September 1, 2018

This entry is part 11 of 13 in the Flash Fiction: Fool Me Twice

Written in 53 minutes.


Spinelli found Jason sitting where he’d left him — in the ER waiting room, Carly sitting by his side. He looked towards the curtain, frowning when he realized Elizabeth had not yet been taken into surgery.

Jason lunged to his feet when he saw Spinelli. “What? What did you find?”

“Cameron’s phone was cloned—” When Jason frowned, Spinelli waved his hand. “Franco had a second phone that duplicated Cameron’s signal, and one of those phones at at the Lexington Street. I just got a second ping on a phone at Scott Baldwin’s house—”

“Scott?” Carly repeated, her eyes narrowing. “He wouldn’t be involved this? And when the hell did Franco have time to clone Cameron’s phone?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about Franco,” Jason said. “Where’s Baldwin?”

“I called him—he’s been at the court house—he didn’t know about anything that’s happened today. He said he was going to call Mac Scorpio and have him go to the house with him.” Spinelli hesitated. “Unless that was a mistake—”

“Jason, I could wait here if you—” Carly began.

Jason took a deep breath. “She’s not in surgery yet. And Jake and Aiden are still at your place, aren’t they?” He looked to Carly. “I don’t want to leave until she’s in surgery—”

“I can explain things, Jase. You know she’d rather you be out there finding her baby. That’s where I’d want you.” Carly cleared her throat. “Go. Go to Baldwin’s place. Find out what he knows.”

“Has anyone called from the house?” Spinelli asked. “Do they know if there are any—” He faltered on the word bodies.

“No, but the fire probably isn’t out yet—” Jason stopped as they saw Griffin and Monica walking towards them. “Any change? Are you—”

“We’ve stabilized her,” Griffin interrupted. “But we’ve got to take her into surgery to relieve the pressure on her brain.”

“We’ve contacted Sarah Webber in California,” Monica said, then grimaced. “She isn’t going to fly out, but said she’d sign power of attorney to one of her sister’s baby daddies. Her wording not mine,” she added when Jason scowled.

“Well, good, Jason is the only one who’s alive and in the country, so—” Carly waved her hand at him. “That solves that problem.”

“Take her into surgery,” Jason said. “What are you waiting for?”

“Paperwork, but—” Griffin eyed Monica who merely raised her brows. “Monica and I have decided not to wait for the bureaucracy. The sooner I get into the OR, the better we’ll all be. You can sign the paperwork later.” He hesitated. “Just don’t sue me.”

Dante murmured something to a firefighter and then walked over to join Drew and Sam where they had take up vigil across the street. His father milled about behind them, his dark eyes trained on the house. It had taken the fire department nearly an hour to get it under control.

“They’re going to look for—” He hesitated. “Remains.”

“I don’t think Cameron was ever here,” Sam murmured. She looked at her husband. “It’s too easy. If Franco—if Franco has given up the act—if he’s stopped pretending—he wouldn’t kill himself now. Not when the game is just starting.”

“Given up the act?” Dante asked.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s been a day,” Drew said after a moment. “Elizabeth threw Franco out this morning, and at some point, she found an ornament with a flash drive tucked in. Yeah, that flash drive. Sam and I were on our way to talk to Andre when we got the call about Cam.” He flexed his hands. “The flash drive wasn’t just about me. It was a history of other patients. Me. Jake. Helena. Franco.”

“Franco?” Dante demanded. “What the hell—”

“The WSB played with his brain—” Sam pursed her lips. “Probably actually gave him the brain tumor. I wonder if that’s how they knew there were twins. If maybe Franco knew something. You were both kidnapped that same summer after they started playing with his head.”

“Wait, wait, the WSB gave him the brain tumor?” Sonny cut in. “Then—”

“Franco’s been playing all of us for years pretending to be a new man. Though the things he’d done since his surgery haven’t really been all that different.” Drew looked back at the house. “So if it’s been an act—”

“Then I doubt you’re going to find anyone in that house,” Sam said. “If Franco wants to torture Elizabeth—”

“And by extension, Jason,” Drew said reluctantly, “then the way to Elizabeth is through her kids. It always has been.”

“So we’ve still got a missing kid on our hands and Franco the serial killer.” Dante swore and reached for his police radio and radioed for backup.

Scott pulled his car to a stop outside his home and then just stared the steering wheel. Beside him, sometimes friend and former colleague, Mac Scorpio, cleared his throat. “Any time now, Scott.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here. That crazy tech seems to think Franco did something to Elizabeth’s kid—”

He looked at Mac. “He wouldn’t do that. He loves her. He loves those kids.”

“Does he?” Mac asked. He arched a brow. “I can’t help but notice that you started to develop a better relationship with Franco after he took up with Elizabeth Webber. She made him normal, didn’t she? Hell, people started to think maybe he really did clean up his act.”

“She was good for him. Those boys—” Scott closed his eyes. “Those boys are good boys. Franco’s my blood. If he did this thing—”

“Then we’ll deal with it, Scott. Let’s go in—”

They got out of the car just as a dark SUV drew up—Scott scowled when Spinelli got out of the passenger side, but his scowl slipped when Jason Morgan emerged.

Jason’s black t-shirt was torn at the shoulder, and there was a burn on the side of face—his hands looked chapped and red. Soot lined his face and his hair was a tangled mess. Spinelli had said Jason carried Elizabeth out of the burning home.

The home where she believed Franco had stashed her son, leaving him to die in a fiery explosion.

“Spinell, where is this phone you said is pinging at my place?” Scott demanded. Spinelli reached into his bag and drew out a small boxy object.

“This will lead us right to it. If…you’ll let us in.”

Scott looked at Mac who nodded at him. “Let’s do this.”

Mac slipped his old service revolver from a holster at his side, noting with some irony that Jason was doing the same with the gun he’d kept tucked in his back waistband.

They went in first—but the house was silent and no one leapt out at them. No teenage boy or overgrown psycho to be found.

“Spinell?” Jason said, turning back to his friend. The box began to beep, beeps that seemed even and regularly spaced at first but became louder and more rapid as Spinelli walked towards the kitchen.

On the kitchen table sat a gray backpack.

Scott knew the backpack. He’d picked Cameron up at school last fall when he’d had a field hockey practice that ran late. He’d done Elizabeth a favor, thinking these boys would be like his grandchildren one day.

“That’s—” Scott couldn’t find the words. “That’s Cameron’s.”

Jason quickly unzipped it — inside sat Cameron’s books, a notebook, and his phone. He held it in his hand for a long moment, just staring at it.

“Why—why would he leave Cameron’s things here?” Scott asked Mac. “I wasn’t here when—when he was—I thought the tumor—” He swallowed all his protestations. Set them aside. None of that mattered anymore.

All that mattered was bringing Cameron Webber home safely.

“He knew we’d find the phone eventually.” Jason flipped through the books—but they looked like standard algebra and literature textbooks. The notebook looked like a journal rather than a class notes, and he set that aside. It was none of his business. “He left it here. At your house.”

“Cameron must still be alive.” Scott grabbed Mac’s arm, looking for reassurance. “That’s what this is. It’s proof of life.”

“Unless this is the cloned phone.” Jason handed it to Spinelli. “Can you tell?”

“Not right away, but whoever bought him the phone—or knows his phone.” Spinelli examined it, flipped it over. “He left Cameron’s phone with his father. What does that mean?”

Jason’s phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. “Yeah?”

“Jason—it’s—we’re at the house. The firefighters have gone in looking for—but there’s no sign of anything so far.” Drew sounded weary. “Listen, I think this was all a goddamn joke to him. I don’t think Cameron was ever here—”

“I know. He cloned Cam’s phone and left his backpack at Scott Baldwin’s,” Jason said with a grimace. “I don’t know where to look.”

“Neither do I. Look, Dante is calling in Jordan and the rest of the PCPD, but I think we need more help than that. The WSB screwed with his brain—I think they should tell us what the hell is going on and why Franco had that damn ornament. Sam and I are going to see Anna Devane.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Let me know what happens.” Jason closed his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “They haven’t found any sign at the house. Dante called in the rest of the PCPD to look for Cam, and Drew and Sam are going to see Anna about the WSB.”

“WSB?” Scott demanded. “What the hell is going on? I go to work for one day and the whole damn world falls apart!”

——

With no other leads, Jason and Spinelli returned to the hospital while Scott and Mac went to the PCPD to see if there was any assistance they could lend there.

Monica had paperwork for Jason to sign, belatedly agreeing to the surgery—but before she let him sign it, she forced him to let her look at the burns, cuts, and bruises he’d sustained in the fire.

Jason didn’t care about any of that, but he knew it would make her feel better so he let her deal with it. When he emerged from her office, he found Joss in the waiting room with her mother—and Aiden and Jake.

“Joss—” He said with a wince as the blonde turned to look at him, her eyes red and swollen, “What are you—”

“I saw it on the news. The house. And the boys wanted—” She lifted her chin. “I’m not sorry.”

“Is my mommy going to die?” Aiden asked, his cheeks stained with tears. Carly put an arm around him. “Did my brother die?”

“Where’s Cameron?” Jake asked, those serious blue eyes trained on Jason’s. “Where’s my brother?”

“Sit down.” Jason took a seat and waited for Aiden and Jake to sit on the adjoining love seat in the waiting room. “You know that Franco signed your brother out of the school earlier today. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Your mom had broken up with this morning.”

“Good.” Aiden sniffled. “He’s stupid, and I don’t like him.”

Jake eyed his brother with irritation before turning back to Jason. “But he wouldn’t hurt Cameron. He loves us.”

“He loves you,” Aiden muttered.

“He called your mother from your old house—or at least that’s where we thought they were. We went to the house—and he called again, showing her a video of Cameron. And then the house exploded. We thought Cam was inside. So your mother ran in.”

“Not the first time she’s tried to walk through fire for you guys,” Spinelli added with a half smile. “Your mom’s tough.”

“But you got her out,” Jake said slowly. He reached for Jason’s hand, at the new bandage across his forearm. “Joss said she was okay.”

“She’s in surgery. She hit her head,” Jason told them. “We still can’t find Cameron. We think Franco was playing a trick on us.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” Aiden sniffled. He dragged his hand over his nose. “Is my mommy going to die?” he asked again.

Jason hesitated. The thought that Elizabeth might not survive her injuries wasn’t even something he was willing to entertain. Elizabeth’s power of attorney had been outdated. What about custody of Cameron and Aiden if something happened to her?

He looked to Spinelli who nodded. “I’m on it.” The computer tech disappeared down the hall.

“Right now, I don’t think anyone is going to mind if you guys are here waiting for news,” he finally said. “We should call your grandmother—”

“I already did,” Joss said. “But Laura is in England with Spencer. She’s trying to get a flight back, but it’s—I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention once she said she couldn’t come back.” Joss scowled. “No one ever seems to rush for Cameron. Where is he? What are you doing to find him?”

“The PCPD is looking for him. Spinelli is looking. We were tracking his phone, but it was a dead end. Drew went to see about getting Anna and the WSB involved.” Jason looked at Carly’s daughter, realizing that the blonde had obviously inherited her mother’s fierce loyalty. “No one is forgetting about Cameron.”

“Okay.” Joss sniffled and leaned into her mother’s embrace. “Okay. Can we call the FBI? Or the National Guard? I don’t know. There has to be something we’re not thinking about.”

“I know, baby.” Carly smoothed her hair. “Stay with the boys. I want to talk to Jason alone for a minute.” She kissed Joss’s forehead and then stood. Jason followed her to a corner of the room. “Listen. Franco’s playing games, isn’t he?”

“He left Cameron’s backpack, knowing we’d track the phone, so yeah.” Jason shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell kind of games—”

“Listen to me,” she repeated. “Not long after Franco had his surgery, when we started dating—” She grimaced. “Heather Webber kidnapped me and I nearly died at Wyndemere. Those old stupid tunnels—no, I don’t think Cameron is there because there was a collapse, but for a while there, he was obsessed with Heather Webber.”

“Why—” Jason nodded. “Right, right, I remember. She’s his biological mother. So what—”

“When he was looking to get revenge on me for sleeping with Sonny, he arranged for Heather to escape and come after me.” Carly took a deep breath. “Because Heather hates me. But my point is that Franco left Cameron’s things with Scott. His father.”

“So you think it’s pointing at Heather—”

“The last time he kidnapped Elizabeth’s child?” Carly asked with raised brows. “When he took Aiden? Where did he take him?”

“To Betsy.” Jason swore, reaching for his phone. “You don’t think he’d do that again, do you?”

“I don’t know. But Franco has a twisted obsession with parents and children, don’t you think? He went after Michael because of what I did. He kidnapped Danny because of you when he first came back to town. He’s going after Cameron because of Elizabeth. The sins of the father or the mother, in this case. All that crap about Cameron not belonging to anyone?”

Jason nodded as he dialed the phone. “Yeah. It makes sense. He took Aiden to give her to his mother. Maybe that’s what he wants to do with Cameron.” When Dante answered, Jason said, “Where is Betsy Frank right now?”

October 5, 2018

This entry is part 12 of 13 in the Flash Fiction: Fool Me Twice

Written in 57 minutes.


Scott exhaled slowly and shook his head. “No, no. I don’t know where he moved Betsy—I thought she was still—” He looked over at Mac before returning his attention to Spinelli. “He’s been paying her expenses, though. Can you track that?”

“I can,” Spinelli said evenly. “As long as no one asks me how I did it.” He clicked away at a few keys on the laptop, while Scott shoved himself to his feet and started to pace the conference room.

He felt like such a goddamn fool. He’d defended Franco, he thought they’d had a relationship. He had tried like hell to get his daughters, Serena and Christina, to develop a relationship with him. He wasn’t the man they thought he was, he kept telling the world.

But Franco was that man. He had always been that man, and now someone else’s son was in danger because of it.

“It’s not your fault—”

“He’s my blood, Mac—”

“He’s a sociopath. And from what Spinelli’s been telling us, there’s a hell of a more we didn’t know. This plan? He didn’t think of this this morning when Elizabeth broke up with him.”

“No, he didn’t.” Mac looked back at Spinelli who was frowning at his keyboard screen. “Cloning phones. How hard is that?”

“Not that hard,” Spinelli said absently as he continued to type. “If you know how to do it. Still can’t be done in a few hours. So maybe he didn’t plan for this today but he definitely had something planned. Explosives aren’t easy to come by either.”

“You said Drew and Sam were talking to Anna?” Mac asked. He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling in my own WSB contact.”

“You two do that. I’m going to go see about Elizabeth and the boys.” Scott pulled open the door and left the conference room.

—-
Down the hall, in the surgical waiting room, Jason and Diane were having a heated argument about something in the corner while Joss bit nervously at her nails.

How much longer was it gonna take for them to find Cameron? And why wasn’t anyone looking more upset? More worried? Cameron was missing. Even Oscar had merely shrugged when Joss called him crying. Cam had probably run away, her idiot boyfriend had said. Everyone knew Cam hated his mom’s boyfriend.

Well, now Oscar was her idiot ex-boyfriend. See how he liked that.

“How long does it take to find one stupid woman?’ Joss demanded. “Find Betsy. Get Cameron back. Dump Franco off a cliff. Why is this so hard?”

“God, you are my kid,” Carly muttered. “Look, I know you’re worried about Cam—”

“He’s been my best friend since we were kids. He’s the only one who gets how crazy all of you are. And I just—I need him to be okay. I really need that.”

“I get it—”

“And what about if his mom dies? What happens to him and his brothers? There’s no one left who gives a damn—”

“Well, first, you don’t have to worry about Elizabeth dying,” Carly said, with a grimace. “She’s like a cockroach. They never die—”

“Oh, my God. You’re such an embarrassment sometimes. I don’t get why you hate Cam’s mom so much.” Joss jumped out of her seat and stalked across the room to Jason and Diane.

She poked Diane in the shoulder. “Hey. I need to know what’s going to happen to Cam and his brothers.”

“Joss—” Carly hissed, following her.

Diane looked down at her shoulder where Joss’s finger was still touching the silk white sleeve of her blouse. “Excuse me—”

“Joss,” Jason began, looking on the other side of the room where Jake and Aiden were sleeping on one of the long sofas.

“I want to know what happens to Cam and his brothers if their mother isn’t okay.” Joss folded her arms. “I’m the only person here who actually gives a damn about Cam, and I think that qualifies me—”

“Jocelyn Jacks—”

“Shut up, Mom. You don’t have anything to do with this. You don’t even like Elizabeth.” Joss turned her back on her mother.

“Ah, well, that’s what we’re sorting out now. Elizabeth doesn’t have a legal, adult next of kin anymore,” Diane said as she cleared her throat. “Normally, the hospital is obligated to call Children’s Services who sort things out, but—”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Joss muttered.

“Let her finish,” Jason said with some irritation. “I’m worried about Cam, too—”

“Yeah, now. Where have you been while his mother lived with a freak?” Joss demanded. “You’ve been back for four months. Why isn’t Franco wearing cement shoes? God damn it. What’s the point of being in the mob if you can’t get stuff done—”

“I didn’t hear that,” Diane said, delicately. “As I was saying, the hospital located a durable power of attorney for Elizabeth that was outdated, and there wasn’t time to consult with me.” She held up a folder. “I have Elizabeth’s living trust which she updated a few months ago.”

“So?”

“As I was telling Jason before I was interrupted, Elizabeth had to update the trust once there were two Jason Morgans in the world. Unless Lucky Spencer or his parents contest the trust, custody of all three boys is left with you and you are her healthy proxy.”

Joss blinked, and Carly scowled. “Of course you are. She never misses the chance to sink her claws into you—”

“Mom.” Joss said before Jason could jump in. “Go away. Go sit over there and wait until someone something to say to you. I don’t have the time for your ridiculous hatred for Cameron’s mother, and I highly doubt Jason does either.”

“Joss—”

“Carly,” Jason said sharply. “Thank you for your help. Go over there.” He pointed to the same chair Joss had indicated.

Carly glared at the two of them but did as she was asked—clearly recognizing the stony glint in Jason’s expression.

“That’s good, though, right?” Joss said to Diane. “Children’s Services don’t have to get involved, and Laura Spencer already said she’s not able to come back from England.”

“Well, Lucky has to be contacted, but yes, it’s good.” Diane exhaled slowly, looked back at Jason. “She thought you were her best chance to keep her boys together after her grandmother passed last year.”

“Well, she’s right.” Jason turned when the door opened and so did Joss. But it wasn’t Griffin coming in with news—it was Spinelli.

Spinelli shook his head. “I just wanted to let you know I set up a bunch of searches but I haven’t been able to find Betsy yet. Mac is calling Robert Scorpio, so I wanted to know if Drew or Sam had called back yet about Anna.”

“No, no.” Jason folded his arms. “Scott didn’t know where Betsy was staying—”

“No, but—” Spinelli looked around. “Didn’t he come in here? He said he was—” He scowled. “Damn it.”

“Where did Baldwin go?” Jason demanded as Spinelli turned on his heel and rushed out of the conference room. Jason started to follow, but turned back to Joss.

“Joss, stay here with the boys—”

“Go find Cameron. I got this,” Joss promised.

Betsy Frank had moved only three towns over, but Scott hadn’t wanted to tell Spinelli that. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept the information to himself.

But the tumor had come back, maybe that was why Franco was doing all of this. If he could just find his son, if he could just bring Cameron Webber home safely, it would be okay.

He could get Franco help. They could get rid of the tumor again—stay on top of it in the future.

Scott couldn’t lose another son. Not like this.

He pulled into Betsy’s driveway, turned off his engine and sat back in the seat. He reached over to the glove compartment, pulled it open, and drew out a handgun. He tucked it in the pocket of his suit jacket. He opened the car door, and went up the front walk.. The lights in the house were all off, but that didn’t mean anything.

He rang the doorbell.

After a minute, a light switched on and the door opened hesitantly. Betsy Frank, Heather Webber’s old friend and partner in crime.

Her mouth looked pinched at the corners and she didn’t open the door more than an inch. “What do you want, Scott?”

“Something bad has happened to Bobby,” Scott said carefully. “I’m worried about him. Everyone’s looking for him, but they’re pissed, and I need—we need to find him, Betsy. We need to protect him before it gets worse.”

Betsy sniffled, then stepped back to open the door more widely. “He was here,” she said in a hushed whisper. “He was so angry. Everything was ruined, he said. He was screaming at me. I had to keep him a secret. I had to keep the door locked.”

“What door?” Scott said, stepping over the threshold. He closed the front door behind him. “Betsy, did Franco come here alone?”

Betsy’s eyes were wide as she pressed her lips together. “Bobby said I couldn’t say.”

Which meant he hadn’t. “Okay. What door did he want you to keep locked?”

“Bobby said I couldn’t say.”

“Ah, forget this,” Scott muttered, dismissing the crazy old bat and stalking past her, up the stairways. Once on the second floor, he started throwing open doors. A bedroom, a bathroom—

He threw open the last door, but it was another empty bedroom. Scott scowled. What door did Franco want locked? As he turned to return to the hallway, he caught sight of a door inside the room. He pulled on the knob—but it didn’t turn.

Locked.

“Cameron?” he called softly. “Cameron?” he said a little more loudly. He heard something rustling inside, a sound like a grunt, and then something thrown against the door—as if Cameron had shoved his weight against it.

“Step back, Cam, I’m getting you out of here—”

Scott tugged on the lock—it was one of those old locks and with a bit of brute force, he was able to pull it open.

Cameron was in the room, his dark blonde hair messy, his eyes red, his cheeks swollen from crying. Duct tape was stretched across his mouth, and his hands were behind his back.

“This is gonna hurt,” Scott said. He ripped the tape from the kid’s mouth, and Cameron hissed. Quickly, Scott untied him. “We gotta get you out of here and back home—”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Dad.”

Shoving Cameron behind him, Scott turned around to face his son as Franco stood in the doorway, blocking their escape.

March 8, 2019

This entry is part 13 of 13 in the Flash Fiction: Fool Me Twice

Written in 20 minutes. No editing for typos.


Scott swallowed hard, his hands spread at his side to block any possible view of the exhausted and traumatized teenager behind him. In front of him stood his son. The only son he had left—

The sociopath that had played them all for fools these last few years, earning their trust, earning their affection—and then using it against them—

“I’m taking Cameron back to his mother,” Scott said slowly, his heart pounding, a trickle of sweat running down his back beneath his button down shirt. “And then we’re going to the hospital. Your tumor is obviously back—

Franco laughed then, a low chuckle that sent a chill racing down his father’s spine. He’d never heard that sound before, had never seen that light in his eyes—

He hadn’t been in town during Franco’s first rampage—didn’t know exactly who he was looking at—

“There’s no tumor,” Franco said, tilting his head slightly. “Well, there might be. But the tumor doesn’t matter. It never did.”

“Franco—”

“I never lost the taste for it—that rush of taking a life—” Franco closed his eyes, shook his head slightly as if in a dream. “But I had to wait. I had to be smart. I couldn’t play my games with anyone who could be missed.”

Scott swallowed hard. Oh God. “Franco—”

“The homeless, the whores—” Franco sighed. “It’s cliche, but it works. No one even wondered why my art came back to me. Why I could create magic again—”

“Oh, God, he’s going to kill us,” Cameron moaned.

“I thought about giving it up. Elizabeth—” Franco nodded. “If there was ever anyone who might be worth it, I guess it would have been her. But it got boring. The kids were whiny—that one—” He shuddered. “That behind you was going to catch on. It was only a matter of time.”

Franco’s hands were empty, and Scott couldn’t see a weapon. If he rushed his son—maybe Cameron could escape—but what if Betsy didn’t let the boy leave? What if Franco got past Scott and caught up?

Why hadn’t he told anyone where he was going? Why he had tried to save his son?

It was obvious there was nothing left to save. Maybe there never had been.

So with great regret, Scott reached behind him and pulled the gun from the holster attached at his waistband. He pointed it at his son. “Let me take him back to his mother,” he said slowly. Franco looked merely amused at the gun, not at all worried.

“He’s a bit too old for Betsy to raise, I guess. It’s a shame Elizabeth didn’t have any more babies I could have given my mother.” Franco touched a finger to his lips. “I thought about trying to Sam or Lulu’s kid. Maybe even Danny.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I wonder if he’s my kid after all. You know you can’t trust paternity tests.”

Scott’s stomach rolled and pitched as the reality of that set in. Franco had actually raped Sam. Had obviously been lying all along. How did they miss it? How did they ignore the signs?

He took a step forward, the gun trained directly on Franco. “We’re going to go. You can run. You’ll need to if you want to stay ahead of Jason Morgan and everyone else in Port Charles.”

Franco smirked. “No, I think I’ll stay here and wait. Isn’t the cavalry coming? Shouldn’t they be right behind you?” He arched his brows. “Or did you think you could save me? Is that why you’re alone?”

Scott stepped forward again, his hands trembling slightly as he cocked the gun. “I don’t want to do this, but if you’re right, if you’re still the same sick, twisted, psycho—then I should do everyone a favor.”

“How many children have you lost, Dad? Logan? Karen? You think I believe you’ll make it three?” Franco shook his head. “You’re just not as devious as you think you are—”

Franco lunged forward suddenly, in the middle of the sentence—and Scott reacted. He pulled the trigger. Once, twice, then a third time—

The first shot slammed into Franco’s shoulder, sending him flying back—the second ripped into his gut—and the third missed, taking a chunk out of the wall.

His son slumped to the ground, his hands covering his abdomen as blood pooled beneath him. He stared up at Scott, glazed shock in his eyes. “You shot—”

With one hand, Scott dug into his suit jacket and tossed his cell phone at the stunned Cameron. He heard screaming from the first floor, then footsteps as Betsy struggled to climb to the second floor. “Call Jason.”

“Why can’t I call my mother?” Cameron demanded, his voice shaking as he took the phone, his blue eyes locked on the bleeding man on the wooden floor.

“Call Jason, then call Mac Scorpio. Just do it, Cameron. I’ll explain later.” Scott swallowed hard and watched as the life left Franco’s eyes. As his chest stopped rising.

He’d wanted to protect his son, to save him, but he had to stop Franco from hurting anyone else.

Because sometimes that was a parent’s job, too.