It’s the same sad echo when you lie
It’s the same sad echo when you try to be clear
It’s the same as the same sad echo around here
– Echo, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

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Sunday, June 21, 2003

Crimson Point, New York

Zacchara Estate: Trevor Lansing’s Office

It was days like these that Trevor Lansing wished like hell he’d drowned the boy in the bath as a child. Richard had been nothing but a disappointment since the day he’d been born—not even special or important enough for his mother to stick around—

He’d done what he could, but Richard was useless.

“You haven’t stuck to the plan since day one,” Trevor snarled when his son arrived that Sunday. “You had your instructions—”

“It’s working,” his son retorted. “I’m just not following your orders.” Ric scoffed. “I’m the one in the middle of everything—why should I listen to you?”

“I got the PCPD breathing down our necks—you know the Crimson Point police are just chomping at the bit to get to Anthony. Faith Roscoe is calling me, making threats—” Trevor whirled around, stabbed a finger at his phone. “You were supposed to be taking Corinthos down from the inside and you’re so far outside—”

“They’re weak right now. Looking for Carly.” Ric shrugged. “You worry too much. Don’t call my home—”

“What, because I might meet your wife?” Trevor let his eyes open wide. “You think I’m stupid, Richard? You think I don’t know about the lure of a pretty girl? You had one job with the Webber girl. Screw her secrets out of her. Find Morgan’s Achilles heel. Get rid of her, Richard. And—well, you might as well kill the Corinthos woman as well. Cut your losses.”

He scowled, turning back to his desk. Perfectly good plan shot to bloody hell. This was supposed to be his chance—his moment to get revenge on Sonny Corinthos for costing him a good woman, leading Adela to her death, and for him to step out from under Anthony Zacchara’s thumb.

The territory was supposed to be his, and he was damned if Richard was going to blow it for him.

“Elizabeth stays,” Ric said, stubbornly. “Morgan doesn’t care about her.”

“Damn it.” Trevor rubbed his face. “This weakness comes your mother, I just know it. Dead more than two decades and she’s still haunting me.” He sat behind his desk. “Look, I’m sure the girl is nice. I’m sorry you lost your kid. Tough break—”

“It’s Sonny’s fault,” Ric insisted. “He pushed her. He killed my baby. And he’s stealing Elizabeth from me.” He shrugged. “So I’m taking his woman. His kid.” He smirked. “I should have killed the little bastard when I grabbed Carly. No witnesses—”

Trevor stared at his son—for the first time, seeing the light in his eyes as something more insidious than anger. Talking about killing kids—Jesus. “Maybe your idea had merit before the cops got involved, but it’s time to cut your losses,” he repeated. “You know your wife only married you because of the kid. Cut her loose. We’ll give her a nice settlement. Come back home. We’ll figure out another way to get at Corinthos—”

“This will work.” Ric shook his head. “You just have to let me handle it.”  He paused. “The PCPD thinks I did it for you and Anthony. Maybe if they had a lead to investigate—maybe you can find a way to make them think Carly just left.”

“I can try to lay a few false trails.” Trevor waited a moment. “My patience is running thin, Richard. You’ve let Faith Roscoe dangle in the wind, and she’s crazy. You don’t want her thinking you’re the enemy.”

“I’ll take care of Faith,” Ric said. He glared at his father. “Don’t summon me again. Get the cops off my back so I can do what needs to be done.”

Trevor watched him go and shook his head again. Ric had gone off the deep end, and he had a bad feeling that if he didn’t get the idiot under control, Ric would take everyone down with him when he crashed. He had no intention of helping him with any false leads, to tangle himself up more in this catastrophe than he already had.

They would wait for the scheme to explode and deal with the pieces then.

Monday, June 22, 2003

Brownstone: Living Room

It had been more than three days since Carly had vanished from the church, and Bobbie looked as if she had been awake for every single hour of those days. Her dark red hair lay limply against her shoulders, her dark eyes shadowed.

At her side, her niece Lulu was attempting to feed her—a bowl of soup, a cup of coffee lay untouched on the table.

“I don’t understand how he could have taken her and not have led you to her yet,” Bobbie said, her eyes rimmed with red. “Taggert tells me Ric has barely left the house—only went down to Crimson Point yesterday—no stops. No evidence he’s gone to see her.”

“I know,” Jason said, dragging his hands through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know what to do next.”

“You’re sure he acted alone?” Lulu asked, unable to control herself anymore. No one ever asked for her input, and she was eager to try to help. To do something for the aunt that had taken her in without protest after her mother had fallen…. ill.

“Yes,” Jason snapped, tired of defending himself even to a kid. “I am.”

“Hey.” Lulu held up her hands. “Listen. I’m just trying to help. I believe you. I just—” She bit her lip. “A girl listens. And pays attention, you know? Maybe he took Carly on his own, but I mean—has he been working against you guys alone the whole time?”

Jason frowned at her. “What?”

“He’s been in Port Charles since November,” Lulu pointed out. “I remember when he came to Kelly’s because it was my first week and I broke like eighteen plates. Liz was trying to figure out how much to take out of my paycheck when he rented the room.”

“Odd that he went to Kelly’s to rent a room,” Bobbie said, tilting her head. “I remember thinking that then. He dressed in Italian suits, custom made shoes but lived at Kelly’s. He threw a lot of money around—remember?”

“Yeah,” Lulu nodded. “At Mrs. Hardy’s service, I remember he handled all the arrangements, which I thought was nice because Liz was so upset. She argued later because he had paid for a lot of it up front and then wouldn’t take any money when it was settled.”

“He came to Kelly’s because of Elizabeth,” Bobbie murmured. “He was pursuing her almost immediately. Oh…” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “He targeted her.”

“Because of me.” Jason looked away. “Yeah. I tried to tell her that, but—”

“She wouldn’t have listened.” Bobbie got to her feet. “He comes from money, that’s clear. But I’m trying to think of anyone else he’s done legal work for—”

“Well, he helped Ned,” Lulu said. “Remember? They had meetings at Kelly’s. I don’t know what about—Liz always told me not to eavesdrop, but they had paperwork and stuff. And wasn’t Ned pretty pissed at you guys last year?”

“The warehouse.” Jason sat down, put his head in his hands. “Yeah. Kristina, his fiancée was killed. And he’s never liked Sonny.”

“Ned might know something. Maybe a property or just—something.” Bobbie clenched her fists in her lap as Jason’s cell phone rang.

He took it out of his pocket and exhaled slowly, answering it with some relief. “Hey. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Look, we’ve been talking, and I think we’ve—” He stopped, his brow creasing in frustration. “Elizabeth, don’t—Fine. Yeah, I’ll talk to you in an hour—okay, no, I’ll meet you there.”

He stared at the closed phone for a long moment. “Ric was out looking at office spaces this afternoon,” he said. “She searched the house again. Nothing. Nothing we missed yesterday.”

“There’s nothing in the house,” Lulu said, with some irritation. “Why is she still there? We should just force her to leave. She’s so selfish—”

Jason scowled at her, and Lulu blanched at the banked fury in his eyes. “What?” she said defensively. “She’s making everyone worry about her instead of Carly—”

“She’s doing this for Carly,” Bobbie said, touching Lulu’s hand.

“I get that, but it’s just stupid.” Lulu shrugged. “She knows that as soon as she leaves the house, she’s going to be put on the plane to California. This way, she gets to stay in the middle of it and have everyone look at her.” She pressed her lips together. “Everyone thinks it, Jason, I’m not the only one—”

“Everyone,” Jason repeated, getting to his feet. “How many people are speculating about Elizabeth where anyone, including her psycho husband, can hear?”

Feeling a bit chastised now, Lulu hastily tried to take it back. “That’s not what I mean. I mean—I just—I went to check on Michael this morning, and I was talking to Courtney, and she’s—she’s so worried about Carly, and I mean—I’m right, aren’t I? I mean we’re talking about Liz, not Carly. Liz made her choice. It’s like Courtney said—”

“I’m going,” Jason said to Bobbie, tuning Lulu out. “We’ve got eyes and ears on Ric. I’m not going to rest until she’s home, Bobbie.”

“Don’t kill yourself.” Bobbie got to her feet, embraced her daughter’s best friend. “You need to keep your strength up. Eat. Rest. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Jason flashed an irritated glance at Lulu before he left.

“He’s just mad because I’m right,” Lulu complained. “I get Liz is trying to help, but now look, Jason’s meeting her at the hospital instead of looking—”

“What is Jason supposed to do?” Bobbie snapped. “Ric is the one who took her. We know he acted alone. He’s watching Ric—” Her voice broke. “And if Ric doesn’t lead us to Carly, then we know she’s—she’s somewhere for us to find, and maybe he’ll—”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Bobbie,” Lulu said miserably. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know Jason is trying hard. I’m just—I don’t know. Something is so weird about all of this. Like, how can Carly have just vanished? It’s like she has to be in the house because that’s the only place Ric has been, but she can’t be.” She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I probably shouldn’t have told Jason what Courtney’s been saying about Liz. It’s probably not helping.”

“No, it’s not,” Bobbie said, but then she looked at the meal her niece had been trying to convince her to eat before Jason’s arrival. “We’re doing everything we can right now,” she told Lulu. “But I should take my own advice.” She got to her feet. “I think I’m going to go make some pasta for dinner. I’m suddenly starving.” She would need all the energy she could muster to get through the next few days.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Courtney stepped off the bottom step and frowned as she watched her brother take another drink. She knew for a fact that the bottle of bourbon at the mini bar had been replaced three times since Carly had gone missing.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she asked, irritated. Why the hell wasn’t he out looking like Jason? Jason was trying to find Carly and had barely been back to their penthouse while her idiot brother sat in this room, drinking himself into a stupor.

“Don’t talk to me about having enough,” Sonny muttered as he tossed back the entire tumbler of bourbon. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”

“Michael’s asleep,” Courtney said, folding her arms. “If you even care.”

Sonny whirled around, his dark eyes bright with anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you’re not doing anything to help Carly,” Courtney snarled. “You’re not cooperating with the police, you’re not taking meetings, you’re not even talking to Michael—you’re just drinking yourself into oblivion.”

“I’m not doing anything to help?” Sonny shot back, waving the glass at her, weaving slightly. “Fuck you. I don’t cooperate with the police—”

“Oh, yeah, because God forbid Big Bad Sonny Corinthos asks for help!”

“You’re a dumb little girl, you know that?” he squinted at her, then dismissed her by turning back to the bar. He reached for the bourbon.

She rushed across the room and jerked the bottle out of his grasp. “You keep trying to make this my fault, Sonny. Like I did what I did to hurt you and Jason—”

“No, I honestly think you thought you were helping. That’s what makes you an idiot.” Sonny sighed and reached for the vodka instead. “I knew you were an idiot. That’s why I told Jason to stay away from you.” He shook his head. “I told him you couldn’t do this.”

“But Jason ignored you. He loves me,” Courtney said, with a confidence she no longer felt. “He chose me—”

“He wanted to prove me wrong,” Sonny said. He bypassed pouring the alcohol this time, and just drank straight from the bottle. “Wanted to prove everyone wrong.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Wanted to prove he was his own man, that he didn’t always put me first.” Sonny shook his head. “I should have let him tell her. This is my fault. If I had just told her the truth, she would have stayed.”

“Are—” Courtney frowned. “What did you lie to Carly about? She didn’t leave you, Sonny. She was kidnapped.” With disdain dripping, she continued, “Or are you too drunk to remember that?”

“If she had stayed, you wouldn’t have been there.” Sonny sank onto the sofa, leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “She wouldn’t have called the cops.”

Her blood boiled as she realized exactly who the hell her brother was talking about. “Oh, right, because perfect sainted Elizabeth knows your life,” she growled. “She’s the one who couldn’t handle it. I’m still here. I got kidnapped, didn’t I? Did I run to someone else? Did I leave Jason?”

“No.” Sonny met her eyes. “You got kidnapped for five hours. Not weeks. Not trapped in the dark.” He closed his eyes. “I should have been a better friend. I should have explained it to him. Trapped in the dark. You do anything to make the dark go away.”

“You’re too drunk to talk to,” she muttered, starting across the room. She turned around. “Right now, you’re blaming me. You’re blaming Elizabeth for not staying. Me for calling the police. Look in the goddamn mirror, Sonny. The only person here to blame is you!”

Courtney stabbed a finger at him. “You put Carly in danger, Sonny. Just like you do to everyone in your life. How lucky are we that Michael wasn’t grabbed, too? You couldn’t protect Carly any more than you could protect him. He’s traumatized and you’re down here getting drunk. Some fucking father and husband you turned out to be.”

She slammed the door behind her as she left the penthouse, the door frame cracking.

Sonny opened his eyes and blanched. “You’re not here. You’re not here,” he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. But when he opened them again, Lily just smiled at him. That sweet smile.

“You couldn’t protect me either, Sonny. You’re not supposed to be a father.” Lily tilted her head. “You should have known better.”

General Hospital: Monica’s Office

Elizabeth stared at the lab report and swallowed hard. “How-how long did you say you could trace the…” She looked up at met Monica’s kind but worried eyes. “Not…not just a month…”

“The hair follicle test suggests it’s around January. Not in great doses—”

Elizabeth closed her eyes as Monica continued, remembering the home cooked dinners he’d made her once he’d moved into his own apartment in February. The spontaneous pastries and treats he had brought to work. The wine he’d brought to her the night her grandmother had been buried.

“Why…why would he—” She swallowed hard. “Why would someone use Valium to drug someone? You said the doses weren’t—”

“It’s used to treat anxiety mostly,” Monica told her. “Panic disorders—” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know why he started to drug you back then. To keep you calm?”

“I guess.” Elizabeth slid her fingers over the report. “I haven’t felt well since my grandmother passed away. I’ve—I’ve had trouble sleeping. Eating.”

“He might have been trying to help you at first, but at some point—” Monica hesitated. “It’s possible you’ve developed a tolerance, and he had to keep increasing the dosage—”

Her breath seized. “Oh, God, is this why I had the miscarriage? Does this—”

“Valium use during the first trimester can cause malformations, defects.” Monica shook her head. “But not necessarily a miscarriage, though it’s likely—” She bit her lip.

“It’s likely for the best that it happened because my baby would have been damaged.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “It just never stops. He’s been drugging me for months—I nearly died—and if our child had lived—” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “What—what happens next? I mean—I don’t know—I don’t understand it—He let me drive—I could have killed someone on Saturday—”

“Elizabeth—” Monica stopped as her intercom beeped. “Yes?”

“Ah, Dr. Quartermaine, your son is here. He said he’s expected.”

“Oh, right, I asked Jason to meet here because Ric’s at the house.” Elizabeth sighed.

“I can have him wait, Elizabeth, while we talk—”

“I’d just have to go over this with him—he knows I’m here for my results.” And even if she didn’t want to tell him—somehow, she knew she had to. She couldn’t live with this on her own.

“Send him in.”

A moment later, Jason entered the office, his expression hesitant. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—I could still wait outside—”

“No, it’s…” Elizabeth handed him the lab report, knowing Jason would understand it. “It turns out he turned me into a drug addict.” She looked back at Monica. “Because I can’t sleep. And—I feel—” She held out her hand which shook slightly. “I think I’m in withdrawal.”

Jason scowled. “He’s been drugging you since January?”

“Well, what I’d like to do, Elizabeth, is to check you into the hospital overnight and we could talk about some things you could do—” Monica nodded. “But I can see from your expression that’s not going to happen.”

“Ric would find out if I was in the hospital overnight,” she told her. “He’s leaving the house more. Looking for office space, but maybe he’s looking for a place to move Carly.”

Jason grimaced. “Elizabeth, this is about your health—”

“We knew Ric was drugging me. We knew it wasn’t just on Friday,” Elizabeth interrupted. “This doesn’t change anything—”

“Your symptoms could get worse, Elizabeth,” Monica pressed. “They can last up to two weeks—” She bit off her words. “I can’t watch you walk out of here, knowing that you risk that animal doing this again—”

“Keep the lab report.” Elizabeth took it back from Jason and handed it to Monica. “Because I might—we might need proof later. But—this can’t keep going on, right? He’ll move Carly this week. We’ll find her. And then, I promise, Monica, anything you want me to do—I’ll do it.”

Monica scowled. “Elizabeth—”

“I’ve made it this far.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, fought back the urge to just scream at them both. She was a goddamn adult and could make her own decisions. “Thank you. I know you’re worried.” She looked at Jason. “I know you’re both worried. But knowing that he’s been doing this to me—I have to help take him down. I have to be part of it. I can’t just fly away to California.”

“If he hasn’t moved Carly this week,” Jason said slowly, “we’ll figure out something else. But this is it, Elizabeth. After Friday—” He swallowed hard, likely upset at the idea that Carly could continue to be missing for that long— “We try something new.”

“Thank you.” She looked back to Monica. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Monica sighed and looked at her watch. “I have to make my rounds. You can use the office as long as you need to. And keep my number on speed dial, Elizabeth.”

With another unsure sigh, Monica left.

“I know you don’t agree,” Elizabeth said when she was gone. “But—”

“The only reason I’m not throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you kicking and screaming onto a plane is because you’d just turn around and come right back.” Jason swallowed. “I don’t know if Carly is even alive, Elizabeth. And every minute you’re in that house, you might end up dead, too—”

“She’s alive.” Elizabeth touched his arm. “She has to be. There’s no reason for Ric to do anything to her. I think—I think he’s trying to replace our baby.”

“What?” Jason demanded, his face draining of color. “What do you mean?”

“Before—before we moved,” she said. “When I came home after losing the baby—he wanted to try again. Immediately. For a couple of days, it was all he could talk about. I think he thought I’d leave him.” She sighed. “He was right. I only married him because I was pregnant, scared, and alone. But then he stopped talking about it. And he bought the house. And now…I basically told him I don’t want to get pregnant again. I don’t sleep in the same room. And he keeps telling me everything will be fine—that we’ll have our family and I’ll understand.”

Jason sat down in one of Monica’s chairs. “You think—”

“I think he’s got Carly somewhere—alive—and he’s planning on taking her baby. It would be justice. Taking Sonny’s child because he thinks Sonny took ours.” Joke was on Ric—Ric had murdered their child long before Elizabeth was pushed down those steps. “I don’t know who pushed me—”

“That’s who I should be looking for. I should have been looking for them all along.” He stood back up. “Because the police report said you were pushed, they just didn’t have any suspects.”

‘The report—” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Ric said the police didn’t—” She huffed. “Of course, he lied about that, too. He said the police weren’t interested—but they did look into it.”

“Taggert likes you,” Jason said plainly. “And he thought he could get Sonny. But Sonny was caught on camera in the parking lot. He questioned Sonny, but—he seemed to think it wasn’t likely Sonny would use you to get at Ric.”

“I never thought he would.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “But someone did. I—I don’t know why I haven’t really—could finding that out help us find out where Carly is?”

“I know Ric kidnapped her on his own, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working with someone since he came to Port Charles. “Jason hesitated. “What do you know about Ned working with Ric?”

“Ned?” she repeated. “I mean—I think Ric handled some property stuff for ELQ after Sonny and Carly fired him—” She hesitated. “But Ned hates you. And—And I know Ned has…worked with Faith Roscoe. She…. really hates me.”

“Faith?” Jason shook his head. “Why?”

“Because—” Elizabeth looked away. “Because I—of Ric. I don’t know if they were—I don’t know. But she’s been…. around.”

“Okay.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I can look into them. Is—is Cody working out okay?”

“Yeah, he’s great. And it’s been—” Her throat felt thick as she tried to continue. “I’ve felt a lot safer knowing he was right outside if I needed him. Thank you.”

“I wish like hell you’d just leave, but I don’t have time to argue that again. I have to meet Justus and Sonny—” Jason hesitated. “You’ll call or text me in an hour?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “I promise.” She picked up her purse. “I should get going. If I get home first, I can order dinner in and not have to make excuses.”

Jason followed her out, but they split up at the end of the hall. She took the elevator down to the lobby, and he took the stairs.

Corinthos Penthouse: Hallway

When Jason stepped off the elevator, he was surprised to find Justus waiting outside the door with Max. He frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“Sonny isn’t letting me in,” Justus said with a sigh. “He’s…Max said he’s having a rough day.”

They looked at Max, who just shrugged. “Miss Matthews was over earlier, and they had words.” Jason scowled at the thought of his fiancée—whatever good sense he and Sonny had attributed to Courtney had disappeared since Friday night and her call to the cops.

Courtney had done nothing but be a nuisance for four days straight.

Jason stepped past Max and knocked. “Sonny—”

Sonny jerked the door open, his black hair disheveled, his eyes red. “Did you find her?”

“No, but—”

“Don’t come back until you do.”

He slammed the door. Jason glanced at Justus, who looked as troubled as Jason felt. It had taken only days for Sonny to hit the edge of what he could handle—

And Jason wasn’t sure he had the time or energy to drag Sonny back from the abyss.

“Is—anyone home at my place?” Jason said hesitantly. The fact that he was dreading the thought of facing Courtney told him he had some decisions to make when this was all over.

“Miss Matthews went to the Brownstone. She took Michael to see his grandmother when he woke up from his nap.”

“We can go to my place,’ Jason told Justus.

“It’s fine,” Justus said, with a wave of his hand. “I just wanted to let you know that we got the injunction against the search warrants of the commercial properties. It’s going to give us some breathing room to get things in order, but there’s a hearing next week.”

“By then, this should be over. “Jason didn’t want to think about how horrible it would be for all of them to be living in this nightmare much longer.

“If it isn’t,” Justus continued, “the odds are that they’ll grant the warrant. Should—should I let Johnny O’Brien continue taking care of what needs to be done?”

“Yeah.” They looked towards Sonny’s closed door. “Yeah.  Johnny and Tommy know what to do. You—you can touch base with me for a few days. I think we need to give Sonny some space.”

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

The room was dark—the only light slipped through the curtains he’d drawn across his windows. Sonny sat on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace, his knees drawn up, a bottle of whiskey at his side—he’d gone through the vodka once Courtney had taken Michael to Bobbie’s and moved on to what was left.

Courtney was right. They were all right. He was a drunk who couldn’t protect his family. Why did he think he could have children? Why did he think God would stop punishing him?

“That’s right,” Lily said, her smile warm and encouraging. She slid the whiskey closer to him. “That’s right, Sonny. You will never be a father. Everything you touch dies. You’re poison.”

“You’re not real,” Sonny muttered, bringing the whiskey to his lips, desperate to make her go away, even if he had to black out to do it.

“No, I’m dead. And it’s your fault. It’s your fault your son is dead. All of your sons.” A smile spread across Lily’s face—a malevolent smile that his sweet wife had never had in real life. Was he being haunted? Was he being tortured?  “For all you know, Carly is already dead. So, drink up Sonny, until you’re too drunk to care.”

Its just that we stayed, too long
In the same old sickly skin
I’m pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
Oh darkness I feel like letting go
– Full of Grace, Sarah McLachlan

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Saturday, June 20, 2003

Lansing Home: Panic Room

 Despite her best efforts, Carly spent most of that first day dozing off and on, fighting the vestiges of the drug he’d given her. Ric had only come in once that morning to bring her a daily ration of food—she suspected he was never sure when Elizabeth might be home and didn’t want to be caught coming and going.

It reassured her that the twit wasn’t involved. Elizabeth had terrible taste in men, but she wasn’t evil. If only she could somehow get Elizabeth’s attention—if she could force the room open—

When she was awake, Carly was planning. She could try to knock Ric out, but what if she killed him and then no one ever found him? She might end up chained in this room forever—

And so she spent time trying to pick a lock, promising herself it would be the first skill that she learned when she got out of here. Because she would get out of here. She knew Jason and Sonny would be looking for her—and she didn’t believe Ric that no one suspected him.

Last night had been hazy, but Carly had been awake enough to see the monitors—to know that Jason and Sonny had crashed through the door—that only the arrival of the PCPD had made them leave. They would be back. And she would be ready for them.

She sat cross-legged on the tiny cot, having exchanged her evening gown for a pair of stretchy black pants and a long-sleeved gray shirt, protection against the artificial chill created by the air conditioning and concrete walls. She stared at the monitors, tracking comings and goings and the lack thereof.

She had watched as Elizabeth woke up and ate a breakfast Ric made for her—Carly had screamed at her until her voice was hoarse because she had seen him dumping pills in the eggs, in the hollandaise—in her orange juice—everywhere. Why was he still drugging his wife?

Elizabeth had left and then hadn’t returned for the entire day, but Ric still didn’t come inside. He sat in a room looked like it was meant to be a study at a desk piled with paperwork like he was a real lawyer.

The panic room also had screens that looked outside and showed her the front of the house and street. She’d seen the patrol car parked all night—she’d watched Jason’s familiar figure approach that morning—still dressed in the tuxedo from the wedding—then leave. The patrol car had left shortly after, only to return around five that afternoon.

She’d seen Elizabeth’s car pull away—and now—now it was returning. Her screen was in black and white, the quality was horrible—but Carly had made fun of the battered gold Nissan Sentra enough with Courtney to recognize it when it pulled into a driveway.

Carly narrowed her eyes as another car drove down the street, parked just past the house with no one exiting. Elizabeth got out of her car, looked towards the other one—and then went towards the house.

Something warm spread through her chest. She recognized the car as one that the guards drove with the darkened windows. Sonny had someone following Elizabeth. And Elizabeth knew it. Elizabeth knew Ric was guilty. Carly might have an ally.

If only she could figure out how to contact her, to get her attention.

Lansing Home: Front Step

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder one last time to the darkened car where Cody sat guard and to the patrol car out front. She didn’t recognize this officer, but it was good to see the PCPD hadn’t given up.

She could do this. She could go back into this house as if she didn’t know Ric was a kidnapping monster who had nearly killed her that morning.

Her phone was tucked securely in her purse, inside a hidden lining that she herself had ripped open. She’d have to find a way to keep it on her person—too bad it was summer and baggy clothes wouldn’t work as well.

Elizabeth pushed open the door and looked around the living room, towards the stairs. Somewhere in this house there had to be a clue to Carly’s kidnapping. How was she supposed to get Ric out of the house tomorrow so Jason could come in and tear it apart? So his men could plant devices to track Ric?

She’d just have to do figure it out. No way around it.

She heard Ric’s steps on the stairs and arranged her features into a smile. She knew how to fake happiness—she was a master of that at least. “Hey.”

“Hey. I thought you’d be home sooner.” Ric crossed the room and kissed her cheek. His lips drifted towards her mouth, but Elizabeth shied away. “What’s wrong?”

“The patrol car is still out there,” Elizabeth said with a grimace. “And I just keep thinking about Carly. Wherever she is, you know?”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Ric narrowed his eyes. “Sonny has a lot of enemies, I’m sure you know that.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and nearly blown up, so…” She lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “Still, she’s…she’s going to have a baby.” And the distress wasn’t forced now. “She’s due only a little before I would have been—”

“Of course, I should have realized.” She let him draw her into an embrace, her heart pounding. If she hadn’t known—if she hadn’t overdosed that morning—if no one had come to the house last night—God, would she have suspected him?

If she hadn’t had proof, would she still believe Jason and Sonny’s certainty as she did now? She wasn’t entirely confident that she would have seen through him.

After all, she hadn’t before despite all the evidence to the contrary. She had deluded herself into thinking this man could be saved. That she could be the one to save him.

“And then when I went to see Emily,” Elizabeth said, drawing back, “I felt really sick.”

There—she didn’t imagine the way his eyes focused on her. The anxiety in the dark depths. “Oh?” Even his voice had risen just slightly in pitch.

“Yeah, I—I was dizzy. Tired. And sick to my stomach.” She set her hand against her abdomen, still feeling unsettled. “You know the Quartermaines—Emily made me talk to her mother—”

“You didn’t—you didn’t go to the hospital, did you?” Ric asked with a nervous laugh. “I mean, you would have called me if it was serious.”

“No, Monica looked at me at the mansion,” she lied. “But Monica said I had a bit of a stomach virus. I guess that explains why I felt so awful last night. On top of Carly being kidnapped and everyone saying all those terrible things—” Elizabeth managed a half smile. “So, I’m—I’m going to stay home tomorrow. Rest.”

“Oh.” Ric drew his brows together. “Are you sure it’s that serious? I know how hard you’ve been working on the show—”

“It’s only one day,” Elizabeth said, clasping her purse tightly to her. Twenty minutes before she was supposed to check in with Jason. “And it’s not like I’d get a lot done—”

“Yeah, well—” Ric stopped when his own cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and scowled. “It’s my father.”

“Your father—” Elizabeth blinked. “I thought you weren’t in touch—”

“I’m not.” Ric opened the phone. “Dad—What? No. I—I don’t know what—” He was quiet for a long moment, his expression like granite. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.”  He closed the phone and tossed it on the coffee table. “I have to…I have to go down to Crimson Point tomorrow.”

Crimson Point was just outside of New York City, Elizabeth knew that. “I thought your dad lived in New York City—”

“He does,” Ric snapped, then smoothed out his features. “Sorry. I just—he has a client in Crimson Point. He wants me to meet with him. He’s, ah, been trying to get me into his practice.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth nodded. “Did—did you want me to go—I mean, I haven’t met—”

“No,” he said sharply. Then he took a deep breath. “You said you needed to rest, so I guess—” He rolled his shoulders. “It’s fine. Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll bring you something to eat—”

“I already ate with Monica and Emily,” Elizabeth said quickly. “They had Cook make me something gentle for my stomach flu.” Which was partially true.  “I—I’m probably going to be up and down all night, so I thought I’d stay in the guest room again—it has its own bathroom.”

Ric tilted his head. “You haven’t wanted to sleep in the same room with me since we got here,” he said quietly. “Is there something I should know?”

“I—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “It’s all just…. a lot,” she said, flustered. “So much has happened these last few weeks and you know, Dr. Meadows said it might be…it be might be sometime before I was ready—”

“I thought you got a clean bill of health,” Ric said flatly. He stepped towards her.

“I’m scared,” Elizabeth admitted without thinking. “I mean…. of getting pregnant again. I—don’t want to lose another baby.”

And that at least was true. Or it had been the truth up until the night before. Now, she was terrified of having to play that part of being Ric’s wife. Would she have the courage?

How far was she willing to go?

“Ah.” Ric’s eyes cleared. Softened. A calculated move—and Elizabeth wondered how she had ever seen sincerity in those eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry, Elizabeth. We can take as much time as you need.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you. Everything I do is for you.”

And the truly horrifying thing was that Elizabeth believed him.

Sunday, June 21, 2003

PCPD: Interrogation Room

Taggert scowled as Justus laid out the statement he had already delivered to the newsroom of the Port Charles Herald. “What the hell is this?”

“This is my appeal to the media,” Sonny said, leaning back in the hard, wooden chair.  At dawn, Sonny had woken up to the pounding on his door and the demands of Taggert and Capelli to come down to the station voluntarily or be arrested.

Sonny had agreed only because he wanted to keep the PCPD focused on him while Jason did whatever needed to be done. Jason had briefly brought him up to date—there was no sign of Carly, but Elizabeth had remained adamant about staying even after nearly overdosing on Valium Ric had surely slipped her.

Sonny believed Jason’s theory—that the house held some sort of clue as to Carly’s whereabouts or Ric wouldn’t have bothered drugging Elizabeth, but he was less confident that Elizabeth would be valuable. He had been touched, oddly, that during her drugged stupor, she’d insisted on staying. That her loyalty to them had surfaced then despite neither Jason nor Sonny really having given her much reason to believe in them over the last eight months.

But Ric was a dangerous sociopath who had already proven once that Elizabeth’s health was less important to him than getting his revenge on Sonny.

Sonny had hoped that by coming to the station without an argument that Taggert would give him the benefit of the doubt and start treating him like the victim—his wife was missing after all.

“The papers are already dogging us—it’s all we can do to keep them from interfering as it is,” Taggert snarled. Sonny was too tired to be amused by the idea that the only reason Lansing’s name hadn’t been leaked to the papers as a person of interest was because of the cops.

Sonny had put the Herald on an embargo, threatening to buy them out and close the paper down if Ric’s name was publicized. The last thing he and Jason wanted a bunch of reporters dogging Ric’s steps. Bad enough the PCPD was involved.

“Well, then stop going after my client and find his wife and we won’t have to tell the media how you’re screwing up,” Justus retorted. “You’re wasting our time here, Taggert—”

“I’m trying to find his wife and he’s not cooperating—”

“You searched my home, you’re trying to search my financial records, my business—” Sonny waved off Justus’s irritated expression. “Do you really think I’ve got my wife stashed somewhere? Look at me, Taggert. My pregnant wife is missing. My son saw the man who did it. And you let him stay in his home, dragging me down to the station instead.”

“I’m not perfect,” Sonny continued with a shake of his head. “I’m not even close, but you know me better than that. Tell me why I’m here and that sick son of a bitch isn’t.”

Taggert hesitated, sat back. “Because Michael is the only link to Ric,” he admitted. “He’s a small boy who was clearly upset. We searched Ric’s home. There’s no evidence he ever left—” He held up a hand. “Look, you want to me to level with you, Corinthos? I’m working my ass off to find Carly. Look at me, I ain’t slept either.” He shoved himself to his feet. “But what do I got? I got Carly being violently kidnapped from your partner’s wedding—where everyone knew she’d be.”

Taggert paused. “I got your kid telling me it was Ric Lansing, and when we get to the house—there’s no sign Ric ever left, and yet his wife looks like she’s been drugged. She’ll never hold up as an alibi. But Carly’s not in the house. Even if we take Ric in—”

“You don’t necessarily find Carly.” Sonny’s mouth was dry as he considered that for the first time, he and Taggert were actually on the same side—to a certain extent.  “Yeah, I get that.”

“Of course Lansing did this. Of course that’s what I’m trying to prove. But why? That’s how I’m going to get him. We’re following him. He’s going to lead us to Carly eventually. But I gotta use all my sources, and my sources tell me this is about your business.”

Sonny snorted. “That’s what it always comes back to, isn’t it—”

“Ric Lansing’s father is Trevor Lansing, lead counsel for Anthony Zacchara,” Taggert cut in sharply. “You’re telling me that I’m crazy for thinking Zacchara might have something to do with your pregnant wife going missing?”

Sonny exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Anthony Zacchara,” he repeated. “You fucking with me, Taggert?”

Justus hissed. “Sonny—”

“I am being one hundred percent honest with you, Corinthos. I can see from your face that you get it.” Taggert slapped his hand on the table. “Look, you know I want you behind bars. It’s all I can think about. But Carly doesn’t deserve this. So give that bastard whatever he wants so you can bring your wife home.”

“I would,” Sonny said slowly as something crawled inside his chest, wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. “If I knew what he wanted.” He met Taggert’s eyes. “If Zacchara is involved, this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

Taggert furrowed his brow. “You telling me you didn’t know Ric Lansing was tied to them?”

“No—I—” Sonny shook his head. Had to stop himself from answering. The truth that he hadn’t done nearly enough leg work into Ric’s past. The man had showed up when things had been so chaotic—Jason and Brenda had been on trial for murder. And by the time they realized something was wrong—

Benny had been gone—and Ric had been wreaking havoc with Carly, trying to blackmail Courtney, then kidnapping her—getting Elizabeth pregnant—staging the scene at the Vineyard—

It had never occurred to Sonny that this might be anything but personal. And God, what if they were wrong about why Ric had taken Carly? What if he had kidnapped her and given her right to the Zaccharas on Friday night?

Sonny exhaled slowly. “Am I under arrest?” he said mildly. “I’d like to be at home with my son.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Kelsey Joyce listened with half an ear as Scott and Mac Scorpio discussed the open cases and investigations in Organized Crime—Major Crimes was next, and she wasn’t all that interested in mafia crime.

She frowned when she heard the word kidnapping and tuned back in. “You have a kidnapping case being investigated by Organized Crime?”

“Yes.” Mac focused on her. “The Corinthos kidnapping. We’re—we’re thirty-six hours in. No leads.” He grimaced at Scott. “And you know Floyd is on my ass.”

“Of course, he is,” Scott offered with a smirk. He looked at Kelsey. “Floyd is currently running for re-election.” Turning back to Mac, “I don’t know what he’s worried about. I don’t even know who’s running against him.”

“Yeah, well, we screw up a high-profile case like this, and someone might crawl out of the woodwork. Deadline to get on the ballot isn’t until September.” Mac sighed. “It’s still early, but Capelli and Taggert have some leads—”

Kelsey put up her hand to interrupt the commissioner. “I don’t have anything in my files about a kidnapping case. I should be copied on this—”

“Why?” Scott said, in a tone that advised her not to argue. “It’s Sonny Corinthos—”

“It’s Carly Corinthos, a pregnant woman,” she said, calmly. “I’m not saying Major Crimes should be running it, I’m just saying that we should be involved. OCU is bound to have tunnel vision.”

“Tunnel vision?” Scott repeated with a snort as the commissioner looked amused. “Listen, Kelsey—this is only your first day—you’re here as a courtesy—”

“Your conviction rates in Port Charles for both Major Crimes and Organized Crimes are at an all-time low,” Kelsey interrupted, her tone cool. She hadn’t volunteered to come in on a Sunday for shits and giggles. She’d spent the hours since being hired researching the new job she’d started. “You put too much resources into OCU, and MCU is usually left to flounder.”

“Listen—”

But now the commissioner sighed, the amusement having left his face. “She’s not wrong, Scott. Corinthos was just in here waving around a media statement that said the same thing.” He focused on Kelsey. “Taggert requested some help from the MCU, and I shot him down. He wanted another uniform to do some legwork.”

“You should agree to it. It would be a good sharing of the resources and reassure the MCU that you value them.” Kelsey held out her hand. “And I’d like a copy of the file as well.”

“No need,” Scott said. “I’m taking point on the Corinthos—”

“Am I in charge of the MCU or not, Scott?” Kelsey asked. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, but she was determined not to let them see her as a weak little girl they could push around. “If the MCU is involved in a case, my office gets copied on the files. That’s the policy. I’m just asking you to enforce it.”

“Fair enough.” Scott raised his brow. “Anything else?”

“No.” Kelsey exhaled slowly. “No, we can move on. Thank you.”

Kelly’s: Lucky’s Room

Lucky set the phone back on the bar and stared at it for a long moment. The next morning, when he reported for duty, he would be sitting in a patrol car outside of the Lansing home.

He knew that his aunt would be happy that Lucky was working the case, and part of him was glad to be able to reassure her with any news he could offer.

But he was supposed to be watching Ric Lansing and keeping an eye on Elizabeth.

He had tried so hard to avoid Elizabeth these last nine months—since she’d helped him get his father out of jail. For nearly a year after the last brainwashing, he’d gone through the motions with her, pretending they might be able to get things back to where they were—and then pretending they could be friends.

But Elizabeth had always known him better than anyone else and there were times that he slipped—times when he didn’t remember something he was supposed to—and he didn’t want to explain to anyone that Helena Cassadine had not only manipulated his emotions, she had made Swiss cheese of his memory.

His memories of Elizabeth and of the last three years, were hazy and insubstantial—and every time Elizabeth looked at him, he was afraid she could see how empty he was now.

But she was in trouble, Taggert told him. And Emily had given him some cryptic hints that something was even more deeply wrong in Elizabeth’s new marriage.

So…he would look out for her. She deserved that from him, at least. After everything he’d put her through since his ignominious return from the dead, she deserved whatever help he could give her.

Lansing Home: Front Porch

Elizabeth waited until Ric’s car had pulled out of the driveway and turned the corner before leaving the house. She knew that the drive to Crimson Point would take two hours each way—giving her at least four or five hours to let Jason do what needed to be done.

She walked down to the patrol car where she recognized the rookie from Friday night. She had expected the patrol car to follow Ric, then had been irritated when he didn’t.

“Why are you still here?” she demanded. “You’re supposed to be following my husband.”

Cruz Rodriguez blinked at her. “Ah, what? I—” He shook his head. “No. My orders are to watch you, Mrs. Lansing.” His olive-skinned cheeks took on a bit of a red hue. “We, ah, got someone else on your husband.”

“You think I’m going to lead you to Carly?” Elizabeth demanded. “You think I did this?”

“No,” Cruz said. He sighed. “No, but we know that your husband drugged you, and Detective Taggert was worried about you.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth exhaled. “Oh. Well, okay. Then you need to do something for me.”

He eyed her a bit suspiciously. “Uh—”

“Jason Morgan is going to come to this house and he’s going to tear it apart,” she told him. “He’s going to look for Carly or anything that might lead to her. I doubt that surprises you. I remember you from Friday.”

“I…yes. I guess I figured he was just waiting for Lansing to leave. I—I have to tell my superiors—”

“It doesn’t matter what they know,” Elizabeth muttered. “Because I’m giving the permission. You got it? I don’t want anyone calling anyone at the PCPD about Jason or whoever he brings here. I know how you guys work. How you jump on anything—”

“Mrs. Lansing…” Cruz held his hands up in defeat. “My only orders are to make sure you’re okay. If Jason Morgan can find Carly, then that’s what matters.” He stopped. “You think your husband did this, don’t you?”

“If you tell Ric I do, I’ll deny it,” Elizabeth said with some irritation. She saw a dark SUV pull up. Jason got out of the driver’s side, another man in the passenger, and then—oddly enough—a teen-aged boy from the backseat with a laptop bag. “You seem like a nice guy. Why don’t you drive around the block or something?”

“If you’re okay,” Cruz said after a moment, “there’s no reason anything else has to go in my report.”

Jason approached her, eying the patrol car suspiciously. “He’s still here.”

“He’s here to check on me, I guess.” Elizabeth gestured to the house. “We should go inside.”

Jason signaled to the two men to follow them.

Lansing House: Panic Room

Carly could have wept with joy as she saw Jason on the screen—as she watched Jason follow Elizabeth into the house.

Two men followed—she recognized one as Stan, someone who worked on electronics for them, but she didn’t know the second, younger boy who set up a laptop in the living room and took a large orange soda from his bag.

She watched Jason and Elizabeth go from room to room, looking in every crevice and cranny, opening every door—searching the basement, the study—

For an hour, she watched their slow careful progress—she watched as Jason became frustrated, as Elizabeth became increasingly flustered. They had kept up a conversation the whole time, but with no audio, she could just see that neither of them was happy with how it was going.

How could they miss the panic room? How was it built into the house so that it wasn’t obvious? Frustrated, Carly pounded the walls again. Screamed for them to hear her.

Why couldn’t Jason find her?

Lansing Home: Guest Bedroom

Jason almost slammed the closet door shut. That was it. This was the last room in the house.

He’d…he’d really expected to find her today. To find some hint of her. A shoe. A piece of fabric. Some hair. Some sign that she’d been here.

Elizabeth hovered at the doorway, her eyes dark with worry, concern. “I don’t understand,” she murmured as she drifted inside. “There wasn’t enough time for him to go anywhere and still make it home.”

“He must have delivered her to the Zaccharas that night.” Jason slammed his hand on the bureau, the combs and small pieces flying up slightly in the air. “Damn it.”

“I don’t—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “I don’t think so. I—I know you said you and Sonny were worried about it, but—his father—when he called—”

Jason looked at her. “What?”

“Ric didn’t seem happy about it. Irritated. If Ric was working with his father and the Zaccharas—then why did Ric kidnap her himself?” Elizabeth folded her arms, restlessly rubbing them. “Why risk it?”

Jason sank onto the mattress. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I mean, Michael saw it happen. He saw Ric. If Ric had gotten her away without that sighting—it might have been longer before we knew she was gone—” He looked at her. “You wouldn’t have looked so drugged if we’d been even twenty minutes later.”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. If Taggert is going after this connection, what are the odds that Ric’s father hasn’t heard about what happened? Maybe that’s why Ric was so irritated when Trevor called.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just over thinking it.”

She looked around the room and then back towards the hallway where she watched as Jason’s electronics man, Stan, placed a camera and bug in the smoke detector in the master bedroom.

“No. You’re—I haven’t really slept,” Jason admitted. “And it’s been almost forty hours. Between Carly’s kidnapping, and the cops being all over everything—”

“Having to save my life,” Elizabeth pointed out with a sigh. “Yeah. I get.” She bit her lip. “Have you…eaten? You should eat and sleep. Carly wouldn’t want you to worry yourself like this. You know she’ll stay strong until you find her. But you’re only human, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason hated to admit it, but he had probably run into himself into the ground—he hadn’t wanted to return to the penthouse where he knew Courtney waited.

He was so angry at her for putting them in this position, for putting them under the scrutiny of the PCPD. For what? So that she could feel like she was doing something?

He couldn’t help but compare Elizabeth’s reaction to all of this—her husband had drugged her, nearly killed her, and still—she stood in this room, having opened her home to Jason and his guys—had put her life on the line to find Carly.

And she was right. Taggert and the PCPD might want to think Anthony Zacchara was involved because it would give them the excuse they needed to dig into their businesses, but too much about the kidnapping showed it was done by one man.

“I should check in with Stan and Spinelli.” Jason checked his watch. “We need to talk about the next step. Carly’s not here. There’s no clues.” He met Elizabeth’s eyes. “I can put you on a plane to Emily tonight.”

She was already shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “It’s not just the house I can get you access to,” she told him. “New York is a community property state. As long as I stay here, play along, I can give you permission to go into anything Ric owns. Anywhere. I leave, and you run the risk of getting arrested—”

“I don’t care about getting arrested,” Jason muttered. Even if she was right— “It’s not worth—”

“I told Ric I got sick yesterday. And I could see that worried him. He didn’t mean for me to eat all of that food—that’s why the dose was so high—”

“Don’t—” He blinked at her. “Are you making excuses for him?” Damn it—

Her smile was wry, even as her eyes were irritated. “Because that’s what I do, right? Make excuses. For him. For Lucky, For Zander. He didn’t mean to kill me, so I guess it doesn’t matter that he almost did.”

“I—”

“I think he knows he went too far,” Elizabeth said flatly, cutting off his reply. “I haven’t been eating—so I think he overdid how much he put in. But I didn’t—I didn’t want him to suspect me. I thought it would be okay. So I told him I got sick, and he was terrified that I almost went to the hospital. I told him I wanted to sleep in separate rooms because I didn’t want to have another miscarriage.” She exhaled slowly. “Ric thinks he can manipulate me. Why wouldn’t he? He did it for months and I didn’t even blink.”

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s tone was gentler now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Because I’m good at ignoring things in front of my face—you should know that. I never thought Lucky would—and I sure as hell defended Zander at every turn—” She looked away, and he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Anyway. My eyes are open now. I think I can do this for a little while longer.”

Jason sighed. She wasn’t wrong that it would be more convenient to have permission to get into places Ric owned—he didn’t care about the law, but he really didn’t want to be dragged into the police station and locked up. Not while Carly was out there, waiting for him to find her.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s talk about the next step then.”

‘Cause you play me like a symphony
Play me till your fingers bleed
I’m your greatest masterpiece
You ruin me
Later when the curtains drawn
And no one’s there for you back home
Don’t cry to me you played me wrong
You ruin me
– You Ruin Me, The Veronicas

---

Saturday, June 20, 2003

Quartermaine Mansion: Garden

“I’m going back to California,” Emily told Elizabeth, “but only because Jason told me to.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “But I want you to come with me. You can make your excuses to Ric, but please—”

Elizabeth sighed, pressed a hand to her aching head. Jason had taken her back to the studio and reluctantly left her alone, promising the burner cell phone would be delivered in a few hours. She’d decided to make her goodbyes to Emily while waiting for the phone to arrive.

She had promised Jason she would not go home until she had that phone—until he had a way to contact her.

She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around anything that happened to her in the last twenty-four hours—knowing that she had overdosed and nearly died only hours earlier or that it had been at the hands of the man she’d married and nearly had a child with—a man who had kidnapped a pregnant woman—and God, had done so many things, because of course Ric was guilty of all the crimes Jason and Sonny had cast at his feet.

Elizabeth couldn’t remember any of the objections she’d made in defense of Ric now or explain how she lied to herself for so long.

“If you talked to Jason,” Elizabeth began slowly, stirring her iced tea restlessly. She should eat before she went home, but she couldn’t find the desire to put anything in her stomach—not after having had it pumped. She closed her eyes. “If you talked to Jason,” she tried again, “then you know why you have to go and why I have to stay.”

Emily scowled. “He doesn’t want you to stay either, Liz. I have his permission to try and convince you differently, and if he were anybody else but Jason, he would put you on the plane himself. You’re not thinking clearly.” Her eyes softened. “I’m so scared about what will happen if you don’t leave.”

“And I’m scared about what happens if I do.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled, and she fought to keep it even. “The police are watching Jason and Sonny. I—I heard people talking at the hospital while I was waiting to get out. They searched the penthouses. The PCPD isn’t looking for Carly like Jason and Sonny can. Taggert and Capelli are going after them. Jason won’t be able to just—do what needs to be done. I have to help—”

“And how does staying in the house do that?” Emily challenged.

“Jason is going to come back and search as soon as I can get Ric out of the house,” Elizabeth told her. “He’s going to set up surveillance and electronics and whatever else he can. But—” She chewed her bottom lip. “If Ric caught him in the house—Taggert will arrest him and you know he’ll get stuck in jail. I can give permission. I can help—”

“I’m worried about Carly, too,” Emily said. “But you matter more to me. And I know how your brain thinks—you’re blaming yourself. If you hadn’t lost the baby—”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. God. If she hadn’t lost the baby, she’d be trapped now even more. There’d be no way out. No one to help. And just the small sliver of relief that had crawled into her heart at not being tied to Ric Lansing through a child made her feel so goddamn disgusted with herself.

“Don’t sacrifice yourself because you think no one cares,” Emily said quietly, her dark eyes burning into Elizabeth’s. “I care. You are my best friend. Bobbie cares. My mother cares. Nikolas cares. There are people who love you, Elizabeth.”

And where had any of them been last year? When she’d been drowning after the kidnapping and the crypt? When she had learned her grandmother had died, when she’d been left with an estate to settle, family to grieve. No one had come home to be with her. No one had come to the memorial with her. Held her hand. Held her as she sobbed.

Gram’s friends had sat through the service, but most had made excuses not to go to the reception Elizabeth had tried to arrange at the Port Charles Hotel or had left as quickly as they’d arrived.

Only Ric had showed up. Only Ric had sat beside her. Only Ric had cared.

Of course, that had been a gigantic lie—he’d been using her from the first moment he’d met her. Had only sought her out because she was connected to Jason and Sonny. Joke was on him, she thought bitterly. She didn’t matter to them either.

But Emily looked upset, so Elizabeth sighed. This would pass. Emily would worry, they would find Carly, and then it would go back to the way it had been for the last few years. Two ships passing in the night.

“I’m not trying to get myself killed,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “I’m just trying to help the best way I can. I can’t fight the feeling that there’s something in the house—Ric didn’t want them to search. He wasn’t gone that long. There’s something there.”

“Okay.” Emily lifted a shoulder. “Okay. I know that face. I know better than to argue because now I’m just wasting breath. Jason said you promised to keep in contact with him. You’ll do that, right?”

Sure. Jason worried about her. He was a good person, but hadn’t he given in, too? Hadn’t he stopped arguing? Everyone knew Elizabeth was right. Ric was her problem to fix, Carly was her fault. And the only way Elizabeth could be of use to anyone was to stay in the house and make sure they could find Carly.

“I promise, Emily.” Elizabeth raised the glass of iced tea to her lips and let the cool liquid slide down her throat. Her throat was raw from the morning, and the tea settled uncomfortably in her empty stomach.  “And you’ll be home in a few months anyway—”

“I guess.” Emily sighed. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here but getting into the internship at GH in the fall—it only works if I finish this program.”

“All you could do here is hold my hand, and I’d rather you were doing something that matters. You’re going to be a doctor, Em. I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, we’ll celebrate when I come home in August.” Emily bit her lip. “Liz, if you change your mind—you just go to the airport. You call me, and I’ll have a ticket waiting. Don’t let that get in your way.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly and forced a smile on her face. “Don’t worry. I—I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing.”

PCPD: Squad Room

Taggert scowled as he sifted through the paperwork and photographs they’d taken from Harborview Towers that morning. He had finally gotten the chance to get inside the inner sanctum of the Corinthos Organization and what did he have to show for it?

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Just a bunch of paperwork about coffee exporting.

He looked over as the rookie assigned to his squad came out of the locker room area, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue. “Rodriguez, you’re supposed to be at the Lansing house.”

Cruz furrowed his brow and joined Taggert at his desk. “What do you mean? I was. I spent the night outside and then left when my shift was over. I told Capelli—he said you’d send over another uniform—”

“Goddamn it.” Taggert lunged out of his seat and towards the roster schedule. “Capelli!” That goddamn idiot—no one had called in for a new patrol and the Lansing house had been left unsecured for almost—he glanced at his watch—eight fucking hours. It was already four in the afternoon—

Did he have to do everything around here?

“What’s your problem?” Capelli said, sauntering in from the break room, a cup of coffee in his hand. “You need to get some sleep—”

“Why the hell didn’t you send another uniform over to the Lansing place?” Taggert demanded.

“Figured the kid would take a double,” Capelli said with a shrug. “You’re not showing a lot of initiative, rookie,” he said to Cruz who blinked in surprise.

“It was literally his first shift,” Taggert said through clenched teeth. “Who knows what the hell is going on over there? He could have had her in that house and moved her by now—”

“Relax.” Capelli flicked some crumbs from his shirt. “She was never in the house anyway. We looked.”

Sure, they’d looked, but it didn’t mean that they hadn’t missed something. Why did Lansing drug his wife if he wasn’t planning to stash Carly at the house at least temporarily?

“Capelli—”

“Besides.” His partner slapped a file at his chest. “We got a lead.” He nodded to Cruz. “You’ll want to hear this. I can prove this is a mob hit.”

Taggert flinched at the word. He didn’t want to think of Carly as already beyond their help—as a body they were just trying to find. She was a pregnant woman, the daughter of his landlord. He liked Bobbie, liked Carly’s kid despite his family connections.

“How?” Taggert asked. “There’s none of the markers—”

“Ric Lansing’s background came back. Take a look.”

Taggert sighed and opened the file. He skimmed—his heart started to pound—then raised his eyes. “His father is Trevor Lansing, lead counsel for Zacchara Trucking.”

“As in Anthony Zacchara?” Cruz asked. “Didn’t he take over for the Gambinos in Manhattan?”

“Yes, yes, he did.” Capelli grinned, raised his coffee cup in salute. “Mob hit. Taking out the wife. I bet Trevor got himself tangled up in the Zaccharas just to get at Sonny.”

“I can buy that Ric Lansing has a hard on because his mother chose to raise Sonny, but I’m not seeing it for a grown ass man who made the demand in the first place,” Taggert muttered, even as he continued to look through the file. “Ric has had himself an interesting job history. Counsel of record for Luis Alcazar until the man went over the balcony, wonder why that never came up. And—look at this—”

Taggert touched a canceled check on the last page of Ric’s financial records. “Why is Ned Ashton paying Ric Lansing for legal advice? The lawyer of the man who killed his fiancée?” He closed the file and slapped it back at Capelli. “But I still don’t buy this is a mob hit.”

“If they didn’t take Carly to get rid of her,” Capelli said, “then maybe they’re just trying to get leverage. You remember two years ago? There were rumors Zacchara was sick, and one of the Vega kids tried to ham in on the cigarette trade.”

“They never did find all of the pieces of the wife,” Taggert murmured. “He probably should have made the deal.” He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can buy that Corinthos and Morgan have something Zacchara wants. Probably why Lansing came to town in the first place.”

“And why he hooked up with the wife. She’s been mixed up with those idiots for years,” Capelli said. “You think she’s in on this? Looking for revenge?”

“No,” Cruz said without thinking. Both older detectives looked at him and he swallowed hard. “I mean, I just—I met her. But she looked pretty upset yesterday. Sick, too. And she—I think she thinks her husband is involved. She acted one way when Ric was with you guys—talking to that Morgan guy. And then she flipped a switch when you all came back.”

“She’s smart,” Taggert murmured, but now he was worried. If Lansing had drugged her once—would he drug her again? Would he hurt her even more? “Cruz…until further notice, I want you on the house. I want you to pull that other kid who just started—the one on the patrol?”

“Dante?”

“Yeah. Rotate shifts with him. Can you both pull twelve hour shifts for a few days?” Taggert exhaled slowly. “I know it’s a lot to ask so soon, but I got a bad feeling. I want someone on Elizabeth Webber at all times. At least for now.”

“I’m sure Dante wouldn’t care, but we could also use Lucky—I know you didn’t want him on this—”

“I don’t,” Taggert admitted. “And he’s not assigned to me, he’s assigned to Esposito. But—” Lucky might have a vested interest in doing right by Carly and Elizabeth. “You and the other kid—you take the first day. I’ll try to get Lucky assigned to this detail.”

He looked to Capelli. “We need to get those warrants for the business records before Corinthos and Morgan can shred any connection. Zacchara is the key to this.”

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

It had been more than twenty-four hours since Sonny had slept.  He hadn’t even gone into his bedroom and had decided, arbitrarily so, that he wouldn’t go near that room until Carly was home. Until they could go to bed together.

Michael was asleep in his room with a worried Leticia standing guard. He’d finally cried himself to sleep the night before and had been upset most of the day. He’d wanted Jason, he’d wanted his mother, he’d wanted Aunt Courtney—

He wanted safety and security, and Sonny couldn’t give that to him right now.

Not until he found his wife and brought her home.

“Thanks for coming so fast,” Sonny told the two men who had just been shown into the penthouse by Max. Both of the men wore familiar faces—but only one of them was known to Sonny. Justus Ward had immediately flown in from Philadelphia, promising to keep the PCPD at bay at least for a little while.

And Bernie Abrams, brother to the deceased and dearly missed Benny, was there to make sense of the mess that had taken over their lives since Benny’s death in March.

“I’ve drawn up paperwork,” Justus began, “to inform the PCPD that no one will be allowed on the premises without a search warrant and revoking any right that Courtney Matthews has to give permission to search either penthouse.” He hesitated. “I had to…use some legal language that might be bit harsh about Jason’s place. It basically calls her a squatter who has residential rights but no legal authority. You might want to make sure she never sees this.”

“I could not care less right now,” Sonny said, his blood still simmering at the perfidy and stupidity of his sister, the woman Jason had nearly married. Well, that was as good as over—there was no way Jason was going to be able to trust Courtney again after not only calling the police but allowing them to search their homes. “Whatever it takes.”

“Do we want to think about making an appeal to the media?” Justus asked. “I’m aware you already have an idea of who did this, Sonny, but it might put public pressure on the PCPD to stay out of your hair—”

“My contact—” Bernie flushed slightly. “He was my brother’s contact, I mean, but at any rate, the DA’s office is writing up warrants for the warehouse and the coffee house.”

“We haven’t even opened the goddamn place yet,” Sonny muttered, raking his hands through hair. His eyes felt gritty and he just wanted to lay down. This was all a dream. A horrible nightmare.

He wanted his wife back.

“They’re going to come up with some bullshit reason to grant the search warrants,” Sonny said, “so we gotta clear out the warehouses. We got stay a step ahead of them. Bernie, I need you to get my guys together. Johnny—he’s running the warehouses. You get him, and Francis on security, and Tommy—he’s my bookie guy. Get them all. We need to have a status meeting. It needs to be now.” He looked at Justus. “How much insulation do you want?”

“I’ll worry about that after Carly is found, Sonny,” Justus told him. “Don’t think about that right now. I’ll work on a press release, and Bernie and I will sort through the paperwork while you’re making sure everything is ready for the prying eyes of the PCPD.”

Max knocked on the door and opened it slightly. “Hey, Boss….your, ah, sister was hoping to check on you—”

“No,” Sonny said bluntly. “I’m not interested.” When Max shut the door, Sonny looked at Bernie and Justus. “This—all of this is because Courtney called them. I can’t make a fucking move to find my wife because everyone is watching me.”

“You know Jason is going find her,” Justus said. “He won’t rest until he does.”

“She’s my wife,” Sonny growled. “I should be finding her.” He poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and then drank it in one thirsty gulp. “Let’s get to work. Carly is screwed if Jason and I end up in jail.”

Kelly’s: Parking Lot

Emily slid off the hood of her car as Jason’s motorcycle parked in the spot next to hers. “Hey. I know you’re busy—”

“I wanted to say goodbye.” Jason embraced his sister tightly. “Thank you. I know you don’t want to leave.”

“No, but…” Emily bit her lip. “Any news?” She folded her arms. “I mean, that’s a stupid question, but—”

“Nothing. It’s like she vanished into thin air. I’ve had someone watching Lansing all day—he hasn’t left the house.” Jason shook his head, frustrated. “She has to be in the house, but I don’t know how. The PCPD searched it, and they’re morons, but they’re not that bad.”

“That’s what Elizabeth says. She just has this feeling that the answer is in the house.” Emily closed her eyes. “The only reason I’m leaving is because you said it will be easier for her to lie to Ric if I’m not here challenging her, but I feel like leaving just convinces her that no one cares about her.”

“I can’t—I tried to convince her to leave, Em. If I put her on that plane without her permission, she’d just come right back.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I could have said to change her mind. If almost overdosing didn’t convince her, nothing will.”

“Well, maybe we just need another voice of reason. Bobbie is going to try to talk to her, and if that doesn’t work—” Emily hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to find Carly. I do. I don’t like her, but I love you. And she matters to you. And I love Michael, and I know he loves his mother. But Elizabeth is risking her life, and I’m just—I’m scared. I thought about calling Lucky to see if his dad would help.”

“Luke’s been pretty useless since Laura got sick,” Jason told her with a bit a regret. “I don’t know what—”

“Luke doesn’t have your penchant for letting people make their own decisions. Yeah, if you made Liz get on that plane with me, she’d come right home. But Luke would just lock her up until it was safe.” Emily leaned her forehead against her brother’s chest. “I haven’t been the kind of friend she needed. I know I’m abandoning her. Please don’t let her do this alone.”

“I’m not—”

“Because she blames herself for all of it. This is how she’s going to make it right. That’s what she’s telling herself.” Emily’s voice broke. “She’s so lost and broken, Jason. Her husband nearly killed her, and she doesn’t have enough goddamn sense to just leave. You’d find Carly without her staying here—she says she doesn’t have a death wish but how else to explain it—”

“I promise you, Emily,” Jason took his sister by the shoulders and Emily looked up at him. “I am not going to let Elizabeth do this alone. If there are answers in that house, we’ll find them in a few days. And if we don’t, there’s no reason to let her stay.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to let her down again.”

Elizabeth’s Studio

Elizabeth ran her fingers over the flip phone that the guard had delivered to her. He was apparently her guard, the man who called himself Cody Paul said. He wouldn’t drive her around, but he’d follow her. His number was in the phone, right after Jason’s. Both of them on the speed dial.

Just an extra reassurance that someone was always close, someone would always be there to help.

And now she had to go home. To figure out a way to go back to the house and to being Ric’s wife. Would he let her sleep in the other room again? Maybe she should tell him she got sick at the studio. Maybe she should guilt him the way that he did her, make him feel sorry for trying to kill her with drugs.

She opened the phone and looked at the speed dials—there were only two programmed. Jason was number two, Cody number three. She committed that to memory, then pressed two.

“Elizabeth.”

“I got the phone,” she told him. “I just—I figured you’d know when I got it—and if you meant it about checking in—”

“Every hour,” Jason cut in. “Except, I guess, when you sleep. But every hour.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth slowly exhaled. “Okay. And I got—Cody is here. Um, thank you.”

“The minute you want to get out of this, you tell Cody. He has instructions to take you to a safe house or put you on a plane to Emily,” Jason said. “I will always take your call, but I don’t—the cops are all over us and I wanted you to have options if I can’t be there.”

Her eyes burned, and she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Okay.”

There was a knock on her sturdy studio door—the one that Jason given her the year before. Cody opened it slightly. “Bobbie Spencer, Miss Webber.”

“I have to go,” she told Jason. “I’ll call you back in an hour.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

She closed the phone, then waved for Cody to let Bobbie in. The redhead bustled in, crossed the room, and drew Elizabeth into a tight hug. “You are scaring the life out of me, Elizabeth Webber.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. She drew back, wiping her eyes. “Did Jason or Emily send you?”

“Monica, actually,” Bobbie told her. She took Elizabeth’s chin in her hands and peered into her eyes. “I saw your chart on the desk, and I broke all the codes and rules. I looked up your visit today. Goddamn it, Elizabeth. The levels of benzos in your blood gave me the chills.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I know. I know what you’re going to say.”

“I know that Jason, Emily, and Monica have already tried to talk to you. I know that Monica nearly called in a psych consult.” Bobbie took Elizabeth’s arms, wrapping her hands around them just below Elizabeth’s elbows. “The risk you are taking to help my daughter, it humbles me because I know you don’t like one another. But don’t do it. Let Jason and Sonny handle it.”

“They told me months ago that Ric was a mistake, but I ignored them. I let Ric into my life, into my heart—I let his lies put me in a prison cell, lock me away from everyone who I could have reached for—” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I can’t let him get away with this. Please don’t ask me to be weak, Bobbie. I can do this. I can make this right.”

“Okay.” Bobbie embraced her again. “Okay. I’m sure Jason has taken all the precautions he could. I saw the guard. I guess that’s the phone he said he’d give you. You put me on that speed dial, too, Elizabeth. You take care of yourself.” Tears slid down her cheek. “And, oh, God, find my daughter. Please. I need to have her back.”

“We’re going to find Carly.” Elizabeth returned the hug even more tightly. Finally, she was in the strong position. Giving comfort. “I won’t rest until I do.”

When I pretend
Everything is what I want it to be
I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see
When I pretend
I can forget about the criminal I am
Stealing second after second just cause I know I can, but
I can’t pretend this is the way it will stay, I’m just
Trying to bend the truth
I can’t pretend I’m who you want me to be
So I’m
Lying my way from you
– Lying From You, Linkin Park

________________________

Saturday, June 20, 2003

Brownstone: Foyer

Bobbie kicked off her heels almost as soon as she walked through her front door and frowned when she saw the light filtering out from the living room and voices.

“What are you doing up?” she demanded as she crossed the threshold. “It’s after three—Lucky?”

Her nephew rose from the sofa where he had been sitting next to his sister. In the armchair under the window, Lucas sipped from a bright orange mug with the General Hospital logo. In her bewildered fatigue, Bobbie wondered when her son had started to drink coffee.

“Lu called me around midnight when you didn’t come back.” Lucky slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I had already heard some rumors, so I called the station and they told me you were in interrogation.”

“What’s the deal?” Lucas demanded. “Monica told us the wedding was off and we should all go home. But Lucky says Carly is missing, and you were with the police.”

Bobbie hesitated, looked at Lucky. “What do you know?”

“Cruz Rodriguez is a friend of mine from the academy,” Lucky explained. “He was the uniform that went to the house.” His face was lined with worry. “He said that Ric Lansing is the primary suspect in Carly’s kidnapping, that Taggert and Capelli think Lansing drugged Elizabeth—” He shook his head. “What’s going on, Aunt Bobbie?”

Bobbie sighed and sat next to Lulu. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “They questioned me for hours but there was nothing to tell them. When we got to the house, Jason was checking Elizabeth’s pulse. Something is definitely wrong, but she refused to leave.”

“Yeah, Cruz said he was going to take the overnight shift in case she changed her mind.” Lucky hesitated. “I called in, offered to take tomorrow’s shift but Taggert doesn’t want me on the case. Dad’s partnership with Sonny and my relationship with Elizabeth—” His mouth pinched. “They’re going to keep me out of it, I know it.”

“Jason said he’s going to go back when they let him and Sonny go, but—”

Lucky shook his head. “They’re going to hold them until a lawyer forces their hand.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Why the hell would Lansing do this?”

“He hates Sonny,” Lulu offered. They all looked at her, frowning, and she just shrugged. “What? I hear stuff. I  was at Kelly’s with Georgie, and Courtney came in after they found out about Sonny and Ric being brothers.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Lots of people hate Sonny—”

“Lansing accused Sonny of pushing Elizabeth when she had her miscarriage,” Lucky said. “I was signing paperwork for human resources when he came in, demanding an investigation. No evidence she was pushed, and Elizabeth refused to say anything on the record, so nothing happened.”

Bobbie closed her eyes. “God. I can’t. I don’t know where she is. Or how he could have—it was less than thirty minutes between Carly going missing and Jason and Sonny going to the house. They searched the whole place. Where could he have taken her?”

“Maybe he had help,” Lucas suggested. “Mom. Hey.” Bobbie looked up. Met her son’s eyes. “She’s never going to be my favorite person, but you love her. Carly’s too stubborn to go out like this. She’s going to fight tooth and nail, so we have to stay positive.”

“Yeah, Aunt Bobbie.” Lulu stood and pulled Bobbie up. “We’ve been in these uncomfortable dresses for hours. Why don’t we go get into something more comfortable. Maybe get something to eat.”

“Try to sleep, Aunt Bobbie.” Lucky embraced her tightly. “You need to keep your strength up.”

Bobbie just sighed, shook her head. She was too exhausted, too terrified to argue, and allowed her niece to lead her out of the room.

Once he heard his aunt’s bedroom door close, Lucky released a long breath, and looked back to Lucas. “She’s too tired to think it through, but—”

“Lansing kidnapped a pregnant woman,” Lucas said with a shrug. “The wife of a man he already hated. The man he blames for the loss of his child. Yeah, I’m not an idiot, Lucky. I’ve seen this movie.” He shook his head. “I don’t like my sister, but I’m human. And this is…”

“Horrifying,” Lucky murmured. He and Elizabeth were no longer close…and the intimacy and passion he’d once felt for her had been all but destroyed by Helena Cassadine’s last brainwashing, but he objectively knew she’d been important to him. That she remained important to Emily and Nikolas.

That she had stayed, kept herself in danger…that she might have been drugged by the man who was supposed to take care of her…

“I’m going to try to keep my hand in,” Lucky said. “Take care of your mom. I’ll call when I know something.”

Harborview Towers: Parking Garage

Sonny scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at the head of security with disgust. “What?”

Francis Corelli winced at the scathing anger in his boss’s face. “The PCPD is searching both penthouses as we speak. We tried to keep them out but—”

“How the hell could they get a search warrant so fast?” Jason demanded.

They had been kept at the PCPD until dawn broke over the city and an exhausted Mac Scorpio had told Taggert and Capelli to let them loose. They had gone back to the Lansing home where a bleary-eyed Cruz Rodriguez still sat in a patrol car at the curb. No sounds from inside the house, and Ric hadn’t left.

Neither had Elizabeth.

With Rodriguez standing guard, Jason could hardly storm the house, pick Elizabeth up, and carry her out if she didn’t cooperate. Not without getting tossed into a jail cell, and that wouldn’t solve anything.

But he would get her out of the damn house today if it killed him.

Francis hesitated, and Sonny glared at him. “Answer the goddamn question. Did you see the fucking warrants?”

And then Jason knew why the other man looked so uncomfortable. He closed his eyes. “Courtney let them in.”

“Yeah,” Francis admitted. “I tried to keep them out of your place, Sonny, but she told Taggert she’d been staying there off and on—and her legal residence is your place, Jason—”

“And it’s not like the PCPD is going to argue with someone just letting them in,” Sonny muttered. “Did we not go over the rules with her? She called the police and we wasted hours—” He growled. “They’re not going to stop with the penthouses.”

“They’re probably trying to get warrants for the warehouse. For the other properties—”

“Damn it,” Sonny swore. “We haven’t replaced Benny or found a lawyer—” He clenched his fists. “My wife is missing. That sociopath has her somewhere and every time I turn around, my own fucking sister is helping the police fuck me over—”

“I’ll find Carly,” Jason said, his voice tight. “You deal with the police. Get someone in here to look at the books. Get a lawyer on retainer. You keep the PCPD out of my face. I—” He took a deep breath. “Elizabeth offered to help us with Ric. If she’s still willing today when whatever he gave her wears off, I’ll have to let her. Because he did this, Sonny. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but he’s behind this.”

“Yeah.” Sonny exhaled slowly. “Where is my sister?” he bit out to Francis. “Helping the goddamn police go through our things?”

“She’s supervising, yeah,” Francis said with another wince.

“We’d better get upstairs and revoke permission for this fucking search.” Sonny shook his head. “I knew she wasn’t cut out for any of this.”

Jason ignored him as they got onto the elevator, but he knew his partner was right. He had intended to marry Courtney because he cared about her and because she understood his life.

But in the last twelve hours, she proved definitely that understanding and actively supporting that life were very different.

Lansing Home: Kitchen

Ric watched as Elizabeth pushed her fork around her plate, gently moving the pieces of her Eggs Benedict from one side to the other.

She had hadn’t much of an appetite in weeks—he knew that. It had been suppressed by the Valium he slipped into her meals and drinks. She rarely ate, rarely slept, and spent most of her time in that run-down studio. His jaw clenched at the thought she preferred that fire trap to the beautiful home he’d given her, but Ric forced himself to relax.

Elizabeth was just…she was grieving over their loss, just as he was. They were just handling it in different ways. He was going to get justice and give her a baby to raise, and she was just trying to survive.

They could start trying for a baby—or at least pretending—Ric told himself—in another few weeks. It took time to make sure the birth control he’d begun to give her was working effectively—and she still needed time to recover, her doctor had told them that.

And in a few months, when there was no baby, Ric could gently talk to her about adoption. She’d be ready for a baby when Carly was due in November. He would have laid the foundation.

It really was the perfect solution—Elizabeth wouldn’t even have to get pregnant and carry a child. It was better for them, and maybe they would always adopt. If he got a vasectomy, surely, Elizabeth would never question their lack of conception.

She’d blame herself, Ric knew that. He was counting on it. She would want to fix it and would never argue with his solution. But this morning, as Ric watched her barely eat anything, as she only drank half her orange juice—he worried that it was more than just her appetite keeping her from eating the food he prepared.

“You believed him,” he said without thinking. “You’re not eating.” He forced a hurt tone into his voice to mask his fury. How dare she believe Jason Morgan instead of him? “You think I’m trying to drug you.”

“What?” Elizabeth blinked at him, her eyes a bit tired. Shadowed. The circles were deep grooves beneath her eyes, a sickly dark purple. “What? N-No.” She swallowed hard. “No, of course—I just—” Her eyes filled, and she bowed her head. “They made me remember the baby.”

Oh. Of course. His angel. Ric sat next to her, touched her shoulder and if she flinched, he told himself it because she was so upset. That he had upset her by making her think about the baby again. “They’ll find Carly. Sonny has so many enemies, they probably just started with the last known conflict.”

Elizabeth nodded. She picked up her fork and ate a bite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I-I should eat more.” She reached for her orange juice, took a long swig.

Ric grimaced—this was going to backfire. She was trying so hard to convince him now—she quickly finished the orange juice and most of her breakfast.  Which meant she’d ingested double the dosage of the birth control he’d meant to give her—and he’d already doubled it up in case she only drank or ate one or the other. Not to mention the six pills of Valium he’d slipped into various elements of her breakfast. On top of the dosage from the night before…

He rolled his shoulders. Well, it was just once. He wouldn’t guilt her about eating again—clearly, she hadn’t believed Jason and Sonny. She could sleep off any bit of extra Valium at the studio—as long as he got her out of here before they kicked in.

Maybe he should offer to drive her—

“I should get going.” Elizabeth pushed herself away from the table. “I—I promised Emily—she’s going back today—and I wanted to see what happened last night. If they know anything.”

“Of course.” Uneasy, Ric watched as she left. Should he follow her to the studio? But…he had to stay here, to check on Carly—to make sure Jason and Sonny didn’t come by and search again. And…

She was gone before he’d made up his mind. He would call her later to make sure she got there, and he’d just have to be more careful in the future.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.

She was supposed to be married right now—she and Jason were supposed to be leaving for a honeymoon on the island. Instead, Jason’s mother had gleefully told everyone the wedding was off—her fiancé and brother were barely speaking to her, her nephew was all but traumatized—

And Carly was missing.

Courtney bit her nails as the last of the PCPD offices exited the penthouse. Jason and Sonny had arrived home only minutes earlier but the cops had already finished their search of the Corinthos penthouse, and were now here. Jason had tried to revoke permission, but the cops had already started their search and Capelli threatened to arrest Jason for interfering.  Without a lawyer on retainer, Jason had probably not wanted to spend any more time with at the police station.

So, Jason had waited, glowering with rage as Taggert and Capelli had finished up, then left.

Sonny was across the hall doing damage control of his own, but Courtney couldn’t understand why they were so angry. They didn’t keep anything worthwhile at the penthouse, and if it helped them find Carly faster, what was the issue? Wasn’t that the goal?

If Ric had taken Carly, shouldn’t that come above all this other crap?

Jason slammed the door shut behind the cops and turned back to face her, his hair mussed, the tie of his tux undone, dangling against the creased white of his shirt. The jacket had long ago been discarded.

“You called the cops,” he said in a low, even tone. “Why?”

“Why?” Courtney stared at him. “Ric kidnapped her—of course I called them. Ric wasn’t going to let you in the house to search—the cops could make him—”

Jason laughed then, but it was a sour, angry sound that she had never ever heard from him before. A chill slithered down her spine. She hurried to continue. To explain. If he would only try to understand how scared and desperate she’d been. “I had to let them in here—they said getting warrants would just make them think we did something to Carly, and it was a waste of time—”

“I was so close to getting her out of there,” Jason murmured, shaking his head. “Five more minutes, we could have taken care of Ric, I could have gotten Elizabeth to go with Bobbie to the hospital—and we could have torn that house apart.”

Courtney scowled at the mention of Jason’s ex-girlfriend. “You’re more worried about her, aren’t you?” she demanded. “Carly wasn’t at the house—you heard the cops—”

“How hard do you think Taggert and Cappelli looked?” Jason demanded. “They didn’t think he had enough time—”

“He didn’t.” Courtney huffed. “Maybe Michael was wrong. He’s only a little boy, you know. Maybe the guy just looked like Ric. Maybe it was someone else who hates you.” There had to be a long goddamn list of people Jason and Sonny had pissed off.

“I thought you understood,” Jason said with another shake of his head. “There are no circumstances, ever, that we cooperate with the police. Not as a first resort, and we sure as hell don’t call them in when we haven’t secured the scene—”

“Listen to yourself,” Courtney scoffed. “Secured the scene. Who the hell do you think you are? My best friend is missing—”

“You know who the hell I am!” Jason shot back, his face red. “You know who your brother is.” He jabbed a finger at her. “What the hell did you think all this was about? Did you think it was a game?”

“Carly’s missing, so it’s hardly a game,” Courtney snarled. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “And you’re just wasting time. You should be finding Carly.”

“I wish I could only worry about finding Carly, but now I gotta make sure our business papers are in order because I can’t do a hell of a lot if Sonny and I are fighting off warrants and raids.” He shook his head with a sharp jerk. “I’m getting changed. Don’t let them in again.”

“This is my home, too,” Courtney said. “You don’t have a right to tell me—”

Jason glared at her as he started up the stairs. “My name is on the lease. You’re a guest. I pay for everything. You let the cops in again, Courtney, and that’s it.”

Tears burned her eyes. “That’s the deal breaker? You said you loved me.”

He turned to face her, and the expression almost had her take an actual step back. “You know who I am. You said you could handle it. Maybe you’d better think about that. I got things that have to get done.”

“Damn it, Jason—” She almost followed him, but she was terrified that he was perilously close to just throwing her out entirely. Maybe she’d been wrong, but why wasn’t he even trying to see it from her side?

She was terrified—she just wanted to find Carly like the rest of them. She had to do whatever she believed was right, no matter what the cost.

She and Jason—they would just sort it out after it was over.

PCPD: Locker Room

Lucky took a seat next to to Cruz who was staring blankly at his open locker. “You look like hell, man.”

“Yeah.” Cruz rolled his shoulders, nodded to Dante to sat on his other side. “I just got off—I sat in front of the Lansing house until about—” He looked at his watch, then dragged a hand through his hair. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah? Why?” Dante frowned. “I thought the overnight report said there was nothing at the house.”

“Something’s not right,” Cruz insisted. “I got there last night, and Corinthos and Morgan are there—but they’re not tearing the house apart. They’re with Lansing and his wife.”

“You said Elizabeth looked like she’d been drugged,” Lucky said quietly. “How did you—”

“She looks a bit spacey, like maybe she’s high.” Cruz exhaled slowly. “Morgan’s sister, the mother-in-law—I guess that’s your aunt. They’re there. And they’re begging the wife to leave, but she’s refusing. And there’s this weird tension in the air. If Morgan wasn’t in a tux, if we literally weren’t only allowed in the house because she’s married to the asshole—there’s just something…Morgan wanted her out of the house. He came back today.” He managed a half smile. “And I gave him a report. I’m sure Taggert will cut off my balls if he finds out.”

“Jason and Elizabeth used to kind of date,” Lucky said. “Or something. I don’t know. It’s…it’s complicated.” And it brought him back to all the swiss cheese holes in his memory. He knew that there had been a romantic past for Jason and Elizabeth the same way he knew he’d once been engaged to Elizabeth.

But the memories were mostly gone and so were the emotions.

“Well, that explains it. Maybe both their marriages were just rebounds. I bet Morgan never walks down the aisle with the twit who called us in.”

“Yeah, I heard Taggert and Capelli when they got back from the searches.” Dante shook his head, changed into his uniform shirt and started to button it. “She actually let them search both penthouses.”

Lucky exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine his mother letting the PCPD just blindly search their home with Luke being part of the decision—but Laura Spencer had always had a better understanding of life and her husband’s place in the world.

“But there are no leads on Carly?” Lucky asked.

Cruz hesitated. “They really don’t want you involved, Lucky, but…” he shrugged. “No. Capelli isn’t sure Lansing did it, but I guess the wife’s condition convinced Taggert. He actually—he almost seemed to be on the same page as Morgan last night. They’re going to split the search — Capelli is going to look into all the other connections while Taggert takes on the Lansing stuff. They’re pulling his background now. I think Capelli is going to use this to go after Corinthos and Morgan. He’s trying to get warrants for the businesses.”

Dante frowned. “What is that going to prove? This is the shit I’m talking about. I don’t even know these people, but just from the reports I read—it’s clear that they’re not involved. I mean, why go right to searching their properties? If Carly’s on them, they’ll find her. They don’t need the PCPD to search for them—”

“Welcome to the PCPD, where truth, justice, and the American way are just words,” Lucky said. He sighed and pinned his badge to his shirt. “I have to go watch your cousin Vinnie do a lot of nothing all day.”

“See, if you just say his name that way, at least you get to have a small laugh.”

“It keeps me from crying.”

Elizabeth’s Studio

Elizabeth forced her eyes open—the chirping from inside the bag had jarred her from a restless sleep—and now her head hurt. Her body felt heavy as if someone was sitting on it—

Someone was at her side. Saying her name. She could feel someone’s fingers at her wrist.

“Elizabeth?”

She tried to focus, tried to find the voice. It was Jason. He sounded worried. She missed the sound of his voice, the times when he smiled. Sometimes he even laughed.

“Elizabeth?” A hand cradled her neck and she felt herself being lifted into a sitting position. The movement caused her stomach to lurch and before she could stop herself—

Elizabeth rolled on her side and threw up.  She was dimly aware of Jason edging out of the way quickly, and then dragging a trash can over for her to finish up. She kept heaving until her throat was raw, until her eyes were burning with tears, and her hands were shaking.

“You have to let me take you to the hospital,” Jason told her. “He gave you something this morning—I couldn’t find your pulse—” He swallowed hard, then shook his head. He got to his feet, then crossed to the sink and wet a napkin. He gave it to her.

Elizabeth pressed it to her face. God, everything hurt, and she was humiliated. Disgusted. She had just thrown up all over her floor—probably had splashed him—and she just wanted to go back to sleep.

She just wanted to sleep.

Her eyes started to drift shut again, but Jason shook her sharply. “Don’t you dare,” he snapped, fear threading in his voice, making it higher than she remembered. “Stay awake, do you hear me, Elizabeth?”

Jason wanted her to stay awake. It sounded important. And—and wasn’t there something she was supposed to be doing?

“J-Jason?” Elizabeth coughed as his name was swallowed by the rasp in her throat. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said with steel in his voice. She grimaced, shook her head, but he stood up, grabbed her purse, tossed it at her, and then lifted her into his arms. “This time, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

General Hospital: Emergency Room

Monica closed the curtain and stepped back out to see Jason who was pacing back and forth. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days—his hair sticking up on end, his eyes wild—and his black shirt was stained in some places. She made a mental note to offer him a scrub top to change into as she suspected the stains were from vomit.

“How is she?” Jason demanded. “I know you can’t give me—”

“She told me to tell you anything you wanted to know,” Monica murmured. “Take a deep breath, Jason.” She held his hands up. “Look at me. You got to her in time. She’d already thrown up the worst of it, and we were able to pump her stomach.” Her voice cracked as she continued to speak. “The stick was positive for benzos. There was enough—it was quadruple the recommended dose. And that’s a few hours after she ingested it.”

His eyes glinted and narrowed until the pupils were nothing more than icy flints. “Quadruple.”

“I’m doing a follicle test.” Monica crossed her arms. “I know she’s been having a rough time, but I don’t think she’s the type to mess up her medication—and I’ve checked her charts. There’s no prescription for any Valium or anything else that might explain this.”

“Ric. He’s been drugging her,” Jason growled. He dipped his head. Took a deep breath. “Can you keep her?”

“She’s resting now, but she already said she wanted to be signed out. That Ric couldn’t find out she was here.” Monica chewed her lip. “I can get Social Services involved if you’re sure—she’s declined it, but I’ll—” She lifted her chin. “I’ll do it anyway.”

“If Ric knows she was here, then—” Jason closed his eyes. “Christ. I knew I should have dragged her out of that house. I let her stay.”

Monica exhaled, took a chance, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me. We need to figure out the best way to handle this.”

And it was a testament to how upset her son was that he followed her without a word. She led him into the break room and locked the door to keep anyone out. “Carly’s missing. I know that—it’s all over the news, and I talked to Bobbie and Emily. Ric is the top of the suspect list.”

“Yeah. We got to the house last night, and I found Elizabeth—not as bad as today—but she was drugged. Weaving around. She couldn’t keep herself straight. Talking in circles. But she started to come around the longer I kept her talking. She refused to leave. Because—”

“Because Ric wouldn’t let you or the cops search, but Elizabeth could give them permission.” Monica nodded. “Emily told me that when she came home. I’m aware of the situation, Jason. I know she thinks she needs to go back to the house to protect Carly. I cannot in good conscience let her do it. I took an oath, and she is not in her right mind if she puts herself back into that situation.”

“You think I like any of this?” Jason demanded. “Sorry,” he said immediately. He dragged his hands through his hair. “I went to talk to her today, just to figure out the next step—and she was barely breathing. I couldn’t find a pulse—I thought she was already—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I let her stay in that house.”

“It appears to me that you weren’t left with a lot of choices.” Monica sighed. “If I call in Social Services or a psych consult, the odds are that she would probably just talk her way out of it. She seemed pretty adamant that she had to get back to the house to find Carly. That she could only be useful if she stayed.”

“He probably gave her too much last night to make sure she’d sleep through whatever happened,” Jason said, more to himself. “And then—I think he gave her more this morning. He probably put it in everything—she’s not eating, and—”

“If a lot of the drug was in her breakfast, she’d get some of it.” Monica nodded. “She must have eaten more than he expected.”

“Probably to convince him that she didn’t believe me,” Jason muttered. “She’s going to get herself killed.” He shook his head. “He’d only give her so much and risk her leaving if her staying was against the plan. Carly. She has to be in that house somewhere. It’s the only explanation.”

“I can get her ready to leave,” Monica said reluctantly. “But I’m going to have to talk to Bobbie. Between the three of us—and maybe Emily—we need to figure out how to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. We all want to find Carly, Jason, but Elizabeth has to look out for herself. Her blood counts are all over the place—she is not in a good place, and it goes against everything I believe in to let her go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Thanks.” He rubbed his eyes. “Can—Can I see her?”

“Yeah. Do you want a change of clothes—” She gestured at his shirt. “She’s feeling mortified that she threw up on you—it’s not important in the scheme of things, but I think—”

“Yeah, yeah thanks.” He met her eyes and repeated himself. “Thank you. For taking her case personally. For helping me. Elizabeth—she matters.”

“She matters to me, too, Jason,” Monica told her though her heart warmed at the gratitude in his eyes. “Since she lost Audrey—”

“Audrey?” Jason repeated. “What happened to her?”

“She passed away in January.” Monica tilted her head. “You didn’t—you didn’t know? Elizabeth was a wreck, but Ric Lansing was there for her. Helped her settle the estate. Sell the house. Stood by her side at the funeral. He was definitely in the right place at the right time.” She grimaced. “I should have kept a better eye on her for Audrey and Steve. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”

Emergency Room: Cubicle

 Elizabeth sighed when Jason drew back the curtain and came into her examining area. Her cheeks flushed as she took in the bright blue scrub top he wore—she knew he’d changed his shirt because she’d vomited on him. God.

But her head felt clear—painfully clear—and Monica’s eyes had been sad as she’d delivered the preliminary blood results. She’d nearly died from an overdose of benzodiazepines, probably Valium. Whatever had been in her system from last night, plus whatever she’d eaten this morning—

Maybe she could have lived in denial about being drugged—but not now. There was proof. And the hair follicle test Monica had ordered would tell her just how long Ric had been poisoning her. Controlling her with drugs.

She shuddered. “Well. You were right.” Elizabeth closed her eyes as Jason came closer. “But you’re too nice to say so.”

“You’re not going back. We’ll figure out something else—”

“She’s in that house,” Elizabeth said flatly. “There’s no other reason he drugged me last night. He tried to confuse me. First, he told me I had barely dozed off, and then apparently, I came home and slept—but I know I came home at six. Carly only went missing around seven.”

“He didn’t have enough time to take her anywhere else.” Jason nodded. “Okay. So, she’s in the house. I don’t need you to be there—”

“You need me in that house. Because you can search his papers. You can know what he’s doing at all hours. I’ll let you put electronics in there. I’ll let you gut the fucking place to get her out—” Her voice broke. “You know why he kidnapped Carly, Jason. She’s pregnant.”

Jason shook his head. “We don’t know that—”

“He blamed Sonny for the miscarriage. He wanted the PCPD to arrest him for assault, for pushing me—Sonny would never do that, I told him that—but he was so angry, I was afraid of what would happen. It was all crushing down around me, you know, and I just knew something bad was going to happen—” Elizabeth forced herself to continue. “And then he came home with this house. It was a surprise. It was a new start. And that’s—I think the follicle test is going to tell you that I’ve been drugged for at least month. Because there’s a lot about this last month—I’ve got some holes. I thought I was sleeping too much—”

“Elizabeth—”

“He kidnapped Carly because she’s pregnant. I think he wants Sonny to suffer like we did when we lost the baby, but I just—it’s about that baby, Jason. We need to find Carly.”

He took her hand in his. “I know that,” Jason told her, his eyes locked on hers. “But I’m not going to let you kill yourself to do it—”

“You can’t stop me,” Elizabeth said. “You’ll have to tie me up and lock me away. Go tell your mother that I’m crazy and suicidal. She’s already halfway there. But you can’t stop me.”

“Carly’s already—I don’t know where she is,” Jason said, with a slight crack in his voice. “And about an hour ago, I found you without a pulse—I am not going to take any chances with your life.”

“It’s not your chance to take,” she said softly. She covered his hand with hers so that his larger hand was enveloped in both of hers. “I don’t have a death wish, Jason. I know Ric is poisoning me. He’s feeding me Valium to keep me under control. To keep me fuzzy and from asking questions. So that’s what I’ll give him. I’ll be the perfect wife.” She swallowed hard. “Whatever I have to do. I’ll find something to lead us to Carly. She’s in the house or there’s some sort of clue that will give us the answers.”

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “You don’t eat any or drink anything he gives you, do you understand me?” he told her. “Promise me.”

“I promise I’ll try,” Elizabeth said. “I—I may have to, sometimes. But I won’t eat or drink a lot. I promise. This won’t last long. We’ll find her, Jason. And then you can help me find a divorce attorney.” She managed a wisp of a smile. “Unless I somehow become a widow.”

Jason shook his head slightly at her small attempt at humor. “I’m going to get you a cell phone. You use that phone and you check in every goddamn hour. If you can’t get a hold of me, you can call Monica or Bobbie. I’m going to talk Emily into going back to California. Ric will never believe this if she’s still here.” He stared at her, his eyes burning with exhaustion, fear, worry— “Promise me. You’ll check in.”

“I promise.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Go tell Monica I need to get out of here. Ric is expecting me back.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but mercifully he didn’t. She wasn’t sure she had the energy for another go around. If he kept looking at her—kept making her think of everything she’d thrown away last year—

She might not be able to do what needed to be done.