Murder of Crows by K. Ancrum

Author:K. Ancrum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

After the funeral, I dragged Max and Wyn with me to the Star Diner. I wasn’t ready to face home—not after my fight with Abuela—and we needed to kill time until Noel was ready to answer our questions.

When I told Max and Wyn what Abuela said upstairs at the church and then what Noel said afterward, both of them immediately agreed to come along. They seemed as upset as I was about how Abuela was dealing with this. And we all wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was going on before anyone else got hurt. (Wyn thought we didn’t notice her wincing every time she turned too fast or raised her arms too high. We noticed.)

Finally, after a few hours of moping around the diner and more cups of coffee than we could count, I checked my watch. “Let’s go,” I said flatly.

We trudged to the bus stop together. Max and Wyn bickered softly, but let me sit in silence. Their banter relaxed me a little. It felt so normal and trivial that I could almost forget that my abuela couldn’t stand the sight of me right now and that someone had nearly killed my friend two days ago.

“So, do we trust Noel?” Wyn asked tentatively as we got off the bus at our stop. “She’s obviously wrapped up in all this, but what if she’s playing us? What if she had something to do with Mr. Wyatt’s death?”

I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. But at least she’s finally giving us something to go on.”

“Oh!” Max said suddenly. “I think that might be her house all the way down at the end of the block.”

The neighborhood had whittled down from houses right off the sidewalk, to houses with a short walk-up garden path like Mr. Wyatt’s, and finally, at the very edge of the residential area, houses built for privacy. From the sidewalk, you could only see wrought-iron fences and lush greenery, the homes far back from the property line, at the end of winding driveways.

“I think I’ve only been in this neighborhood once before,” Wyn said, ogling the sculptural hedges through the fences. “Back when I was delivering pizzas. They wouldn’t even let me go inside the fence; they sent some butler guy to get the pizza.”

“That’s pretty typical of rich people.” I shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be a ton of them in Hollow Falls, but every town has them. In New York, the richest ones don’t even let regular people get this close to their homes. They all live in high-rises in the clouds above everyone else.”

When we finally arrived at the address listed on Noel’s card, I noticed her spiked fence seemed simpler than those of her neighbors. But on closer inspection, the points at the top of each spire weren’t pyramids at all; they were tiny crows. Max snapped a quick picture on his phone. I approached the gate, which had a security keypad next to it. There was a place to enter in a code, but there hadn’t been anything else written on the card.

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