WRitten in about 62 minutes.

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Friday, September 6, 2024

Corinthos & Morgan Warehouse: Parking Lot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Diane.”

“Elizabeth’s been arrested.”

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

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

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

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

“Diane—”

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

“Diane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PCPD: Interrogation Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Elizabeth said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

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

Charlie’s Pub: Dining Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things were starting to look up.

Webber House: Living Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like it had just been pulled from the dryer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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