Ch. 47 The Next Steps
The scent of our leftover lunch lingers while we clean up. Everyone is helping Keith and Ella clean up, because it's now time to plan our next steps.
Kenneth gives the dining table—now our war table a final wipe down, replacing the scents of lunch with something citrusy.
Legend stands by the window, hands behind his back. I can't help the smile that lifts my lips.
Everything Legend does is...legendary. Like his sound-byte.
"Legend, Legend! We just found out that Celeste Shaw ran the campaign of your last collection! How was your experience working with her?" One of the many reporters following Legend thrusts his mic out.
"Celeste Shaw is an incredibly talented professional. I think she's one of those people who does extraordinarily well in whatever they take up because their talent is only rivaled by their work ethic."
The reporter falls back, frowning. Another steps forward.
"What do you think about the revelations from Ms. Shaw and Mr. Holden's past? And their alleged relationship?"
"Let me say this clearly so you can all remember. Celeste Shaw is INNOCENT. She had to be, considering her personality and work ethic. If they were dating, I'd only be happy.
"Now, I have a burning curiosity that I hope one of you will answer."
He pauses in his stride and turns to face the reporters following him.
"Why would a smart woman, a BAFTA winning actress, jeopardise her career to bite a weed like Coleman and leave evidence after the fact?"
His question rings in silence as reporters exchange looks.
Legend snorts and starts walking. "And you call yourselves journalists."
Legend's last statement was the true genius. The implication that he knew more than the journalists. That there might be things to unearth.
Keith sits at the head of the table with Ella on one side and me on the other. Celeste takes the seat beside me, while Legend sits next to Ella.
Kyle sits next to Celeste, and Kenneth settles beside Legend, taking his hand in his. Chris sits opposite Keith, looking incredibly out of place.
It's been a week since Madison's confession.
Coleman has been hounded by these sharks for the entire week. The narrative has shifted in Celeste's favor.
Now, it's time to move in for the kill.
"I've located Hazel Wollinger." Keith's soft words descend on all of us like a hammer.
"She's here. She lives in Jericho. Works as a waitress, and owns a small pottery studio."
Celeste gapes at him. "How?"
He simply shakes his head. He catches my eye. I understand. Some things...can't be said out loud.
He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it towards Celeste. "Her contact and address."
Celeste picks it up reverently.
"Thank you."
Keith nods. "Of course. You're family."
Celeste goes still next to me, eyes bright. "I..."
Ella reaches over and squeezes her hand. Under the table, I take her other in mine, intertwining our fingers.
Chris clears his throat. "We're ready to arrest Detective Boon at any time now. The only reason we've held off, is because the moment we do, Coleman will rabbit."
Everybody considers what he says.
"My trap worked. I sent him a text from Boon's cell with a blurred picture. I almost thought it wouldn't work. He opened the text, but wouldn't click on the picture.
"He finally did, a couple days back. I guess curiosity got to him. I now have complete access to his phone and laptop."
"What did you text him?" Kyle asks.
I smirk. "Three words. 'I see you.'"
Legend chokes on his water and Kenneth thumps his back.
Kyle frowns. "That's vague..."
I nod. "Had to be. Otherwise he wouldn't feel bothered enough to check the photograph."
Kyle nods, expression thoughtful.
Chris finally asks the question that's on all our minds. "So how are we doing this?"
"I want to face him." Celeste speaks up, voice soft but firm. "He needs to answer for everything he's done."
"We need to bring him here," Kenneth says. "It won't help if we do this in the UK, where he controls so much of the media."
Keith agrees, and so do I.
"I have an idea."
I lay out my plan, and they all agree.
I pull out my phone and make a call.
—------------------------------
The doorbell trills loudly, and I hope she's in there. My foot taps the floor and Ella pats my back.
I nod at her in thanks and try to stand still.
After Marcus set his plan in motion, we left to meet Hazel Wollinger. Keith and Marcus insisted on accompanying us, but we decided to approach Hazel ourselves.
My hand lifts again, finger already pointing out, when the lock clicks.
The door opens slightly, and Hazel Wollinger's hazel eyes peek around the door.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
She looks small—tired.
"I am Celeste Shaw, and this is my friend Ella Bryce-Ingram. There's something we should talk about. May we come in?"
Her eyes widen at our names. Her face is rife with hesitation, and we wait patiently until she arrives at her decision.
Her eyes dart around, looking for anything untoward before she steps back and opens the door wider.
We walk in quickly, and the lock clicks in place behind us.
She leads us to a cozy living room and gestures for us to sit before offering tea that we decline.
"What is this about?" She asks quietly.
I begin by telling her my story.
Her face is a study in expression, cycling through shock, horror, grief and resignation as my story progresses.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you. Are you alright?" Her complete acceptance of my story tells me exactly what we needed to know.
Ella reaches out and squeezes my hand.
"I'm going to expose Coleman." I announce my intention clearly and firmly. Hazel's face goes white.
"They...won't believe you." She bites her lip, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. "No matter how hard you try, how loudly you shout from the rooftops, they won't believe you..."
"They will," It's Ella who speaks up now, "because you're no longer shouting alone, and it's no longer the same rooftop."
"What does she mean?" Hazel asks me.
I lay bare our plan.
After I finish telling her everything, her shoulders droop even further. There is a pain in her eyes that I don't think will ever go away.
My gaze drifts towards the window.
It looks out into a little yard filled with plants. Her house is full of clay knick-knacks that I bet she created.
Whites dominate the space—even the furniture is white.
Pale crocheted pillow covers and doilies grace the space, adding a softness to the otherwise stark space—a space that is probably meant to drive away the constant darkness and horror that still live in her heart.
We wait in silence for her to process everything. Eventually, she shifts and looks up.
"I...can't." She whispers. Hazel's eyes shine brighter. The cost of choosing to walk away is just as immense as choosing to raise our voices.
"I'm sorry. I've only just barely begun to pull my life together... I can't travel down that rabbit hole again. I just...can't."
Ella reaches over and squeezes her hand. Both our eyes are bright as well.
"It's alright. It really is." I speak softly but clearly. "You do whatever you need to do to find peace."
I smile at her, to show her I understand. "I'll avenge the both of us. I promise."
I kneel next to her and gently pull her into a hug. At first, her whole body stiffens but then she leans into it, tears streaming down her face.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"It'll all be okay." I whisper back. Ella stands beside her, patting her back.
Eventually she pulls back.
I write down my number on a piece of paper and place it on her palm.
"If you ever need to talk. Okay? I'm here."
"We're both here." Ella gives her a side squeeze as she says it.
Hazel nods, and we take our leave.
Keith and Marcus both seem to understand our need for silence.
The ride back home is comfortingly quiet.
"What did she say?" Keith asks as we enter their driveway.
Ella shakes her head. "She refused to join. We'll be going at it ourselves."
Keith nods once, and that seems to settle it.
—-------------------------
"Are you okay?" Marcus glances at me as we get on the road to my place. He insists on seeing me home.
I appreciate it. I...don't want to be alone.
"I'm not sure." I whisper back.
He pulls over Berta and turns his attention to me fully.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I'm not sure." I mumble. He pulls me into his arms, and gently caresses my hair. He kisses the top of my head, and tears spill from my eyes unbidden.
I pull him closer, the beat of his heart steady against the storm in my chest.
Words I'm unable to say bubble in my throat, constricting it further.
How am I supposed to explain this complex web of emotions I'm experiencing?
My heart is breaking for Hazel.
I wish there was something I could do to ease her pain.
A part of me hates the system that allowed Coleman to get away. If they hadn't, would we be here? Would others have suffered like this? Would I have?
And then there's Coleman himself.
My spine turns to steel. I straighten and gesture at Marcus to start driving.
Yes, what we plan will be difficult. Painful even.
But for myself, for Hazel, for every woman Coleman exploited and terrorized—I glance at Marcus, his face set, willing to fight for me to the very end—we'll burn his world to the ground.
—-----------------
I duck as the decanter flies over my head and smashes into the wall behind me. Shattered glass scatters everywhere, a few pieces striking my back.
I get back up and straighten my glasses, heart pounding against my ribs.
Harry Coleman screams and swipes everything off his table.
Files scatter on the floor, and his desk lamp shatters on the floor.
Sweat pours down my face and back.
This man is...deranged.
I swallow, throat tight. "Uh, boss?"
"Why the hell is Boon not answering?! Have you found him?"
"He's at the station, and is usually surrounded by cops. He barely went home this week. He seems to be genuinely busy."
"Is he trying to blackmail me with that photograph? After working with me all these years?" He mutters under his breath, eyes skipping over the room wildly, like the broken furniture might hold answers.
He mutters something under his breath—'can't let them find out about her' that I don't quite catch.
I'm already inching towards the door when he turns sharp eyes on me.
"Where is Hazel Wollinger?"
"Who?" The word slips out of my mouth without thought.
He picks up his name plate off his desk and chucks it at me with full force. "Hazel Wollinger, the actress, you imbecile!"
I duck again before straightening up hurriedly. "I... I don't know. What do you need a no-name actress for?"
He screams again as he pulls his hair.
"Where is David! Bring him here! Now! And you—" he walks towards me, unsteadily—arms out.
"—you useless piece of junk! I'll kill you!"
He speeds up, and I turn tail and run out of his office.
That's it. I'm done. I quit.