Belle leaned over the bed, gathering them in her hands. Lily came up behind her, trailing kisses along her neck. “That was smart, hiding them under the floor,” Lily mused as Belle set the letters on the bedside table. “If I’d hidden the Recipe for the Perfect Murder under a floorboard, my dad would’ve never found it.”

“How did he find it?” Belle asked, turning to face her. “Did you tell him where it was hidden? You never even told me.”

“I didn’t tell him anything about it! But he snuck onto the Holloway estate for me, to steal that red rose. He must’ve found the recipe then.”

“How? The guy steals a rose from the garden and then decides to climb a bunch of trees for fun?” Belle huffed, tapping the stack of letters. “That doesn’t make any sense. The only person climbing trees was Jack—”

“Wait.” Lily snatched the letters from the table. After a minute of shuffling, she retrieved the one that Belle had altered. “Jack wasn’t the only one climbing trees while Raven was gone. Someone else was going into the orchard, holding pruning shears and wearing gloves.”

“Dr. Holloway,” Belle whispered, her heart thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird. Her lungs constricted, and she could barely speak the words, “We have to get over to Raven’s house. Now.”

25 Holy

Raven was hosting a sleepover in the orchard. He knew it sounded childish, but after everything he’d been through over the past four years, he wanted to indulge in some innocent fun. With his father’s permission, he’d draped old white sheets over the trees, creating an elaborate fort. There were blankets and pillows hidden inside, and by the time Jack arrived, Raven had strung tea lights across the lowest branches.

Jack’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Raven. This is—”

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” He felt silly. Sheepish. But then Jack stepped closer, squeezing his hand, and he felt his entire being exhale.

“It’s perfect.” Jack crouched down, swinging his backpack off his back. He was wearing another one of Raven’s button-down shirts, forest green this time, and his jeans brushed against the ground as he dug a potted plant out of his backpack. “For you.”

Raven took the rosebush reverently. Its single blossom was just starting to open, and there was a light dusting of crimson petals peeking at him from Jack’s backpack.

Jack scooped up a handful, nestling them in Raven’s hair. “I figured we could plant this in the garden. I see your dad’s already torn up the white roses. Did he do that for you?”