Underdog, just look at the mess you’ve made
It’s such a shame, a shame
We had to find out this way
Revenge loves company, three makes it a crowd
So wash your mouth, sit this one out
– Underdog, You Me At Six

---

Monday, September 15, 2003

PCPD: Squad Room

Lucky stepped quickly to one side as Vinnie Esposito stormed out of the squad room, letting the heavy doors slam against the wall in his haste. Lucky pressed his lips together, shook his head, then continued towards Taggert’s desk where the lieutenant was hunched over a pile of paperwork, irritation etched into his features.

“What’s wrong with Vinnie?” Lucky asked, taking a seat next to the desk.

“Floyd has filed an official complaint against him,” Taggert muttered. “Dereliction of duty in not making the link between our seven cases.” He scowled, slammed a folder shut. “He’s making Vinnie the scapegoat. He wasn’t even the investigating officer on the first three cases.”

“Then—”

“He was a patrol officer assigned to the Major Crimes unit back then. Floyd’s argument is that if Vinnie was any good at his job, he should have seen the connection.” He looked at Lucky. “He’s not wrong. I know what you’re thinking.”

Lucky shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to condemn Vinnie in the back room at Luke’s with his friends and girlfriend, but Taggert was their commanding officer. “I mean, the cases weren’t on the computer and as a patrol officer, no, we don’t really get to see a lot of the cases the investigating officers do. If they don’t bring us in—” He hesitated. “He wasn’t assigned to Elizabeth’s case. I—I don’t remember him being there when we came in—”

“Not the Webber case, no. Garcia handled that personally, then I took it over. There wasn’t a lot of leg work to do on the case.” Taggert grimaced. “But Vinnie was the first officer on scene for both Lopez and Logan. But then he moved, and both cases were cold for almost three years. I don’t know. Another cop might have seen it—”

“I’m not defending him,” Lucky said. “But even if he had linked the cases, what good would it have done? You saw what Floyd did when you did link them.” He shook his head. “He treated the victims like crap, and that sucks. Because it meant they weren’t eager to cooperate. But at the end of the day, if their statements had been better, if he had linked the cases—it still would have landed on Floyd and Mac.”

“Yeah.” He eyed Lucky. “Kelsey left me a message. Said you had something you wanted to run by me.” When Lucky scowled, Taggert grinned slightly. “She said she thought you might not be comfortable bringing it up yourself and wanted to make sure you did.”

Lucky would have to talk to her about that, but he didn’t have a lot of choice now.  “Yeah, we—Dante, Cruz, me, and Kelsey—we were going over the victim statements.” He swallowed hard. “And I was thinking about Elizabeth’s.”

“Listen—I know that must have been hard for you read,” Taggert began but Lucky shook his head.

“It’s not—I can’t change anything. I can’t make myself get to the park faster or not—I can’t change it,” he repeated. “But the thing about the handcuffs…Elizabeth never remembered that while we were investigating ourselves. She remembered the soap, remembered the words, but not the handcuffs or the hair. So, I never knew any of that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The other victims — they’re all pretty clear on how it happened. They got grabbed, they got thrown to the ground, punched in the face, then flipped and handcuffed. It was a routine for him by the time—” Lucky’s stomach rolled. “By the time he got to Wendy Morris and Brooke Ashton.”

“But not with Elizabeth.” Taggert pulled out her case file, pulled out her statement. “He threw her to the ground, slapped her, took off her coat. Elizabeth was probably fighting him, he took her hands—but yeah, I see it now. Handcuffing wasn’t his first move. So that’s something he realized would work after that attack.”

“Which, one, makes it more likely she’s the first victim,” Lucky told him, “and two—”

“Why did he have handcuffs?” Taggert finished. He exhaled slowly. “You don’t think—”

“I’m not saying it was a cop,” Lucky said with a shake of his head. “I’m just…I’m remembering that the businesses around the park were dealing with a bunch of thefts and burglaries. A bunch of places hired private security—”

“Who might have had handcuffs.” Taggert sat back in his chair. “I remember that. A bunch of teenagers breaking into places, vandalizing. We never caught them, but they hired a bunch of their own guys. We could only spare officers for Central Avenue—” He nodded. “It’s a hunch, but I think you might be right. I think the handcuffs were a spur of the moment thing. But why don’t you think it was a cop?”

“’I—” Lucky pressed his lips together. “I guess there’s no reason it can’t be. I just don’t want it to be.”

“Fair enough. But we can’t rule it out. So why don’t you, Dante, and Cruz tackle the security firms. Get a list of the companies used. Run down their employees. I’ll look at the other angle.”

“I could—”

“I can do it more quietly than you can,” Taggert said as they both stood up. “I doubt that’s what we’re looking at, but I’m not ruling it out either.”

Lucky managed a tight smile as he left Taggert’s desk and went to the desk he, Dante, and Cruz shared. He dialed into his voice messages and was surprised when he picked up one from Elizabeth, asking him to lunch that day at Kelly’s.

He thought about ducking, not sure he was ready to face her after reading the details of her statement, but instead, he picked up the phone to accept.

Quartermaine Estate: Family Room

It took two more days before Ned had the energy to take on his family and tell Edward Quartermaine exactly what their pressure on Garrett Floyd five years earlier had ultimately cost this family.

He found his grandfather lingering over his coffee at the breakfast table with Monica as she read the newspaper. Edward looked up at his entrance, furrowing his brow. “Ned. This is a surprise. I thought you’d be locked up with Jax and Alexis preparing for the debate next week.”

“I’m not worried about the debate,” Ned said as he joined them at the table. “Good morning, Monica.”

“Ned.” She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a source leak some information he thought might be useful against Floyd.” Ned picked up a silver spoon, twirled it in his fingers. “You remember Tom Baker?”

“The lunatic that went after Emily and her friends?” Edward set his coffee down. “I know he’s up for parole in December. I already made calls to scuttle that. He’ll serve the full fifteen years if I have anything to say about it. It’s the least I can do for poor Elizabeth Webber—” He frowned. “How does Baker help you with the election?”

“You had me call Floyd back then,” Ned reminded him. He looked at Monica. “The case was airtight, and we wanted him to go away for good. Twenty-five years before parole was even an option. There was a chance he might try to squiggle around the kidnapping charges, and we didn’t want that.”

“I remember,” Monica murmured. “Emily was adamant that he go to trial. She wanted to face him the way Elizabeth had. But…”

“I told Floyd to get it done. Whatever he had to do.” Ned took a deep breath. “We never knew about the charges of rape. Emily didn’t tell us. At least not me or Grandfather.”

“No, she told me,” Monica said as her hand fisted next to her plate. “She told me, and I think she might have told Jason. What does—”

“What did he do?” Edward demanded.

“About a month after the kidnapping, Taggert told Elizabeth that the case was being ruled inactive. That the rape kit had come back negative. There wasn’t enough evidence against Baker, so they were going after him on the kidnapping. She was upset at the trial—”

“And we called back.” His grandfather suddenly looked very old. “But Mac told us there wasn’t enough evidence. Ned, what did Floyd do?”

“They never ran the rape kit, did they?” Monica murmured. “I remember Emily talking about it when the story hit the newspapers—about not running the kits until there was a suspect. She said that’s what happened to Elizabeth. But I know that lab work can take up to six weeks, if not longer. If Taggert knew a month after the kidnapping—that’s barely enough time—”

“The PCPD never investigated Elizabeth’s accusation against Baker at all?” Edward roared as he got to his feet. “I demanded they get her justice—I—” He looked at Monica, almost helplessly. “I never—Steve and Audrey’s granddaughter—”

“We leaned on him to make sure Emily’s case stayed on his radar. I never thought he’d throw away another case to get it done. And when the Baker case had the mistrial, he probably forced Dara Jensen to make a deal. To make it go away.”

“I can see how this might damage Floyd’s credibility,” Monica said slowly, “but—” And then Ned saw the news hit her. Sink in. She closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Edward demanded. “What—” He looked to Ned. “He never ran the rape kit. He closed her case—but Baker confessed—” He sank back into his chair. “Didn’t he?”

“The running theory is that Elizabeth gave him an opening and he lied to her to control her. To scare her. But no. Her kit was run this summer as part of the investigation. And she is now the earliest known victim of the same man who killed my daughter.”

Monica stifled a sob, her hands over her mouth as tears slid down her cheeks. “No, no. No. Not the same man. Not the same. All this time—”

“How many women?” Edward asked, more quietly now. “How many women in total?”

“That we know about? Seven, including Elizabeth and Brooke. They’re the first and last known victims. But there’s a two-year gap. He could have moved around. He could have killed the other victims. We might never know how many there are.” Ned absently rubbed his chest. “The pressure we put on Floyd five years ago…we can directly link it to this summer and my daughter’s death.”

“We couldn’t have—” Edward gestured helplessly. “We couldn’t have known. I tried to get her—” He looked at Monica. “I tried to get her justice, Monica. For her and for Emily. I tried.  I only wanted that man to pay.”

“And the best I can say about everyone involved is we all thought Baker was guilty. He’d confessed, hadn’t he? Mac and Taggert believed him.” Ned shook his head. “But we were wrong. And we would have known that if Mac had run the kit.”

“This—this isn’t like him. Floyd must have something on him—threatened his job. Mac has a family—he was putting Robin through college. He had Felicia’s girls—” Monica took a deep breath. “But he should have said something.”

“Does Elizabeth know what happened?” Edward asked, looked at his grandson. “Does Jason? Or Emily?”

“I don’t know about Emily, but I went to Jason and Elizabeth on Saturday. After everything the media put my daughter through a few months ago, I would have—I never would have said a word without her blessing.”

“I have to talk to her. To see them.” Edward looked at Monica. “I have to make sure she knows I never meant—”

“She knows, Grandfather,” Ned said, reaching over to touch his forearm. “I promise that. But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind hearing it from you directly.”

“Did she give permission to go public?” Monica asked, leaning forward.

“She’s thinking it over,” Ned admitted. “She wants it out there, she’s just not sure how involved she wants to be. There—” He looked at Monica who briefly nodded. “She’s still recovering from her embolism this summer. So, she’s considering her options. There’s more, Grandfather. But it’s separate from Elizabeth’s case. My source—he suspects that there were two leaks after Brooke’s attack.”

“I thought the same,” his grandfather admitted. “The first round was just the attacks—the ones from this year, but then a few hours later, Brooke’s name was in the tabloids.”

“Sc—my source thinks the first leak was from inside the department—someone angry at the inaction, at the lack of public warning. And he thinks that as soon as the first wave of calls came in, Floyd leaked Brooke’s name to turn some of the spotlight off him.”

“That son of a bitch,” Edward breathed. “He won’t live until the election. Mark my words. I will—” He scowled. “Can we prove it? Because I will—”

“Not yet,” Ned told him. “But I will. Because once we go public with this, he’ll need a miracle to win this election.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Elizabeth set her bag on the table and took a seat across from Lucky. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course.” He shifted in his chair. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you a few times over the last few months, but I just—after Brooke and everything else.” He looked away.

Lucas Jones came over to take their order, but she only asked for a water while Lucky asked for his usual lunch special. “I guess you heard I gave a statement.”

“I’m on the case, so I read it.” Lucky stared down at the table. “I—I guess a lot of it came back after all.” He looked up at her. “I know it’s not my fault, but I just—”

“When I think of what I know now the other women went through—most of them ended up in the hospital.” Elizabeth sighed, folded her arms on the table. “I think maybe he would have raped me again or beaten me. Either way, you’re the reason the attack ended. So, thank you for looking for me that night. If you hadn’t found me, if I hadn’t had you, your father, or Bobbie, I don’t know if I could have kept myself together.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Taggert wouldn’t tell me how long my case had been open again—and he certainly refused to tell me anything about why my negative rape kit suddenly cleared Baker.” Elizabeth stared at him. “So, what I want to know, Lucky, is how long did you know that the mayor and Mac covered my case up and made me disappear?”

Before he could answer, Lucas returned with their drink orders, then disappeared, giving Lucky a minute to gather his thoughts.

“How long have I known for sure?” Lucky asked. “I still don’t. The official department stance is there was a clerical error. But I suspected it when we first got sent down to cold storage. Just after Brooke died. We found the later two cases—but not yours. I knew something was wrong, so we went over to the closed storage. I thought—honestly, I wanted to believe it was a mistake. Your case wasn’t technically solved, but we all thought the guy responsible was away.”

“So, it’s been two months of the PCPD trying to cover their asses. Again.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. Nodded. “I get that we’re never going to be close again, Lucky, but I would have thought after everything we’ve been through, I merited a little more loyalty than some job you just started—”

“I wanted to tell you,” Lucky hissed. He grimaced. “I wanted to. But what could I say? Your case got royally fucked up either through outright corruption or just plain negligence? You were barely out of the hospital, and I knew you were recovering. I didn’t even know if we’d be able to open your case officially. If we’d get enough evidence. I watched you put yourself back together, Elizabeth. There was no way in hell I was going to rip your life apart over a maybe.”

“I guess you’re right,” Elizabeth said finally. “What good would it have done for me to know my case was reopened if my kit did actually come back negative this time.” She rubbed her head. “And it’s not like the PCPD knew that Baker had sent me that letter. Jason and I didn’t come forward about that, either. He left a message on the hotline, he told me later, but we all could have been more up front.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” Lucky shook his head. “How did you find out about Floyd and Mac? Kelsey and I thought—we theorized, but you’re saying it like it’s a fact.”

“Someone in the position to know told Ned Ashton who has reasons for knowing it’s true,” Elizabeth told him. “But that stays between us, do you understand? Because I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about it, and Ned deserves the chance to make Floyd’s life a living hell.”

“I agree.” Lucky leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “But Ned knows. Good. I hope whoever told him got all the details right so he can win in November. What does he want to do with it?”

“He’s not sure either. He doesn’t want to inflict any more stress on me after what Brooke went through when her name got leaked.” Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked away, through the window of Kelly’s. “I could let Ned issue a statement. Refuse comment. I could do the least. I deserve to put this behind me. This doesn’t have to be my fight. And I’ve spent a lot of time fighting other people’s wars. I’ve put my life on the line too many times.”

Knowing what she went through because of the Cassadines, because of Ric Lansing, Lucky nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“But I also remember that night—you didn’t have to make me your fight either.” Elizabeth focused on him. “You could have taken me to the hospital. Called the cops. But you didn’t. You listened to me, you got me help I could live with. And Bobbie was a godsend. But you didn’t have to keep worrying about me.”

“How could I have looked away—”

“Because that’s not who your mother raised you to be,” Elizabeth gently. “And that’s maybe why you’ll make a good cop. I never would have picked this for you, but I hope it makes you happy. Because the girl who crawled out the snow? She never would have picked herself up if you hadn’t been there to hold out a hand.”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “But I know you, Elizabeth. Lizzie,” he teased as she laughed. “The girl I knew before that night—little annoying Lizzie Webber? She got scared. But she wouldn’t have stayed scared for long. I was there to hold out a hand, but the girl I fell in love with? She would have clawed her way back to the surface eventually.”

Elizabeth smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe she would have. You know, I blamed Lizzie a lot for that night. I always tell myself not to listen to the Lizzie voice. It always got me in trouble. She made my life a living hell a lot of the time. But I am Lizzie. That’s just the voice reminding me that it’s okay to step out and take a chance. This whole thing—this investigation? It doesn’t have to be my fight. But I’m going to make it mine. Because Brooke isn’t here anymore. And there are so many other women—even men—so many people who get sexually assaulted, raped, beaten—they get thrown away. And honestly? There aren’t enough people picking the fight.”

Baldwin Home: Living Room

Bobbie gingerly set her purse down on Scott’s coffee table and eyed him as he took a seat across from her. “Are you sure this is okay? Serena won’t be coming home? This might take a while—”

“She’s on a trip with Lucy and Kevin looking at colleges.” Scott rolled his shoulders. “I wanted to go, but I think I need to be in town this week. I think some shit is going to hit the fan in the park rapist case, and well, Serena isn’t going to listen to me about anything anyway.”

“Teenagers rarely do.” Bobbie folded her hands in her lap. “You said you were able to avoid turning over any evidence of Sonny’s breakdown.”

“Yeah, I got a lucky break. A judge quashed the subpoena.” Scott leaned back, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa. “Is that what you were worried about?”

“Yes. No.” Bobbie hesitated. “You probably know Carly is staying with me right now.”

“I did. She called me in case I needed to get in touch about the case.” Scott shook his head. “I’m sorry she’s having trouble with Sonny, but I’m not sorry she’s thinking about walking away.”

“The thing is—” she bit her lip. “She’ll be angry that I’m here, and I’m prepared for that. Because I think—I think I need to force his hand. She left because he’s—he’s not well. I mean, that’s not why she left. But it’s part of everything.”

Scott frowned at her. “Bobbie, I told you, Sonny’s mental health isn’t going to be part of the case—”

“But maybe it should be,” she argued. “I don’t know—I don’t know. Maybe what’s wrong with him is genetic. Maybe it explains Ric. But I just—he fell apart after Carly got kidnapped. Courtney called the PCPD, they were searching the penthouse, and Sonny—I’m not sure exactly when it started but by that Friday—the day before we found Carly, he’d lost it.”

“Lost it,” Scott repeated. “Bobbie—”

“Jason and I were going over what we knew at his place. We were both desperate, at the end of our rope, you know? And Courtney rushed in because Sonny was having hallucinations. He thought he saw Lily. He thought Lily was in the room with him, blaming him for her death, for what happened to Carly—”

“He hallucinated his dead wife.” Scott exhaled slowly. “You said you didn’t know when it started?”

“Jason said the last time he’d talked to Sonny was Tuesday—that by then, Sonny was already not taking visitors. Not dealing with business. He was drinking heavily. He was already fraying at the edges. And Jason—he was under a lot of pressure with looking for Carly and worrying about Elizabeth. When Sonny had his hallucinations—I saw them, Scott. I saw him talking to Lily. Telling me what Lily was saying.  We had to sedate him.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know if you can even do anything, but I can’t sit idly by, knowing my daughter, my grandchildren—that they’re in a home with a mentally ill man who knows he has these breakdowns and refuses to get help.”

Scott rubbed his hands over his face. “Bobbie. C’mon. You know what Sonny would think if he knew you were telling me this—what your daughter would think—”

“They’ll be angry with me. Sonny might never forgive me,” Bobbie admitted. “But I can live with that. Because I can’t lose another daughter, Scott. You know what I’m talking about. If not for Jason, I don’t know what would have happened to Carly this summer. Elizabeth would probably be dead. Sonny was useless.”

“And it’s not like the PCPD was making any headway,” Scott muttered. “Yeah, okay. I don’t—there’s no way this is relevant to the Lansing case. At least not now. And I’m under no obligation to tell him anything now that the judge said go to hell. But I get it, Bobbie. You see your daughter in trouble and you’re desperate to help her.”

Grief lined his face as he sat back. “You know, Karen got her life together. She moved on. She lived, she loved, and then she died. In a senseless car accident.” He shook his head. “But I’ve never forgiven Sonny Corinthos for what he did to her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can help you with this, Bobbie. Not legally. But if you need me—” he leaned forward again, his voice intent. “I will be here for you. Whatever you need. In fact, because you deserve to know—there’s something you ought to know. Elizabeth might have already told you, but—”

He told her about Floyd and Mac covering up Elizabeth’s rape case and making it go away, and the pressure they’d been under from the Quartermaines. Bobbie exhaled slowly after he’d finished.

“Lucky has suspected for a while,” she admitted. “He told me a few days ago what he thought happened.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I meant about the rape case coming to a head because I—I told Ned Ashton. And he’s getting together with Elizabeth to figure out exactly how to go public with it all.”

Bobbie lifted a brow. “Really? I—I wouldn’t have thought—”

“After everything he’s been through because of this town—I’m a father, too. I couldn’t let it happen again. I couldn’t let it keep happening. And I feel like hell about what happened to Elizabeth.”  He shook his head. “Elizabeth didn’t deserve what happened to her.  All of those women deserved better from us. The least I could do was make sure Garrett Floyd is never in a position to hurt anyone else.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Jason placed the phone back on the receiver as he shook his head and looked over at Elizabeth sitting on the sofa, studying a cookbook like there was going to be a test. “Monica’s here. With Edward.”

Elizabeth blinked up at him, her brow furrowing. “I guess the trend of unexpected visitors continues.” She closed the book and set it on the coffee table. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Ned said he’d talk to him this week.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, still not wild that all of this was happening at a time when Elizabeth needed to be concentrating on herself, putting her health first. But she’d allowed him to take her pulse every time he’d asked, and her blood pressure had remained stable.

She was stronger than she looked, and he guessed he’d eventually be able to let go of the gnawing fear that if he took his eyes off her for a single second—He’d left her alone in that house, and he’d returned to find her nearly dead. It was probably going to take a while to forget it.

It was probably the first time Edward Quartermaine had been inside this penthouse since Jason had moved in, and part of Jason wasn’t entirely comfortable letting him in at all. If Monica wasn’t with him—

“Thank you for seeing us,” Monica said as Jason closed the door behind them. She looked at him sadly before looking at Elizabeth who had gotten to her feet. “I’m sorry it’s late, but Edward waited for me to be done at the hospital.”

“I—” Edward just looked at Elizabeth and shook his head. “Ned told us today—and I just—” He shook his head again. “I have nothing to say. I thought—this is my fault.”

“No,” Elizabeth said quickly. She touched Edward’s elbow. “Of course it’s not. I told Ned that as well. I knew how upset your family was after what happened in the studio.  I’m not at all surprised you made phone calls to make sure no one got away with what happened.”

“I just—I didn’t know.” Edward allowed Elizabeth to lead him to the sofa. “After—when I did know, I tried to make them investigate—”

“Ned told us,” Jason said, roughly, visibly affected by the old man’s anguish. “Mac gave you the same lie he gave to Elizabeth. They buried her case because they thought Baker was guilty.”

“But if they’d run the kit,” Monica said tightly, shaking her head. “If they’d run all of those poor women’s kits, Brooke—”

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself,” Edward murmured. “All my life I’ve used my name to push what I wanted, what I thought my family needed—”

“They were never going to investigate Baker,” Elizabeth told Edward gently. She took his hand in hers. “Because they still could have run my kit. The day he was arrested, they knew he was a suspect. When did you call? When did Ned contact Floyd?”

“Almost a week later—” Edward nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“They knew Baker was going down for the kidnapping. They thought the case was airtight. Why go to the trouble of investigating my case, spending time and money when they didn’t need the charges? They put my case with the solved ones, not to bury it, Edward, but because that’s what they thought. My case wasn’t legally over, but it never would have come off that shelf.”

And this gave her some sense of peace. Nothing she’d done could have changed what happened. If she’d reported right away, if she’d had a rape kit done that night instead a few days later—none of that would have changed the fact the PCPD was always going to take the easy way out.

“You deserved better than that. Brooke deserved better.” Edward got to his feet, looked at Jason. “This is what drove you away. The way I used the Quartermaine name to control the family.”

Jason shifted his eyes away, didn’t know how to answer that. “Part of the reason,” he finally said. “But I agree with Elizabeth. Based on the timing, I don’t think they were ever going to look into Baker. Your call just gave them the excuse they needed. Mac had already made the decision even if he didn’t know it yet.”

“Ned said you were thinking about how involved you wanted to be in all of this,” Monica said, looking at Elizabeth.

“I wasn’t sure,” Elizabeth admitted. She looked at Edward and bit her lip. “It turns out I’m pregnant and I’ve been ordered to avoid stress.”

Edward’s eyes lit up with pure joy, and she was relieved the news had been enough to shake him out of his doldrums a bit. “Really?”

“Thanks to Enduro condoms,” Monica said, sweetly. Edward shot her a glare, then returned his attention to Elizabeth.

“That’s wonderful news, my dear. And if I could share it with Lila—” When Elizabeth grinned, Edward wagged a finger at her. “Oh, I see. She already knows. Am I the last?”

“Very nearly,” Jason muttered.

But Edward ignored him. “This is very good news,” he repeated. “And you shouldn’t do anything that puts this sweet baby at risk.”

“I won’t. I’m following the doctor’s orders to the letter. Jason takes my blood pressure in the morning and at night. And I let him check my pulse every time he asks.”

Monica smirked. “Every hour on the hour?” she asked her son.

“No,” Jason said. He looked away. “Every other hour.”  She patted his arm.

“And my health—my baby—that is my first priority. But I can’t ignore—I can’t ignore that for years, no one has taken these cases seriously. And Brooke’s last—I was her last call. I was the last person to hear her voice.” Her voice broke suddenly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath. “She’s not here, so someone needs to stand up for her. This happened to me. I’m the one they threw away. I’m the one they sacrificed. So—”

She looked at Jason, then back at Edward. “Call Ned. We’ll do this right. I want to hold a hold a press conference where I tell everyone exactly what the PCPD did to me and what ended up happening to all the women who came after. I’m not that weak little girl anymore, and it’s time to make people pay for throwing us all away.”

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