Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER SIX

The man known as "Raven" sat motionless in his parked car, his eyes fixed on the bustling group of climbers through the dusty windshield.

The nickname, bestowed upon him years ago by fellow climbers, stemmed from his jet-black hair and his uncanny ability to find the most precarious perches on any climb. Like the bird he was named after, he was known for his intelligence, adaptability—

And sometimes, his ominous presence.

The afternoon sun beat down on the popular climbing spot, its rays glinting off carabiners and harnesses. Raven watched as the climbers laughed and joked, their excitement palpable even from a distance. Their joy seemed almost obscene to him, a mockery of the gravity of what they were about to do.

Still keeping his eyes on the climbers, Raven pulled out a cigarette and lit it. It was a habit he'd tried to kick numerous times, but like so many things in his life, it clung to him stubbornly, a reminder of his own fallibility.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes tracked a pair of climbers making their way up a particularly challenging route. Their movements were fluid, confident. Too confident, perhaps. Didn't they understand the risks? The fragility of their own existence?

A sudden knock on his window startled Raven from his reverie. He turned to see a young woman peering in at him, her expression a mix of apology and hope. Raven hesitated for a moment before rolling down the window.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," the woman said, her voice carrying a hint of desperation, "but would it be possible to use your phone? My carrier doesn't have any signal out here, and I really need to make a call."

Raven's first instinct was to refuse. His phone was private, filled with... sensitive information. "I'm afraid not," he said, his tone clipped.

But the woman persisted. "Please, it's really important. I just need to let my family know I'm okay. They worry, you know? With what happened to that other climber this morning…" Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

Against his better judgment, Raven found himself relenting. "Fine," he said, unlocking his phone and handing it over. "Make it quick."

As the woman dialed, Raven felt a growing unease. What if she accidentally saw something she shouldn't? His gallery was filled with images that would raise questions at best, incriminate him at worst. If she stumbled upon those…

Well, he'd have to take care of that situation. But here, in broad daylight, with so many people around? It would be challenging, to say the least.

Restless, Raven stepped out of the car. He leaned against the sun-warmed metal, straining to catch snippets of the woman's conversation.

"... yeah, I'm fine. Yes, of course I heard about it. I— Wait, Jake Pearson? You're sure?" The woman's voice rose in pitch, her free hand gesticulating wildly. "Oh my god, that's terrible. No, I'm being careful, I promise. Yes, I'll call you when I get back to town."

Raven's jaw clenched at the mention of Jake Pearson. So word was spreading already. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to return to the scene—it was less than a mile away—to see how the authorities were handling it. But no, he couldn't. The area was too remote, and there was no way his presence would go unnoticed.

The woman finished her call and approached Raven, holding out his phone. "Thank you so much," she said, her smile now tinged with worry. "I can't believe what happened to that poor climber. It's scary to think it was so close by."

Raven studied her face intently, searching for any sign that she'd seen something suspicious on his phone. But her expression remained open, guileless. He allowed himself to relax slightly. "Yes, it's a dangerous sport," he said, pocketing his phone. "People often underestimate the risks."

The woman nodded solemnly and turned away. Raven watched her go, his fingers unconsciously moving to the bracelet on his wrist. It was a crude thing, fashioned from a length of frayed climbing rope—the very rope that had nearly ended his life years ago. He ran his thumb over the worn fibers, feeling each imperfection, each reminder of his brush with death.

Pushing off from his car, Raven began to stroll past the gathered climbers. He lit another cigarette, using the action to mask his observation of the people around him. Snatches of conversation drifted to him on the warm breeze.

"Did you hear about Jake?"

"I can't believe it. He was such an experienced climber."

"We all know the risks, right? That's why we do it."

Raven's lip curled at the last comment. They thought they knew the risks, but they had no idea. Not really. If they did, would they still be here, laughing and joking as if death wasn't lurking around every corner?

He sighed. These people were all so naive, so caught up in their own little worlds. They came out here to play on the rocks for a few hours before going back to their boring lives, but for Raven, this was more than just an adventure, more than a detour.

For Raven, this world—living in the constant proximity of death—was his life. This was what he was used to.

For me, it's a home, he thought as he walked. For them, a playground.

Had he the choice, he would have banned just about all these climbers, leaving only those who truly appreciated and understood this place. But he couldn't do that. This was federal land, and trying to scare them off would only draw attention to himself.

The attention he needed to avoid, now more than ever.

He sighed again, wondering why he was even here. Perhaps he should take the day off, step back and regroup. It had already been an eventful morning, after all. The memory of Jake Pearson's face, frozen in that final moment of realization, flashed through his mind. Yes, maybe a break would be wise.

But then something caught his eye, stopping him in his tracks. A young man, probably in his early twenties, was perched precariously on the edge of a cliff. But instead of focusing on his safety, on the sanctity of the moment, he was holding a camera at arm's length, his face split in a wide grin as he spoke animatedly to his unseen audience.

"What's up, adrenaline junkies?" the vlogger said, his voice carrying clearly in the still air. "Your boy ThrillSeeker23 here, about to take on Death Drop Cliff! They say this bad boy has claimed three lives already. Well, let's see if we can make it four!"

Raven felt his blood run cold, then hot with rage. His eyes hardened as he watched the young man laugh at his own joke, completely oblivious to the gravity of his words, of his actions. This... this was exactly why he did what he did. This blatant disrespect, this mockery of the very forces they claimed to revere.

Raven dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his heel. ThrillSeeker23. Another one who didn't understand, who treated life and death as a game for likes and subscribers. Well, perhaps he needed a lesson. A demonstration of just how quickly the game could turn deadly serious.

Raven turned away from the scene, his decision made. He wouldn't be taking the day off after all. No, there was work to be done. A message to be sent. And this time, he would make sure it was heard loud and clear.

As he walked back to his car, Raven's fingers once again found the frayed rope bracelet. He remembered the day it had nearly killed him, the moment he'd felt the fibers giving way beneath his weight. He remembered the rush of wind as he fell, the certainty that death awaited him at the bottom of that cliff.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans for him. He'd survived, battered and broken, but alive. And in those long, painful months of recovery, he'd had an epiphany. He'd been given a second chance, yes, but not just to live.

He'd been chosen for a greater purpose.

Raven slid back into his car, his eyes once again finding ThrillSeeker23 through the windshield. The young man was now setting up his climbing gear, still talking animatedly to his camera. Such carelessness, such disrespect for the forces he was about to challenge.

Raven settled back against the headrest, waiting.

And planning.