“No.”
Bennet looked toward the end of the hall, and then back toward Toly, hands held out helplessly. In a whisper, he said, “I take it you two had a – uh – rough day together?”
“You’re not very good at whispering, Bennet,” Raven called.
‘Shit,” he muttered, and headed her way.
Still scowling – his face was beginning to ache from it – Toly followed. What else was there to do?
Cassandra wasn’t in sight, which meant she’d gone straight to her room. Raven stood at the kitchen island, methodically slitting open envelopes and sorting the contents into bills and useful bits, and trash. Her movements were quick and precise, the flick of her wrist vicious as she worked the letter-opener, in a way that Toly knew meant she was quietly seething.
At least he wasn’t the only one affected by their verbal dust-up in the elevator.
She glanced up, another brief look at him, before she went back to the mail. “Don’t be ridiculous. How will you sleep on the sofa wearing that? The shirt buttons are straining as it is.”
They were; the starched fabric chafed over his pierced nipples unpleasantly. But he said, “It’s fine.”
She snorted. “Bennet.”
“Uh…I really don’t wanna get in the middle of something here.”
“You won’t be.” Raven picked up a small, stiff cardboard envelope pasted with four stamps, and ripped off the pull-tab; turned it over and slipped a cocoa-polished fingernail inside to get at its contents. “That would imply therewassomething to begin with, and I certainly don’t–”
It was not a letter nor a document that fell out of the cardboard mailer and landed on the marble of the island, dark by contrast. It hit, and bounced, and turned over, and lay still.
Raven stared down at it, brows drawing together as she tried to puzzle it out. “What…”
But Toly had already realized what it was and hustled around the island. Was ready when she finally gasped, and lunged away from it; caught her around the waist like he had the day before, supporting her when she would have wobbled on her heels and turned her ankle.
Bennet stepped in to peer at it more closely, and then said, “Holy fuck.”
Dry, shriveled, and dark from age, nearly mummified, jarring against the gray-veined white marble, lay a human ear.
Nine
“I think you know what I’m going to tell you,” Melissa Dixon said, snapping on a pair of gloves in Raven’s kitchen. She surveyed them, all standing in a line on the opposite side of the island. She’d come straight from an official crime scene – had even left her partner down in the unmarked car in the parking garage – and looked very businesslike and capable, with her gun and badge showing on her hip, her black leather jacket, jeans, and boots. “It’s time you called this in. On the record. Let us investigate with all our resources.”
“No,” Raven said, just as Toly said it beside her. He’d taken his arm from around her waist – a loss, truly – but stood close, his shoulder pressed to hers in silent support. If he’d walked away, she would have gripped his jacket and ordered him to stay. Thankfully, he didn’t seem keen on going anywhere soon.
Melissa looked at each of them in turn, and at Raven with final appeal. “Someone’s targeting you, Raven,” she said in the firm, no-nonsense voice she probably used on victims – Christ, was Raven a victim, now? “I can only do so much like this. And if my supervisors find out–”
Toly cut her off harshly. “If you get fired, Pongo will find you a new job.”
She frowned. “That’s actually not what I’m worried about.” To Raven again: “I need to print this envelope. I need to put a priority rush on the DNA. I need to reallyinvestigate, Raven.”
“But it wouldn’t be you, would it?” Raven asked. “You’re Sex Crimes, and I’m not the victim of one of those.”
Melissa’s look clearly saidyet, and Raven took another bracing sip of the G&T she’d fixed herself while they waited on Melissa to arrive.
“I don’t want the police sniffing around,” she continued. “No offense, darling – but it would inevitably lead to questions about my family, and about Abacus, and I’d rather not sit under your hot lights and be forced to confess that my friend killed Jack Waverly, and my brothers killed everyone bloody else.” When Melissa blinked, Raven smiled, cuttingly. “Don’t think I wouldn’t drag your name into the mud along with mine, dear. I won’t go down without a fight.”
More blinking. Another frown. “Fine.” The second glove was secured with a loudsnap. She picked up the envelope and held it toward the light. “This came by regular mail?”
Bennet answered. “Yeah. It was in the mailbox downstairs with the catalogues and cellphone bill. Nothing funny about it. Box was shut and locked; had to use the key to get into it.”
Melissa tipped it the other way, and the overhead light fell into the grooves made by the pen on the front. Someone had hand-written her name and address, a tidy copperplate font, pen pressed in deep so the lines were dark, the cardboard dimpled beneath the pressure of it.
She set it aside, and then, with a moment’s hesitation, picked up the ear with gloved fingertips.
