Maris began to the lay the cards out, one to the left, one on its side on the top, two beneath it, which Izabel recognized: Death and the Five of Cups. Maris drew in her breath a little, but she continued. Beneath those cards were two more on their side. One was a heart with three knives through it. One was a knife dripping blood. Then there was one more to the right. And to the right of that one, the final four, were all on their sides, down the side of the reading.

“That looks bad,” Izabel said.

“It is bad,” Maris said, “but maybe not in the way you think. And there are good cards, too.” She pointed to the card all the way on the right, the last card Izabel had picked. “The Empress. The Death card is not weighed more heavily than the Empress because it’s scarier looking. Let’s go through it.

“It looks as if two men are influencing you right now. To the left here, the King of Pentacles, above, the King of Swords. Is someone in your life a surgeon?”

“My husband used to be a surgeon.”

“So this is him.” She tapped on the King of Swords. “This card. It calls up precision. Does he have feelings about this decision of yours?”

“Yes.”

“The cards say, listen to him.”

“Who is the other man?”

“I don’t know. The King of Pentacles. An earthly man maybe. Someone who works with his hands. You don’t know who it could be?”

Izabel shook her head, even though somewhere in her she knew this was the killer. If there were any other man influencing her life right now, it was him. She wondered if he was showing up in every reading Maris did these last few weeks.

“What about the bad cards?” Izabel asked.

“I would say you are in danger. This is you here.” She landed her index finger heavily on the card below the Death card. “The Queen of Wands. And this card below it”—she touched it with her thumb—“the Three of Swords, with this card to the right”—she placed her pinky on it—“the Emperor.” She tapped the set of three cards together. Thump thump thump. “These are controlling cards. I would say the King of Pentacles knows who you are.”

“No, he can’t,” Izabel said.

“I thought you didn’t know who he was.”

“I don’t.”

“Then how do you know that he doesn’t know you?”

“I can’t—”

“How are you getting home after this?” Maris interrupted her.

“I was going to take a car.”

“Don’t stop anywhere,” she said. “Go straight home.”

“I thought these cards might not be that bad.”