I pushed back my chair to give myself a little more room and then lifted the violin to my shoulder. The bow was slightly bent, but maybe that was fine, because I felt a little bent, too. I closed my eyes and tried to push all thoughts out of my head.

With the first note, my instincts took over. I played a song my mother had taught me. I hadn't learned it completely before she died, but afterward, I'd made it a mission to perfect it.

As my emotions blended into the melody, I felt a release of anger and frustration, grief and sadness, uncertainty and fear…

The music flowed through me like a warm, healing breeze, and I played a second song, and then a third. When I finally hit the last note of that melody, I felt immensely better.

I set down the violin and lifted my gaze to Kade's. He stared back at me with a gleam of admiration.

"That was beautiful, Brynn. Spectacularly beautiful. You are very talented."

"Thanks. I think you're exaggerating."

"Not even a little. You have a gift."

"I do love to play. And you were right…it helped."

"Sometimes it's just too much to hold the emotions in." He paused. "It's not my place to say this, but you need to play with that orchestra. It would be a crime not to use your talent."

"I tell myself that, too, but it feels selfish, especially with everything else going on. But I don't want to think about it now. For the first time in the last forty-eight hours, I feel calm. How about a cookie?"

"I wouldn't say no," he replied, as I got to my feet.

I grabbed the bag of cookies as well as two cards that had been left for my mom and brought them to the table.

While Kade reached for a cookie, I slid open the first envelope and pulled out the card. It read: Praying for you, Laura. Feel better soon. Our school needs you! It was signed by Joanne Hunt, the principal of the school, and several other teachers.

I opened the next envelope and pulled out a card that made me gasp.

"What's wrong?" Kade asked.

"Is this supposed to be a joke?" I showed him the face of the card. A series of tombstones were lined up in a cemetery with the quote: This is where it all ends.

"Who's it from?" he asked tersely.

I was almost afraid to open the card, but I finally did. "You know why," I read, then lifted my gaze to his. "It's not signed with a name, but this is definitely personal."

"It feels like there was a betrayal," Kade murmured.

"That's exactly what it feels like," I said, meeting his gaze.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I glanced down at the screen. "It's Inspector Greenman."

"Can you put it on speaker?"

"Sure." I picked up the phone. "Hello? Did you get my text?"