Chapter 9 - Room 214
The school director met them beside a shattered side window.
“Police already came.”
Andrew looked toward the stairwell.
“What was taken?”
“Two laptops.
Petty cash.”
“Anything from the practice rooms?”
The director hesitated.
“Some cabinets were opened.”
Room 214 was upstairs.
There was a lift, but it was out of service.
Lily stared at the little handwritten sign.
Of course.
Andrew took a step toward her chair.
“I can carry—”
“Ask me first.”
He stopped.
“Would you like help getting upstairs?”
She looked at the narrow staircase.
“No.
Tell me what you find.”
Noah stayed with her in the lobby.
They listened to footsteps overhead.
A piano sounded somewhere down the hall.
Someone practicing the same four measures badly.
“Did you know it would work?” Lily asked.
“What?”
“At the party.”
He shook his head.
“Then why did you say you could help me stand?”
“Because your mom said helping wasn’t the same as doing it for somebody.”
Lily looked toward him.
“You knew her pretty well.”
“She let me sit in the kitchen when my mom worked late.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Mostly you.”
That hurt in a way she hadn’t expected.
“What did she say?”
“That you hated when people answered questions for you.”
Lily laughed softly.
“She was right.”
Upstairs, something fell.
Andrew cursed.
Then silence.
Noah stood.
Lily caught his sleeve.
“Stay.”
He sat again.
A minute later, Beth came down holding a broken cabinet lock.
“Empty.”
Lily’s stomach dropped.
“The room?”
“Someone got there first.”
Andrew followed.
His face looked older.
“I’m sorry.”
Lily stared at the key.
Her mother had been careful.
Careful enough to make copies.
Careful enough to record herself.
Would she really have left everything in an obvious cabinet?
She turned the paper tag over.
There was a tiny drawing on the back.
Three music notes.
Lily looked toward the piano down the hall.
“Mom hated that cabinet,” she said.
Beth frowned.
“What?”
“It stuck when it rained.
She complained about it every week.”
Lily rolled toward the hallway.
There were lockers near the rehearsal studio.
Some held instrument cases.
Some held folding stands.
Locker 214 sat at wheelchair height.
Andrew crouched beside her.
The brass key slid into the lock.
It turned.
May you like
Inside was her mother’s red violin case.
And tucked beneath the handle was a white envelope addressed to Lily.
