August's Bones: Haunted Halls: Rosebud Academy, #3

Prologue

Twisted Homecoming

At five thirty in the morning, the old classroom looked like it was still waking up. The windows yawned, looking out into the dim light of the courtyard. I could see the vague outline of the weeping willow that stood sentry out there. Inside the classroom, a group of desks rested in the corner, jumbled together like a pile of sleeping puppies. When I turned on the lights, they flickered once, then twice, as if not sure they were ready to work. The upright piano leaned against the wall, the cover pulled over the keyboard, nice and tucked in. I walked over to it, my footsteps muted by the early morning quiet.

I ran my hands along the edge of the fallboard. It seemed a shame to disturb this classroom with a run-through of strengthening exercises and the kind of mind-numbing practice that involved complicated patterns. It was so peaceful in here, and I needed some peace because twenty-four hours ago, I’d found Karl.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of him crouching on a pile of bones bleached white by the sun. But closing my eyes only made the image clearer, brighter, so that all I could see was the look of abject horror on his face.

Opening my eyes, I sat down at the piano bench. I reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled out something small and slender.

It was a bone. A finger bone, if my internet searches had proven accurate. I’d spent nearly the entirety of yesterday trying to lose myself online. I hadn’t wanted to play piano, I hadn’t wanted to think about anything. Yesterday morning, I’d smuggled this bone from the island, knowing the police would tell me nothing, and vowing to figure it out for myself.

Of course I would make sure that the bone eventually got returned. Once the mystery behind the bones was solved, they’d undoubtedly be buried. In the meantime, I needed a connection to the puzzle.

I gingerly placed it against middle C and pressed down. I wondered if the owner of the bone had been a pianist, like me.

Then, with reverence, I set the bone next to me on the piano bench, and began to play.

Rehearsals and Repercussions

Okay, are you ready?" I asked.

Yes, yes! Taryn Cheswick-Brown, Chloe’s mom, nodded, her eyes alight even through the video screen on my phone. Let’s hear it!

Chloe’s dad, Gordon, and her brother, Zane, were scrunched in next to Taryn. Zane’s hair had changed to a darker auburn instead of the bright red it had been when I left for Rosebud, and now it matched his father’s. Had I been away that long? It was only two months ago that I’d come here, at the beginning of June.

I set my phone on a music stand that I’d propped up a few feet from the baby grand. I was in one of the private lesson rooms, but this late in the afternoon, nobody was using it.

Okay, I said, taking a deep breath. "I give you, Rachmaninoff, Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini."

The three of them clapped, their applause sounding tinny and scattered through my phone speakers. It was the thought that counted.

Taryn had called me yesterday, curious to hear how the program was going. She deserved the update, because she and Gordon had gathered together quite a bit of money to add to what my parents spent on this summer program. And honestly, the money wasn’t what mattered. I owed Taryn my life, because she was the one who’d talked me out of throwing it away after her daughter and my best friend, Chloe, had died.

Yesterday I hadn’t been able to talk to her, because of all the interviews I’d had with the police. Now, though, I had more time. I reached into my hoodie pocket and touched the finger bone, for luck. Then I berated myself. It’s not a rabbit’s foot, Lissa, gross.

I placed my fingers above the keyboard, and began to play. Three and a half minutes of sappy, flowing melodies and difficult-to-memorize series of notes. But I got through it.

When I finished, I looked over at my phone. Taryn’s hand was up at her mouth, and her eyes looked shiny with tears.

Well done, Lissa, Gordon said. Well done.

Even Zane looked impressed, although he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a thumb’s up before getting up and moving away.

Taryn patted his arm as he walked past the screen, and he said something about meeting his friends at the movies. Good, I thought, that he was starting to get out more. Chloe’s death had hit us all hard.

It seems like you’re learning a lot there, Taryn said.

Definitely, I said, injecting more cheer into my voice than I actually felt. There are so many opportunities for practice and study. This is such a cool program.

I can’t tell you how much it means to us, to see you doing what Chloe wanted to do. We’re so grateful, Lissa, and all we hope is that it’s everything you dreamed of, too.

That and more. I had to be careful, because as a sheriff, Taryn was too good at reading lies and half-truths.

Did you get the music I put in your bag? Taryn asked. On the day I left for Rosebud, Taryn and Gordon had come to my house to see me off, along with my parents.

No, I said, puzzled.

Well, look for it, okay? she said. It was Chloe’s, but she would have wanted you to have it. Suddenly, she jumped up. That’s my work phone, she said, looking at the screen. I have to run. Thank you, so much, Lissa, for playing for us. Such a joy.

Anytime, I said.

Gordon raised his hand in farewell, and my phone screen went dark.

I took a moment to be grateful that Taryn Cheswick-Brown’s sheriff duties kept her firmly in western Colorado. She hadn’t yet heard about the pile of bones on the island, and she hadn’t heard of my involvement in their discovery. It was only a matter of time, because I didn’t see such a thing being kept quiet for long, but at least they’d have a little while to believe that everything was going as it should at Rosebud.

Possessions of the Ghost

Isat at the baby grand for a few more minutes after saying goodbye to Chloe’s family. I played some old pieces of music, little melodies that Chloe and I had loved when we were kids. Fur Elise had been a particular favorite, but I played it quietly, knowing it would only annoy every musician within hearing distance of the practice room. Then I ran through some of Bach’s Inventions, now memorized courtesy of Penny Valentino, the visiting musician who had made my first month here a complete and utter hell.

After that, I looked at the canvas bag I sometimes carried with me to the practice room. I pulled out the stack of sheet music—I had most of the pieces I’d worked on in here, but I hadn’t really flipped through them since arriving. Valentino, Kolnikov, and even DuPont had kept me focused on recital pieces.

I thumbed through the pages until I found it. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Twenty-four pages. This had been Chloe’s copy.

I didn’t even need to open the booklet. My hands automatically found the position to launch into the first movement, but then I stopped myself. Because this piece belonged to Chloe. I would be here for Chloe as a stand-in or whatever, but I refused to play her favorite piece.

The urge to feel the music and the building wonderment within it was nearly overwhelming, but I took a deep breath and closed the piano cover. I leaned forward and rested my head on my hands. I felt tired, and older than my eighteen years. Yesterday’s adventure to the island had been one of the scariest things I’d done.

Finding Karl on the heap of bones. Rushing to him, Logan at my side. We’d tried to speak to him, but he hadn’t responded. He cooperated as we led him to the boat, but getting him inside the boat had been nearly impossible.

So many, he’d whispered. There are so many of them.

Chills raced up and down my arms at the memory. The look on his face had been pure terror.

At the thought of being terrified, I suddenly remembered where I was—the south hall. Upstairs, being in the south hall wasn’t a big deal. But being downstairs in the south hall, where the practice rooms were…I needed to get out of here before it got too late. Everyone said the footsteps happened at night, but I’d heard them at other times of day, and I wasn’t about to stick around.

I grabbed my phone off the music stand and stepped out of the practice room. I looked one way and then the other. But simply not seeing something wouldn’t make any difference.

I took one step into the corridor, then another. I decided I didn’t care about looking cool or collected. I didn’t care about attracting attention. I just didn’t want to hear those footsteps. So instead of walking, I sprinted.

The footsteps, or the old pipes as Natalie, the director, insisted on calling them, started up almost immediately. Measured, as if they were timed to a metronome. This time, though, it sounded like someone was gradually increasing the speed.

I ran faster. The finger bone was likely bouncing all over the place in my pocket, so I took it out and held it in my fist as I ran. Portraits of old people in old-time clothes lined the wall, but they were blurs as I raced past them. I rounded the corner into the central hall. Natalie’s office was within sight, although the door was closed. She was probably farther ahead, in the dining room at the other side of the foyer with everyone else.

When I could see the open doors of the dining room, I rushed forward and tucked the bone back into my pocket. I listened for sounds of the footsteps, but I couldn’t hear anything.

The scents of roasted meat and vegetables filled my nose, and I took a deep breath. The dining room was already crowded with the other musicians, and I saw Mariella and Kirsten sitting with Tyler at our usual table. I made my way over to the buffet counter and filled a plate without paying much attention to the food in front of me. Instead, my mind was on the footsteps, the mystery of Karl’s disappearance, and whether or not Tyler, my ex-boyfriend, was going to be a dick.

I got the answer to that question right away, as I sat down and Tyler immediately dropped his fork and knife onto his plate, collected his things, and