over, clutching my ribs, my sides aching from the ride.

There was no one around.

“Damn it,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest.

The lamplights above cast a soft glow, flickering through the trees, and the water below reflected the pale silver light, making the place look beautiful, like something from a storybook.

But I didn’t feel at peace.

Clouds stretched thick and heavy overhead, swallowing the moonlight like the world was holding its breath.

I turned slowly, my gaze landing on the distant silhouette of the school.

Dark. Looming.

The statue…

My stomach twisted.

I was losing my mind. I had to be. Even so, I grabbed the bike, swung my leg over it, and pedaled toward the school.

The wind swept over the pavement, stirring fallen leaves across the empty, dark campus.

The school building cast long shadows beneath the streetlights, the edge of its walls disappearing into the night.

I stopped right in front of the statue in the courtyard and swallowed.

There was nothing unusual. Nothing out of place.

But I still felt it… The suffocating pressure.

I dug my fingers into my sleeves, forcing my breath to steady. “This is ridiculous.”

In frustration, I kicked a loose pebble toward the statue.The small stone bounced off it with a tiny, insignificant sound.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

I was so fucking foolish.

What had I expected? A clue? A sign? Some grand revelation that would suddenly make everything make sense?

I wasn’t special. I wasn’t a damn detective. I wasn’t going to solve anything.

Zane was a grown man. Maybe he just left.

No. He wouldn’t just disappear.

“Think, Amelia.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples to steady my racing thoughts. My eyes locked onto the statue. It was cold, and the stone-carved face seemed to mock me.

My eyes dropped to his hand.

It was pointing.

A slow breath left my lips as I followed its direction.

The basement? A simple school basement.

But—

My memory flickered, reaching into the past.

Ten years ago… there was no building there. It had been a garden. A bridge with a pond and flowers. Aster flowers. And then, they tore it all down. Built something over it. Buried it.

Right where the statue pointed was a slightly open window.

My breath hitched.

“Oh my God.”

It was all real. Or was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I forcing a connection that wasn’t there?

I bit my lower lip as uncertainty clawed at my chest.

No. I couldn’t afford to second-guess myself.

I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the group chat.

Amelia:

I might have solved the riddle. I’m at the school. I think Zane was taken. If I don’t hurry, he might be the third victim. I have to check. I love you guys.

I hit send.

My fingers tightened around the gun Stacy had given me. It just had blanks, but it felt heavier than ever. With my phone’s flashlight cutting through the darkness, I took a deep breath and trudged on.

“Please… let me be wrong.”