Page 128 of Roses in Summer

“What’s their reason?” Lincoln asks, giving voice to the question we all have.

“A tarot card left by the site of the fire.”

“Fuck,” Grey groans. “What was the card?”

I furrow my brow, looking between Grey and Rafe. “Why does the card matter? I understand the reference to the psychic, but the card?”

Rafe clears his throat, “Because, Ser, the Hang Man MC uses a Hanged Man tarot card as their calling card.”

“The who?”

Bianca releases a sigh, and we all turn to her, the pallor of her face causing immediate alarm. “B?”

“The Hang Man MC is a motorcycle club, a gang, really. They found the same cards at the psychic murders.”

“Th-that wasn’t in the news.” Ava trembles. “Why wouldn’t that be public knowledge? They’re saying it’s a serial killer.”

“Because not every aspect of an investigation needs to be made public. You should know that; you all should,” Rafe admonishes, shaking his head as he looks at me and my sisters. He’s not wrong. We come from a family of lawyers, two of the most prominent ones in the country. We know that for all aspects of a case to be made public is one of the worst possible outcomes for both law enforcement and prosecutors.

So, no, it’s not a surprise that we don’t know about the cards.

What is a surprise is that Bianca seemingly does.

“B, how do you know about the cards found?”

She looks down, refusing to meet my eyes.

Rafe huffs, crossing his arms as we wait for Bianca to speak. “Because this isn’t the first card that’s been left, is it, B?”

She shoots a look at Rafe that would burn a lesser man. “I found one on my car last week. I gave it to the police with strict instructions,” she emphasizes the words, “not to say anything about it.”

“Goddammit, Bianca. When were you going to tell us we’re living in an Agatha Christie novel?” Ava shouts.

Grey grunts, his head shaking in disbelief.

I remain silent, absorbing the information in a dueling state of disbelief and shock.

“Still think the fire was a harmless accident?”

“Shut up, Lincoln,” I mutter, elbowing him in the stomach.

—

“I’m not dropping you off.”

“But I have to work, and so do you.”

“No, I don’t have to work today, so I’ll be sitting right next to you your entire shift. I’ll let Ms. Frizzle know that I’m not leaving.”

“Stop calling May that.”

“You’re stalling; let’s go.” Lincoln nods toward the library, grabbing my hand to pull me inside. In my borrowed clothes from Ava, I feel better than I did in Lincoln’s oversized sweats, but there’s still a loud discomfort. With my narrow frame and nonexistent hips, Ava’s clothes hang on my body loosely, and I feel like I have to constantly tug on the fabric of the T-shirt and jeans to keep them in place.

On Ava, an outfit like this would show off her feminine curves, hugging all the right places to show her hourglass figure. On me, I look like a kid playing dress-up with her mother’s old clothes. The only silver lining is that Lincoln and I will go to my parents’ house tonight to see them and grab some of the clothes I keep there.

“You can’t just shadow me for my entire shift,” I argue, letting him pull me along. “The university probably has a policy against this.”

“A policy against protection when a fucking arsonist is on the loose? I highly doubt that, ciern.”

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