Chapter 4: Secrets Unraveled

He didn’t even look up, just kept slicing his cake into tiny, perfect bites. Control, always control.

“Carter, who do you think you are? The judge? If I don’t want to talk, I won’t.” Bryce’s voice shook.

Bryce’s voice rose, sharp and raw. He looked ready to bolt, but something kept him rooted to the spot. Fear, maybe.

With that, Bryce walked straight to the door, grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He yanked it a couple more times; the door was locked. Panic flickered in his eyes.

The sound echoed in the empty café, and I felt my skin crawl. This was no friendly get-together. We were trapped.

“Carter! What the hell are you doing? Open the door!” Bryce shouted, furious. His fists slammed the glass.

His fists slammed against the glass, but the door didn’t give. Panic flickered across his face. He was scared, really scared.

“Nothing. Let’s talk about what happened that day,” Carter said, calm as ever. He leaned back, as if he had all the time in the world.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded, as if he had all the time in the world. It was infuriating.

“You don’t actually think one of us killed Autumn, do you?” Bryce demanded. His voice cracked.

His voice cracked at the end, betraying the fear he tried to hide. He was losing it.

Carter finally put down his fork and stared at Bryce. “You said it. I only said we should talk about that day.” He let the silence stretch.

He let the silence stretch, daring us to argue. No one did.

Bryce grabbed a chair, ready to smash the door, but suddenly staggered and dropped to his knees. Something was wrong.

His face went white, and he clutched his stomach, gasping. The chair clattered to the floor. The sound echoed in the empty room.

“I suggest you sit and talk,” Carter said, walking over, helping Bryce up and settling him back in his seat. No kindness in his eyes.

There was no kindness in the gesture—just control. Carter’s grip was firm, unyielding. He was in charge now.

I understood. “You drugged the coffee, didn’t you? If we don’t talk today, we’re not leaving.” The words tasted like ash.

The words tasted like ash. I could feel the caffeine buzzing in my veins, but now I wondered what else was in the cup. I tried not to panic.

Carter smiled and nodded. “Morgan, you really see things clearly. I didn’t expect you to be so sharp.” He almost sounded proud.

He almost sounded proud, as if this was all a test and I’d just passed the first round. I hated him for it.

“People at the bottom get used to watching their backs,” I said, smiling. It was a bitter smile.

It was a bitter smile, the kind you wear when you know you’re in over your head but refuse to show it. Fake it till you make it.

“Alright, let’s talk. Ten years—I always hoped Autumn was still alive. But she disappeared that night, and the murderer is among you.” His words hung in the air.

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. There was no more pretending. This was real.

“Who wants to start?” Carter looked at me, then at Bryce. He waited.

His gaze was steady, unblinking. I could almost hear the clock ticking in the silence. Tick, tick, tick.

“Not waiting for Tyler?” I asked. I tried to buy time.

I tried to buy time, but Carter’s eyes said he was done waiting. No more stalling.

Carter ignored me, fixing his gaze on Bryce. “You go.” No room for argument.

He didn’t blink, didn’t look away. Bryce swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was scared.

Bryce glared at him, then slowly started recounting his actions that night. His voice shook.

His voice was thin, shaky at first, but then steadied as he slipped into the story, like it was the only way to keep himself together. He needed the story.

Here’s what Bryce said:

That night, after we split up, I went up to the second floor from the west stairs. Worried Autumn might be scared, I followed her.

The hallways were pitch black, the only light from our flashlights. My shoes squeaked on the old tile, and every sound echoed like a warning.

Autumn said she didn’t believe in ghosts, thought the rumors were just pranks. She said if we wrote the whole thing as a novel, maybe we’d win the contest.

She grinned at me, fearless as ever. I tried to play it cool, but my heart was racing.

We checked the second floor, found only empty classrooms, and sat in one for a while.

The desks were covered in dust, old graffiti carved into the wood. I could hear my own breathing, loud in the silence.

Suddenly, a shadow flashed outside the classroom. I ran out, but only saw the shadow disappear around the stairwell.

My pulse jumped. I called out, but no answer—just the sound of our footsteps and the distant wind.

Autumn followed. At that moment, we heard a girl crying.

The sound was thin, wavering, as if it came from somewhere far away—or nowhere at all.

Following the sound, we reached the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, but the crying stopped.

The door creaked as we pushed it open. The tiles were cracked, the mirrors smeared with grime. Nothing moved.

We went in and found nothing.

I checked every stall, but the only thing waiting was our reflections, pale and anxious.

Autumn thought for a bit, decided the shadow was just someone playing tricks. She told me to check the first floor while she checked the third.

She looked me dead in the eye, daring me to argue. I didn’t. I just nodded and left, pretending I wasn’t relieved to be out of there.

Autumn was always bold, loved exploring mysteries, so I didn’t argue and went downstairs as she said.

She never let fear slow her down. I envied her for that.

I wandered around and ran into Morgan sitting at the east stairwell, smoking.

The smoke curled around Morgan’s head, the only thing moving in the stillness. He looked up, eyes unreadable.

I asked if he’d seen anyone come down; he said no.

His answer was clipped, almost annoyed. I didn’t push it.

So I went up to the third floor to look for Autumn, but didn’t see her. Then I ran into Tyler.

Tyler looked pale, like he hadn’t slept in days. He barely met my eyes.

He looked upset and asked me to go to the rooftop with him to smoke.

I hesitated, but followed. The night air was sharp up there, the city lights a distant glow.

On the rooftop, I asked what was wrong. He said his parents wanted him to give up grad school and come home to help with the family diner.

He sounded defeated, like the future he wanted was slipping away. I tried to say something comforting, but the words felt hollow.

I knew his family ran a diner in town, passed down from his grandfather. The whole family depended on it. In recent years, his parents’ health declined, so they wanted him to take over.

It was the kind of responsibility that would crush most people. Tyler carried it quietly, but it weighed on him.

But Tyler wanted to go to grad school, stay in the city, and didn’t want to go home, so he was troubled.

He stared at the skyline, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his voice barely above a whisper.

After a while, Tyler said he wanted to be alone, so I went back downstairs. On the third floor, I still didn’t see Autumn, so I waited until Carter called us on the walkie-talkie.

I paced the hallway, nerves frayed. When the static crackled over the walkie, I nearly jumped out of my skin.