The Web

Chapter Seven - Tangled Web

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we first practice to decieve" - Sir Walter Scott

"Hi honey! I have the exclusive with Liam tonight, so I won't be home until late. Dinner is in the fridge, you just need to heat it, and please, please clean up after! I love you!!" I hit stop on the answering machine and can't help the pout that takes over my face.

I had desperately wanted mom to let me sit in on this one. My university entrance piece was due in two months, and an inside expose on THE Liam Harlow would have had me in like f*****g Flynn.

The Harlow family story was the holy grail of Boston journalism. The death of Walter Liam Harlow was surrounded by mystery and controversy. He left behind his beautiful, much younger widow and even still younger child, the son who would grow to take on the Forbes list by storm.

The rumours that circulated Walter Harlow's untimely death were as intriguing as they were infuriatingly impossible to substantiate. It was like the truth was locked behind a labyrinth, and no mere mortal had come close to defeating the minatour that would grant access to their inner lives. But my mother was no mere mortal. Anastasia Gray was a living legend. Her ability to dive to the truth, to gain the trust of the people she interviewed......To tell a story in a way it had never been seen. It was simply unrivalled. She called it empathy. I call it witchcraft.

As I recall my mother's words, I barely fight back the frustrated howl as the pout that earlier graced my features turns into a full blown scowl.

"I'm sorry Wednesday, but this one is just too much. Getting to the bottom of what really happened to Harlow Senior that night is too dangerous, and I just can't risk it, honey".

Pffft. More like the great Anastasia Gray can't risk me blowing it. She just doesn't trust that I'm ready for this, doesn't realise the team we could make. She doesn't think I have what it takes.

The last thought sticks like a barb in my heart, and just like that, my mind is set. She is wrong. I have what it takes, and then some. And this is my one opportunity to prove it, to step out of the shadow that is Anastasia and become Wednesday Gray, legend and journalist in my own right. I'll get my scoop, and my entrance piece will be what journalism dreams are made of.

I hastily pack my notepad, pens and bankcard into my worn knapsack. I gather my shoes, keys and coat and turn towards the door. My hand hesitates on the handle. Should I? Am I really ready for this? Can I do this? A moment, though fleeting, passes as if it could have been a week before I turn from the door and race upstairs towards my bedroom.

If I'm going to do this, I better do this. I collect my tape recorder from my desk. I've yet to use this little baby, but something tells me tonight is the night. An inexplicable feeling of trepidation hits me as soon as I head back down the stairs towards the front door.

I shake off the feeling of dread shivering down my shoulders and chide myself. This is YOUR moment Wednesday. Don't let a few nerves stop you now. I hail down a cab out the front and climb in, every sense tingling in anticipation.

"Harbour Hotel, please". This is it. I can feel it. This is my moment. This taxi ride is taking me to my destiny. I smile as the city lights start to fly past beside me. Finally, it is my time.

*****************************************

I hear the knock on my front door, and I am immediately and irrationally annoyed. God, he has to even KNOCK like a bloody cop.

I've been expecting Rhys all morning, and just for once, being right brings me no sense of satisfaction.

The purpose of his presence was not at all lost on me last night, and I thought I had resigned myself to playing along innocently. The reality of his invasion upon my life was, however, already making itself very apparent.

I already had a plan to deal with Liam, and Rhys' intrusion was both inconvenient and completely unnecessary.

Liam Harlow had taken things from me that no living being was at liberty to take from another. He had taken my mother, my love, my light and my guidance. He had taken my future. He had taken my own perception of safety, reality and justice. But worst of all, he had taken my name.

Liam Harlow took my name and he did the most unforgivable thing anyone could do with such a precious commodity. He took my name and rendered it dead. Worst of all, he did that and neglected the mercy of ending the life that the name belonged to.

And for that, for what he took from me.... He MUST pay. He will pay.

The second knock breaks through my thoughts, and I get up to do what I must. As I walk down the hall to the front door, I take the time to get into character. I'm just a scared girl. I'm a scared girl who wants to be safe.

I open the door and feign surprise at the sight of Rhys Melrose. I cast my eye over his shadowed face, his unruly hair and rumpled clothes. He hasn't slept a damn wink. Good.

"Officer Melrose. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Wen.... Elliot. I apologise for the intrusion. But I was hoping we could talk?"

I stand aside wordlessly, gesturing for him to enter. We each take a seat across from each other at my dining table and I simply study him, waiting for him to speak.

He is older, but no less handsome. His all-American blonde haired, blue eyed looks of his youth are still there, but sharpened and enhanced now by maturity. His steady, honest eyes hold my green gaze and I am less agitated by the sincerity and care behind them than I should be. Rhys is the sort of cop whom people would never question in terms of morality.

He is an irritating thorn in my side, but he is a good man. Even I can give him that. Doesn't change the fact that he is ruining everything, though.

"Wednesday, I..." I cut him off before he can speak. Wednesday? Wednesday? Oh, I'll give YOU bloody Wednesday.

"Wednesday is dead." I flatly interject. "Wednesday died the day my mother died, but more importantly, she was cremated and scattered to the breeze quite permanently when YOU told me that it must be so. It is Elliot, now. To you, to everyone. Are we clear?"

He leans back slightly and simply looks at me. His expression is unreadable at my outburst and for some reason quite unbeknownst to me, his cool assessment of my demeanour rankles me. I simply glower at him, unwilling to speak until I can contain my emotion. We stay locked in this silent stalemate for what seems like hours before he finally speaks.

"Elliot.... Of course. My apologies. Elliot, I am here to talk to you about Liam Harlow, more specifically, his early release and what that could mean for you." He maintains his steady gaze, and suddenly the air in the room seems thick.

"What is it that you want, Melrose?" I finally bite out. "Why are you here? Liam has been released, so what? What could that possibly have to do with me and my new life that you and all your buddies have forced me into?"

"Elliot, Liam Harlow is not the type to let your testimony against him go unpunished. The department is concerned that his release will compromise your safety, and I have been tasked with making sure that no compromise can occur."

I suddenly burst into laughter. Oh this is just perfect. Stay cool, Wednesday. Stay cool. My thoughts do nothing, however, to control my bitter amusement at the entire scenario. I slowly regain control of the guffawing that escapes my chest and take a few long, deep breaths before I speak again. To Rhys' credit, he doesn't react in the slightest to my display.

"What is it you are telling me, Melrose? Are you trying to tell me that this reality YOU forced me into, this hiding..... Giving up my entire LIFE.... was only good for as long as you could manage to keep that asshole put away?" The air in the suddenly tiny dining room goes from thick to positively crackling as I continue to fight to keep my composure.

"Elliot..."

"No!" I interrupt, finally giving in to my anger. "Don't you dare! You promised me that if I made this sacrifice, I would be able to move on! That all of this would be over! And now you are back here, telling me that apparently it was all for nothing and I have to run again?!" I no longer care about remaining steady, about playing the game.

"Rhys, I want you to leave. Get out of my house. I don't want you here, and I don't need your protection. So just go back to Boston and leave me be."

I do not miss the look of surprise and hurt that flashes across his features before they immediately return to calm. He slowly rises from the table, and walks towards the door, before turning back to me.

"I will leave your house, Elliot. But I will not be going back to Boston, and I will not be 'leaving you be'. I will do my job, and you will just have to deal with it."

My mouth drops open at his words as he closes my front door gently behind him.

This is not good. This is not good at all.