Note:  This particular scene cuts off in mid sentence. You’re not crazy.

April 2002

Spring arrived early in upstate New York that April, with warm days and cool nights. The beautiful weather and turning of the season was lost on the residents of 1242 Elm Street—inside Bobbie Spencer’s Brownstone, Lieutenant Marcus Taggart had elected to to deliver tragic news to his landlord.

“They could keep looking, Bobbie,” he said quietly, “but the currents and the depth of the lake where the car went in—”

Bobbie nodded, her fifteen-year-old son’s hand clutched tightly in her own. “I understand. I—” She swallowed hard. “I know the PCPD did everything they could. And the Coast Guard.”

Taggart looked his younger sister and her roommate who lived in the apartment below his before returning his attention the stricken redhead. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“Have you told Sonny?” Bobbie asked. “He should—” She looked at Elizabeth Webber. “Shouldn’t he know they’re not looking anymore?”

“I can tell him,” Elizabeth assured her. “I’m sure he’s going to want to help with—well, anything you need.”

Taggart’s lips thinned at the mention of his nemesis, Sonny Corinthos, but to his credit, he offered no criticism. Instead, he looked across the room, where six-year-old Michael Morgan sat at a table quietly coloring. “Will he be taking Michael in?”

“Oh.” Bobbie blinked. “No. No, I can’t…” A tear slid down her cheek. “Lucas.”

“They didn’t go through with the adoption,” Lucas told the lieutenant. “Not after the divorce. That’s why—”

“They didn’t change his name,” Elizabeth said. “Why he still has Jason’s name.” She cleared her throat. “I think—I’m pretty sure Jason is his legal guardian.”

“Ah.” Taggart touched Bobbie’s shoulder. “I have to get back to the station, but let me know if you need anything.” He nodded to his sister, then left.

“Bobbie,” Gia Campbell said, sitting on the other side of her landlord. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything you need from us?”

“I’ll call Aunt Felicia,” Lucas told his mother, getting to his feet. “Should I call Uncle Luke?”

“Yes, thank you.” Bobbie smiled at them, but it faltered after a moment. “I know you have finals to study for, Gia. Thank you. And Elizabeth, if you could—I need to know if Sonny contacted Jason yet.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, but nodded. “Of course. Anything you need.” She embraced her friend. “I’m so sorry, Bobbie. We were all hoping for—well, for something else.”

“I know.”

Elizabeth and Gia left Bobbie in the care of her son as they went upstairs to their apartment. “This sucks large,” Gia said as she pushed open the door and grabbed her book bag from the sofa. “I really thought Marcus would have better news.”

Elizabeth sighed as she pulled a soda from their fridge. “It’s been a week since Carly went into the lake. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I guess.” Gia slung her back over her shoulder. “Are you going to Sonny’s?”

“He should know they’ve called off the search,” Elizabeth said as she twisted off the cap. But she didn’t look at Gia.

“And Jason?”

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