Hey just a note — I decided not to use Ric in this story. Not because he couldn’t play a role — he absolutely could. But it was just an extra layer I didn’t want to deal with.  Written in 66 minutes.

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Thursday, September 11, 2024

Webber Home: Kitchen

Elizabeth leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, smiling faintly at the scene that would have seemed unbelievable only a few months earlier. Jason Morgan rinsing breakfast dishes and loading the dishwater. The water must have drowned out the sounds of her sock-clad steps down the steps and through the living room.

“You don’t have to do dishes, you know.”

Jason switched off the faucet, and turned to her, drying his hands on one of her dish towels. “Why not? I made some of them.” He leaned down, closed the dishwater, then turned it on. “I was hoping you’d sleep longer.”

“I’m surprised I slept at all.” She slid on to the stool and accepted the cup of coffee he handed her grateful. “I stared at the ceiling for a little while, but I slept better than I thought I would. Especially if I slept through  Jake and Aiden leaving for school.”

“They made some attempts to be quiet. I thought they’d argue about going to school at all,” Jason admitted, “but I guess they thought you might want some more…time.”

Elizabeth sighed, slowly twisting her mug one way, then the opposite. “I’m embarrassed I fell apart like that. I’m sorry you had to deal with that—” She paused when he just lifted his brows. “What?”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I knew you’d need time before you saw them, but I didn’t really think—” He hesitated. “I didn’t think about when you saw them. I should have.”

“You’re not psychic, Jason. And it’s not your job to manage my nervous breakdowns—it’s embarrassing that I lost it like that. The boys have must have been upset, and freaked out—”

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” he cut in, his tone gentle, and she shook her head.

“No, I’m supposed—not with them. You wouldn’t—” She paused, looked at him. “You don’t fall apart.”

He stepped closer, away from the back counter, towards her. “I usually punch someone. Or trash a room. Neither of which are good ideas or options while you were gone. The last thing any of us needed was me arrested at the Brown Dog for starting a bar fight.”

The implication that he’d wanted to hung between them for a beat, and then she cleared her throat. “No, probably not. One of us in jail at a time is probably for the best. Though my preference is neither of us. Which brings me to my next question. What’s next? Where do we start with clearing my name?”

“I told Diane I’d give her a call when and if you were ready to talk to day.”

“I am beyond ready to get this over with. I’m not enjoying my new accessory—” She held out her leg where the ankle monitor was strapped. “It’s really not the look for the fall season. Let’s call her and get started.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Anna tossed aside that morning’s edition of The Sun, with its bold headline declaring Elizabeth had been released on bail. She’d already skimmed the editorial from Curtis, attacking the local investigation.

What would they make of the voicemail she’d heard? And why hadn’t Jason told her John Cates was still harassing him? Anna would have made it go away — legally. And if Jason had been the one to lure Cates to the boathouse, who had pulled the trigger?

These questions had been percolating since Caldwell had left her office, and she was no closer to answer them now. Or in a position to even ask for more information.

She turned at the knock on her open door, relieved at the interruption — though it faded when she saw Molly entering, Chase on her heels. “Is there a meeting I forgot about?”

“No. But I wanted to get started as soon as possible this morning.” Molly held out the paper in her hand, and Anna reached for it, sliding her glasses on with the other hand. “AUSA Reynolds and SSA Caldwell have already been briefed on this.”

Anna skimmed it, then ripped her glasses off, got to her feet. “Are you insane? This is career suicide—”

Molly folded her arms. “You’re not my mother or my boss—”

“For me,” Anna bit out. “For me and my cops. We need the FBI and you’re torching the bridge—”

“We need an FBI that follows the evidence,” Molly cut in sharply. “Not the last name of the witnesses. This is the second case in a matter of weeks where the FBI saw the name Morgan or Corinthos and closed their eyes to everything else—”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too close to this—”

“Someone has to stand up for the people of this town. Robert’s already signed off, Anna. I don’t need your blessing or permission. It’s been done. The FBI is cut from all local resources, and we’ve opened our own investigation to run parallel—”

“They have jurisdiction—he was a bloody federal agent!”

“They have to prove it was in the line of duty, Anna. Official duty. And there’s not one piece of evidence in the file that supports that claim. They have witnesses that exonerate their suspect—”

“Damn it, Molly. You haven’t seen all of the evidence—”

“I saw what was in the probable cause statement. I know what they sent to the testing lab. I read Diane Miller’s motion to dismiss. Is there something damning I should know about?” Molly wanted to know. “Tell me, Anna. Is there something that proves Danny, Jake, and Michael are all lying about the timeline? That Monica was mistaken about what time Jason left her at the elevator? Something that explains why Jason or Elizabeth would allow Michael to call in the report when it confirmed time of death almost to the minute with them in the vicinity?”

Anna exhaled slowly. “You cannot simply destroy decades of cooperation between my department the federal government—”

“This is happening, Anna. You can get on board or be left behind.” Molly took a step towards her. “Someone is setting Elizabeth Webber up for a murder they committed. I’m not going to rest until I find out who they are.”

Anna pressed her lips together, looked at Chase who had remained quiet throughout the entire the confrontation. “And Detective Chase, what do you have to say?”

Chase met her gaze head on. “I’m not afraid to ruffle the FBI’s feathers when I know I’m right. The question you really don’t want any of us to ask is why are you?”

Anna inhaled sharply, looked at Molly, then back at Chase. “And what does that mean?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions, Commissioner. You had your chance. You can either agree to honor the memo set out, assign Chase and Dante temporarily to the DA’s office, or my office can open an investigation into the Pikeman case, and how a dangerous murderer was allowed to escape on your watch.”

Anna went cold, then slowly sat down. She picked up her glasses, leaned back in her chair. “All right then. Take Chase and Dante. And don’t complain to me when you find yourself in the same place as the federal government. They’re following the evidence, and you’re going to wish you’d stayed out of it.”

Hanley Federal Building: U.S Attorney’s Offices

Reynolds scribbled his name at the bottom of the clipboard, then handed it back to the clerk and began to skim the motion that had been just served—

The phone rang before he could reach for it himself, and he yanked it off the base. “Reynolds. I have to call you back—”

“My agents and I were just kicked out of the damn PCPD,” came Caldwell’s angry interruption.

“What? Why?” He stopped when the clerk returned to his door, holding up another envelope. “I’m busy—”

“This just came from Port Charles—all right,” the clerk muttered when Reynolds ripped it from his hand.

He jabbed the speaker phone button, then ripped open the envelope, muttering under his breath as he read the memo. “The goddamn DA’s office is contesting jurisdiction—”

“They can’t do that! Cates was an FBI agent—”

“Just shut up for a minute, damn it.” Reynolds grimaced, slammed his door shut, and took a deep breath. “They can contest it. We don’t know what the hell John Cates was doing there. And we can’t prove the damn deal Morgan’s talking about on the phone. All we have is Cates’ word that it even existed, and dead man can’t testify.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Just let me—this isn’t the end of the world. It doesn’t change the facts.”

“No, and when we get back on the Quartermaine property this weekend—”

“That’s—” Reynolds turned to the motion he’d been reading when Caldwell had called. “There’s been a development. Monica Quartermaine is revoking verbal consent and denying access for further searches. There’s an injunction.”

There was silence for a  beat. “They’ll lose—”

“Of course they will. Just like the DA will lose. But it slows everything down, doesn’t it? And if we don’t get that damn testing back before the motion to dismiss, the charges are thrown out and we lose surveillance. What the hell is going on up there? Why the hell are they taking the side of a piece of mob trash and his bitch girlfriend? An FBI is dead—”

“That mob trash is the son of the homeowner, Reynolds. And the bitch? Former daughter-in-law to the mayor.”

“That doesn’t change the fact—” Reynolds took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Getting angry won’t change this.” He rubbed his forehead. “Set up shop somewhere. I’ll be up in the morning. I’ll talk to the DA. I’ll give him what we have. Maybe he just needs some political cover. I can do that. Just—just don’t do anything stupid until I have a chance to handle this.”

Webber Home: Living Room

“It is so good to see you, Fair Elizabeth,” Spinelli said, hugging her with the enthusiasm he’d had as a younger man, and it nearly brought tears to her eyes to hear her old nickname.

“You, too.” She hugged him back, squeezed his hand as he came all the way inside the house, Diane on his heels. “I’m so glad you’re agreed to help. There’s no one I trust more than you to get to the bottom of whatever this is.”

“You do me a great honor in bestowing your trust. You and Stone Cold, and the Jackal will endeavor not to let you down,” he said, with another smile. He headed for the sofa and coffee table, pulling off his messenger back.

Jason nearly grimaced at the reversion back to the Spinellisms, but Elizabeth was genuinely smiling and there was a little lightness in her step as she sat down next to him. If that was because of Spinelli, he wasn’t going to mess that up.

Diane squeezed his arm. “How is she?” she asked softly. “The boys?”

“We’re all good. Thank you. For leaving without questions last night,” Jason told her. “I think if she realized you were still here, she’d be more embarrassed.”

“Well, you know nothing makes me run faster than emotion.” Diane flashed him a smirk, then sat down on the arm chair, setting her brief case down. “You look well-rested, Elizabeth. A shower and a decent mattress makes all the difference.”

“I’ll never take either for granted again.” Elizabeth shifted slightly, so that she was facing Spinelli who had set  up his laptop and removed a notebook with pages already filled. Jason remained standing, across the coffee table from Diane, his arms folded. “What do we have so far? What do you need from me?”

“I’ve filed motions to compel discovery to get the ballistics and audio from the tip that led them to the search warrant,” Diane began. “I have the transcript, but Spinelli and I doubt very much that it’s someone who actually works with you. I showed it you on Sunday when we talked.”

“Right. Right. I—Oh—” Elizabeth blinked when Spinelli handed a copy to her. She skimmed it again, then nodding. “I mean, other than the stupidity of anyone believing Jason and I would discuss discarding murder weapons where anyone could hear us—I didn’t even see him on Wednesday, did I?” she looked at him, furrowing her brow. “I was working all day.”

“I brought dinner over for Jake and Aiden because you were working until almost midnight. A double shift to cover for someone who’d called out,” Jason added. He looked to Diane. “I don’t know how to prove that. They already don’t believe Jake. I doubt they’ll believe Aiden.”

“But you brought dinner, you said? Where did you go?” Diane asked.

“The diner. Bobbie’s. Carly would probably pull the security footage. They keep it sixty days, I think.”

Spinelli was already making notes. “What about at the hospital? What did you do that day?”

“Oh. I was in my office working on the schedule for part the morning, and some other paperwork. But I share that with Terry, and she came in and out all morning. And then I did my rounds. I went into a surgery around four because someone called out on the trauma team.” Elizabeth exhaled on a long breath. “And I was there the rest of the night.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Terry and Portia about getting some corroborating evidence for her movements that day,” Spinelli told Diane, continuing to make notes. “It won’t be the smoking gun, but anything we can do to make the tip a lie before we get the audio testing back is a bonus.”

“What do you think the audio is  going to say?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, you would not believe the trouble we’ve been having with all these AI generators around now. You can generate anything,” Diane said, “and make it sound like someone’s voice. Someone who actually exists. We’re expecting it to come back as artificial. Combine that with the fact every word of the tip is a lie — and a jury is going to believe the setup much more easily.”

“A jury.” Elizabeth folded her arms, suddenly cold. “You think this might go to trial?”

“I hope not. But I’m going to look under every rock,” Diane assured her. “Spinelli—”

“I have a list of witnesses I’m going to re-interview. I hope it’s okay if I talk to Jake and Aiden separately and alone,” Spinelli said.

“Of course. I trust you.”

“Here’s a copy of the witness list I have—one for each of you—” Spinelli handed a copy to Elizabeth, then to Jason. “Is there anyone I should add?”

“Kristina?” Jason frowned, looked at Spinelli. “Why is she on this?”

“Well, I probably don’t have to talk to her again, since Diane did, but she was here last Tuesday.”

“Before we went out,” Elizabeth said. “God, that feels like a million years ago. She didn’t see anything?” she asked Diane. “I was hoping—even though it was a longshot.”

“No, she said it was a quick, unpleasant visit—”

“Why?” Jason demanded, and Elizabeth made a face.

“She was hoping to make some peace with Sam and me, and you, I guess. But it just didn’t go well—does Alexis know she’s calling the baby Adela?” Elizabeth asked, turning back to Diane who winced.

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s not great on all accounts.”

“Speaking of Kristina, did you remember your password to the Ring account?” Spinelli asked.

“Oh. Oh, no.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I have to look for it, but I know it was saved on my computer—which the FBI have. And on the app—on the phone the FBI has,” she added.

“Okay, I’ll work on getting that information another way.” Spinelli went down his list. “We’re waiting for a lot of information from the seizure of the car, especially from the techstream. That’ll tell us every time the trunk was open—”

“Seriously? My car can tell you that?”

“Big Brother is everywhere—”

Diane drew out her phone, as it vibrated in her pocket. “I’ll be right back, I just need to take this.”

“Sure—” Elizabeth focused on Spinelli .”You have so much to—” She blew out a surprised breath. “I didn’t even imagine there’d be this much to go through. What can I do? How can I help?”

“Be available for questions. That’s really it. Trust the process.” Spinelli squeezed her hand. “The Jackal won’t rest until he frees the Fair Elizabeth from the vultures who have attacked.”

“Speaking of vultures—” Diane returned to the sofa, and they all looked at her. “The most useful of the Davis girls might have just given us a huge boost. She’s opened a state investigation and kicked the FBI to the curb. They can’t use any state testing — and she’ll have first access to all evidence and testing since the feds already submitted it. She said she’ll have an open files policy with us. And—” Diane looked at Jason. “The Quartermaines have denied the FBI further access to the property. When you combine that with the editorial Curtis ran this morning, the press statement Laura put out—”

“Press statement?” Elizabeth echoed.

“This is honestly the best news we’ve had outside of getting you out on the bail.” Diane held her phone against her chest. “Thank God for Molly.”

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