On the morning of day 2, the historic Airbnb in Columbus, Indiana, was alive with the bustling sounds of the Keating 5 preparing breakfast. The atmosphere was a mix of focused determination and underlying tension, not just about the case but the unspoken plan for after their meeting.
As Michaela cracked eggs into a sizzling pan, she couldn't help but break the silence. "Is anyone else feeling a mix of excitement and dread for this meeting? I mean, this case is huge."
Asher, trying to keep the mood light, buttered his toast with a flourish. "Excitement, nerves, impending doom—you know, the usual cocktail of feelings when working with Annalise."
Laurel, pouring coffee, added, "It's not just any case. Becca Serrano's connection to Wes... It feels like we're stirring up the past all over again."
Connor, leaning against the counter, nodded solemnly. "And we have to tread carefully. We're dealing with a cold case, emotions, and possibly uncovering uncomfortable truths."
Oliver, ever the optimist, tried to rally the group. "We can do this. We've been through worse. Let's just focus on getting justice for Becca and maybe uncovering something the police missed."
Their breakfast conversation was a blend of strategy and support, a testament to their bond. Yet, the underlying current of their planned visit to the tarot reader lingered, unspoken but palpable.
Arriving at the Bartholomew County Courthouse, the group was greeted with the somber reality of their task. They met with detectives from the Bartholomew County Police Department, who briefed them on the cold case of Becca Serrano.
Detective Martinez laid out the case files on the table, the room heavy with the weight of unresolved tragedy. "Becca Serrano, as you may know, had connections to Wes Gibbins before her untimely death. Her body was discovered at the White River, underneath the Robert Stewart Bridge. The autopsy reported bruises and signs of a struggle. Her shoes were torn, indicating she might have been running or was taken against her will."
Michaela, taking meticulous notes, asked, "Were there any witnesses, or has anyone come forward with information since the initial investigation?"
Detective Martinez shook his head. "We've had a few leads, but nothing concrete. The community was shocked, but fear kept many from speaking up. We're hoping fresh eyes might shed new light on this case."
Asher, looking over the photos, pointed out, "These bruises, they look defensive. She was fighting back."
Laurel, focusing on the connection to Wes, inquired, "Was there anything in Wes's history or actions at the time that could suggest a motive or a link to Becca's death?"
Connor added, "And the location—was it random, or is there a significance to where her body was found?"
Detective Martinez nodded appreciatively at their questions. "All valid points. Wes's involvement is still a mystery; he had his troubles, but linking him directly to the crime has been challenging. As for the location, it's secluded, not somewhere Becca would frequent, which suggests she was brought there."
The meeting continued with a detailed discussion of the evidence, witness statements, and the investigation's dead ends. The Keating 5 listened, asked questions, and took notes, their legal minds working overtime to piece together the puzzle of Becca Serrano's tragic end.
As the meeting concluded, the group shared a look of grim determination. They were on the case now, and every detail mattered. The weight of the task at hand was a sobering reminder of the stakes involved—not just for them, but for Becca and the truth that lay buried with her.
After the intense and draining day at the Bartholomew County Courthouse, the Keating 5 found themselves walking toward the address on the crumpled flyer Oliver had found the night before. The mood was a mix of skepticism and a strange, shared curiosity—a detour on a day already heavy with the weight of a cold case that felt personal to them all.
The fortune teller's home was an old, ivy-covered house at the edge of town, its windows dark, the air around it heavy with the scent of incense and mystery. They were greeted at the door by a woman who introduced herself as Alma, her eyes piercing, a calm smile playing on her lips.
"What brings you to seek the knowledge of the tarot?" Alma asked, leading them into her home, which was dimly lit and filled with the sound of wind chimes.
"We're... just looking for some guidance," Michaela answered, her voice trailing off, unsure of how much to reveal.
Alma nodded, as if understanding more than was said, and gestured them into a room where a large, ornate table was set up with candles and a deck of tarot cards. The room felt out of time, the air thick with anticipation.
As they took their seats, Alma began shuffling the tarot deck with practiced ease. "Let's see what the cards have in store for you. May you find the guidance you seek."
One by one, she turned the cards over for each of them, interpreting their meanings with a voice that seemed to echo from another world.
Michaela received "The Fool," which Alma described as a sign of new beginnings, but warned of naivety and the need to be wary of making foolish decisions.
Laurel's card was "The Devil," symbolizing entrapment and the need to break free from self-imposed bindings.
Connor drew "The Hanged Man," indicating sacrifice and a need to see things from a new perspective.
Oliver was given "The Lovers," a sign of relationships and choices, suggesting a need for harmony but also warning of significant decisions ahead.
Lastly, Asher's card was "Death," causing a visible reaction from him. Alma quickly reassured him, "Death is not always literal; it signifies change, endings, and the necessity of letting go to make way for the new."
Despite Alma's attempt at reassurance, Asher excused himself, visibly shaken. Laurel followed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as they stepped outside.
"It's just a card, Asher. It doesn't dictate our fate," Laurel said, trying to calm him down.
Asher took a deep breath, looking back at the house with a mix of fear and disbelief. "I know, I know. But seeing that card, after everything we've been through, it just hit too close to home."
Laurel nodded, understanding his fears. "Let's just take this as a reminder that we need to stick together, no matter what. These cards... they're just cards. Our real strength is in each other."
Inside, Alma continued with the reading, offering them "shielded" cards meant to protect against their revealed bad lucks. The Keating 5 left the fortune teller's home with more questions than answers, the tarot reading adding a layer of mystique to their already complex mission.
As the shadows lengthened into evening, the Keating 5 returned to their Airbnb, each member lost in thought over the day's events and the tarot reading's ominous revelations. The once comforting space now seemed to echo with a silent tension, the air charged with unspoken fears and doubts.
Michaela, trying to maintain a semblance of leadership and rationality, suggested, "Let's keep these 'shielded' cards in our rooms. Maybe it's all superstition, but... it can't hurt, right?" Her attempt at lightness did little to lift the heavy atmosphere.
As they dispersed to place their cards in their respective rooms, Michaela noticed Asher standing in the hallway, his face pale, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched the "Death" card.
"Hey, you okay?" she asked, approaching him with a concerned look.
Asher jumped slightly, then tried to mask his fear with a forced smile. "Yeah, just... this card, you know? I mean, I know it's probably all bogus, but I can't shake off this feeling."
Hearing the commotion, the others gathered in the hallway, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity.
Laurel, ever empathetic, stepped closer. "Asher, it's just a piece of paper. It doesn't have power over you or your fate."
Connor, leaning against the wall, added, "Yeah, man. Remember our first year with Annalise? If we survived that, we can survive a creepy tarot reading."
Oliver, trying to inject some optimism, chimed in, "Maybe we should see it as a sign? Like, maybe it's time for a change. Not the end, but a new beginning?"
Asher nodded, absorbing their words, but the fear lingered in his eyes. "I know, I know. It's just hard to shake. But I'm glad you guys are here."
Michaela, sensing the need to shift the focus, suggested, "Why don't we go over our notes from today's meeting? We need to be prepared for tomorrow, and it'll help take our minds off... other things."
The group agreed, gathering in the living room to dive into the complexities of the Becca Serrano case. Yet, as they discussed leads and theories, the air remained tinged with an underlying sense of dread, each member acutely aware of the tarot cards stored away in their rooms—silent sentinels of a future unknown.
As the night deepened, their conversation gradually faded into silence, the case files spread out before them. The day's revelations, both from the police department and the fortune teller, wove a complex tapestry of fear, hope, and uncertainty.
Finally, one by one, they retired to their rooms, the "shielded" cards placed carefully on nightstands or tucked into journals. Despite their best efforts to reassure each other, the visit to Alma's had stirred something within them. The "Death" card, especially, hung over Asher—and by extension, all of them—like a dark cloud.