Chapter 23
The First Collector
Celeste Rourke had been collecting before Vantage existed.
The initials appeared on receipts, visitor logs, and a photograph of a twenty-nine-year-old Celeste standing beside Mara’s mother at a neighborhood meeting. They had once shared a table.
Mara brought the photograph to Elias in his cluttered office, the scent of old paper and fresh coffee mingling in the air. The walls were lined with bookshelves, sagging under the weight of dusty tomes and legal documents. Sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds, casting stripes of light across the room, illuminating the chaos of papers strewn across the desk.
“She knew the tenants,” Elias said, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he scrutinized the photograph. “That was why people trusted her.”
“And my mother?” Mara asked, her voice steady, though her heart felt unmoored.
“Your mother trusted no one by then.” His gaze shifted to the window, where the leaves rustled in the late afternoon breeze.
Mara frowned, her fingers tracing the edges of the photograph. “But they were close enough to be photographed together. What changed?”
Elias shifted in his seat, the creak of the chair breaking the momentary silence. “Someone had kept them close enough to be photographed, yet far enough apart to leave no ally.”
Mara’s mind raced as she recalled the stories her mother had told her about the neighborhood before it changed, before trust was a currency she no longer accepted. “What if Celeste was more than just a community liaison?”
Rowan, who had been rifling through a stack of files on the corner of the desk, looked up. “I obtained Park’s old call log. His final outgoing call was to your mother.”
Mara’s breath hitched. “What? When?”
“Just days before her death. The call lasted eleven minutes.”
Mara’s fingers trembled as she processed the weight of the revelation. “I had no idea… She was still speaking to someone at the end.”
“Maybe she was trying to make sense of it all,” Rowan suggested, his voice softer now, like he understood the delicate nature of the topic.
“Or maybe she was trying to warn me,” Mara whispered, her mind racing with possibilities. “What if she knew something? Something about Celeste?”
Elias leaned forward, his expression earnest. “You need to find out what was said during that call. It could be crucial.”
Mara nodded, determination settling in her chest. “I’ll find a way. But first, I need to know more about Celeste. What did she really want from our community?”
like on cue, the office door creaked open, and a woman stepped in. She was in her fifties, her hair pinned back in a tight bun, and she wore a crisp blazer that matched the severity of her expression. “Elias, I need to speak with you.”
Mara recognized her from the neighborhood meetings — a woman who always seemed to be on the periphery, observing but never engaging. “Excuse me, but—”
“Not now, Mara,” Elias interrupted, his tone firm. “This is important.”
Mara felt a twinge of irritation but held her ground. “I think what I have to say is important too.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, assessing Mara. “Is this about Celeste?”
“Actually, yes,” Mara replied, her voice gaining strength. “I’m trying to piece together what she was doing back then.”
The woman hesitated, glancing at Elias for permission. He nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Mara took a step closer, her heart racing with the possibility of answers. “What do you know about Celeste’s role in the community? Was she really looking out for us?”
The woman crossed her arms, her demeanor shifting from guarded to defensive. “Celeste was a collector, but not in the way you think. She gathered information — and leverage. And if you’re looking for the truth, you might want to tread carefully.”
“What do you mean?” Mara pressed, her curiosity piqued.
Before the woman could respond, her phone buzzed violently against her hip. She glanced down and paled. “I have to go,” she said, stepping back toward the door. “Just know this: some collectors don’t give back what they take.”
Mara stared after her, the weight of the woman’s warning settling over her like a shroud. The pieces were swirling, each one more precarious than the last. She turned back to Elias and Rowan, her resolve crystallizing.
“I need to find that call,” she declared, determination igniting within her. “And I will uncover what Celeste collected.”
As she stepped out of the office into the fading light, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement. Mara felt the weight of the unknown pressing in around her, but she was no longer afraid. She was ready to confront whatever lay ahead.