Written in 61 minutes.

Saturday, September 6, 2024

Miller & Davis: Office

Diane flipped through another section of the law text she was studying, barely doing more than holding out her hand for whatever the paralegal standing next to her held — hopefully the case law she’d damn well asked for thirty minutes ago—

But instead of a sheaf of papers, she heard a throat clearing, and she lifted her gaze to Alexis, finding her partner and friend holding out a mug of coffee. Diane straightened, took the cup, and waited for Alexis to return to her seat on the other side of their double partner desk. “Do I look that tired?”

“A little worn around the edges.” Alexis sipped her head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Diane. Your legal brief is already solid for dismissal—”

“Solid isn’t good enough.” The paralegal finally arrived, and Diane snatched the case law citations, skimming them. “Someone wants Elizabeth to be on the hook for this. Even if I get the case dismissed, this isn’t going away.”

Alexis shifted again. “Still — she’s got a credible alibi—”

“And the FBI arrested her anyway. Michael, the ELQ ceo and doting husband and father, is very credible. Michael, the son and nephew of notorious mobsters with a felony record of his own—” Diane scratched some notes in the margins of her drafted brief. “A jury could disregard it in seconds once they investigate the relationship between Michael and Jason, and how much Jason’s sacrificed. Michael had a reason for Cates to disappear—” Diane paused, then looked up. “Just be grateful that Kristina wasn’t standing there with Michael that day.”

Alexis jolted. “What?”

Diane sat up, reached for the preliminary forensics report. “Trajectory suggests the assailant was shorter than the victim, no taller than 5’5. Put her in Elizabeth’s place at the Quartermaines, and you’ve got motive and opportunity.”

“I don’t think this is very funny—”

“Neither do I, Alexis. And I’m not suggesting Kristina did this. Of course not. With the gun being found in the trunk—that shifts this completely into unknown territory. I can’t begin to think who had access to Elizabeth’s car, had a reason to want Cates dead, and would frame her.” Diane took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I stood in that living room with Jason and those boys, and I don’t know if I can keep the promises I made them. The FBI wants blood, and it looks like they’re willing to take it where they can find it.”

“You don’t have to tell me how aggressive the FBI can be. The fact they’re still going through these charges against Kristina—” Alexis slid her reading glasses on, picked up the security photos from Sonny’s private investigator. “My daughter can’t help herself. Did you see how horrible these photos are?”

“She looks like the aggressor. Like she’s attacking Ava, yes, I know. If not for those, none of this would be happening. You at least have a built in defense—the state is prosecuting Ava.”

“That’s in my brief as well, but—” Alexis removed her glasses, sat back. “I don’t know if I can trust Kristina to hold it together in court. She’s so impulsive — so out of control — I can’t even stop her from calling the baby Adela—” She closed her eyes. “If you could have seen the look on Molly’s face—”

“I don’t envy you Kristina as a client, I really don’t. At least mine can follow orders.”

“Don’t remind me of that either,” Alexis muttered, then took another breath. “There’s another benefit to having Elizabeth as your client right now. You at least get to argue actual innocence. It’s not usually one of the tools you get to play with when Jason and Sonny are your clients.”

“There is that,” Diane replied with a smirk. She reached for her phone, frowning slightly as she saw the identification screen. She clicked to accept, lifted the phone to her ear. “Molly? Are you trying to reach your mother—” Across from her, Alexis sat up, alert.

“No, I’m—I just left the courthouse. I didn’t want anyone to overhear me making this call. I was just checking the docket—”

“On a Saturday? Honey, you need to take a vacation—”

“You’ll be glad I did. The only time they update the docket on Saturday is prisoner transfer.”

Diane closed her eyes, braced for impact. “What do you know?”

Quartermaine Estate: Driveway

Molly dropped the phone in her purse, then slid out of her car, navigating the gravel-lined driveway with her low heels, arguing with herself every step of the way.

But she hadn’t changed her mind by the time she was admitted entrance into the foyer. “Mr. Chase is just right through there,” the maid said, and Molly nodded, heading for the double entrance. One door was partially open.

Inside, she found Michael and Willow talking fervently with Brook Lynn and Chase. Molly hesitated just inside the door, grimacing when Willow noticed her first, got to her feet.

“Molly. It’s so good to see you.” She crossed the room, took Molly’s hand. “How are you?”

“Um, fine. This is more of a—well, I can’t say professional because I am absolutely not here on business. Not officially.” She found Chase’s concerned gaze as he rose from the armchair, turning to face her. “I just took a huge risk, and I’m taking another right now but I can’t say silent while this happens.”

“What’s going on?” Michael wanted to know. He looked at Chase, then back at Molly. “What’s happening?”

“Chase was with Anna when I updated them on Elizabeth’s case last night — the last official update I could give since the DA’s office agreed to the jurisdiction transfer—Robert would have lost in court, and I was outvoted,” she added when Michael’s scowl deepened. “I wanted to delay and fight. But we couldn’t — and now I see why the FBI was pushing so hard to get jurisdiction dealt with. They’re transferring Elizabeth out of county. She’s being taken to Jamesville Correctional Facility—”

“Where the hell is that?” Brook Lynn demanded, fisting a hand at her hip. “Why can’t she stay here?”

“They’re transferring her to federal court.” Chase exhaled on a low breath. “They’re serious about this. Her hearing is in an actual federal court house?”

“Yes. Wednesday. They’re doing this on purpose, Chase. There’s no other reason. Kristina has federal charges pending and her bail hearing was held within hours in a local court. They filed late last night, making sure the delay would push things to Tuesday, and transferring her puts another day in.”

Michael rubbed his mouth, considering. “Does Jason know?”

“I called Diane first. If there’s any chance to stop it or delay it or something, she needed to know first. She said she’d handle all of that, and it’s better if it comes from her. I don’t want Jason to be asked who told him and put any of you on the spot. Not until we talked and decided on a strategy.”

Willow furrowed her brow. “Wait, I mean, I know it’s bad that her hearing is delayed, but what’s the difference about court houses and jails—isn’t it all the same?” she said to her husband, then looked to Chase. “Why do we all look so upset?”

“Diane won’t know those judges, so that makes her job harder. Visitation is more strict, and you know Caldwell is going to refuse visitors as much as possible,” Molly said. “And Caldwell honestly believes Jason did this, and that you and Elizabeth are protecting him. That Jake and Danny are lying. He’s aggressive and he cuts corners, but I think he honestly believes she’s involved. He’s trying to break Jason and Jake by making this as painful for Elizabeth as possible.”

“Jason would have already confessed,” Brook Lynn said, folding her arms. “If he’d done it — which he didn’t,” she added hastily when Michael shot her a look. “Either way, knowing him, he might still confess if it looks like it’s going south.”

“I believe Danny and Jake,” Molly said, lifting her chin. “I believe Michael. Which means Jason and Elizabeth are both innocent. I can’t—there’s a lot I can’t fix, but my job—my job is to do right. To do justice. I don’t care what Robert or Anna say. I’m going to find a way to fight this. I just—” She smiled weakly. “I guess I need to know I’ve got a powerful family backing me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Chase said. He paused. “Not that I speak for the rest of the family—”

“You do. One hundred percent.” Brook Lynn rubbed her hands together. “Where do we start?”

PCPD: Conference Room

“You son of a bitch!”

Caldwell rose from his seat at the table, smiling faintly as Diane pushed past one of the officers at the door. “I thought I heard your dulcet tones—”

“Shove it, Eddie.” Her hair slightly disheveled, her face clean of makeup, Diane looked like she hadn’t slept in days but she was still ready to do battle from the fury in her eyes. “How many laws you wanna violate? Due process, federal rules of procedure, New York state law—”

Caldwell lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Do you want to tell me what horrible thing I did before you sentence me?”

“You’re transferring Elizabeth Webber to federal custody,” Diane snarled. “And you didn’t even bother to tell me—”

“I don’t have to tell lawyers anything, Diane. That’s the beauty of my job. It’s not my job to inform you, and look, you already know, so we’re good—”

“She could have stayed here—”

“That was my call, Ms. Miller.”

Diane stumbled to a stop as the other man in the room slowly rose, buttoning his suit jacket. “Who the hell are you?”

“Assistant U.S. District Attorney Noah Reynolds. I’ll be prosecuting your client.” Reynolds came around the table to their side of the room. “Now, if you have a complaint about your notification, I’m not legally liable to notify you until the transfer is complete for security reasons. As long as you’re told where your client is when you wish to see them—”

“You’re skirting the lines, and you damn well know it—”

“Complain to the judge. The one you’ll meet in Syracuse. Not one of your friends here who lets you walk all over them in your quest to let criminals walk the stret.”

“Oh, come off your high horse—”

“Your client had the murder weapon in her car—”

“Alleged. Without ballistics, you’ve got a gun that could have been—”

“With the same ammunition—” Noah smiled, but there was no humor in the expression. “Your DA’s office agreed to our jurisdiction—”

And oh boy, would Robert be hearing about that. “He doesn’t get to make the final ruling on that. You and I both know this will be dismissed in court—”

“We’ll see about that. But until then, Ms. Webber is in our custody. She murdered an FBI agent, Ms. Miller. Or she’s protecting the killer. Either way, she doesn’t get to enjoy special treatment.”

Webber House: Living Room

Jason was already regretting opening the door without checking who was on the other side when a furious Sam sailed past him, stopping for a minute when she saw Jake and Aiden sorting items from the book case. “You’re cleaning? After everything that’s happened? You’re cleaning?”

She whirled around to glare at Jason. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Jason let out a slow breath, searched for patience, then closed the door. “What do you want, Sam?”

“I want to know why the hell the FBI is still coming after Danny?”

Jake straightened, setting down one of his mother’s knicknacks. “What are you talking about?”

Jason’s expression was grim. “They’re trying to break my alibi.”

“Of course they are! Your alibi is a pair of teenagers! What were you thinking?”

Jason stared at her for a moment, bewildered. “When?”

“Letting them be your alibi—”

“I didn’t let them do anything—”

“Is she for real right now?” Aiden said a hushed whisper to Jake who just muttered something under his breath.

“Are you happy now? Are you happy with what you’ve done? Elizabeth’s in federal custody and your sons are being targeted by the FBI! Is there anything you touch that doesn’t immediately get ruined?” Sam retorted. “I’m not letting Danny be another victim—”

“Are you going to stop her?” Jake demanded, shoving his way between them, his glare hot  towards his father. “You never stop her when she starts—”

“Jake,” Jason began, but Jake just shook his head, and turned to his brother’s mother.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and Dad’s too much of a wuss to tell you to shut the fuck up, so let me do it.”

Sam laughed derisively, shaking her head. “Jake, you do not want to get in the middle of this—”

“You put me there, Sam, so if you want to blame anyone, blame yourself for making me and Mom baby sit Danny and Dad on their visits. Dad didn’t do anything! Neither did me or Danny. And Mom is innocent of her charges, okay? We sure as hell can’t say that about you, can we?” Jake retorted and Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Jake—” But Jason’s protest wasn’t that loud, and neither Jake or Sam acknowledged it. If he’d wanted to stop it—he could have. But Jake was angry, he was holding a lot of it in—

And Sam was going to start treating Jake like the adult he almost was — he wasn’t the little kid who would sit by and let someone insult his mother or anyone his family.

Sam narrowed her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“How do we know this isn’t about you? Maybe that FBI guy is coming after you. I remember where I saw him. He was the guy investigating you for Shiloh’s murder. Maybe he’s coming after you because you didn’t serve longer in jail. I mean, he’s questioning Danny, not me? You’re here blaming Dad, well, he’s not the only one who’s committed crimes, is he, Sam?”

PCPD: Holding Cell

Diane rushed past the officer to find Elizabeth pacing back and forth in her cell. “I’m sorry—”

Elizabeth turned, darted to the edge of the cell, wrapping her fingers around the bars. “Diane, they said they’re transferring me. Where are they taking me?”

“I—” Diane took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. They’re taking you to a federal facility near Syracuse. And this is going to delay your hearing another day—you’ll be there until Wednesday—”

Everything inside her started to shake, and Elizabeth shook her head. “No. No. No that’s not—that’s not possible—stop them—I didn’t do anything—”

“I know. I know. Listen to me, Elizabeth. We’re going to do everything we can—”

“I want to see my boys. Will they let me see them—” Elizabeth looked over when the cell opened and officers came in—U.S. Marshalls. She swallowed hard, backing away. “Diane.”

“I’m going to do everything I can. Elizabeth, you have my word—Everything—” Diane closed her mouth, backing away as Elizabeth’s cell opened, and the marshalls put the handcuffs around Elizabeth’s wrists—and the shackles around her ankles, the other woman pale and trembling.

“I promise—trust me—” She watched them take Elizabeth away, then pressed both hands to her cheeks, took a deep breath. Oh, God, she’d have to tell Jason this was only getting worse—

Webber House: Living Room

 Instead of infuriating Sam further, Jake’s taunt just made her smile, with a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “We all start that way, you know. Defending him.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible—”

“No, we do. I did. Your mom still does, doesn’t she? Defends him at very turn,” Sam continued when Jake hesitated. “When he came home and didn’t tell us a damn thing about where he’d been, she defended him. She hasn’t learned her lesson yet, and look where she is, Jake. Look! I got out, and I’m getting my son out. Your mother? She’s just fine to go down with the ship.”

“It’s time to go, Sam,” Jason said, stalking past her, dragging the door open. “Don’t come back—”

“I won’t. You and Danny are done. Do you get it?” she told Jason, then looked back at Jake. “I hope with everything I have that your mother learns from this. Otherwise, you’ll be driving a lot further than Syracause to see her.”

“Syra—” Aiden frowned. “She’s at the PCPD. We’re going down to see her this afternoon—”

Sam smirked, then looked at Jason. “Oh, you haven’t told them? They don’t know?”

“There’s nothing to know,” Jason retorted. “Elizabeth will get released at her bail hearing—”

“Oh, sure, maybe here in Port Charles, when Diane knows the judges and you can whisper in their ears. But you’re pissing off a whole new level of cop.” Sam looked at Jake and Aiden. “Your mom’s been transferred to federal custody. Good luck getting in there to see her.”

+33

This is half as much as I had planned for this chapter, but I ran out of time. Sorry 😛  I don’t know why, other than my keyboard keeps sticking. I need to get it fixed.

Saturday, September 6, 2024

Webber House: Kitchen

It hadn’t been a terrible nightmare, Jake thought, coming around a corner from the living room the kitchen and finding his father at the sink, pouring water into the coffee carafe.

He was used to being the first person in the kitchen on mornings their mother didn’t work — she was only a morning person when the scheduled forced it, she’d say, then laugh, hugging Aiden to her side, because his youngest brother would sleep through an earthquake, and maybe even a tornado.

“Mom always said you’re the reason I’m a morning person.”

Jason turned at the sound of his voice, smiling faintly, then set the carafe back in the machine, pressed start. “I never needed much sleep. It drove her—” He paused, took a deep. “It drives her crazy.”

Right, because they weren’t going to talk about his mom like she wasn’t coming home.

“Did she tell you that I also like to drink coffee?” Jake said, sliding onto the stool on the other side of the island. “I think I get that from you, too. Mom didn’t start drinking it until she became a nurse.”

“I made enough for you,” Jason confirmed, retrieving two mugs from a cabinet. “And I remember. She and my sister used to split two packets of hot chocolate.” There was another faint smile, this one sad. “Whipped cream and sprinkles.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to any of that — there were a few pictures of his aunt around, most of them with Cameron who didn’t remember her other than saying — “She was warm. Hugs. Smiles.” She’d died when he was a baby, and he wondered what that was like for his dad, for his mom, to lose someone who must have been so essential to them both. He knew he’d been “dead” for the years he’d been with the Cassadines, but that all felt like a bad dream now, and he’d been home longer than he’d been gone.

His aunt was never coming back.

“Uh, I remember Aiden liked to sleep in until some around noon,” Jason said, facing Jake. “Is that still true?”

“Yeah. I mean, maybe not today because I couldn’t sleep much, and I know if he wakes up, he might not roll over and go back to sleep. If you have to do something—”

“No, I—I mean, there are things I want to check on. But I was hoping we’d have a little time before he got up. Not that we can’t talk about any of this with him around,” Jason said. He retrieved the carafe and poured coffee into both mugs. “But I thought maybe it would be easier for you.”

“Talk about what?” Jake asked, turning the mug in his hands, waiting for it to cool. “We know what’s happening. Mom’s in jail. Diane’s gonna get her out. She’s innocent, so we’re good.” He didn’t like how grim his father looked when Jake raised his gaze. “Dad? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“They took you and Danny into the station on Monday because of me.” Jason waited a beat. “But they couldn’t do anything because I had an alibi.”

“Alibi makes it sound weird. You don’t have an alibi, Dad. You didn’t do it. Danny and I saw you come out of the house after the shots.” Jake pressed his lips together. “An alibi makes it sound like it was something we came up with.”

“I know. The thing is—” Jason paused. “They didn’t have to charge your mom with the murder. Not on Friday. They could have waited for tests to come back. Because they charged her on this evidence, it’s almost sure to get dismissed at the bail hearing.”

“Yeah, Diane said that. So it’s all for nothing—” Jake paused. “But it’s not, is it?”

“No. I think the FBI wants to make it very clear that they have the power. Maybe we should have let you and Danny give statements, but it just seemed—” Jason hesitated. “They twist your words, you know? So it’s just easier not to talk to them. Let them prove their case. So we made sure they can’t talk to you or your brother without a lawyer.”

“So as long as that holds, we’re good. Good. Okay, well, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll—you know, keep my distance until this finishes out. Tell me if you need anything.”

 Sonny’s words from the night before echoed in Jake’s mind, and he wondered about them all over again.

“So then what we do have to talk about?”

“They’re holding your mother over the weekend, and Diane thinks they’re going to push bail as far as they can, at least until Tuesday or Wednesday. We think it’s put pressure on you. And to a certain, extent, me,” Jason added.

Jake squinted. “Because they think you did it.”

“Yeah.”

“And they think I’m lying.”

“They do.”

Jake sipped his coffee, pondered that theory. It made sense, in a way. And his mom was the one person he and his dad had in common. “But you didn’t do it, and I’m not lying.”

“Which is why they’re going to fail, but that doesn’t change how this is going to be. You did a good job on Monday,” Jason continued. “You kept your cool and didn’t say anything. And they shouldn’t be able to talk to you again, but if they do get you in the room—”

“I’ll tell them the truth—”

“They’re going to play with what a truth is,” Jason said. “They’ll play mind games. Did you really see this, did you hear this? You’re a kid, it’s okay to make mistakes.” He rested his hands on the counter. “He’s going to try to make you feel like he’s on your side. He’s not. He’s on his side. Not yours.”

All of that sounded right to Jake, and yet — “It doesn’t matter. I know what I heard and saw.”

“I know. And you’re a tough kid. Tougher than you should have to be. But we need to do everything just right to make sure they can’t play games with your mom during her hearing. We have one goal, right? Get her home.”

“Right. But that’s just the first goal, right?” Jake asked. “Because someone put a gun in her car. We need to know who did that. Don’t we?”

“That comes later, yeah. First, your mother.”

“I know, but until she’s here—” Jake paused. “Do you know who could have done this? Where do we start looking?”

Jason opened his mouth, but stopped when Aiden stumbled in, rubbing his eyes. “I’m gonna make pancakes,” he mumbled. “Blueberries.”

Penthouse: Living Room

 Dante set his half-finished coffee on the desk, and started to rifle through the stack of mail. “I was thinking maybe Danny might wanna come with me and Rocco today. Out to the shooting range—” He sighed when Sam shot him a look. “We’ve got guns around the house, Sam. There’s nothing wrong with teaching them safety—”

“Danny can be safe by not using it,” Sam grumbled.

Dante just shook his head, and was grateful at the knock on the door. He went over to check who was on the other side, then took a long beat to steady himself, and pulled open the door. “Agent Caldwell,” he said.

Sam folded her arms, tensing, and Dante remembered it wasn’t the first time they’d met. “Agent,” she said in short clipped tones.

“Miss McCall. I see you’ve returned to your maiden name. Wise choice considering your decision to cohabitate with an officer.” Caldwell lifted his brows. “Can I come in?”

“I’ll call my mother,” Sam told Dante, heading for the phone on the desk. “She’s my lawyer—”

“I remember, but I’m not here for that,” Caldwell said, and Sam paused. “I mean, surely, there’s no harm in letting me talk to your son. Dante here can vouch for his rights, don’t you think?”

Dante pressed his lips into a thin, angry line but remained silent. He couldn’t disagree with the FBI agent, and Sam knew she’d been neatly boxed into a corner. She set the phone back on the base, looked towards the stairs.

“Danny, come down here!”

A few beats later, footsteps thundered down the steps, and as Danny turned the corner on the landing, he was already complaining. “Did you find another piece of my soul to take away?” he bit out, then stopped dead halfway down the last set up of steps when he saw the FBI agent by the desk. “Am I being arrested or something?”

“Of course not.” Caldwell smiled broadly. “We didn’t have a chance to talk on Monday before your dad took you home. I thought we could have a conversation.”

Danny slid nervous eyes to his mother who dropped her gaze. “Mom? I’m not supposed to talk to him without Diane. Dad said. And Jake’s mom was super pissed that he didn’t have a lawyer. Can we call Diane or Grandma?”

“It’s okay,” Sam said slowly, but still couldn’t meet Danny’s eyes. “Dante and I are here. You’ll be fine. You didn’t do anything wrong, remember?”

“I know, but—” Danny sighed, looked at Cadwell. “Lawyers are supposed to protect your rights.”

“You don’t think Dante, a decorated police officer is capable of that?” Caldwell asked, and Dante’s featured creased into a scowl.

“Ask your questions, Caldwell.” Dante came over to stand by Danny, put a hand on his shoulder. “And if we don’t like them, you’ll leave.”

“Fair enough. I’d like to start with Monday, just before eight in the evening—”

“You already know this. Jake and I talked to the cops at the Qs.”

“Then tell me,” Caldwell pressed, and Danny rolled his eyes.

“You wanna waste your time, fine. Jake and I were on the terrace. Rocco and Aiden went inside, and we were just waiting. Dad was supposed to meet us there with Jake’s mom. She was down talking to Michael—”

“Could you see her?”

“Uh, no,” Danny said, creasing her brows. “They were in the rose garden. You can’t see that. Jake and I heard gunshots—”

“How many?”

“I don’t know, dude, I wasn’t counting. Stop interrupting—”

“Danny,” Sam said softly, and Danny scowled at her.

“Well, he is, and you always yell at me when I do it. Whatever, man. Rules are just like suggestions for everyone else but me. We heard the shots, Jake and I were just like — is that what we heard, and then Dad ran out — he came over to us, making sure we weren’t, like, hit, you know? And then we told him that Liz and Michael were in the direction of the shots, and he took off — jumped right of the terrace. Not as cool as when he jumped that bridge last spring,” Danny told his mother who closed her eyes. “But I didn’t get to see that, so this was pretty lit—”

“Lit?” Caldwell questioned.

“Sorry, let me speak old dude.” Danny cleared his throat and spoke slowly, exaggerating his tone and facial expressions. “My father jumped—” He made a gesture with his hands that mimicked the motion, “—over the terrace railing and I was very pleased with the visual experience. My brother and I were quite impressed since my father is, how do you say, from the ancient times.” He raised his brows. “Do we understand each other now?”

“Your resemblance to your brother is uncanny,” Caldwell said dryly, as Sam rubbed her temples, and Dante looked away to hide his smile. “You’re sure it was after the gunshots?”

“Yeah. Like I know it makes your job easier if I don’t say that, but like, truth is truth. Dad was freaked out. You know, gunshots and like, the four people you like most in the line of fire, right? So yeah. It happens like this—” Danny lifted his finger, counting as he continued to speak. “One, we hear the shots. Two, Dad runs out. Three, he checks to see if we’re okay. Four, he finds out gunshots are coming from the same place Michael and Liz went, and five, he leaps terrace railings to get to them. I dunno how much more clear I can be.”

“But you don’t remember how shots they were,” Caldwell continued.

“It was more than one, my guy. Like you know how many hit the dead guy, right? How do I know that?”

“But Elizabeth Webber did go in the direction of the boat house prior to the gunshots?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed into little slits. “You think she hid a gun in her sundress? Dude. Have you see how tiny Jake’s mom is? Where’s she putting that thing? How’d you get to be in charge?”

“Danny,” Dante said, with a shake of his head.

“Well, this is all just stupid. Michael called in the whole thing! How’s he gonna do that when he’s standing next to the murderer? I don’t wanna do this anymore,” Danny said with a scowl directed at his mother. “I don’t want to do this anymore. He’s trying to make it like Dad or Jake’s mom did something wrong, and they didn’t. I’m not doing anything that hurts them, so leave me the hell alone. And I’m not talking to you again without a lawyer. Dad was right.”

“Danny—” Sam started towards him, but he sprinted up the stairs, then they heard the door slam a short time later. She pursed her lips, looked towards the FBI agent. “He wasn’t very articulate, but he’s not wrong, Agent. You’re looking at the wrong people.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see about that. I’m not trying to hurt Danny or anyone else, Miss McCall. But I have a job to do. And Danny’s right to worry about his brother. Miss Webber is facing some serious charges—”

“Flimsy charges Diane will have dismissed in five minutes,” Sam said flatly. “And I know they’re flimsy because no one is dumb enough to hide the murder weapon in their own trunk and talk about it around people who can hear. My God, how do you not smell the setup?”

Caldwell smiled thinly. “Well, I’m sure your support will be a great comfort to Miss Webber from her jail sail in Syracause.”

He started towards the door, but Dante put out a hand. “Whoa, what?”

Caldwell turned back, lifted a brow. “You didn’t hear? We’re having her transferred out of Port Charles. She’ll be at Onondaga County Holding Center in Syracuse until the hearing on Wednesday.”

When the agent had left, Sam dragged her hands down her face. “Oh my God. They’re really serious about this—”

“Yeah, well, the murder charge sort of indicated that. Sam—”

“She’s in federal custody. Not just the PCPD—It was one thing when I thought—” Sam folded her arms. “And now Danny’s more furious than ever, and he’s pissed off the FBI—and they probably think Jason told him not to cooperate—”

“Because he did,” Dante said. “Not saying he was wrong—” he added when Sam snapped her head head. “But Jason absolutely coached those boys not to talk to cops or authorities.”

“Which only makes him look more guilty! Everything he does, even when he’s trying to help — it just makes it worse.”

“Come on, Sam.”

“No, I’m going to handle this. Once and for all.” She snatched up her  keys, and was out the door before he could stop her.

+34

Written in 63 minutes.

Friday, September 5, 2024

 PCPD: Processing Unit

Elizabeth flinched at the flash of the camera, only dimly registering the command to turn — the flash less startling when it wasn’t head-on.

An arm tugged her towards the table across the room, and she followed rotely, remembering Diane’s instructions.

 Be cooperative. Smile. Yes, sir, no, sir. Be the model prisoner. I need you to be perfect. They see you as Jason Morgan’s woman. They’re expecting you to resist, to give attitude. Don’t give them a reason to think you’ll do anything but what they ask. You’re ready, willing, and able to work in the system to see your name cleared, even if that means staying in custody. The Feds are going to argue the combined resources of the Quartermaines and Jason’s connections, especially after he was gone for two years, make you a flight risk. But you are a law-abiding, upstanding, beloved member of the community. Former daughter-in-law to the mayor, mother of a Quartermaine. Mother of a Spencer. Mother of all-star collegiate scholarship-winning athlete. You are Elizabeth Imogene Webber. We’re going to make them see you, and not an extension of some man.

She forced her expression to remain bland as her index finger was shoved harshly into an ink pad, then rolled on a finger print pad. Why weren’t they using digital — hadn’t they switched ages ago? She’d remembered when Jason came home all those years ago, they couldn’t match his prints without finding the physical ones and those were in storage.

Did they think Spinelli would mess with the files? Were they that paranoid?

She kept her mouth closed.

I need you to be perfect.

Harborview Towers: Corinthos Penthouse

“Thanks,” Carly said to the guard as she came through the door he held open, then scowled when she found Sonny at the window, sipping a bourbon. “You’re just sitting here? How can you just be sitting here?”

Sonny turned, squinted. “What?”

“Jason’s in trouble.” She tossed her purse on the sofa, planted her hands on either side of her hips. “Why aren’t you doing something?”

“How do you know I’m not?” He crossed to the mini bar, and she had a vision of them, twenty years earlier in this room, screaming and fighting, the glass crashing to the floor as Sonny lashed out, sweeping his arm across the top—

“Well, then what are you doing? Jason wouldn’t give me anything to do, and I—” She pressed her lips together. “Michael said there’s nothing we can do right now. Diane has to work her magic, but that can’t be right, Sonny—”

“Carly.” Sonny held a tumbler out to her — clear with her preferred vodka, and she snatched it from his hand. “It’s under control. Diane’s handling it. Jason’s with the boys. You don’t even like Elizabeth, so I don’t really know why you’re so upset.”

Her scowl deepened, and she nearly threw the glass at his head for old time’s sake. “Are you kidding me? You think this is because of Elizabeth? I mean, okay, no, we aren’t fans of each other, and I’m not sending her a freaking Christmas card, but Jason’s had one goal since he got himself out of that horrible deal with the FBI. Spend time with his kids. Elizabeth is letting him do that, so for right now, we’re good.” She tossed back half the glass, wincing at the burn. “But we both know she’s just a patsy. They’re going after Jason.”

“Carly—”

“Michael was with Elizabeth when they heard the shots. She has an alibi. I mean, so does Jason, but Jake and Danny are teenagers. Michael’s—”

“Jason’s nephew who would absolutely lie for him,” Sonny finished and she sighed, looked away. “Carly, I’m not unaware of the facts. I just think we need to follow Diane’s instructions for now—”

“Okay, maybe we can’t do anything, but why can’t we jump start the next step? Because, okay, getting Elizabeth out of jail, that’s first. Second, finding out what scumbag did this? Who would hate Jason so much he’s using a woman to hurt him?”

Sonny studied for a long moment. “You’re not even considering maybe Jason did this?”

“Okay, you’ve lost it. Officially. Because I know you didn’t just suggest that Jason, our best friend, who has over and over and over again sacrificed himself for us. For our kids — you’re not suggesting Jason murdered John Cates less than a hundred feet from his kids, from our son, and then hid the murder weapon in Elizabeth’s car? I thought we got your meds fixed.”

Sonny exhaled slowly, stroked his chip. “I didn’t say I thought he did—”

“Well, you sure as hell were insinuating it. I know you’re still ticked Jason played dead and worked for the FBI, and maybe you  resent him because he found a way out that didn’t take anyone else down with him. He didn’t have to snitch. But that’s no reason to abandon him when he needs us—”

“I think he’s made it very clear that he doesn’t need us for this. He wouldn’t want us talking about it—”

“Well, if I only did things Jason approved of, I’d be a lot more boring. Now stop arguing with me and let’s figure this out. Okay, who wanted John Cates dead?”

Sonny sighed, then sat on the sofa, still sipping his drink. “You first.”

“Well, you did,” Carly shot back, and he glowered at her. “But you have an alibi. Alexis probably wouldn’t have cared if Cates disappeared, but I don’t see her doing this. Maybe when she was younger, but—” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Kristina, I guess, had a reason to hate him, and if we’d found Cates pushed off a cliff, maybe she’d make the list—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you to eliminate my daughter,” Sonny said, his eyes darkening. He leaned forward. “Maybe we’ll talk about your daughter next. Joss is dating a cop. She suddenly hates my guts even though she was happy to enjoy my lifestyle until we got divorced—”

Carly hissed. “Why are you like this? I wasn’t talking about Kristina seriously! I’m starting with the logical place. Who wanted John Cates dead? Every fricking body, that’s the problem. I didn’t kill him, you didn’t kill him. Neither did Alexis or Kristina. Maybe Ava did it.” She brightened. “You know what? I like that. She’s my suspect.”

“There you go.” Sonny raised the glass, then finished the last of his bourbon. He got to his feet, intending to fill it again. His phone vibrated, and he tugged it from his pocket. A message from Jason, he saw, over the Signal app that erased all texts automatically. Need to talk. Tonight. At the house. 1am.

 Sonny exhaled slowly, then turned to look at her, lifting the phone. “Here. Jason’s asking to talk to me. I’ll get it from him straight, and give him your Ava theory. I know you’re worried, Carly, but Diane will handle this. And if she can’t get Liz out of this, Jason and I have a lot of options on the table.”

“And if one of them is sending Elizabeth to Timbuktu, I can’t even support that since Jason would just go with her and the boys,” Carly said sourly. “Fine. But I’ll be checking back.”

“Looking forward to it.”

PCPD: Processing

 It was freezing in the small room with nothing more than a table, a female officer, and Elizabeth standing shoeless on the concrete floor, wearing nothing more than lacy pink bra and panties set she’d picked out for her rendezvous with Jason. She’d felt sexy and excited, sliding into them, thinking about Jason seeing her that way, peeling them off her skin—

Instead she stood in the middle of the harshly lit room, and the only person who’d see them was some anonymous officer she’d never met before.

“Here’s the uniform,” the woman said. Her tone was brisk, not unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient or kind. “Bra and panties go in here—” She flicked the gray tub on the table. “You’ll have jail-issued set. I’ll leave you to change—” There was a smirk now, just a curve of her lips. “No need to worry about a strip search. You don’t have enough meat on you to hide a needle, much less a weapon.”

Her cheeks flushed, Elizabeth folded her arms over her — as pointed out, small lace-covered breasts, her skin crawling from the idea that she was being studied that way or the idea that if she’d had carried even a little more weight, she’d be subjected to something even more violating.

Be perfect. Have to be perfect. Have to go home.

When she said nothing, offered no repost, the guard sighed, then pulled the door open. When Elizabeth was alone, she quickly changed and banged on the door. Please let this nightmare be over soon.

PCPD: Comissioner’s Office

 Molly set her briefcase down on the conference table in Anna’s room, her expression grim. “Elizabeth was officially booked into holding, but the paperwork got delayed — they’re not going to get her on the docket for Monday.”

Chase shot to his feet, his scowl spreading across his handsome features. “So she’s going to be stuck in there longer? When can they get her out?”

“I don’t know. Tuesday, most likely, but Syracuse is a smaller courthouse. They might not be able to get her on the calendar sooner than Wednesday—don’t give me that look, Chase. Federal cases are different. They run on different rules.”

“This isn’t right,” Chase said. He looked to Anna, jabbed a finger. “You should have fought harder to keep this case. He wasn’t killed in the line of duty. You should have made them prove they had jurisdiction.”

“Chase—” Anna held up her hands. “I appreciate your concern—and I know you feel loyal to her with what happened with Finn a few months ago—”

“It’s not just that, but, okay, sure it’s part of it. She stuck with Finn until he didn’t give her a choice but to leave him. And she still supported me in getting him into rehab.” Chase dragged his hand down his face. “She’s a good person, Anna. And she doesn’t deserve this. Not when we know she’s innocent. This isn’t the job. We don’t go after innocent people.”

Molly sighed, sat at the table. “Chase. I’m sorry. No one had any idea in our office they were even looking at Elizabeth. I thought, like everyone else, that she, the boys, Michael, Jason, they were all in the clear. But—” She looked at Anna. “The FBI has kept this investigation so closed. But I guess this tip — it was exactly what they needed—”

“Awfully convenient, if you ask me.” Anna lifted her reading glasses, then picked up the transcript. “A nurse at the hospital? Who’s worked with Elizabeth? I imagine Diane will want to nail that down. Anyone who thinks Jason Morgan would be discussing the murder weapon in a public setting with Elizabeth doesn’t know them very well—”

“But they did find the gun,” Molly said softly and Anna sighed. “Anna, let’s put aside the fact that a gun consistent with what we know was used in the murder was found in her car, okay? I’ve seen crazier things — I could believe someone is framing her. But why? And why is the FBI so convinced she or Jason are involved? Isn’t his deal with the FBI over? Why would he even be around John Cates or kill him?”

Anna pressed her lips together, considered what to share. “I did have a conversation with Caldwell the other day, and he was willing to share their theory of motive. Apparently, Cates was unhappy with how the Pikeman case ended. The FBI got their answer and enough to break down the organization, but Cates wanted Pikeman. He wanted that arrest, that splash.” She sat down, her lips pursed. “So he stayed here in PC and continued with his side plan to go after Sonny Corinthos.”

“Well, I know that much considering what he’s done to my family,” Molly said tightly. “He’s using my daughter’s death to go after my sister.” She closed her eyes. “He was using,” she corrected softly. “What does any of that have to do with Jason?”

“Cates told Caldwell that he’d made a new deal with Jason. That Jason would turn against Sonny, all Cates had to do was get Sonny to give Jason an order that they could nail him on. So—he arrested Kristina in a deliberately aggravating fashion, using Ava Jerome — someone Sonny loathes — as the primary witness. He was hoping to goad Sonny into giving Jason an order to execute Cates.”

“But that’s insane,” Molly said, her eyes wide. “How could anyone think that would work?”

“I don’t know. Without Cates here to explain it to us, we may never know. Certainly Jason won’t tell us anything. And even then, I have my doubts that Cates struck any such deal. Jason gave me the impression when he came home that he wanted to be done. That he wanted to focus on his kids. And that’s exactly what he’s done since the charges against Carly were dropped.” Anna waited a beat. “We may never know the full story without John Cates here to speak for himself. But the FBI believes they have the motive for Jason. Now they appear to have the means. All the stands between them and proving opportunity is the testimony of Jason’s own sons.”

PCPD: Holding Cells

Elizabeth flinched when the cell slammed shut behind her, and she turned around to look at her new surroundings. She’d seen these cells more than once — but she’d never been on this side of them.

She wrapped her fingers around the cold metal bars, her eyes burning when she saw the ink beneath her fingers. She pulled her hands back, picking at the ink, looking around — but there were no sinks in these kinds of cells.

When she saw the officer patrolling the area, she raised her voice hesitantly. “Can I—Can I use the bathroom?”

The guard stopped, looked at her with bushy brows frowning. “Already? I don’t have time to be coming in here every five minutes with any of your women problems. You go now, you’re not going again tonight.”

She shrank back, curling her fingernails in her palms. Stupid to waste her one trip just to wash her hands when it wouldn’t work anyway. “N-No, n-ever mind. I can wait.”

Be perfect. Have to be perfect. Have to go home.

“Damn right.”

Webber House: Upstairs Hallway

He couldn’t sleep.

They’d come home from dinner, his grandmother smiling forcefully, reminding them over and over again that it was going to be okay. That their mother would come home and this would  be a funny story they told themselves one day.

Grandma Laura had to believe things like that, Mom had told Jake once. She’d seen too much in her life — had gone through years of catatonia after a nervous breakdown, the kidnapping when she was younger by Stavros Cassadine, forced to have their uncle Nikolas, and now, in the last few years, watching her only daughter waste away in a coma.

Grandma Laura had more right than most people, Mom said, to try to find the good in life, and to hope for happier days. It wasn’t their job to rip that away from her.

So Jake and Aiden had let Grandma paint those pictures, pushing around the food. After she’d left, they’d helped Jason put more of the house to rights — and he’d had to give his father some credit — his dad had made a list of food items that had been destroyed, and Spinelli had delivered a box to the house so that Aiden would still have his baking ingredients.

No matter how frustrated he got with his dad, Jake thought, there was no arguing that he listened and he paid attention to what mattered. Aiden dealt with stress by cooking, burying himself in difficult recipes, blocking out the outside world. Jake had his painting, so how could he argue?

In fact, Jake was gonna go downstairs, grab some water, and go back to work on some projects. He had a restless need to get it all out on paper.

But he stopped at the top of the stairs — he heard the door open downstairs, and voices. Wondering if his dad was going to say something that he didn’t want Jake to know, Jake decided to creep down the steps slowly — he knew just which steps to avoid —

The voices became a little more clear, so Jake paused — no need to give himself away by getting closer.  And was that…that was Michael’s dad, wasn’t it?

“—no, I agree with you,” Sonny was saying. “Best to just do exactly as Diane asks. Get Elizabeth home and worry about the rest of it later.”

“I’m not messing around with the Feds. I’ve done that enough,” his dad said. “Diane said the case had holes in it. And we’ve got alibis.”

“Right. And you know Michael will hold up. He’s been through this before. He knows how to handle this, and but, uh, you know Jake and Danny—they’re still young—”

“The Feds can’t touch them without Diane present. I’m not worried.”

“Okay. Okay. So as long as that holds, we’re good. Good. Okay, well, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll—you know, keep my distance until this finishes out. Tell me if you need anything.”

He heard his dad say something, but when the door closed a second later, Jake got to his feet and crept back upstairs.

He knew his dad hadn’t done this. He knew he and Danny weren’t lying. And Jake knew his mother and Michael weren’t lying.

But did Sonny know who had done it? And…

Did his dad know? Were they just going to try to get Mom’s case dismissed and let the real bastard get away with it?

Jake swallowed that thought, took a deep breath. No. No. His dad had promised to take care of his mother. And Mom trusted him. One hundred percent. He was just making things up in his head.

It would be okay. It had to be.

PCPD: Holding Cell

 Elizabeth lay on the cot in her cell, staring straight up at the concrete ceiling. She might as well have been laying on the floor — the thin mattress gave no comfort at all. And the lights were still on in the entire block.

It would be impossible to sleep.

Not that she thought she’d be able to anyway. There was no closing her eyes and forgetting any of this. She wasn’t going home tonight, tomorrow, the next day —

And maybe not even after that.

She fisted her hands at her side, took a deep breath.

She would get through this. She’d figure it out.

Be perfect. Have to be perfect. Have to go home.

+38

Written in 65 minutes.

Friday, September 6, 2024

Webber House: Living Room

“Arrested?”

“For what?”

Jake and Aiden spoke at the same time, still just inside the house, the door lightly swinging back and forth from the force of their entry. Jake’s eyes kept scanning the house, growing more and more grim with every sweep.

“I don’t know yet exactly,” Jason said, hesitantly. “I only know what Diane told me. They found a gun in the trunk of your mother’s car.”

Aiden absorbed that information like a body blow, flinching and swallowing hard. He looked towards his older brother. “They took her car, didn’t they?”

“Yeah. And destroyed the damn house—” Jake touched the door. “Diane’s going to get Mom out, isn’t she?”

“You know as much as I do now,” Jason said, folding his arms. “And we need to do exactly what Diane says. She’s been with me for as long as you’ve been alive, Jake. I trust her with my life.” He paused. “With your mother’s life.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit here and wait? No! Mom didn’t do anything wrong! I don’t even need to know what the charges are, I know they’re bullshit—” Jake turned but Jason came forward, snagging his elbow. Jake shook him off, but didn’t make another break for the door. “Maybe you can sit here and do nothing, maybe that’s easy for you—”

“Jake—” Aiden tugged at his brother’s sleeve.

“It’s okay.” Jason extended his hand, reassuring Elizabeth’s youngest son before looking at Jake. “You’re angry, and I don’t blame you. When I got here, and I saw—” He looked around, his jaw clenching at the baskets again— “Believe me, I want to do damage, too. I want to do something. None of this is easy, Jake. But this isn’t about us. Or our anger.”

Some of the fight went out of Jake, and as his cheeks lost that flush of anger, he looked younger, more scared. “It’s about Mom.”

“Exactly. Diane reminded me that we’re not dealing with the PCPD. Cops that know you, know your Mom, who worked with your dad,” he added to Aiden. “Who know Laura and respect her. We’re dealing with the FBI, and every step we take from here has to be deliberate, and it has to be the right one. The only goal right now is to get your mother home.”

Jake nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So what did Diane say to do?”

“She’ll do whatever she can to get your mom out tonight. So until we hear from her, we just—we wait. We—” He stopped, pulled out the cell phone, saw the name on the screen. “We take phone calls from people who have heard the news. And—”

“And we clean this place up,” Aiden said. “Because Mom will be pissed if she sees it like that.”

“That’s what we’ll do. Let me take this—” Jason answered the phone, his tone already beleaguered. “Carly — no, it’s under control, listen—”

He turned away to take the call, and Aiden pulled at Jake’s arm. “Hey, uh, what do we do about Cam? If he hears about this, you know he’ll be on the first flight home, and Mom will be so mad if he misses classes because of this.”

“I’ll text all the friends still in PC, let them know not to say anything right away,” Jake said, pulling out his phone. “But if Diane can’t get Mom home, then I’m not sure we can keep him away.”

PCPD: Squad Room

Diane closed the door to the interrogation room, fixed her face in her most bland expression, then sauntered across the room where Caldwell was waiting. “Well, Agent? My client would like to get home before dinner.”

“She’s in for a rude awakening.” Caldwell handed her a folder. “The charging document my USADA intends to file. Your client isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

Diane pursed her lips, flipped through the folder. “The judge will kick this on Monday, you and I both know it. You don’t have anything more than simple possession, and—” She’d been skimming the charging paper, then lifted her brows. “And I’m sorry, ballistics is expected to take several weeks, if not more? That doesn’t bode well for you, my friend.”

“Don’t get cute, Miller. The slugs they pulled from Cates are damaged, but not destroyed. We’ve got the best techs in the world. We’ll match it to the gun and when we get the serial number raised—”

“Oh, and you can’t even tie this gun to my client beyond finding it in her car on the basis of some anonymous tip?” Diane smirked. “This just keeps getting better.”

“If it helps you sleep at night to think so. Do you want to tell your client she’s about to be booked for murder or do you want me to do it?”

Diane’s smirk dipped into a scowl. “You’ve got the wrong person and you damn well know it. She’s alibied for the time of the crime, Eddie—”

“Alibied by a guy with his own murder under his belt who’s had ties to the mob his whole life? Sure. Let’s call that an alibi. Have a great weekend, Diane.”

Diane clenched the folder tightly, then turned to head into the interrogation room to deliver the bad news.

Quartermaine Estate: Gatehouse Kitchen

Michael hitched Amelia on his hip, leaning to one side to reach for the door, only to find Willow pulling it open on the other side. “Hey. Good timing.”

“I saw you pull up out back here. Hey, baby girl.” Willow lifted their daughter in her arms, rubbed her nose against Amelia’s. “Did you have fun at daycare?”

When she’d satisfied herself with Amelia kisses and cuddles, she turned her attention back to Michael. “Have you talked to your uncle today?”

“Which one?” Michael asked, tugging at his tie and heading for the fridge. “If Drew wants another political function—”

“No, Jason. I just came down from the house. Elizabeth was arrested today. A few hours ago,” she continued as Michael slammed the fridge shut and turned her, stunned.

“Arrested for what?”

“No one’s really sure. They’re freaking out up there, of course. Drew went to find his campaign manager, Brook Lyn is trying to get information from Chase, but it’s—it’s the FBI. It has to be connected with Agent Cates, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Michael grimaced, took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I’m going to call Jason now. If he’s not at the PCPD, he’s probably at Elizabeth’s with the boys. Or I hope he is. Someone needs to be there when they get home.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to start over there, make calls. Can you do me a favor? Run interference up at the house? Keep them from making anything worse.”

“It’s nice that you think I’m capable of miracles,” Willow said dryly, and was rewarded with a half smile from her husband. “Michael, whatever’s going on, Diane will figure it out. Jason and Elizabeth have alibis. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything,” he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I’ll call you when I know something.”

Pozzulo’s Restaurant: Office

Sonny leaned back in his chair, exhaled on a low irritated sigh. “What do we have?”

Seated across from him, Brick made a face. “Not much. The FBI is keeping this close to their vest, but my guy was able to get copies of the preliminary autopsy and ballistics report. Before today, they’d identified the bullet as a SIG-branded 115-grain V-Crown hollow point bullet, though there’s some wiggle room in there for a defense attorney to play with since all the slugs pulled from Cates were damaged. That let them narrow it down to a group of guns.”

He got to his feet. “And what we know right now is that they found a gun in Elizabeth’s trunk. The SIG Sauer P365, which is consistent with the ammunition. They also found that brand of ammunition in the gun.”

Sonny scowled. “Sloppy to leave ammo in the gun,” he muttered. “Not an experienced shooter.”

“Which rules out Jason. Even if we hadn’t already,” Brick added when Sonny shot him a dark glare. “Putting aside the character of the man and if he’d hide a weapon in his babymama’s trunk in the first place — Jason’s not going to the trouble of using a gun with the serial number filed down and leaving the ammo in the chamber.”

“No, he’s not.” Sonny let the information shift around in his head, fitting pieces together. “Can they hold her?”

“Tonight? Yeah. To be assholes. Does it get kicked at the first hearing? Without ballistics matching it more firmly, it’s tough to miss Elizabeth having an alibi — an alibi who called in the crime. But if they’re filing tonight, Sonny—” Brick rested his hands on the back of the chair. “That means they want to hold over the weekend. I can think of only a few reasons they charge a case with evidence this flimsy.”

“They want to see if they can get Elizabeth to flip on whoever gave her the gun. Or to scare her into doing something stupid when she gets out — Jason,” Sonny added. “Something that gives them more evidence.” He shook his head. “It smells rotten, Brick. From the top to the bottom. Someone planted that gun.”

“Without a doubt. I’ll keep my guy on it, see what else we can get. Let me know if you turn up anything on your own end.”

Sonny walked Brick to the front door, then returned to the office, troubled by something in what Brick had laid out. He went over the facts in his head again — the gun, the ammunition, what they’d need to put the gun in Elizabeth’s hands—

“No serial number,” he murmured. Who would go to the trouble of filing down the serial number if they didn’t know enough to destroy the gun after using it?

He looked over at the wall, behind the painting where his own safe was hidden. Without much thought as to why, Sonny took down the picture, spun the dial, and looked inside.

Two handguns, a few stacks of cash, some identification documents —

There should have been three guns.

Sonny stared at the space where he knew he’d last seen his own P365, then closed the safe, replaced the picture.

Then went to pour himself a drink.

Penthouse: Living Room

Sam paced the length of the living room, rushing to Dante when he came in. “What’s going?” she demanded. “My mother just called me before Danny could hear it about — Elizabeth was arrested? For what?”

Dante’s mouth was grim, and he closed the door. He set his badge on the desk, removed his gun from his holster, checked the safety, then stowed it in the lock box on the top shelf in the closet.

“Dante—”

“She was arrested for John Cates’ murder,” Dante said, turning back to Sam whose eyes were wide. “They found a gun and ammunition consistent with the one used in the crime in the trunk of her car. It’s enough to hold her over the weekend.”

Sam’s lips parted, and she looked to the stairs, then to Dante again. “That’s…that’s crazy. I mean, I know I’ve said a lot of things about her—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“—but she didn’t do this. She wouldn’t have. She’s not that stupid. How the hell did the gun get in her car?”

“The question of the day.” Dante sat on the arm of the sofa. “Someone wants to make damn sure that gun was found. They called in a tip this morning, and the FBI snapped it right up. Gun was exactly where they expected it to be. Diane’s handling it—but I can’t—” Dante paused. “I don’t understand any of this. If it’s the murder weapon, how the hell does it get in her car?”

Sam didn’t say anything right away, then—reluctantly—asked, “The kids? I mean, Danny—we have to tell him. But—her boys must be scared.”

“I caught Diane as she was getting ready to leave, after Elizabeth was booked. Jason’s at the house with them. As for Danny — maybe we give him back his phone so he can talk to his brother.” Dante lifted his brows. “Jake’s gonna need support if this goes south on them.”

“Yeah, I remember how scared Danny and Scout were when I—I mean, they were younger. But I don’t think that kind of thing gets easier.” Sam pressed her lips together. “This all goes back to Jason. Whoever’s doing this is trying to get to him.”

“Probably, sure.” Dante tipped his head. “Does that matter?”

“Only that I was right to keep Danny away from him. This kind of thing just…goes wherever Jason does. I’ll let Danny have his phone back, but I want to check it every night.”

“Sam—” Dante called, but she didn’t want to hear his opinion on that idea. He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not going to go well.”

Webber House: Living Room

By the time Diane arrived at the house early that evening, Jason and the boys weren’t alone in waiting for answers. Laura had stopped by, offering support and whatever else the boys needed, and Michael had arrived to get more information and strategize — after all, he was the alibi, so did the FBI think he was lying?

Jason had managed to keep Carly out of the house, only with promises to catch her up as soon as possible, but by the time Diane arrived — alone — Jason was ready to come out of his skin.

As soon as she came into the house with no Elizabeth behind her, he knew this wasn’t going away without a fight.

“The charges are flimsy,” Diane reassured the room. “Michael’s alibi is credible and compelling. If he doesn’t call in that 911, the time of the murder gets much harder to pin down. It’s only because Michael and Elizabeth responded so quickly and were so close that we know anything.”

“Never pays to cooperate with cops,” Michael muttered, and Laura rubbed his shoulder, comforting.

“Combined with a preliminary ballistics report that’s inconclusive at best and a strong alibi, I have no doubt I’ll be able to bring Elizabeth home on Monday,” Diane continued. “I’m not saying this isn’t serious or that we can celebrate after that, but I promise you—” she looked at the boys. “I’m doing everything I can.”

“Can I see Mom? I mean, we can go to see her before Monday, can’t we?” Aiden asked.

“I don’t—” Diane paused. “I don’t know. I’ll find out.” She looked meaningfully at Jason, but Laura caught it as well, and reacted.

“I think that Michael and I should take the boys out to get us all something to eat. And you’re not arguing,” she told Jake who opened his mouth. “Jason and Diane need to talk alone, and us being in the room breaks privilege.”

Jake made a face, then nodded. “Whatever needs to happen to bring Mom home faster.”

“Thanks,” Jason said to Laura as she herded the boys towards the door, Michael on their heels.

“And that’s why I voted for her,” Diane said with a nod once the door was closed. She focused on Jason. “We have a problem.”

“I thought you said—”

“They know she didn’t do this. Of course she didn’t do this. They think you did this, and that hid the gun in her car that night. They already thought your boys were lying to protect you. What’s the fastest way to break a teenaged boy who made it very clear on Monday that he depends on his mother. What did Jake say? They kept talking to him and he just kept asking for his mother.”

The realization sunk in. “They’re holding Elizabeth over the weekend because they think Jake will break. And if Jake changes his story, Danny is less credible on his own.” Jason took a beat. “I didn’t think of that. I thought they were doing it to scare Elizabeth—”

“An added bonus. That’s why they’re holding her over the weekend. The good news for us is that there’s no story for Jake to change, and he’s not going to sell you down the river if it’s a lie. They don’t know that, but we do.”

“Then what’s the problem—”

“They’re still convinced you did this. And if they have to go after Elizabeth, they will. The ballistics could sink us, could free us. We won’t know. But someone out there wants you or Elizabeth to pay for this crime. I have a terrible feeling they won’t give up until they get what they want.”

+33

WRitten in about 62 minutes.

Friday, September 6, 2024

Corinthos & Morgan Warehouse: Parking Lot

Jason nearly didn’t answer the phone vibrating in his pocket. He had somewhere to be and wasn’t interested in anything that would derail his plans —

But he caught sight of the name on the locked screen as he tugged it from his pocket, intending to toss it on the dashboard, and Diane didn’t usually call him to chat.

He switched on the engine, let the phone connect to the SUV, and started to pull out of his spot. “What is it, Diane? I’m in the middle of something,” Jason said, half his attention on the back up camera because all he’d need is to rear end someone and make him even later.

“I’m not on speaker phone, am I? You sound strange.”

“I’m in the car, and I’m alone. What’s going on?” Jason asked. He shifted from reverse to drive, then headed for the street exit. “I’m on my way somewhere—”

“Let me begin by saying you absolutely cannot come to the PCPD.”

Jason braked at the STOP sign, but Diane’s opening salvo had him taking pause, and instead of pulling into traffic, he shifted to park. “Diane, why would I go there?”

“Because this situation isn’t going to get better with you down here—”

“Diane.”

“Elizabeth’s been arrested.”

The words sounded so ridiculous that he almost laughed. “What? No she hasn’t. She just—I just talked to her—”

“Jason. You need to listen to me. About five minutes ago, Elizabeth called me. The FBI showed up at her house with a crime scene unit. They had a warrant for her car. They found a gun in the trunk.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “What the hell—”

“I’m on my way there now. I will get all the answers and get to the bottom of this, but you need to follow my directions very carefully. We both know this is bullshit. That gun isn’t hers, and she didn’t put it there. We both also know that you didn’t either. But someone sure as hell wants it to look like you did.”

“Diane—”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see this is a setup, but I need all the facts — no, don’t take that turn, Charles. Damn it—” Diane’s voice faded for a second. “My assistant is driving me and can’t follow directions, so I don’t need one more person who doesn’t listen—”

“Diane.”

“Elizabeth asked me to tell you to go to the house and be there for the boys. I would have told you that anyway, but I’m hoping since the request came from her, you won’t argue about it.”

Of course not. But— “I don’t understand. She—” He couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of any of this. “Diane. You have to get her out of there—”

“I will. I promise you. Tonight if at all possible. It’s a gun possession charge at best, so she’ll be home by dinner. But this is the FBI, not the PCPD. We cannot step a foot out of line, Jason. We must be very careful about what we do next. They’ve found a gun. The chances of it being anything but the murder weapon are slim to none. Okay, we’re pulling up now. Go to the house, stay with the boys. Keep calm. Be a dad and a worried partner. Not a vigilante hero, do you understand me?”

“Yeah.” Jason exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I got you.”

“Good. I’m going work all the magic I have at my fingertips, Jason. I’ll call when I know more.”

The line went dead, but Jason didn’t move. Couldn’t. The SUV remained at the STOP sign, engine idling, turning blinker still flashing. They’d found a gun in Elizabeth’s car — and Diane was right. No chance that it wasn’t the murder weapon. And Jason wasn’t allowed to do a damn thing but wait. And find a way to explain the inexplicable to Jake and Aiden.

But Elizabeth had asked this of him — to be there for the boys because she couldn’t. And he wasn’t going to let her down.

He shifted the SUV back into drive, and made the turn.

PCPD: Interrogation Room

“I’m surprised. Your son had a lot to say when he was here,” Caldwell said, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing truthful or useful,” he added, “but he was running his mouth the entire time.”

Because it had been Jake’s first arrest and he didn’t know enough to be afraid. Being a smart ass came naturally, and his nerves had probably kept the shots flying at every chance.

“Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be. After all, I’ve read over your file. Strange, an upstanding citizen like you has such a long, thick record—” He touched a packed manila case folder at his side. “But you’ve been trained by Jason Morgan since you were barely legal. And no convictions at all, so clearly, he did better with you than he did his other baby mama.”

Now she smirked, tipped her head, and leaned forward, the metal chain linking her cuffs together sliding against the table top. “I see you didn’t get to the bottom of that file, or else you’d see that my first arrest came long before I met Jason. Luke Spencer taught me everything I needed to know. Which is until my lawyer walks through the door, I have nothing to say to you.”

She leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, knowing that he couldn’t see or hear the pounding of her heart, only the expression on her face. She might be terrified right down to the bone, but she would be damned if he’d know it.

The door flew open behind Caldwell, and like a manna from heaven, Diane stalked in, one hand on the door knob, the other on a briefcase. “You better have a damned good reason why you’ve arrested my client.”

Caldwell got to his feet. “Ah, Miss Miller. It’s so nice to see you. It’s so generous of Mr. Morgan to lend out his lawyer to all the women he’s involved with. I’m sure you hope for better results than Miss McCall experienced.”

Diane arched one brow. “I’m still waiting for you to answer my question.”

“All right.” Caldwell handed her another file, much thinner than Elizabeth’s PCPD record. “You’ll see everything’s in order.”

“An anonymous tip,” Diane said. “Came in ninety minutes ago. Someone overheard their supervisor at GH speaking with Jason about a gun in her car and identified Elizabeth Webber.” She looked at Caldwell. “That’s it?”

“That’s enough for a warrant, which we received twenty minutes after we heard that tip. It took another thirty minutes to get the team together, and then we served the warrant. At which time, we found a SIG Sauer P365 handgun in a locked box in Miss Webber’s trunk. The ammunition inside matches the ammunition pulled from John Cates. It’s cut and dried—”

“A SIG Sauer P365 is the most common handgun sold on the market, and let me see—ah, yes, the SIG-branded 115-grain V-Crown hollow point bullet which is also the most common  ammunition for that gun—”

“You have that information right on the top of your head, do you?” Caldwell asked.

Diane snapped the folder closed. “I like guns. It’s upstate New York, Eddie.  We all have guns up here. Oh, except Miss Webber. No gun registrations in your name, Elizabeth?” she asked, not breaking eye contact with the agent.

“No,” Elizabeth said.

“Which means, at worst, you can charge my client with possession of a gun. Oh—” Diane widened her eyes. “No, you can’t because that’s a state crime. The FBI can’t charge her with anything. Furthermore, that’s a Class E Felony. So, tell the DA we’ll take our ticket to appear whenever they choose, and I’ll be taking my client home.”

Caldwell just smiled, then looked at Elizabeth. “Worth every penny you’re not paying her. Why don’t you have a conversation with your client while I talk to the Assistant U.S Attorney and see if he shares your understanding of the situation. You may want to tell her to make some arrangements for her minor children — or we can call the Office of Children and Family Services to take care of them —”

“Don’t do us any favors, Eddie,” Diane said sweetly. “Why don’t you go have that meeting?” She fluttered her lashes, but as soon as the door was closed, she scowled, dropped into a chair. “What the hell is going on?” she asked Elizabeth.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Elizabeth said, folding her arms. “I don’t understand — someone said they work with me at the hospital and Jason and I were talking about a gun in my trunk? Where people could hear us? How stupid does the FBI think we are?”

Diane pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, are you insulted because the tip didn’t even try to make you into a smart criminal? Or—”

“No, it’s just—” Elizabeth shifted, wishing she could use her hands. “I don’t understand. I’ve only been at the hospital twice since the murders. I took this week off because the boys were starting school, but there was a call out on Wednesday, so I went in. And I ran by there yesterday for a meeting, but—”

“There will be time to do that. You and Jason will have to account for every movement between the murder and this morning so we can find out when someone would have had access to your car. Let’s put that aside for right now. There will be a time and place for exoneration, and we’ll get there.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, realizing now why Diane looked so grave. “You can’t get me out tonight, can you?”

“I don’t know. It will depend on what the U.S Attorney’s office says. They can’t link this gun to the murder outside the ammunition matching. That’s not the same thing as saying it’s the murder weapon. If we were going to a bail hearing tonight, I would almost certainly get a murder charge dismissed. There’s no ballistics, no other information about this gun, including registration — it’s not enough to hold you for murder. They can’t even prove you used it.”

“But?”

“But it’s a federal charge on a Friday. Elizabeth, if they charge you with murder, I can’t get you out before Monday. Not without a miracle.”

Charlie’s Pub: Dining Room

 “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kristina said, smiling as she joined her mother at the table. “Everything okay?”

“I—I went into the office—” Alexis paused, still seeming scattered. “Diane and I were in a meeting, and—I don’t understand how any of this happened. She had to rush out to the PCPD. Elizabeth Webber was arrested. They found a gun in her trunk.”

“A gun? Why would they arrest her for that? A gun is legal—”

“I don’t think Elizabeth has any licenses. I can’t say—” Alexis hesitated. “I’m sure she knows how to use one. And I wouldn’t put it past Jason to give her a gun for protection. But I would have expected him to register it. He was always so careful to keep anything he had on him registered and above suspicion.”

“Well, maybe he’s out of practice. Or she was supposed to put it somewhere. I mean, it’s not that big a deal, is it? It’s just a gun. Diane will probably have her out before the sun sets.”

Alexis nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. Diane will handle it. I just—I heard an arrest, and a gun, and I just—I thought it might be the FBI. But there’s no point in worrying until we have to, right? Let’s go ahead and have lunch, and we can talk about your hearing.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kristina smiled again, pleased with herself. She hadn’t expected them to jump on her tip so quickly, but it was all going exactly the way she hoped it would. And as soon as they realized they had the gun used in the shooting, Diane would tell Elizabeth it was a slam-dunk case, and Jason would feel obligated to step in to keep Elizabeth with her kids. Just like he always did.

She handed a menu to her mother, congratulating herself on a rock solid plan. John Cates was gone, Jason would pay for bringing him to town, and when the time was right — Ava Jerome would get what was coming to her.

Things were starting to look up.

Webber House: Living Room

It hadn’t just been a warrant for her car.

By the time Jason pulled onto Elm Street, there were still several crime scene vans and other vehicles he figured were unmarked FBI personnel. He watched as people filed in and out of the house, his blood boiling. They’d find nothing. He knew that — there was nothing to find.

But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t leave their mark all the same. Boxes were carried out, and Jason saw electronics carried out. They’d likely seized anything they could, hoping to find a shred of something to force Elizabeth into confessing, into turning on him — and they didn’t care who they hurt.

When the last crime scene van finally left, almost an hour after he’d arrived, Jason pulled the SUV closer to the house, parking at the curb — where Elizabeth’s car usually was.

He’d been looking forward to coming her since the moment he’d left the night before, spending uninterrupted hours with just Elizabeth—

And now he was striding up to the front door, pulling out the spare key she’d given him weeks ago — only to see there was no reason for it. The door lock had been shattered, and was hanging partially open.

He swallowed hard, put the keys back into his pocket, and pushed it open.

Inside, cushions from the sofa were strewn everywhere, unzipped and insides pulled out. Books and other things had been pulled from shelves, left on the floor, cabinet doors left open. The kitchen was a mess — they’d torn open cereal boxes, and the cabinet where he knew Aiden kept all his specialized baking ingredients was hanging open, with products forced open and half emptied on the floor.

Jason turned back to the living room, found an overturned basket with sheets and a comforter strewn around it, and he crouched down — looking for an easy fix — then realized it still smelled fresh.

Like it had just been pulled from the dryer.

Elizabeth had been washing her sheets, and though it was not nearly as infuriating as all the food they’d destroyed or the disaster he’d find upstairs — seeing this evidence of the afternoon he and Elizabeth had planned — this time they’d wanted to take for each other, and that she’d been as excited and maybe as nervous as he’d been to see what it was like to be together after all this time—

It had been stolen from them, and it couldn’t be repaired or replaced.

Jason slowly got shoved everything back in the basket, left it on the floor, and got to his feet, trying to shift himself mentally from the rage into something productive. Jake and Aiden would be home soon, and the last thing they needed was to come home to this.

He’d tried to repair the damage in the kitchen first, resolving to tell Aiden to make a list of every thing he needed, though he knew the teen wouldn’t be worried about that once he found about his mother. And he’d gone to Jake’s room to check on the art supplies — they had been strewn around the room, too, but other than a mess, he didn’t think anything was destroyed. He tried to clean that up first.

But the house was still nowhere near where he knew it had been that morning by the time school finished for the day, and he headed downstairs for the difficult task of talking to the boys.

“Mom!” Jake raced through the front door, Aiden on his heels. He stumbled to a stop when he saw his dad, relief stark. “Where’s Mom? What happened to the door? Where’s her car? What—” He stopped looked around, and with his face white, asked again. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s—” He wanted to reassure him, say she was okay, but it wasn’t something that sounded right even in his head. So Jason opted to go straight for the truth. “She’s been arrested by the FBI.”

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