Chapter 2 - THE RAVEN RETURNS
At 7:12 the next morning, Eleanor Whitmore called the only man still alive who knew what the raven meant.
"Thomas."
There was silence on the other end.
Then a tired male voice.
"Eleanor?"
"Someone used the symbol."
Another silence.
This one longer.
"Where?"
"The gala."
Thomas Avery had been her late husband Daniel Whitmore's attorney, friend, and occasional conscience.
He was seventy now and supposedly retired in Vermont.
Within ten seconds, he sounded twenty years younger.
"Do not speak about it on the phone."
"I already showed the charm to Detective Bennett."
"You did what?"
"I didn't mention the raven."
"Good."
"Thomas."
"What?"
"Claire Harper fell down my staircase last night and accused me of pushing her."
Thomas stopped breathing.
"Harper?"
"Yes."
"Her full name?"
"Claire Madeline Harper."
Eleanor frowned.
"Why?"
Thomas answered very quietly.
"Because Daniel investigated a man named Jonathan Harper twenty-two years ago."
Eleanor sat down.
Claire's father.
Claire had always said Jonathan Harper died when she was young.
A private-equity executive.
A good father.
A tragedy.
Nothing more.
"How?"
Eleanor asked.
"Whitmore Consolidated had a security division then."
"I remember."
"Daniel discovered someone was moving money through offshore shipping companies."
"What does that have to do with Harper?"
"Jonathan Harper controlled two of them."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
The raven.
Twenty-two years earlier, Daniel Whitmore had received anonymous envelopes marked with a black raven.
Warnings.
Photographs.
Account numbers.
Then threats.
The final raven appeared on the windshield of Daniel's car the night he died.
Officially:
Heart attack while driving.
His vehicle crossed the median.
Hit a barrier.
Daniel was forty-eight.
Healthy.
No prior heart disease.
Eleanor never believed the official story.
But no evidence survived.
Or so she thought.
Thomas said:
"Jonathan Harper disappeared from finance six months after Daniel died."
"Claire told us he died."
"He did."
"When?"
"Four years later."
"How?"
"Unknown."
Eleanor stood.
"Why didn't you ever tell me this?"
"Daniel made me promise."
"He was dead."
"He wanted you and Ethan safe."
She almost laughed.
Men hiding danger from women and calling it protection.
Twenty-two years later, she was still paying for it.
"Thomas, come to New York."
"I'm already packing."
At the hospital, Ethan had slept in a chair beside Claire's bed.
He woke when her phone vibrated.
Claire was asleep.
The screen displayed:
UNKNOWN: Phase One complete.
Ethan stared.
Then another message arrived.
Do not answer Eleanor.
His chest tightened.
Claire stirred.
Her eyes opened.
"What are you doing?"
He held up the phone.
"Who sent this?"
She went pale.
"Give me that."
"Who?"
"It’s nothing."
"Phase one of what?"
Claire reached for the phone.
He pulled it back.
"Ethan."
"What is this?"
For one second, anger crossed her face.
Then disappeared.
"I'm being harassed."
"By who?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't want to worry you."
Same phrase everyone used before lies.
Then Ethan asked:
"Why does the message say not to answer my mother?"
Claire's breathing changed.
"I don't know."
He stared.
The woman he planned to marry suddenly looked unfamiliar.
Then Detective Bennett entered.
"Mr. Whitmore. Miss Harper."
She looked at Claire.
"We need to discuss the staircase."
Claire immediately looked fragile again.
"I already told the officers."
Bennett nodded.
"Yes."
Then:
"We found traces of adhesive residue on the upper railing."
Ethan frowned.
"What kind?"
"Unknown yet."
Claire stared.
Bennett continued.
"And a guest's video shows something witnesses didn't notice."
She opened a tablet.
Paused the footage.
Claire stood at the top of the stairs.
Eleanor beside her.
Three feet behind them—
a waiter.
His right hand near the railing.
Ethan looked closer.
"Who is he?"
Bennett answered:
"We don't know."
The man's face was partly turned.
But on his wrist was a tattoo.
A black raven.
Claire stopped breathing.
Ethan saw it.
And for the first time—
May you like
he wondered whether his mother had been telling the truth.
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