Chapter Three — Number Three Knows
By the time I got home, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Mom was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stirred something on the stove. The smell of garlic and onions should've felt comforting, but it didn't. It just made me realize how far my world had drifted from hers.
"You're home late," she said without turning around.
"Yeah. Stayed back for… gym."
A lie. It came too easily.
She nodded absently, and I slipped past her before she could ask more questions.
Upstairs, in my room, I dumped my bag onto the bed and pulled out the papers — Notes 1 and 2, and now the third one. Blue ink, messy letters. No fingerprints, no name.
> "Number Three Knows."
I stared at those words for what felt like hours. Knows what? Who's number three?
Outside, the sky was bleeding into twilight. Shadows stretched across the walls, making my room feel smaller. My reflection in the window looked pale and strange — like someone else entirely.
River's warning echoed in my head: Don't trust the notes.
But how could I ignore them now?
Because if Number Three knew something… maybe it was about Eli.
---
The next morning, I waited by the old oak tree in the courtyard. The one where I'd met River. The wind tugged at my hair and carried that crisp scent of rain-soaked leaves.
He showed up five minutes later, hood up as usual.
"You came," he said.
"I didn't really have a choice, did I?"
He almost smiled. "Guess not."
I held up the paper. "Number Three. Any idea who that is?"
River looked thoughtful, scanning the courtyard. "There were thirteen notes in my set. Thirteen people. Each one connected somehow."
"Connected how?"
He met my eyes. "Secrets. Things they wanted hidden. Things someone else wanted exposed."
I felt my stomach knot. "You think this has to do with Eli?"
He hesitated. "Maybe. The timing fits. My first note came a week before your brother disappeared."
That hit me like a punch. "You—what?"
"I didn't know him," River said quickly. "But I heard the rumors. People said he was asking questions. About a girl. About what happened behind the gym last spring."
My pulse quickened. "What happened?"
He looked away. "Someone got hurt. Maybe worse. The story died before it spread — but people remember."
I was about to ask who the girl was when a voice interrupted us.
"Zara Myles."
I turned.
A tall boy with blond hair and a letterman jacket stood a few feet away, expression unreadable. He looked like he belonged on the cover of the school yearbook — clean, confident, perfect.
"I'm Evan," he said. "Your locker neighbor."
I blinked. "Right. Uh, hi?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been getting strange notes, haven't you?"
Every nerve in my body froze.
River stepped slightly in front of me. "What's it to you?"
Evan ignored him. "You shouldn't be seen with him," he said to me. "People talk. And some of them don't like being talked about."
Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Number Three knows. But Number Three also lies."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away — leaving the scent of cologne and tension hanging in the air.
I stared after him, heart racing. "Did he just—?"
River's jaw tightened. "Yeah. He knows something."
I folded the note again and tucked it into my pocket. "Then he's number three."
River nodded slowly. "Looks like it."
---
The rest of the day, I couldn't focus. Every time I passed Evan in the hallway, I felt his eyes on me — calm, assessing, almost daring me to ask.
During lunch, Chloe waved me over to her table, but I just shook my head and pretended I had to study. She frowned, confused, and I hated how easily I was already lying to the only friend I had.
When the final bell rang, I didn't head home. I followed Evan.
He walked through the parking lot, down the side road that led behind the school. I kept my distance. The sky was turning gray, clouds heavy with rain.
He stopped near the old sports shed — the one no one used anymore — and pulled something from his pocket. A phone. He made a call, pacing slowly.
I moved closer, hiding behind a rusted fence.
"…yeah, I saw her with him," he was saying. His voice was low, careful. "No, she doesn't know yet. But if she keeps digging, we'll have a problem."
A pause. Then:
"I told you, she's not supposed to find out. Not like he did."
My breath caught.
He.
He had to mean Eli.
Lightning cracked somewhere in the distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder. I stepped back, my shoe hitting a metal can.
The sound made him turn.
"Who's there?"
I froze.
Evan's gaze swept the area. For a terrifying second, I thought he'd seen me — but a car honked nearby, and he glanced toward it instead. Then he muttered something under his breath and walked away.
When he was gone, I stepped out, trembling. The phone call replayed in my mind over and over.
Someone didn't want me to know the truth.
And Evan was working for them.
As I turned to leave, I noticed something on the shed wall — scratched into the peeling paint.
Thirteen numbers.
Lined up in a row.
And next to 3, my name.