August 24, 2022

This entry is part 5 of 10 in the The Last Time

Written in 27 minutes



19
You wear your best apology

Elizabeth pushed herself up on her elbows when she saw Emily step inside the partially open door. “Em. Hey.”

“Hey.” Emily came to the side, leaned over to hug her lightly. “How are you? Are they going to keep you another night?”

“I’m not sure. Kelly wanted to see my blood pressure come down a few more points, and to monitor the baby. She read your witness statement—” Elizabeth rested her hand against her belly, feeling the baby shift and roll inside. “She was nervous when I couldn’t feel him moving.”

“I’m so sorry—” Emily’s voice broke, and she dipped her head.

“Em—”

“My dad—” Emily squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you. God—” She breathed out, a harsh sound that sounded like more like a sob. “Dad got to the hospital, but he wasn’t stable enough for surgery. He died.”

Elizabeth reached out her hand, feeling useless to do much else with monitors taped everywhere, her movements limited. “Oh, Em, I’m so sorry.”

“I got to speak to him. We all did, which I’m glad about. I mean, not Grandfather, but I know it gave Dad peace to talk to Jason—”

“Jason was—” Elizabeth’s hand fell back down to her hospital bed. “He was there? He talked to Alan?” And then had come back to her room after his father had died— “He never said anything.”

“You saw him?”

“This morning. Um, while we were trapped in the elevator, I told him the truth. The truth I should have told everyone months ago—”

“About the baby,” Emily cut in gently. “I know. Lucky came by.”

“God.” Elizabeth’s head fell back against the pillow. “I was so tired. Just completely at the end of my rope. I just—I wanted him to stop talking so I told him, and it was such a terrible way—and then Jason came in—and then Sam was there, I think. I don’t know. It all runs together for me.” She exhaled slowly. “He didn’t tell me,” she repeated softly. And she’d been hard on him.

“I don’t think he’s handling it well.” Emily swiped at her eyes. “Me? I had the time with Dad. I hate this, I should have had him longer, but at least I won’t have regrets. Jason will.” She paused. “But you and Jason—he took the news okay?”

“Pretty well considering I lied to him. I didn’t want to, I didn’t even mean to, but it just—it was like this terrible avalanche, and I didn’t even start it.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “But I stopped it.”

“That’s good. I’m glad he knows. I’m sorry for Lucky, but he seems to handling it okay. Nikolas and I will be there for him. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thanks.” Elizabeth’s eyes stung. “I’m really sorry about Alan. I’m glad you chose him, you know. He gt to the hospital and you were able to say goodbye to him. That’s—that’s going to help.”

“I know. Doesn’t help right now—” Emily rubbed the side of her face. “I keep forgetting. Doesn’t that sound terrible? I woke up this morning, and I had to remember, and then I took a nap, and I remembered—and I hate it. It’s like he dies over and over again. Losing Grandmother was horrible, but Dad—he was supposed to be here longer.” Her voice faltered. “There should have been more time. We deserved more time.”

20
But I was there to watch you leave

Sam thought about ignoring the knock at the door when it came later that day — only a few people had the right to walk past the desk without an advance cal—and Sam didn’t want to see any of them. Not right now. Not when she couldn’t understand how everything could keep going so wrong, and why she was somehow the bad guy—

All she’d done was not handle terrible news all that well — how had Jason been able to walk out as the innocent party?

But the knocking persisted, so Sam went over to answer it because maybe it was someone to yell at—

“Where’s Jason?” Carly demanded as she stalked past Sam, into the living room. She looked around. “Jason!”

“Not here,” Sam said dully.

“I haven’t been able to find him all day. He’s not answering my calls—” Carly huffed. “Where did he go? I heard about Alan—”

“You might want to check with Elizabeth,” Sam said, the words leaving her mouth as a snarl, something she hadn’t intended. “She’d know.”

Carly narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means—” Sam dragged her hands through her hair. “It means that Elizabeth lied to us all, okay? The paternity test. It didn’t come back for Lucky—”

“No, of course it did—” Carly stared at her. “I saw her open it. I knew it was Lucky’s baby!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, I don’t know what to tell you. She’s saying differently now—”

“No, no, this is a trick, okay? Because I saw her open it, and if it had been Jason’s baby—she’d dropped everything. She finished her shift—”

“That’s your evidence?” Sam said, skeptically. “Did she even show you the results?”

“No, but she sure as hell didn’t deny it—” Carly hissed. “This is a trick,” she repeated. “A low down dirty trick. She’s taking advantage of Jason’s grief, right? Alan died. She’s using it.”

“I—” Sam shook her head. “I don’t want to hear any of this right now.” As much as Sam hated all of this—even hated Elizabeth—even she knew that wasn’t what was happening. Elizabeth had slid in through the cracks of Jason and Sam’s relationship, always there when a fracture deepened. But if Elizabeth had wanted to take advantage of Jason, she would have accepted his marriage proposal.

Any of the times he’d made it. She’d refused him, and how was Sam supposed to handle that? To understand the grief in Jason’s eyes hadn’t only been for his father, but for the rejection he’d felt.

“You can sit here and yell into the wind, but I’m going to take a nap,” Sam said finally said. And while Carly was in mid-complaint, Sam went upstairs and did exactly that.

August 23, 2022

Update Links: Scars – Part 17 | Mad World, Book 4 – Chapter 114

Had my last doctor’s appoint of my summer vacation today — and got the results of my MRI. It’s what she thought last month, but she was able to get a more finalized diagnosis. I have arthritis in my neck cased by degenerative disc disease, and there’s a possibility that I’ll have issues with my left arm in the future. Just super fun, really. No real treatment beyond managing the pain at this point. It’s just a condition I’ll be living with for the rest of my life, trying to keep it from getting worse. I have my appointment for the pain management clinic, but they can’t see me until October. Getting old is stupid.

Second to last update of Mad World went live today. We’ll finish up with Chapter 115 and the epilogue on Thursday.

This entry is part 17 of 25 in the Flash Fiction: Scars

Written in 57 minutes.


Pozzulo’s Restaurant: Back Office

Jason shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “You sure you’re okay with Frankie taking the Miami run this weekend?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sonny leaned back. “I told you—you don’t need to be doing that crap anymore. Let the younger guys do the runs.”

“I don’t mind in the summer,” Jason said, with a shrug. Once a month he did a weekend in Miami, overseeing a shipment as it passed from Cuba and went to Venezuela. He usually took Elizabeth and the boys to the island and made it a vacation. But— “It’s just—I wanna stick close right now.”

“Yeah? This Baker stuff still bothering her? I know it’s pissing me off. You hear what our guy at the PCPD said about the surveillance?” Sonny got to his feet, went over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Actually dumping the tail on that asshole and keeping them on us—is that what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Just—” Jason squinted, unsure how to articulate it. “I guess it was the dance. It stirred a lot of things up. Especially since Joss took off and tried to walk home on her own.” Sonny scowled at him. “Yeah, Carly said she’s having some issues. You know she’s like her mother. Doesn’t really make friends that easy.”

“Yeah, I know. Michael was saying something about it. Glad she got Cam, you know he’ll stick. But she was gonna walk home? All the way to Carly’s?”

“Elizabeth found her before she got far, but it’s just—she’s not telling me, but I know it’s bothering her. More than just the surveillance.”

“Look, it’s just rotten luck Baker got out this year. The kids are about the same age Elizabeth was—” Sonny shook his head. “It’s gonna be in her head. All you can do is be there when she needs you.”

“I know, but—”

“You like to fix stuff,” Sonny finished. “But this isn’t something that gets fixed. Even if we take care of Baker when the dust settles, it doesn’t turn back time. You, me, all the money in the world doesn’t get us back to that night and stop her from going to the park. She’ll deal and put it away. You know she’s stronger than the both us. You’ll get through this and in a year when you got a cranky infant keeping you up at night, you won’t even think about any of this.”

Scorpio-Drake Home: Living Room

Robin felt the sofa next to her give way, but she didn’t look up from her laptop, keying in a few more edits on the medical article that was due at the end of the month. She heard a NASCAR race on the television—

“Did you need something?” she asked Patrick sweetly as he sipped from the bottle of Rolling Rock. “Is there something wrong with any of our other televisions?”

“You weren’t there.” Patrick flashed his dimples, and instead of melting, she just narrowed her eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Always so suspicious. I can’t just hang with my wife?” He wiggled his brows. “Emma is at Trina’s tonight. Neither of us have to be at work—”

“Uh huh. Cut the crap.”

“You know me so well.” The dimples flashed again, but then Patrick took a deep breath. “Thanksgiving. You said you wanted to invite Sonny because Michael was doing something with his girlfriend’s family, and Morgan’s away at college.”

“And because Sonny’s a good cook and it’ll give Jason to talk to—”

“I thought maybe, in the spirit of cooperation and kindness—” Patrick paused. “We could extend the invite list. You know Portia has the evening Thanksgiving shift, so we’ve got Trina—”

“Patrick—”

“I’ve been thinking about Joss,” he cut in. “I told you about the dance. About her feeling left out and walking home.”

“Oh—oh, absolutely not.” Robin shook her head. “You are not asking me to invite Carly to Thanksgiving. Patrick Drake—”

“Hear me out—” He held up a hand and she closed her mouth. “I’m not asking you to be friends with Carly. I’m not even asking you to be friendly with her. Jason will be here, and Elizabeth gets along with her more—”

“And what am I supposed to do until you and Elizabeth are done work? And how did you end up copping an overnight shift on Thanksgiving morning?” Robin wrinkled her nose. “You both should have more seniority than that—”

“We both traded away a holiday ages ago. I think she’s covering Felix, and Griffin needed to get to the airport early—that’s not the point—” Patrick took a deep breath. “You have legitimate reasons to dislike Carly. And if you say no, it’s cool. I get it. It’s just—I know Elizabeth has been messed up over this Baker stuff—and then Joss walking home from the dance—”

“Right.” Robin sighed. “It upset her, I know that. And I know Carly’s worried about Joss. I overheard talking to Jason after you guys left with the kids. It’s just…” She paused. “She and I have stayed out of each other’s way for a long time, and it suits us. I was almost relieved when Emma and Joss didn’t hit it off. I can live with seeing her sometimes for Jason and Elizabeth’s stuff. But you’re asking me to invite her into my home.”

“I know. I know it’s a big ask, and I don’t do it lightly. I promise.” Patrick was quiet for a long moment. “I think of our little girl, you know. Of Emma feeling left out and taking a walk. I want to hope someone is there for her. That someone will notice. I want to protect her for as long as we can from the world. No one was there for Elizabeth until it was too late. It kills me, Robin, to think of her all these years later, still tormented by it.”

“And you think inviting Joss to Thanksgiving with kid who already make her feel left out will help,” Robin said, her tone skeptical. “It’s a sweet idea, but I don’t think shoving her down their throats—”

“It’ll be a lot of people. Laura, Spencer, your parents, Mac, Felicia—” Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a stupid plan.”

“I like Joss, I do. And I know she’s had a harder road  because of Carly.” Robin made a face. “And I guess if all those people are here, Carly won’t really have anyone to spend Thanksgiving. I don’t mind her eating alone, but it probably won’t make Joss feel better. All right. But I’m not talking to her.”

“Understood.” Patrick put an arm around her shoulder, drew her close for a kiss, then rested his hand on her belly, just beginning to curve. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. I can’t believe we get to do this again.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You know, you’re right. Emma’s gone all night—let’s go do something more fun.”

“I could get my race cars out,” Patrick offered as Robin tugged him off the sofa.

“Not exactly what I had in mind, Dr. Drake.”

Parking Lot

The next afternoon, after Robin buried herself in the study working on her article, Patrick drove across town to the run down lot of a drug store that looked like it had seen better days. He parked his car next to the dark blue sedan in the lot, got out and slid into the passenger seat of the other car.

Elizabeth handed him a ski cap and he tugged it over his dark hair. Then she put the car into drive and drove the two blocks to Baker’s street, parking across the way and a few houses down. “I’ve been coming for three days. It’s like clockwork,” she told him as they watched Baker lock up, then amble down the street towards the bus. “He gets home around 7:30 and goes right to sleep.”

“Do I want to know how you know that or is it going to make me mad?” Patrick wanted to know.

Elizabeth smiled grimly. “I went back after the first time. I left a camera in the bedroom. Just to know.” She handed him a phone and showed him the app. “And thanks to Spinelli, I have an encrypted phone. I know how to delete this so it never shows up anywhere.”

“Thank God you married a mobster,” Patrick said taking in the view of Baker’s room, the camera trained on the bed. “I still want you to stay in the car—”

“No. It’s a two person job.” She took the phone back. “Did you get your hands on the records?”

“Yeah, the security at the hospital is pretty crappy. Baker had a physical as part of the hiring process. He had heart issues in prison. He’s being treated for arrythmia — they’re trying to hold off on a heart attack.” He stared straight ahead at the back of a rusted Mercedes. “I thought about something that would trigger a heart attack but there’s no guarantee it would finish him off.”

“And we don’t know how long it’ll be before he’s discovered. He works Tuesdays-Saturdays. I’d say we do it on a Saturday morning, no one knows he’s missing until Monday morning—”

“But Thanksgiving is the only day we can make sure of the alibis. We have small window  between leaving the hospital and when we’re expected at the house—” Patrick paused. “But since we decided to have a huge dinner with literally everyone—”

“Including three former police commissioners—stroke of genius on your part—”

“It’ll be hard for anyone to say exactly when we get there. Only Jason and Robin would know for sure, and—”

“Spousal privilege keeps them in the clear. Plus, Jason and Sonny will be seen by at least a half dozen people the entire day.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “Jordan can’t come near them. And we both know she’s not even going to think of us.”

“No. But that’s why we’ve got the alibi.” He sighed. “It has to be Thanksgiving. All we can hope is that follows up on a missed shift. The longer we have between time of death and the autopsy, the better off we’ll be.”

“So you have an idea on the how?” Elizabeth looked at him.

Patrick leaned into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. She took it, read over the label. “Succinylcholine,” she murmured. “It’ll paralyze his respiratory system. How did you—”

“You’re not the only one getting lessons from Spinelli. Let’s just say it’s untraceable. The only caveat is that they can test for that. It’s just not going to show up on any normal tox screen. You have to go looking for it. Jordan might.”

“Maybe.”

“And if we can get at least twenty-four hours, we got a better shot of the sux not being traced in the tissues. An autopsy will probably come back undetermined or, best case, the heart issue will get blamed.”

Elizabeth exhaled. “So you’re all in.” She looked at him again. “If you want to pull out, I won’t think less of you, Patrick. You know that, don’t you? I love you. But—”

“I think about that day you saw Baker again,” Patrick murmured. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen you collapse from grief. I’ve seen you angry. I’ve seen you broken. But I’ve never seen you that way. And it’s been almost two decades. He’s watching the girls. Waiting for the chance. He might have taken it from Joss. I think of any of those kids being broken for twenty years—” His mouth was grim. “The justice system isn’t built for this. Some things can’t be forgiven. We’re doing this protect them, sure, but I’m doing this to protect you.”

Her eyes stung with tears. “Patrick—”

“Because I think when he’s gone, when you know he’s gone and maybe you get a hand in seeing it done you’ll be able to sleep at night.” He took the bottle from her and tucked it back in his pocket. “And that will be all I need. So, yeah, I’m all in. When we do this on Thanksgiving, you stay behind me. You’re pregnant. If I had my way, I’d do it on my own—”

“I’ve been through worse pregnant, but yeah. You’ll go first and you’ll be ready if the injection does wakes him up before the drug takes affect. I’ll do it between his toes,” Elizabeth decided. ‘They never look there.”  She switched the engine back on. “Let’s go. I need to trade this car back in. I’ll get us a new one for that morning. Nothing to track back to us. I’m buying one in cash, and then I know how to get rid of it.”

“I bow to you, the woman married to the master criminal.”

Elizabeth smirked as she turned away from Baker’s street. “Please. Luke taught me how to get a car clean and dump it afterwards. I led a very interesting life before I married him.”

This entry is part 39 of 41 in the Mad World: Liberty

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It’s haunting
How I can’t seem

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence, I’m convinced
That there’s just too much pressure to take
I’ve felt this way before
So insecure

Crawling, Linkin Park


Monday, May 5, 2004

Lexington House: Living Room

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, as if Carly were moving in a dream—

Elizabeth had attacked Ric and wrestled the gun from him, pulled the trigger three times, and Ric had fallen. Together, Carly and Elizabeth had gone towards him, Carly slightly behind her. She looked down at the carpet and saw the gun.

The gun he’d used to threaten her mother. To take Bobbie away from her, using Carly’s terror of him, of losing someone else—he’d used it to control her.

And now it was just laying on the ground.

Carly was staring at it as she listened to Ric gasping for breath—heard Elizabeth murmur something— look away. Ric’s eyes closed. His chest stopped rising.

He was dead.

She leaned down to pick up the gun, to move it—and then she saw it—

Ric’s eyes opened, his lips curled into a snarl, and his body started to shift, to launch itself off the carpet—toward Elizabeth who had turned away to look at Bobbie—

“Elizabeth—” Carly forced the words out. “Look out!”

But it was too late—Ric was off the ground, Elizabeth couldn’t turn fast enough—

So Carly raised the gun and pulled the trigger, screaming as she kept shooting, kept going until the barrel clicked into emptiness—

Ric was shoved back by the first bullet, slammed into the wall. The first one caught him in the chest, then the second—it hit his throat—

Then his face exploded.

PCPD: Squad Room

Kelsey did not run. She made a conscious effort not to rush down the hallway and burst through the doors. She’d wanted to—the moment Taggert had called her, told her he’d made an arrest—Kelsey had wanted to run.

In the squad room, she found Lucky, Anna, and Taggert clustered around Taggert’s desk, the three of them sharing similar expressions of shock, concern, and relief—

“What is it?” Kelsey demanded. “Who—How?”

Lucky left his bosses and came to her. He took her face in his, rested his forehead against hers for a long moment. “Sonny. He confessed.”

Confessed—”

Behind him, Scott came in. “What’s wrong? You told my secretary—” He looked at Kelsey who had started to cry. “What’s going?”

“We made an arrest, Scott,” Taggert told him. He cleared his throat. “Sonny just confessed to Oliver Joyce’s murder.”

“Confessed—” Scott blinked, shook his head. Looked over to the interrogation room. “What?”

“He confessed?” Kelsey repeated. “How—how did his lawyer let that happen?”

“He refused a lawyer,” Anna said. When Scott just stared at her, she nodded. “I can’t explain it. He signed a Miranda waiver, and Taggert even asked him again during the interview.”

“I don’t understand—how—why—” Kelsey took Scott’s hand in hers. He squeezed it. “Why did he kill my dad?”

“Your dad was the business manager at a strip club Sonny ran—and apparently, wasn’t happy about the treatment of the women who worked there. But he swallowed it for a long time,” Taggert said. “Until 1994. When he learned that one of the women who Sonny had fed drugs to, slept with—he found out—”

“He found out Karen was my daughter,” Scott said roughly. “Christ. We were right. It was about Karen. He admitted it?”

“He must have threatened Sonny or said something—that made Sonny worry. And since Sonny was on the verge of going after Frank Smith, getting all that power—” Taggert exhaled slowly. “Oliver Joyce was a threat.”

“My dad—my dad died because—” Kelsey hands were trembling. She looked at Lucky as tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

“Because he wanted to help my daughter.” Scott clenched his hands into fists, forced himself to take a breath. “He confessed. I don’t—how?”

“I’m not sure,” Taggert admitted. “I don’t—I’m not—” He winced looked at Anna. “It’s possible it might not stand up in court—”

“What?” Scott demanded. “Why?”

“Recent mental illness diagnosis,” Anna admitted. “I think we’re on even ground, but Taggert’s right. Any lawyer worth their salt would try to get it thrown out. But you stopped the interrogation, you asked him again—you gave him a break. And he still confessed.”

“I still don’t know why, but I guess it doesn’t matter.” He scratched his temple. “He’s being booked now on charges of second degree murder.”

“Sonny Corinthos is being booked for confessing to murder,” Scott said slowly. “I can’t—” He put an arm around Kelsey’s shoulder. “I can’t wrap my mind around it—”

“I’m going to call Dante,” Anna murmured to Taggert. “He should have a heads up.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Taggert said. He looked back at Kelsey and Lucky, then shook his head. This was not how he’d expected the day to go.

Lexington House: Living Room

Someone was screaming—someone was crying—Her mother shot from behind the chair, wrapped Carly in her arms—and it was then that Carly realized it was her—

She was screaming and crying.

“Is he dead? Is he dead? Don’t let him up—” She looked at Elizabeth, at her mother.

“He’s dead,” Bobbie said.

Carly sank to her knees, sobbing. “No, he always comes back. Always—”

“Not this time,” Elizabeth managed, her voice quivering. “He’s—his face is gone.”

Bobbie rocked Carly back and forth. “Baby, it’s okay. He’s dead, I promise you. You did it.” Bobbie turned to Elizabeth, her face white with shock. “Can you—where’s your phone?”

Elizabeth looked at her, blinked. “Claudia took them,” she said faintly. “She—she made us—”

“Right,” Bobbie muttered. “Right. I can’t—” She took a deep breath. Smoothed Carly’s hair out of her eyes. “We need to call Jason. We need to find a phone—” She got to her feet, started searching for a land line.

She found a phone tucked behind the sofa, her fingers shaking as she tried to dial.

“Let me,” Elizabeth said. “Go sit with Carly.” She turned away from Ric’s body and took the phone from Bobbie. She punched in Jason’s cell number as Bobbie returned to Carly, taking the gun from her.

“Hello?” Jason bit out, irritated, out of patience.

“Jason?”

“Elizabeth? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. We’re, um—” Her voice broke. “I don’t know where we are. We drove for a while—we’re okay. I think. For now. I have—I shot him, but Carly—she killed him. Ric—he was—” She swallowed hard. “He was alive. He’s not now.”

“Are you sure?” Jason demanded. “Is he dead?”

“Y-yeah. I thought he was before, but then he wasn’t—Carly—he doesn’t have a face.” Her voice broke.

“We’re pulling up to a safe house that Claudia owns in Port Charles. Can you see us out the window? Is it the same house?”

Elizabeth went over to a window that looked out over the front of the house and nearly sank to her knees. “I see you—you’re here!”

She dropped the phone, ran to the doorway, threw open the door, and met Jason half up the steps of the porch, throwing herself into his arms.

She was safe. They were safe. It was over.

Port Charles Municipal Building: Mayor’s Office

Ned set the phone back on the hook and looked blindly at his desk for a long moment, trying to organize the news he’d been given.

“Ned?” Lois waved a hand in front of his face. “What’s going on?”

“What’s happened?” Alexis demanded.

Ned cleared his throat, then looked at Alexis. “Sonny’s been arrested.”

“Again?”

“What for?” Lois wanted to know. “What in the hell—”

“And Ric Lansing was alive. He’s dead now. But he was alive, and he kidnapped Carly, Elizabeth, and Bobbie. They’re okay.”

“What?”

“Is that why Sonny got arrested?” Alexis spoke at the same time as Lois. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“No, he confessed to a murder that happened ten years ago. Different case.”

“That’s a lot of information to get in sixty seconds,” Lois said, her eyes wide. “And we’re gonna need a hell of a press statement. Christ, Sonny’s confessed to it? Who was the victim?”

“And what do you mean Ric was alive?”

“I’m going across the street to find out.” Ned reached for his coat. “Anyone want to come with me?”

Lexington House: Front Porch

When Taggert, Lucky and Cruz arrived at the address given to them by dispatch, they found a cluster of people waiting for him. Jason with his arms around Elizabeth by the front door, Carly and Bobbie were sitting on the top step with Lucas standing over them. Lucky made a beeline for his aunt.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Taggert frowned, found a dark-haired young man he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

“Johnny Zacchara. Just along for the ride.” The kid’s face looked slightly green. “Ah, I think I just saw my first brain matter.”

“Told you to wait outside,” Lucas muttered.

Taggert climbed the stairs to Jason and Elizabeth. “Dispatch said you were kidnapped? How the hell did you let that happen?” he snapped at Jason.

Jason glared at him, and Taggert felt oddly better—the equilibrium had been restored. Still pale, Elizabeth smacked him in the chest. “Stop glaring at him,” she muttered. To Taggert, she said, “Our drivers were waiting in the parking garage. Claudia Zacchara must have followed us—she put a gun to Bobbie’s head, so we didn’t exactly think it was a good idea to stall until the guards could reach us.”

“They brought you here?”

“Yeah—and Ric was here. I’m not—I’m not entirely sure what the plan was, but I think he was going to kill us. Um—he had the gun to Bobbie’s head the whole time, and I didn’t know if he’d move it—”

She looked at Bobbie. “But in the car, I managed to tell Bobbie that if I got the chance—I’d give her a signal—”

“You took longer than I thought,” Bobbie said with a weak smile to show she was only kidding. “But she distracted him—made him angry—”

“I was always good at that,” Elizabeth said. She closed her eyes. “Bobbie got herself away, then I got the gun. I shot him. I-I thought he was dead—but he was just pretending.”

“I got to the gun,” Carly said. She got to her feet, swaying slightly. Lucas put a hand on the small of her back to steady her. “And I shot him. And I kept shooting until he didn’t have a face anymore.”

Taggert winced. “Oh—well—yeah, that seems like a good plan. All right. All right. I need you to go to the station,” he told them.

“Do they have to?” Lucas asked. “They just—”

“I want to get it over with,” Elizabeth said wearily. “Can—you said Lulu was with Cameron? I just want to call her to check on him—but I don’t want to wait. Let’s get the statements done.”

“Agreed,” Carly said. “After tonight, I don’t ever want to think about Ric Lansing again.”

PCPD: Squad Room

Kelsey smiled wanly at Dante as he set a cup of water down in front of her. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

“I wasn’t,” Dante said, sitting down at his desk. “I’m not technically supposed to be back for a few more days, but Anna wanted me to have a heads up—and well, they’re busy today.”

He stared at the desk blotter for a minute. “I don’t know what to say to you,” he admitted. “How to process any of this.”

“Because your father killed mine?” Kelsey asked softly. “I’m not thinking about that, Dante.”

“Why not?” Dante looked at her, then grimaced. “Killer on one side, rapist on the other—” He sighed. “It’s not about me—”

“No, but I get it.” She swiped a tear from her eyes. “Ever since I found out my dad died in a mob hit—since I found out he’d spent most of his career working for a mobster—even on the legal side of things—it made me doubt him. And doubting him—I doubted myself. You know?” She sighed. “But today, I found out that maybe he wasn’t always a great man, at the end of the day, he was just trying to do right.”

She leaned forward. “My dad died because he wanted to make sure Sonny couldn’t hurt any other women like Karen Wexler. And I can let that be enough for me. Dante, he didn’t raise you. But even if he’d taught you to ride a bike and given you the sex talk—I still wouldn’t blame you. We are not our parents. We share DNA, but we are who we want to be.”

Kelsey smiled, a bit brighter now. “Thank you. By the way. For staying last year. I know how much you guys wanted to quit. But we stuck it out. And look what happened. The PCPD just solved a cold case they’d covered up. A cold case that I found, that Lucky convinced me to talk about—that Anna put her resources into, and your lieutenant got a confession. Look at what we’ve helped do in less than a year.”

“And now Ric Lansing is finally dead. My cousin is rotting in a prison.” Dante nodded. “Yeah, things are looking up.”

“Exactly. I’m going to call my mother to tell her—and then we are going to stop worrying about the past so much.” Kelsey picked up the phone, pressed a speed dial.

“Mom? Hey. So today, the PCPD arrested the man who killed Daddy.” Tears spilled down her cheeks again. “I know, Mom. They did it. They got Daddy justice. You’re safe. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

“I thought we were allowed to leave after we gave our statement,” Carly said as Anna opened her door to usher her inside, followed by Jason and Elizabeth. “I just wanna go home. Why did my mother get to go—”

“Something else that happened today,” Taggert said, closing the door as he entered the room last. “Sonny came in for questioning on an unrelated case.”

Jason frowned, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Is he still here?” Carly asked. “I can’t—”

“He came without a lawyer,” Anna continued. “And refused to call one despite being offered the possibility twice.”

Jason exhaled slowly, then closed his eyes. “What was the case?” he asked, a bit pained. At his side, Elizabeth tensed. Was Jason about to be arrested? Oh, God, had Sonny turned on him—

“In 1994, a man was shot dead in his car,” Anna said. “His name was Oliver Joyce, and up until that night, he had been the business manager of the Paradise Lounge and a few other clubs.”

“Joyce—”

Jason’s eyes flew open as Elizabeth repeated the last name. “1994?”  he asked.

“Yeah, before you came along,” Taggert told him. “When I said it was unrelated—” He tipped his head, understanding exactly what Jason had thought. “I meant it. I’m telling you the outcome of my questioning because you’ll hear it on the news, and after the day Carly and Elizabeth just had—I figured a heads up was warranted.”

“Was he arrested?” Carly asked, faintly. “I don’t—I don’t understand—Joyce—isn’t that—”

“The ADA’s name?” Elizabeth finished.

“Kelsey’s father, yes,” Anna confirmed. She leaned against the desk. “During questioning, Sonny confessed to murdering Oliver Joyce because he’d threatened to turn him in for things that had happened at the Paradise.”

“He confessed—” Carly pressed a fist to her mouth. “Are you—What?” She looked at Jason whose distressed mirrored her own. “How—what—”

Elizabeth touched his arm and he looked down at her. “Call Justus,” she said softly. “Justus will make sure it’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Jason shook his head slightly. “Yeah, okay. Can I—can we call a lawyer for him now?”

“I would appreciate it,” Anna admitted. “While I’m confident that Taggert handled the interrogation fairly—it’s been recorded—I am aware of Sonny’s recent bipolar disorder diagnosis. I think it’s best if we make sure everyone is protected.”

“Okay. I’ll—I’ll get someone down here. But right now—” Jason took Elizabeth’s hand. “I want to take Elizabeth and Carly home.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Taggert said as they passed by him.

“Thank you for letting us know,” Elizabeth told him, flashing him one last tired smile as the trio left the office.

“Well,” Anna said to Taggert with a hesitant smile. “That’s a hell of a day—closed a cold murder and wrapped up the Lansing case. Good work today.”

“I thought I’d feel something more,” Taggert admitted. “When I finally took Sonny down—but you know—I mostly just feel sad. He looked tired, broken.”

“He’s human, after all.” Anna straightened and went behind the desk. “Just like the rest of us. The fact that you don’t feel like you won anything today, Marcus, it tells me you’re doing something right here. Sonny might be a murderer, a criminal, but he’s also a father, a husband, and a friend. Ric Lansing might be dead—” She nodded at the door. “Their statements are signed—but it doesn’t change anything. No one won anything today. They just finished it.”

She picked up her reading glasses, slipped them on. “Time to move on.”

Brownstone: Living Room

Carly was still somewhat numb when she arrived home at dusk. Her mother was waiting for her, sitting on the sofa, tapping her foot restlessly.

When Carly came in, Bobbie shot up. “Why did they keep you?” At her side, Lucas also stood. A year ago, she knew that her mother was on her side, but she hadn’t really realized how lucky she’d been that this woman had forgiven her.

Not only had Bobbie forgiven her—but she’d let Carly into her family, and somewhere along the way—Lucas had become her brother.

“Sonny was arrested,” Carly said after a long moment of silence. “He confessed to murdering a man ten years ago.”

“Oh my God—”

“I don’t know all of the details—I think—I think Jason is going to get them, but—” Carly took a breath. “I don’t want to talk about any of that right now. The boys—”

“With Felix at our place,” Lucas told her. “He said he’d keep Michael busy with video games when he got home from school. Carly—”

“I thought I’d feel like it was over,” she interrupted. “I killed him. I made it over. That was me—and I got to save Elizabeth for a change—but I just—there’s no magic fix, is there?” She looked at Bobbie. “It’s not over because he’s dead. I’m still here.”

“You’re still here,” Bobbie repeated. “And that’s all you need to remember. No matter what happens—you got through it.”

“I did.” Carly reached for Bobbie’s hand. “Because of you. And Jason and Elizabeth, of course. But you made me safe, Mama. Last year, I knew you’d never stop looking. That you wouldn’t stop until I was free.”

“I didn’t—”

“I’m not free yet.” Carly managed a smile. “But I’m going to be. And some day, it will be over.” She looked at Lucas. “But for now, I know I’m safe. I have my boys. And my family. That’s all I need tonight.”

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

“Did you thank Lulu for me again?” Elizabeth asked as Jason entered the room. She looked down at Cameron, lightly dozing in her arms as she gently rocked back and forth. “He looks perfect. Like nothing happened—”

“I did. She’s on her way to check on Dante. Because of Sonny,” he added when Elizabeth frowned at him.

“Are you okay with it?” she asked. “A lot—a lot happened today. You know? Not just Ric—but Sonny—do you think he really confessed?”

“He must have. I don’t understand, but I guess—” Jason shook his head. “I never even knew—I never asked anything about before I knew him. Not really.”

Elizabeth got to her feet, a bit unsteady. She set Cameron down in the bassinet and flashed Jason a smile. “You didn’t even check my pulse.”

He frowned at her, then with a start, realized she was right. “I didn’t—I didn’t think about it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Kelly did say that a lot of the problems I was having was because I was pregnant—that I would feel a lot better when it was just me and the meds.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, leaned into his embrace as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I forgot, too,” Elizabeth admitted. “Strange. It took over so much of our life for so long, and I didn’t even remember.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of her forehead. “You were always stronger than you gave yourself credit for.”

“I know. I didn’t always,” she said, tipping her face up to his. He kissed her gently, lingering. “But I know it now. I’m sorry about, Sonny, Jason.”

“Me, too. Justus will take care of it,” Jason said. “And we’ll get through it.”

“Just like we always do. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They stood there, together, watching their son breathe.

August 22, 2022

Update Link: Invisible Strings – Part 9

Today is the first day of the new weekday schedule — Flash Fiction updates will be made in the evening. I’ll start writing around 7 PM (some nights I might do 6:30 PM) and post an hour later.  This is only for Flash Fiction — we’re done posting daily on August 31. Updates shift to Friday-Sunday, then Monday will be added in November when I launch Counting Stars. That’ll be posted at 7 AM with an update post going live at the same time. Hopefully that makes sense.

Two weeks from tomorrow, we’re back at school with the kiddos. Can’t decide if I’m excited yet, lol. I’m back to work for teacher prep days on September 1.

I can’t believe Mad World ends this week! Chapter 114 goes live tomorrow morning at 7 AM and the conclusion on Thursday!

This entry is part 9 of 22 in the Flash Fiction: Invisible Strings

Written in 60 minutes.


Jason woke to the normal sound of a rooster crowing, streaks pink and orange streaking across the sky, the soft light illuminating through the lace curtains that hung over the window facing the bed. He had woken at dawn for most of his life, teased by family members for being an early riser who needed little sleep. As a child, he’d bounced from his bed and headed out to climb trees, go swimming, fishing, and find whatever trouble there was to be had. As an adult, he’d begun his work day, heading to the stables or town.

On this morning, two weeks after he had found himself in a church wedded to a woman he’d known little more than a day, Jason was content to remain just where he was, Elizabeth’s body snug against his own, her light breathing sometimes lulling him back into a light sleep. He nuzzled the side of her neck, sweeping her hair back so he could press his lips to the soft skin.

“Mmm,” she murmured, shifting slightly. Her hand found the arm slung across her and laced their fingers together. “Good morning.”

“You should rest,” Jason said, but he nibbled at her earlobe, and she turned to face him, her features only dimly visible in the weak light of the dawn. “You had little sleep.”

Elizabeth smiled, the curve of her lips drawing a matching expression on his own face. “Whose fault is that?” she teased.

“Well, the first time, it was me, but I believe it was your leg brushing against mine the second.”

“And the third?” she asked with an arch of brow, sliding a hand up his bare chest to touch his cheek, the leg in question moving ever so slightly so that he was cradled between them.

“I think that was mutual,” Jason managed as he dipped down to brush his mouth against hers, then his lips trailed down to her collarbone.

“Okay, but this one is definitely on you,” she said with a bit of laughter. He cut off the mirth with his mouth again, swallowing her giggles.

A few hour later, Jason strode into the jail house and tossed his hat over the post. He’d much rather be back at the house, working the horses, and with Elizabeth. Not that she needed him, he thought as he relieved the night deputy and checked on the few inhabitants of the cells in the back. But he still would rather be there.

Everyone was just where they were supposed to be, so Jason went back to the front room to see his cousin sitting at the desk, putting his feet up. “Comfortable?” he said dryly.

Dillon scrambled to his feet, flushing hard. “I didn’t—I didn’t know you were here—uh, where—you stabled Ronan, then?”

“Yes.” Jason folded his arms, trying to pretend he was still unhappy with his younger relative. It had been easier in the beginning to hold on to his irritation—whether or not Jason had decided to go through with Dillon’s insane plan, it had still been irresponsible and nearly cruel to drag a woman and her child across the country the way he had.

But over the last week, as Jason felt more and more like a husband, he had to admit that his cousin could have chosen far more poorly. It was likely Jason might have felt obligated to any woman his cousin had dumped on him in this situation, but Elizabeth wasn’t just any woman.

“You, uh, want me to head over to the postal office?” Dillon wanted to know, nervously shuffling his feet.

“Yeah, you do that.” Jason watched him scramble to leave, shaking his head. No, he wasn’t even a little irritated with the kid anymore, but that didn’t mean Dillon had to know that.

Elizabeth only wished she was feeling the same level of satisfaction Jason was at the moment. Miles away, she found herself a bit at her wit’s end, unsure how to fill the hours.

For more than four years, she had filled every hour of her day with hard work and little rest. Now, thanks to Alice, there wasn’t even mending to do. Not that Elizabeth could manage that — the first time, she’d tried, she’d been abruptly reminded how things had changed.

She sat on the sofa, flexing the fingers on her hand again — the missing piece of her index finger made it nearly impossible to hold a needle steady — something she hadn’t realized. Which meant much of the way she’d filled her time before Alex’s death and her parent sent her away was also out of the question. She’d enjoyed knitting and needlework — but all of that was lost to her.

“Mama…” Cameron came into the room, dragging a string which had a little wooden wagon attached to it. His face had a small chocolate stain — Elizabeth smiled. Her little boy was being spoiled beyond his—or her—wildest dreams. A bit of restlessness and boredom seemed  small price to pay for the happiness her son was enjoying.

“I see you’ve been bothering Alice again,” Elizabeth said, reaching for her handkerchief to dab at the chocolate. “You must let her see to her work.”

“She likes to give me treats,” Cameron said somberly. “It makes her happy. Mama, where is the papa?”

Elizabeth smiled at him, running her finger through his blonde hair, the curls of his toddler ears already straightening out. “Papa has a very important duty in town,” she reminded him. She lifted him into her lap, cuddling him closer. “He is the sheriff.”

“Sheriffs protected the people.” Cameron sighed, and turned into her embrace, his breathing slowing as he began to doze, falling into his morning nap. “Want the papa to play.”

“Some day soon,” Elizabeth said, stroking her son’s back. Jason worked so much in town and didn’t spend much time at the ranch — Cameron didn’t have a lot of time with him. Elizabeth worried over that, but Alice said it was normal. Since his grandmother had saddled him with the position, Jason was at the jail more than at the ranch.

That was all right, Elizabeth thought. He came home to her every night and she knew he was happy with the arrangement so far, though they had little time for talk, she reflected. But she enjoyed what they had so far, and perhaps it would get better. He might hire another deputy — or even better, surely there would be a child. Oh, she wanted more children. A little brother or sister for Cameron. A baby would fill her time.

Yes, everything was lovely, just as she’d hoped. She only had to make sure they stayed that way.

To her surprise, Jason was home for supper that night and Cameron was delighted. She hoped he might one day stop calling Jason “the” papa, but it had helped to bridge an awkward situation, as the title seemed to make Jason smile.

Alice dished up a bowl of stew and set it in front of Cameron, then another for Jason. “Good to have you home, Master Jason,” she said a bright smile. “Pretty wife and handsome boy waiting for you all the long day—”

“Oh—” Elizabeth widened her eyes. “No, we’re quite all right,” she protested as Alice disappeared into the kitchen. “Alice told me you’re rarely here.”

“Grandmother,” Jason said with a wince, “thought having me appointed sheriff would be good for me. I’m sorry—”

“No,” Elizabeth repeated, with a shake of her head. He mustn’t think she was unhappy or complaining. “It’s an important duty.”

“Mama says you take care of people. All the people,” Cameron said, stirring his strew. “Can I be a people?”

Jason tilted his head. “You already are. Everyone in Port Charles and the area is under my protection.”

“But you always with the people,” Cameron continued. “You see them. Not me. So I not a people.”

“Cameron—”

“Want to fish and swim,” her son said, looking at Elizabeth. “You said no. So maybe the papa can.”

Jason’s brows drew together and he looked at Elizabeth who exhaled slowly and forced a smile. “He’s wanted to explore all the parts of the ranch, including the lake. It’s all I can do to keep in sight. I—I don’t know how to swim. Or fish. If there is someone who can show me, I’ll—”

“No.” Jason set down his spoon, and something passed over his face, a slight tightening of his jaw. It was gone so quickly she nearly missed it. Oh, he was unhappy. She was making demands of him. She hadn’t meant to— “No, you—if you want to learn, I can show you. I can teach you both.”

“Really, you don’t—”

“I haven’t made many adjustments to my life,” Jason said, and then he smiled but it didn’t feel real to her. It didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “In town most of the day. Leaving you and Cameron on your own out here. I—”

“I really promise you it’s quite all right. I’ve told Cameron your duties—”

“I’ll take a day this week,” Jason interrupted and she closed her mouth, staring down into her stew, miserable. “With good weather. I’ll make sure to do that at least once a week. If not more. I’ve needed to hire another deputy—and I told my grandmother I didn’t want to be appointed next year.” When Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, he continued, “I’d told her that months ago,” he said gently. “I’d rather be here. You and Cameron are giving me the excuse.”

“So I be a people then?” Cameron asked, screwing his face up in concentration.

“The most important people,” Jason pledged, and this time when he smiled it was genuine. Cameron’s face lit up. “I’ll teach you to swim and fish. And anything else you want.”

“See, Mama, I told you the papa would do it,” Cameron told Elizabeth who just smiled weakly and avoided Jason’s curious eyes.

That night, Elizabeth was almost dreading going to bed. She lingered over Cameron’s routine, sponging the day’s exertions from his little body, tugging the nightshirt over his head, tucking him into bed, telling him stories until he drifted into sleep, his precious body curled around a rag doll he’d brought with him from New York. Elizabeth had tried to fashion it into a puppy — Cameron loved dogs, and he wanted one quite desperately.

Finally, she had no reason to avoid her own bedroom and the light had disappeared, the sun had sunk below the horizon. Would Jason be irritated that Cameron had pushed him into a promise to spend time with him? Did he feel obligated?  She fretted over the possibilities, but it was time to face her husband and whatever reaction he had to the dinner.

Jason would have been surprised to learn Elizabeth worried so much about the promises extracted that evening. He missed being at the ranch, and having a small boy eager to play and be rowdy was the perfect excuse to take a day or two away from the job.

And it had been a bit jarring to hear that Elizabeth had been making her own excuses for his absence from Cameron’s life. Jason had always gone to work an hour or two after dawn, and returned near twilight. He hadn’t really thought about those hours coinciding with those that Cameron was awake. But now he worried — did Elizabeth think he was avoiding her son? Did Cameron feel unwelcome?

He went to their bedroom at the usual time, a bit surprised not to find Elizabeth already in bed. She’d fit in nicely wit his schedule but now he wondered — did she keep the same hours as he did because she might not otherwise see him?

He’d spent the whole day entirely satisfied with his marriage and life, but now he was afflicted with doubts. Had he been failing and not realized?

Elizabeth came in a few moments later, and turned up one of the gas lights. She smiled at him. “It was nice to have you here for supper,” she said, drawing her nightgown from the post next to the door. “A lovely surprise.”

“I’ll be going in later and coming home sooner,” Jason pledged. “I should see Cameron in the morning—” He paused. “Why didn’t you ask me about taking him swimming or fishing?”

Elizabeth frowned at him, her fingers paused over the buttons of her shirtwaist. “Because you were not here to ask,” she said after a long moment. “And I just assumed you would be too busy—”

He’d had a brother to show him all those things, no matter how little he and AJ had quarreled as adults, and Jason had thought of teaching his nephew one day. It shamed him a little that he hadn’t thought of taking Cameron out on the lake. For a little boy who called him “the” papa, it was no wonder Cameron didn’t view him as “his” papa.

Jason crossed to Elizabeth, brushing her fingers away from her button, accomplishing the task himself. “I am not too busy for you,” he told her. “Or for Cameron. But I cannot read minds. I hope that you will both ask me for what you want. Or need.”

“All right—” Her eyes searched his, and then she smiled a bit tremulously. “But you’ve done well so far without any guidance from me.”

“I am relieved to hear it.” He dipped his head and kissed her, his second favorite part of the day.

August 21, 2022

Update: Watch Me Burn – Part 8

Does anyone else have, like, six stages of doing laundry? My washer/dryer is in the basement, so I feel like, Day 1  -take laundry to first floor; Day 2- actually do laundry; Day 3 – redry clothes so they’re not wrinkled and bring them to first floor to fold; Day 4 bring clothes to second floor; Day 5 – bring to bedroom; Day 6 – actually put them away. Just in time to start the nightmare again. And it’s exclusively a summer thing — I have no issues during the school year. Maybe it’s because my brain knows I can wear yoga pants, so it’s not like I need the clothes.

Anyway 😛 Tomorrow, I’m going to attempt to do Flash fiction at 7 PM to get my writing energy going in the evening — I want to do more writing at night during the school year.

This entry is part 8 of 56 in the Flash Fiction: Watch Me Burn

Written in 62 minutes.


Miller & Associates: Conference Room

For the last week, Elizabeth had met with Diane every daily, going over her marriage in painstaking—and even humiliating—detail. Diane wanted no surprises in this meeting, and Elizabeth knew that everything she said would remain confidential, even from Jason. But it didn’t make it any easier to answer questions like, “Why did you continue the lie after Jason wanted to be a father?” and “Why did you keep involving Jason in your child’s life?”

Questions that reminded Elizabeth how much damage she’d caused, how much hurt and pain she’d inflicted on Jason who had never done anything except say one wrong thing the day he’d learned about the test the results. Sure, Jason could have refused — but she’d known he wouldn’t. Had she taken advantage of that? Diane had asked. Used her history with Jason, his role in Michael’s paternity and belief that Carly had the right to choose for her son?

Not on purpose, Elizabeth had attempted to explain. It sounded so callous. Cruel. Calculating. But it all amounted to the same thing, and was why she was taking a seat next to her lawyer, watching Lucky do the same. His lawyer unpacking his briefcase, retrieving a thick file.

Had Lucky had those same conversations with this man? Did Lincoln Frazier now know every intimate detail of their marriage, every piece of Lucky’s thought process? Between the two lawyers, they should surely know every piece of information. Maybe they could explain to Elizabeth how a marriage that begun with such happiness that day in October 2005, as she’d stood in front of Lucky, her first love, with love and kindness radiating—before plunging into the terrible fights just a year later—and now this—

She hadn’t wanted this — but it felt like every she’d taken that day after leaving Jason’s penthouse—every choice—had led them here.

“Good morning, Lincoln,” Diane said with a breezy smile. “How are you?”

“Not nearly as well as you. Are those new shoes?” the other man asked.

Diane beamed. “So nice of you to notice. You always had an eye for such things.” She picked up her pencil, the sharpened tip poised over her yellow legal pad. “We filed in superior court last week, so I’m sure you’ve had a chance to review our initial proposals.”

“Yes. Your client seeks a dissolution of the marriage with no property or financial entanglements. They both walk away with what they entered the marriage — custody to be determined later.” Lincoln’s dark brows raised. “You’re asking to bifurcate the custody arrangements?”

“With the family court docket being what it is, we anticipate some delays in getting some of our hearings on the docket,” Diane said. “I see no reason why Mr. Spencer or Miss Webber should have to wait to be declared legally single.”

Lincoln nodded. “Yes, my client did anticipate that his wife was eager to be single again for the purposes of other hearings.”

Elizabeth frowned, looked at Diane whose bland expression did not change. “Whatever the motivations, does your client have any problem with that?”

“Yes. The financial situation will take some time to deal with. There is serious credit card debt in Mrs. Spencer’s name—”

Elizabeth’s fists clenched in her lap, but Diane was ready. “Yes, there was a very large charge a year ago to a credit card belonging to my client — a card on which Mr. Spencer was an authorized user.” She picked up a copy of the bill and her reading glasses. “Ah, Promises Recovery and Rehab. Mrs. Spencer is willing to forgo fighting over that charge in order to streamline the dissolution of the marriage—”

“As I said, there are financial issues that I think bear closer study. At this time, we are not looking to join the petition for bifurcation. Mr. Spencer would rather wait for all aspects of this marriage to be litigated before final dissolution.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, looked at Lucky who just met her eyes with a sullen glare. She looked back at Diane.

“All right, we’ll let a judge handle that.” Diane set that paperwork aside. “As for the financial situation, we’ll be employing Harris & Son as financial auditors to prepare a report as to what Mrs. Spencer’s share of the marital assets and debts would be so that we can make a proper recommendation to the judge.”

“We’ll make everything available from our side, so long as our financial auditors have access to your documents.”

Auditors digging through her records. Refusing to let her just walk away — Oh, God, Lucky was really going to make this difficult, wasn’t he?

“The marital home on Charles Street belongs to the Spencer family,” Lincoln began.

“Mrs. Spencer is already waiving any claim to it. She understands that it was loaned to them for the duration of the marriage and that it remains in trust for Laura Spencer and her children.” Diane slid that waiver across the table. “It should have been in the original filing, but in case you overlooked it—”

“Of course.” Lincoln paused. “I bring up the subject because it allows for a segue into our most important concern. Custody of the minor children. Mrs. Spencer took the children from the marital home without any discussion of visitation. My client is the legal father of Jacob Martin Spencer and stepfather to Cameron Hardy Webber. He would like to arrange for joint custody, with a fifty-fifty share. One week with him, one week with their mother. That would eliminate the need for child support.”

“As it pertains to Cameron Webber,” Diane said, “my client is in support. Cameron loves his—” She paused and with the slightest sneer in her tone, “stepfather as Mr. Spencer is the only father figure he’s ever known.” She slid another set of papers across the table. “As for the younger son, Jacob, this is an unfiled copy of the paternity suit Jason Morgan will be filing in family court if we cannot mediate the issue today. He will be presenting evidence of paternity and petitioning for Mr. Spencer’s legal status to be terminated. Mr. Spencer is well aware of this fact as Miss Webber already informed him—and the world—of this fact.”

Lincoln did not pick up the papers. He looked at Lucky, who just nodded. The lawyer returned his attention to Diane. “We did anticipate that possibility, and we’ve prepared an answer for that. While Mr. Morgan’s alleged biological connection may add a wrinkle to custody negotiations, in answer to that paternity suit, Mr. Spencer will be ready to defend himself as the child’s legal father.”

“A court—” Diane began.

“Blood relatives are preferred, but not guaranteed,” Lincoln cut in, and Diane closed her mouth. “Mr. Morgan knew of this child’s paternity months ago, according to your client. He also knew it was a possibility before the baby was born. He sat for a paternity test. A fact that no one informed my client about. Mr. Morgan’s failure to provide for his son has given my client serious pause to investigate his fitness as a father.”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw. So Georgie had heard correctly. Lucky was going to attack Jason—

“Mr. Spencer and I have been reviewing his knowledge of Mr. Morgan this last week, and, well, Diane, I must admit I’m bit confused as to why Mrs. Spencer would want this man anywhere near her or the minor children. His arrest record, the recent trial—”

“All irrelevant as Mr. Morgan does not have have an actual criminal record,” Diane said coolly. “As  law enforcement officer, Mr. Spencer is well aware of that fact.”

“Yes, well—my client has a proposal to make. He does not wish to cause anyone any more undue pain or embarrassment or legal trouble. There are some facts Mr. Spencer is aware of that would put Mr. Morgan’s fitness as a father into stark contention—and Mrs. Spencer’s fitness as a mother, as well, since she is quite aware of these facts.”

Elizabeth frowned, shook her head. “What—” She closed her mouth as Diane looked at her.

“Please, enlighten us, Lincoln, as to the facts you think my client is ignoring.”

“As you know, last year, my client became addicted to the pain medication subscribed to him after an injury—an injury sustained as he attempted to rescue Mrs. Spencer from the clutches of a villain who had kidnapped her. As a result of that addition, Mr. Spencer made some mistakes I’m sure you’re going to bring up. And one of those mistakes,” Lincoln said coolly, “was allowing Mr. Morgan and Mrs. Spencer to convince him that Manny Ruiz died as a result of Mr. Spencer’s heroic actions. However, Mr. Spencer is quite aware that it was Mr. Morgan who inflicted the deadly blow, and Mrs. Spencer acted as an accessory after the fact.”

Diane stared at him for a long moment. “I’m sorry. Are you attempting to argue that your client participated in the cover-up of a murder and that somehow makes my client look like an unfit mother?”

“I am previewing the case I intend to make before a judge in any paternity or custody hearing,” Lincoln said. “Mrs. Spencer convinced her husband that Jason Morgan had nothing to do with Manny Ruiz’s death. That Mr. Spencer was the hero, for which he was celebrated for in the press. She did this to cover up the murder committed by her lover — the affair that you plan to use to prove paternity also corroborates Mr. Spencer’s events. She took advantage of an officer with a tragic addiction to pain pills to keep her lover out of jail. The same lover who was recently on trial for a different murder. Who has a long arrest record for felonies and misdemeanors. That is the argument I’ll be making to a family court judge as to why Jacob Spencer should remain in the legal custody of Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Jr., with supervised visitation from his mother—should she not be charged with any crimes relating to these incidents. Questions?’

Wyndemere: Study

“I don’t know why you’re even bothering with this conversation,” Nikolas told Emily as he went around his desk, took a seat. “Lucky isn’t going to listen to you anymore than he did me.”

“I still have to try,” Emily said with a sigh. “I understand how angry and hurt he is — I’m not making excuses for Elizabeth. I wouldn’t. She should have told me last year — I mean, I knew about the paternity test. I just didn’t know the results.” She rubbed her arms. “I can understand what she did. How things unraveled last year, and I hate to think I put any pressure on her—”

“She likes to put herself in the center,” Nikolas muttered, and Emily turned to look at him, confused.

“What?”

“All the weight for Lucky’s recovery — she puts it on herself. The baby—which she carried—got him clean. As if Lucky didn’t do the work—”

“That—” Emily shook her head. “That’s not what she means when she talks about the pressure. Lucky’s the one that linked his recovery to the pregnancy. He didn’t even check in until he found out—”

“Still. She didn’t even try to talk to either of us,” Nikolas said. “We would have been there for Lucky—”

“Maybe. But maybe it wouldn’t have helped. We were there for him before that, weren’t we? That didn’t seem to stop him from relapsing, continuing the affair with Maxie—God, Nikolas—why are we arguing about this? It happened. We can’t fix it. We can’t take it back or change anything. All we can do is try to get them through this next part—”

“And that’s what I’m doing. Lucky deserves the best representation,” Nikolas said. “I saw that Diane Miller is taking Elizabeth’s case. He needs someone to stand up for him—”

“What about what he’s asking? Is he really going to drag them all through court just to hear a judge say the same thing we’re saying now? You think it’ll be better for him if it takes six months for a judge to take Jake away?” Emily demanded. “Don’t you think that puts him a greater risk for the relapse?”

“Maybe. But he says this is what he needs—”

“He’s being selfish—”

“To hold on to his own child?” Nikolas snorted. “Blood doesn’t matter, Emily. You’re adopted, that doesn’t matter—”

“Really? If blood doesn’t matter so much, why is he threatening to walk away from Cameron?” she wanted to know. “You and I both know that the only difference between those two kids is that Lucky thought Jake was his biological son. He’s fighting to hold on to the baby he barely knows and ready to throw out the child who adores him.”

“That’s not fair—you know he loves Cameron—”

“He loves him the way you do. The way I do. As an adorable child we’ve watched grow up. He doesn’t feel any kind of sense of belonging. If he truly saw Cameron as his own, he wouldn’t be using this way. You know that. He’s using that precious child as leverage — banking that Elizabeth will push Jason away so that Cameron doesn’t get hurt.”

Nikolas exhaled slowly. “Maybe that’s true,” he said, “but—”

“No matter how much this hurts, we have to do what’s right. What’s good for everyone, including those boys. Lucky is going to lose Jake. You know that. But he’d rather put Cameron in the middle. What kind of father does that?”

“A desperate one—”

“You’re a fool if you support him in this.” Her eyes burned with tears. “You’re no better than the man I divorced two years ago. You and your brother are alike. You run from reality and find something else to fill the pain. He used pills, you used another woman—”

“That’s not fair—”

“I’m not interested in fair,” Emily bit out. “I don’t have the luxury for it. I only care about what’s right. And Lucky’s gamble is going to fail. It deserves to. He’ll lose them both, and you know what he’s not even taking into consideration?”

“What’s that?”

“Cameron is barely three years old. If he keeps pushing this, if he keeps hurting Cameron, Elizabeth has options. Does Lucky even think about that? Jason is right there, stepping up for Jake. Do you think he’d walk away from Cameron? Really? Lucky’s going to lose, but you know what? He deserves to.”

“It’s all about Jason with you. Just like it is with Elizabeth—”

“Because my brother is the better man. And you and your brother have hated him for years because of it.” Emily’s lips curved into a sick smile. “Or did you think I forgot that Christmas party when you announced to the world he was sleeping with Elizabeth? Go to hell. You and your brother.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

It was getting easier to handle both kids, Jason reflected as he descended the stairs after putting Jake down for a nap and watched Cameron loop around the pool table again on the miniature bike he’d carted down from the playroom that morning. Even if Cameron never ran out of energy.

“Zoom!” The toddler chanted as he raced past Jason again, but then the corner of the bike caught the desk and it tipped over. Cameron fell off with a thud, then sat up with a scowl.

“You okay?” Jason knelt down, righted the bike and checked Cameron for bumps. “You need to go a little slower,” he told him.

Cameron grinned at him. “Slow sad. Happy fast.” He climbed back on the bike and continued the lap as if nothing had happened. The resilience of children.

The door opened then, and Diane came in, followed by Elizabeth, and Jason’s smile faded as he got to his feet. Neither of them looked happy.

“I guess it didn’t go well,” Jason said, his heart pounding. Diane had made the mediation sound like nothing—just an annoying box to tick off as they marched towards custody and paternity hearings.

“That depends on your definition of well,” Diane said. She looked to Elizabeth. “I’ll draw up another waiver of conflict of interest. The previous one only protected us in civil court. It’s different wording in  criminal—”

“Criminal—” Jason echoed, not even feeling the pinch as Cameron’s bike rolled over his foot.  “What happened?”

Elizabeth folded her arms, smiled grimly. “Well, Georgie definitely heard correctly. Lucky’s going after both of us. He claims you—” She took a deep breath, lowered her voice so that Cameron couldn’t hear her. “He claims that you killed Manny Ruiz, and I helped you cover it up by convincing Lucky, my poor, tragic, pain addicted husband, to take the credit. If we file a paternity suit, Lucky’s going to tell everyone that it was the fall from the roof that killed Manny, not Lucky’s bullets. And—”

“And the autopsy reports Alexis buried support that,” Jason finished.

“The only way to avoid all of this,” Diane said, “is if we drop the paternity suit and agree to Lucky’s custody demands.”

In other words, if Jason wanted avoid jail and keep Elizabeth from being charged as an accessory, or hell, even an accomplice—

He’d need to give up his son.

Again.

August 20, 2022

Update Links: Scars – Part 16 | Mad World, Book 4 – Chapter 113

Hope everyone is having a good weekend. I’m going into my final full week of summer and only two doctor’s appointments the entire week, one of which is remote, so yay for that. No MRIs or CTs or anything else that’s made this a crappy summer vacation. I’m getting the MRI results on Tuesday for my back and neck, which is the next step to finally starting treatment. Nothing like having to wait 16 months, but at least we’re on the right track.

This upcoming week, I may start experimenting with switching Flash Fiction up a bit. Instead of writing at 10 AM and posting at 11, I’ll start writing at 7 PM and posting at 8. I’ll be updating on Fridays this fall for the first time in a few years, so I want to start reworking my schedule to adjust to being back to work. Saturday & Sunday will remain at 10 AM because I do like getting it out of the way on weekends.

Only two more days of updates for Mad World! Chapter 114 goes live at 7 AM on Tuesday, Aug 23 and Chapter 115 & Epilogue, Thursday, Aug 25. Still insane to me that we’re almost done. Sorry about the cliffhanger, lol. It’s the biggest one in the entire series, and it’s on a Saturday, with two days until the next chapter. Whoops.

See you tomorrow!

This entry is part 16 of 25 in the Flash Fiction: Scars

Written in 60 minutes.


Morgan Penthouse: Bedroom

Elizabeth didn’t know how she’d managed it, but she got the girls to the soccer field, found Spencer and Cameron, got them all back to the house where they were going to spend the rest of afternoon — and never let on that everything inside of her was on fire, her brain practically screaming.

Tom Baker had been in the park watching the girls. Her girls. Every single one of them had grown up in front of Elizabeth’s eyes — from Emma, the daughter of her best friend, to Trina, the daughter of the man who had worked so hard to get Elizabeth justice, to Joss, the daughter of Jason’s closest friends —

The girl with the sad eyes who had walked home alone after a terrible dancing in a red dress — who had talked about hearing sounds.

Had they just been in her head or had Elizabeth prevented something terrible?

That night, as she sat in her bedroom, rubbing lotion into her hands, listening as Jason did the usual sweep of the boys’ rooms for their phones and tablets—she debated her next step. She hadn’t called Jason in a panic, urging him to come home. She hadn’t called the police.

She’d done nothing but ensure that the kids were safe with her, then tucked away at home later. She’d watched Emma cross the street, had texted Portia and Carly to be sure—

And now—

Jason came in, closing the door behind him, setting a tablet on the dresser. She forced a smile. “Who’s the culprit tonight?”

“Jake. Said he wanted to try out a drawing thing, but—” Jason shrugged as he exchanged his jeans for a pair of sweats. “I told him that’s why we got him a sketchpad and art supplies for his room.”

“I was thinking we might—um—with Cam in high school, maybe—” Elizabeth’s stomach was jittery—she pressed against it, and he frowned.

“Are you okay? Are you—”

“No. No, it’s fine.” She exhaled slowly. “No pain. Just a bit unsettled. I—” She twisted on on the stool to face him. “Maybe we should adjust the rules a little. Cam’s in high school. And we have to start trusting them at some point. And it would give Jake and Aiden something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, we can do that—” He tipped his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” It was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. “I guess I’ve still be thinking about Friday. Um, I haven’t asked in a while — but is the PCPD still looking at you and Sonny?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. We actually just a got a call from our guy today. I was going to tell you. Jordan’s getting some pushback on the budget. It’s been two months since she started all this surveillance, and nothing to show for it.”

Her chest eased a bit. If Jordan was going to dump the surveillance, then—

“She’s dropping the guys watching Baker,” Jason said with a scowl. “And keeping them on me and Sonny. I guess she figures there’s a better chance of getting us on something—” He shook his head and went towards the bathroom. She heard the water running a moment later.

Elizabeth went to the doorway of the ensuite bathroom. “Is there a better chance of that?”

“No. You know Sonny and I aren’t really in it the way we used to be. Not a big market for Russia anymore, so we don’t really do shipments out of the warehouse.” Jason turned to her, his brows creased. “We’re mostly in Miami—you don’t usually worry about that.”

“The PCPD doesn’t usually breathe down your neck.” She folded her arms. “And you don’t like talking about it.”

“No, I don’t.” Jason paused. “Is something wrong?” he asked again.

If she told him now, Baker might be dead by dawn and she wanted that. She wanted to hand this over to him so it could stop be her problem. So that there was no chance that Baker would slither into her dreams and haunt her—

But the PCPD were still watching Jason and Sonny. Still waiting for them to make a mistake. And they weren’t watching Baker. Telling the PCPD wasn’t going to get her anyway — even with surveillance, they hadn’t noticed Baker stalking her girls.

No, this was her problem to fix and she knew exactly how to do it.

“Just my mind working overtime,” Elizabeth said. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’ll tell me if it changes, won’t you? About the PCPD? I don’t like the idea of them watching you and Sonny this way. You’re with the kids so much—”

“I promise.” He dipped his head, kissing her as his hands slid down her bare arms, then up again. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

General Hospital: Parking Garage

The next day, Elizabeth clocked out of her shift early, getting Epiphany’s promise to cover for her. Right after Baker had been released from jail and begun working at the hospital, Jason had given Elizabeth enough information to avoid him — including the information that Baker took a bus to work and would only work the night shift, thanks to intervention from Laura.

And once, weeks ago, without telling anyone, she’d followed Baker on that bus route, driving behind the bus, trailing him across town, to the rundown neighborhood. She’d wanted to know where he lived so she could avoid it. And now she would use all of that information to destroy him.

The shift change was at seven that night, so Elizabeth wanted to be ready. She wasn’t driving her car — she’d rented one that morning in case Baker or anyone else knew her license plates. Maybe they could run it later and tie it to her, but it wasn’t all that likely. She was across the street and a few houses down, waiting.

At 6:30, Tom stepped out of his house, locked the door, then strode down the street. Elizabeth waited until the bus would have left the stop to be sure he hadn’t missed it. The night was inky dark and the street had few lights illuminating it.

Still, she was cautious. She had a winter coat she rarely wore, in a dark green, and a matching hat which she used to tuck her hair up and away. She left her car, walked around the block to a cluster of trees that backed up to the cluster of houses. She’d studied the map on her phone, poring over the satellite views —

Then she crept through the backyard—the stingy six feet of space—to the back door. One of the benefits to marrying Jason Morgan had been lessons in lock picking — she’d been kidnapped enough, he’d told her, she needed to be able to get out of places.

The house was dark and bare — the kitchen where she stood was small, the tile cracked and stained. One lamp had been left lit in the living room, which she reached through an arch. There was one  bedroom in the back of the house, and a bathroom. Though her hands were gloved, she kept them in her pocket as she walked around the small space, studying the layout. Becoming familiar with it.

She’d need to be able to get in and out of it within minutes if this would work — if alibis were to be established and hold.

In the bedroom, there was a single twin bed with a ratty mattress and a thin comforter that was little more than a scrap of fabric. Remembering that Baker had once been the photographer to the stars — he’d been Brenda Barrett’s go to choice when she’d been the Face of Deception — he’d fallen so far it brought her a bit of joy.

But it wasn’t enough. Across the bed was a dresser and a bulletin  board where a mirror might be. A bulletin board with pictures scattered across it. Her heart seized. Emma was in most of the photos — a pretty, young brunette. And there were photos of Elizabeth—her stomach lurched at the thought of Baker watching her without being noticed. And a photo of Joss. Outside of Kelly’s the night of dance.

He’d been there.

She left the photos, though she’d wanted to set fire to the house. No, it was important that those photos were found just the way they were. So that when the PCPD finally found his rotting corpse, it would be in the same room where he clearly plotted his next crime. So that they would see their own failures.

Elizabeth believed in the system some of the time, but in her experience—when she’d really needed it, justice was nowhere to be found. And justice could never truly be delivered by bureaucrats in their suits in robes.

Justice was in the blood and brain matter that spurted when she’d murdered Stavros Cassadine after he’d tried to kill Jason. In whatever manner Luke had killed Helena — though it would never be enough suffering.

The only justice in the world was the justice you made for yourself.

And Elizabeth had every intention of making sure that this time, Tom Baker would pay.

She left the house, having timed her visit. No more than five minutes. It was three more minutes to the car. Everything would have to be meticulously planned if this was going to work.

And she wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

Drake House: Living Room

“Hey.” Patrick grinned as he stepped away from the door. “I thought you were working today.”

“Sorry to bother you on your day off,” Elizabeth said. “I asked Epiphany for the day of, but I volunteered to work the morning shift on Thanksgiving to make up for it,” she told him.

“Oh, man, you must have been desperate. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Robin and Emma are gone, aren’t they?” She followed Patrick into the kitchen. “And Anna still does those sweeps for electronics?”

Patrick paused as he poured himself a cup of coffee, then looked at her, the humor fading. “What’s wrong?”

“First, answer me.”

“Yes. Mikkos Cassadine is still out there. Anna doesn’t think he cares about us, but—” He leaned against the counter. “You’re scaring me. Have there been threats?”

“No.” Elizabeth took off her coat, laid it over the back of the chair. “Not from the Cassadines. Patrick, I’m about to ask you to do something. If you can’t or won’t, it’s okay. But I need your promise you’ll never tell anyone about this conversation.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not telling Jason, so you can’t tell Robin.”

His eyes were dark and sober. “You know whatever you need, I’m here.”

“The night of the dance, when I found Joss—” Elizabeth’s throat tightened. Was she really going to do this? Drag her best friend into this nightmare?  “She told me she’d heard sounds. I thought she’d made it up.”

Patrick’s shoulders straightened. “But she didn’t.”

“I don’t think so. Monday—this Monday. Just three days ago—” Her chest ached. “I went to the park to get the kids. The boys were on the soccer field, and the girls—they were studying. Like they always do.”

“Elizabeth—”

“He was watching them,” Elizabeth said softly. “He didn’t see me. At least I don’t think so. But he was watching them. From behind the bushes.”

“He.” Patrick exhaled slowly. “You mean—”

“Tom Baker. The man who raped me. He was watching the girls. Our girls. My girls. Joss, Emma, and Trina. But I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure. So I waited for him to go to work, and I broke into his house—”

“Jesus Christ—”

“He has photos, Patrick.” She swallowed hard as he focused on her like a laser. “Of me. He said it that first day, didn’t he? He said I put him in jail. I didn’t. Not alone, but I did it. There are photos of me. But not just—he has photos of the girls. Of Emma. Trina. And Joss—he was there at Kelly’s, in the parking lot that night. She wasn’t wrong. He was following her.”

“Oh man—” Patrick shook his head. “Why aren’t you telling Jason?”

“Because the PCPD are watching him. They want to use this as a way to get to Jason and Sonny—Patrick, they’ve had men watching Baker and they either know about this and are ignoring it or they’re missing it. I don’t care. If Jason goes after him — I won’t take that risk.”

“You—” Patrick paced to the double doors that opened out to the backyard, staring blindly at the pool, long since covered up for the season. “Because he might get arrested and put in jail.”

“Baker’s coming after the girls because of me. This is my problem to fix. I won’t risk my husband or our life together. Besides—” She took a deep breath. “We work in medicine, don’t we? We know how to end a life.”

“We.” Patrick turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You’re asking for my help.”

“Yes. I know—” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I know it’s a terrible thing to ask. But I can’t—I can’t let it happen to them. I can’t let one of those girls go through it—I was so broken, Patrick—Shattered. All these years later, it’s still—it’s still there. It still haunts me. It sneaks up and chokes me when I least think of it—I can’t let it happen to them.”

“No,” he murmured. “No we can’t.” He took a deep breath, then met her eyes again. “I’ll take care of the how. You’ve run around the Spencers, Cassadines, and the mobs enough to take care of the rest of it. The when, the alibis, the whatever else we need to pull this off.”

“Yes.” She stepped towards him. “Patrick—”

“I saw you that day—at the hospital, when he spoke to you. I saw the way it broke you into pieces.” His voice was rough as he continued. “And the police have been following him? There’s no way he could take pictures of the kids and them not know. Or they’re too stupid to notice. That’s not a system I want to take my chances on. Not wit the sanity and safety of my little girl at risk. You’re right. We can do this. We have to do this. Together. There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone.”

He jerked out a chair. “Let’s get started.”