Written in 58 minutes.

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Monday, September 30, 2024

Bobbie’s Diner: Courtyard

Molly’s hand froze, hovering over the handle of the diner’s front door. Behind the panes of glass she could see the dark hair of her older sister swinging over her shoulder as Kristina picked up an order and turned back towards the door.

A run in with Kristina was the last thing Molly needed. She could pick up something closer to the court house.

She was halfway across the courtyard before Kristina’s irritated voice stopped her. “You can’t even say hello to me?”

Molly closed her eyes, counted to five, then turned to face her sister. “I find when I say hello to someone, they think it opens a conversation. I try to avoid that with people I don’t want to talk to.”

Kristina scowled. “You don’t want to face me because you know I’ll call you out on your bullshit—”

“My—” Molly couldn’t even complete her thought, she was so genuinely baffled. “My bullshit? Have you lost what little sense you had left?”

“Do you know what Sam’s been going through since you started your little war?” Kristina demanded. “Thanks to you, Sam’s life is destroyed—”

“Thanks—” Molly held up a hand. “I can’t—I’m sorry. How exactly is Sam’s situation my fault? I just saw her—”

“If you’d just kept your nose out of all of this, Dante wouldn’t have been assigned to the case,” Kristina retorted. “He was so busy focusing on that instead of his own kid. Rocco dragged Danny into trouble, and now Sam’s lost custody of both her children. Why couldn’t you just let the real lawyers handle it, huh? Why do you always have to go after glory?”

“That is a wild chain of events you’ve linked to me. Dante was barely involved in the case before he had to recuse himself, and Rocco and Danny were drinking for months, long before—why am I even justifying myself to you?” Molly shook her head, and turned, heading for the parking lot, then turned back. “You know what, Kristina? The reason I’ve been avoiding Sam is because you’re always there. The last thing Sam needs is someone who blames everyone else for her problems.”

“I’m helping her,” Kristina shot back.

“Yeah, the way you helped me and TJ? You want to try to help yourself to one of Sam’s kids?  Your kind of help, Kristina, is poison. I just wish I’d seen it sooner. Stay away from me.”

Webber House: Living Room

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, then turned to face Cameron. Her baby. The first child she’d brought into this world. The little boy with messy curls and a sweet smile who had made her a mother and day after day, had given her the strength to keep going when the world had seemed against her.

How did he get so tall? When had he turned into a person with his own thoughts and feeling and dreams? With his own moral compass and direction?

“I’m not going to apologize for trying to protect you and your brothers from all of this. For not wanting any of this to touch you. This is my problem, and I’m going to fix it. I won’t make my problems yours. I’ve done that enough, Cameron. You already delayed Stanford for a whole year—”

“Willingly,” Cameron said. “I have zero regrets about waiting to go, or coming home. Mom.” He stepped towards her. “I know you have guilt about how much time I spent with Jake and Aiden. How much babysitting I did, especially for Aiden. You think you took pieces of my childhood because it was just us, and it’s not true, okay? It’s not.”

“Cam—”

“Aiden doesn’t remember the way things were without Jake. Those years when we thought he was gone.” Cameron gestured to her, then to himself. “But we do, right? We know. And I can’t forget it. You’re not the only one who blames themselves for Jake running out the door that day.”

“You were just a little boy, Cameron,” Elizabeth managed. “It was my job to keep you safe—”

“Being there for my brothers, being part of raising them, making them into they are? That was a privilege, Mom. I don’t regret a single moment I spent with either of them. And I don’t regret standing here with you instead of being in some lecture in California. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re not.” She sighed, then nodded. “All right. You’re not the only one, Cam, who thought two weeks ago that things would be different today. That somehow, the real killer would have been found. Or that the Feds would realize it’s not me. And it’s not Jason. The motion to dismiss tomorrow— it was always a long shot that this nightmare would be over.”

“So it’s just the fact there’s been no movement on the actual case?” Cameron furrowed his brow. “Joss said that the FBI did another search—”

“They did. And we got the preliminary results.” Elizabeth hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “Whoever put that gun in my car — we always knew it was almost certainly the real murder weapon. Otherwise, why go to the trouble? But they couldn’t match it definitely to the scene. That gave Diane the wiggle room she needed to make an argument for bail. I’m not a risk for flight without a match to the murder weapon.”

Cameron stared at her for a long moment. “But they found something that matches it. Another bullet?”

“One that’s not too damaged. The report isn’t back yet, but yes. I expect it to be a match. Which means evidence that links me to the murder weapon.” Elizabeth leaned back against the sofa. “What I’m accused of — with my links to people who know how to disappear — I never should have made bail. But the Feds didn’t fight bail that hard. They wanted me out.”

“They wanted to watch you and Jason. Because they think he’s involved.” Cameron made a face. “I figured—”

“He’s not involved. Not even a little. We’re completely innocent. Believe me, if Jason had any evidence, he’d have turned it over. He wouldn’t have let me spend a single night in jail if he knew something. We have nothing to offer the FBI about this case.” Elizabeth looked out the window, towards the road where her car had once sat. One that was now somewhere in federal custody. “For two weeks, they’ve got nothing out of us. So the reason they let me go isn’t working. And now—this new evidence increases my flight risk—”

“They might try to revoke your bail.”

“That’s a real fear.” Elizabeth rubbed her mouth. “And maybe they think I’m better leverage behind bars. Maybe I’ll turn on Jason, maybe he’ll confess to protect me. Either way, tomorrow — we find out what the Feds are thinking. And I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if the judge would revoke it immediately. I don’t—” Her lips trembled. “I don’t know if I’m coming home from the court house tomorrow.”

The words lingered between them, and Cameron just watched her for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “Okay.  You need to tell Jake and Aiden. And Danny.”

“Cameron—”

“Mom. This isn’t about protecting them. They need to know that there’s a real chance they might not be able to see you after tomorrow. If you let them leave for school tomorrow and then you’re just not here — ” Cameron shook his head. “No. I’m telling you right now they’re old enough to handle this information, but they’re still young enough that it’ll hurt like hell. And they’ll be angry at themselves for going to school when they should be with you in court tomorrow.”

“I don’t want—”

“Jake’s been through worse in his life, so he can handle it. And we can help Aiden deal. Danny’s part of the family now.  If they were, like, eight, Mom, maybe I can see hiding this. But they’re not. We’re going with you. If they try to take your bail, I think the judge should see who they’re hurting.”

“I never wanted any of this to touch you, to come near you. Promise me you’re going back to school after tomorrow—”

Cameron shook his head. “I’m not promising anything. Not anymore. We take it day by day, Mom, okay? Right now, I’m good through this week. We’ll see what happens.”

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to the ceiling, tried to find the words, the patience, something she could use to put things back the way they’d been only weeks ago. “I can’t stand this. I can’t—”

Cameron came to her, and pulled her into a tight hug. Oh, and how his hugs had changed — from the little arms that could barely wrap around both her legs—she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “When did you grow up? And who let that happen?”

“I’m going to be here for you and my brothers, Mom. And I won’t regret a single thing I have to give up. Because I know what you gave up for us—”

“I didn’t—”

“You think I don’t know why you became a nurse?” Cameron asked, pulling back so he could look at her. “You wanted a steady paycheck, health insurance, a life for me. But it wasn’t your dream. You made it your dream, and it’s worked out. But you did that for me—”

“I don’t regret it, Cam. Not a single second—” Horrified, Elizabeth shook her head. “You were always worth it, and I don’t even miss the life I thought I’d have—I don’t even think about that anymore—” It wasn’t like her mother and the fellowship she’d given up for Elizabeth’s birth, it wasn’t.

“I know. So trust me when I say the same thing. I’m not giving up anything I’m going to miss. Not when it means I’m right here with my family.”

FBI Temporary Offices: Conference Room

Caldwell squinted, and straightened when he saw Gia striding through the door of the conference room. “Did you drive all the way up here to get a paper copy of the report or something? Because I could have brought it tomorrow—”

“I wanted to see it in person. Today.” Gia reached out a hand, and he set a folder in it, still bewildered. She flipped through it, skimming. “Walk me through how you got this information.”

“An anonymous tip told us to look at the PCPD logs for September 14.” Caldwell picked up his notepad, flipped through the pages. “We found that two officers had been dispatched to the 400 block of Elm Street for a drunk and disorderly. That came from the report — there was no address. Just a block. The report was sparse. Two juveniles—Rocco Falconieri and Daniel Morgan—were brought in, found to be under the influence, and released to their parents, Samantha McCall and Dante Falconieri. Seemed to pretty cut and dry, except the tip told us it involved Webber.”

“Did it?”

“We pulled 911 calls from the time of the report,” Caldwell continued. “Two came in, within about ten minutes of each other. The first was to report the two teenagers walking around Elm Street — she’d nearly hit them with her car. And the second was from 46 Elm Street. Three teenagers arguing on the sidewalk, making a lot of noise and one of them was on the ground like they’d passed out. Neighbor overheard them arguing about vape pen and being high.”

“Three teenagers.” Gia exhaled slowly. “That’s Elizabeth Webber’s neighbor. 46? She lives at 44 doesn’t she?”

“She does. Which explains why those kids were picked up on the 400 block, doesn’t it? They’re in her neighborhood—”

“Two drunk teenagers heading to her house.” Gia closed the folder. “If the third teen had been under the influence, they’d have brought him in.”

“According to our tip, they did. Only Dante Falconieri wanted the drugs to be hushed up and to make the third teen disappear from the files. The second 911 call isn’t in the report. And since the kids were released—”

“No further paper trail.” Gia pressed her lips together. “It’s not much,” she said finally. “No evidence that any drug use happened in the house or under Elizabeth’s influence or with her knowledge. If anything, this Dante has something to answer for.” She looked at him. “But Reynolds is going to use it anyway to revoke her bail.”

“He’s going for revocation?” Caldwell pursed his lips. “I guess that makes sense. Webber’s kept herself clean other than some custody dispute with Morgan’s ex, but she comes out smelling like a rose in that case. I guess the match makes the flight risk question come up again, and this report—”

“Would suggest she can’t stay out of trouble.” Gia closed the folder, then pulled out a chair and sat down, considering her thoughts, and pulling together how she wanted to approach this. “I can’t stop him from going into court tomorrow and telling the judge Elizabeth Webber is a flight risk and that there’s a strong enough case to justify the charges. Because that—well, that part is true.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Caldwell said, pulling out his own chair to take a seat. “What are you thinking?”

“Reynolds can’t see it because Pikeman was his, and he’s still pissed at Morgan for how it went down. And I always understood how your investigation focused on him with the evidence we had at the beginning,” Gia said. “Maybe we can argue about how hard you went at his kids—”

“Had no choice—”

“But you didn’t break them.”

“No. And I really thought we would. Considering he’s been walking in and out of their lives. Plus, the youngest has a chip on his shoulder about his mom. Thought we’d piss him off enough he’d let the truth spill.” Caldwell grimaced. “Teenagers don’t hold up under that kind of pressure.”

“Not unless they’re telling the truth.” Gia leaned back in her chair. “I came onto this case thinking the same as Reynolds, you know. I had real doubts Elizabeth Webber was the shooter, but there’s enough in her case file to suggest she’d cover for Jason Morgan.  But I kept an open mind, and I’ve talked to the locals. They’ve put together some really compelling evidence that really makes it clear neither of them are the shooter. Which leaves us with two options. Either they’re innocent — or Jason Morgan set up a hit on an FBI agent with his teenager children, nephew, girlfriend, and a dozen other young witnesses in earshot who easily could have ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy it.”

“I…thought at the beginning one or both of them had to be involved. Especially after we found the gun. But the time frame for this shooting — it’s such a small window — ” Caldwell stroked his chin. “I can’t believe he doesn’t know anything. But did he set it up? I don’t know anymore.”

“Neither do I. Because here’s my real question — ” Gia leaned forward. “Every piece of evidence we have that paints Elizabeth in a bad light? It’s coming from an anonymous tip. We’d never go near her trunk without that call. And now we have a police report falling into our lap right before the hearing? Someone else is directing this investigation, and I think if we find that person, we find our killer.”

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