Page 41 of Symphony for Lies (Tangled Truths #2)
Zane's POV
The morning light crept in, casting soft shadows over Amelia’s sleeping form. She looked peaceful, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
I placed a lingering kiss on her lips before forcing myself to pull away.
Silently, I slipped out of bed and walked to the living room. Her notes were still scattered across the table.
With a sigh, I gathered them up, flipping through each page, absorbing her careful writing and the connections she had pieced together. She had spent too much time and energy on the case.
But going forward, it would be my problem. Not hers.
The only thing I wanted her to focus on was staying safe. Reading books, drinking her ridiculous herbal teas, and sleeping soundly in my arms every night, untouched by any darkness.
I pulled out my phone, snapping photos of every page before stacking the papers neatly on the table.
Soundlessly, I left her apartment and entered mine.
It felt empty. Cold. Sterile. Everything that mattered was next door.
I barely spent fifteen minutes getting ready before I went to the office. It was Saturday. I should have stayed with her. But I had to finish what she started.
Ryan showed up, already annoyed.“This better be important.”
I didn’t bother answering. He knew what we had to do.
We worked in silence, copying and pinning Amelia’s notes onto the whiteboard, trying to extract a pattern, a motive, something.
Hours blurred past.
And still nothing.
Someone was playing a game, dragging Amelia in with the cryptic notes. Maybe someone close?
Ryan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “We could stare at this all day, and it wouldn’t make a damn difference. The killer is like a ghost!” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You know, she’s brilliant. I would’ve never guessed those notes had a hidden message.”
I smirked slightly, my gaze tracing her handwriting.
Of course, she was brilliant. She was everything. The only thing in my life that actually made sense. My fucking jackpot.
“Okay, I’m calling it. My brain is fried. I’m going home.”
I barely registered my assistant’s words, still staring at the board.“Yeah… Go.”
The moment he was out the door, I was back to pacing, my mind racing through Amelia’s theories.
The notes from the basement.
Aster flowers. Wind chimes. Music.
Was there something more? A grand finale that still needed to be planned? With Amelia? No way! I would never let that happen.
I banished the ridiculous thought and shook my head.
My phone buzzed. It had gone off like a thousand times throughout the day. I ignored it.
But it buzzed again. And again.
Finally, I snatched it up, pressing it to my ear.
“What?”
“Mr. Cole !” Spencer’s voice came through the line, sharp with urgency.
“What?” I repeated darkly. I really had no time to bother with him.
“Is Amelia with you ?”
My entire body locked up.“No,” I said slowly, the word scraping against my throat. “Why?”
Spencer’s next words sent ice through my veins. “She texted me earlier. She said she figured out who the killer is !”
Silence.
“I can’t reach her !”
The world tilted.
I hung up without another word, bolting from my office.
My car roared to life, tires screeching as I tore through the streets, breaking every speed limit and every law.
I called her. Straight to voicemail.
Tried again.
Nothing.
I gritted my teeth, my grip white-knuckled on the wheel as I sped toward her apartment.
When I arrived, Spencer was already there, pacing outside her door.
I didn’t stop to acknowledge him, kicking the door open without hesitation.
The apartment was silent.
Empty.
Her scent lingered in the air, but she was gone.
Fear, unlike anything I had ever known, clawed its way up my throat.
Without thinking, I turned, grabbing Spencer by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “This is your fucking fault. If something happened to her—”
I couldn’t even finish my sentence, as my world seemed to fall apart just by speaking that thought out loud.
Spencer didn’t flinch. He just stared at me with calm and understanding.
That only pissed me off more.I shoved him away, running both hands through my hair, trying to breathe.
“The door was locked,” Spencer pointed out, straightening his jacket. “No sign of forced entry.”
My pulse hammered as I moved through the apartment, searching. The table was cleared. The notes were gone.
I stormed into the bedroom. The bed was made. Too neat. Like she had been gone for hours.
“Did she leave any other messages?”
I checked my phone.
One missed call. From her in the afternoon.
I hadn’t answered.
A sharp pang of guilt stabbed through me.
If I had just picked up!
But maybe…
“Maybe she’s with her friends,” I muttered. The words tasted like a lie.
Spencer shook his head. “I already checked.”
A wave of helplessness crushed me. I walked out onto the balcony, scanning the streets below. Empty. Nothing.
“Amelia!”
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.
“Who the hell is Mr. Watson?” I snapped.
A heavy silence filled the room.
“He was our music teacher ,” Tristan eventually explained. “He used to give Amelia and me private lessons… And the notes look strangely familiar… But that’s all I know .”
“Thanks,” Stacy muttered, scribbling down the decrypted message onto another piece of paper.
The call ended.
A labyrinth?
Layla frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“Oh my God,” Tiana suddenly gasped, her eyes wide. “Amelia told me that Miss. Carter sent her some documents. Maybe she knows something we don’t!”
Stacy pulled out her phone, dialed Bella Carter, and put her on speaker.
“I can’t just hand out classified information. I’m sorry .” Bella stated hesitantly. It was the first time she was speaking to Stacy, so of course, she was anxious.
“Bella? We really need your help here.”
“Zane? Oh my God…” she blurted, her tone changing. “I only forwarded Amelia some documents. About a teacher who might be connected to the murders. His name is Gilbert Watson. ”
The room went silent.
Watson.
Again.
Stacy ended the call abruptly, and Spencer immediately got on the phone with the precinct, barking orders to pull up everything they had on Gilbert Watson.
But I was done waiting.
“What the fuck does that even matter if we don’t know where Amelia is!” I roared, panic strangling my breath.
A sharp slap cracked across my face.
I blinked, stunned.
Stacy stood in front of me, fire in her eyes.“Hey, Casanova! We all love Amelia. We’re trying to save her. So, stop acting like you’re the only one losing your goddamn mind, and get your shit together!”
Her words sliced through my rage like a blade.
They were right.
For the first time, I truly understood how Amelia must have felt when I was the one who had been missing. That unbearable, suffocating helplessness…
But one thing was for sure.
I would find her. And if I got to the bastard who took her first, I would fucking destroy him.