Chapter 6 — The Brother

I stepped out into the cold Boston afternoon and called my older brother, Daniel Whitaker.

Daniel wasn’t a surgeon. He didn’t charm donors or enjoy galas. He disliked tuxedos, hospital fundraisers, and men like Nathan who hid threats behind controlled voices.

He was, however, a federal prosecutor. He answered on the second ring.

“Claire?”

“I need you.”

His tone changed instantly. “Where are you?”