Category Archives: Flash Fiction

June 26, 2020

This entry is part 6 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in  22   minutes. No time for typos.

 

As Jason pulled the car into a parking spot at his apartment building, his cell phone rang. He looked at Cameron. “It’s Diane.” Because he thought Cameron had earned it, he put Diane on speaker phone.

“Hey, Diane. I just got back to town with Cameron. Max is behind me, maybe five minutes with Jake and Aiden.”

“Oh, good. Good.” His lawyer sounded slightly distracted. “I’m calling because I called in every single favor I’ve had with all the judges, including some of yours, and I’ve got Elizabeth an arraignment hearing at 8 AM.”

“That’s in an hour,” Jason said. Without looking at Cameron, he continued, “Which judge got the assignment?”

“Richardson.”

“Okay. I have some calls to make. Thanks.” Jason closed the phone, looked at Cameron. “You can stay for this next part,” he told Elizabeth’s son, “but I’m going to commit a felony.”

Cameron’s smile was thin, his eyes wry. “Yeah? Cool. I think I’ve commited more in the last twelve hours than one.” He sat back against the seat, putting a hand over his eyes. “Which is never something I thought I’d get to say to Jason Morgan.”

He had his mother’s gloomy sense of humor, Jason thought as he called the clerk’s office. “Jimmy? Tell Richardson we’re even if Webber goes home.” He waited a minute, then hung up.

“That’s it?” Cameron frowned. “That’s all it takes? He’ll know?”

“He’ll know,” Jason said. He got out of the car as Max pulled into the parking spot next to him. He went to the passenger’s side to get Jake and Aiden.

“They fell asleep about ten minutes ago,” Max told him. “You want some help getting them upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Jason tossed his keys to Cameron. “I’m on the third floor, Apartment C.” He unbelted Jake and lifted his son into his arms, a pang of regret that with his eleventh birthday behind him, he was already too big to carry.

Max took care of seven-year-old Aiden, and the five of them trudged towards the building.

Once Jake and Aiden were settled in Jake’s bunk bed, Max left and Cameron was alone with Jason again.

“How do you know he’ll do it?” Cameron asked as Jason brewed a pot of coffee. “What if he doesn’t?”

Jason thought about the judge who liked to hire escorts in groups of two and three, and the wife and children he had at home. “He will.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Cameron insisted. “I mean, we can’t stay here forever.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t think about what happens next. Mom told me to go, so I went. But she confessed. They might not let her take it back. If she goes to jail—” He looked towards the bedroom. “What happens to us?”

Jason hesitated, because he didn’t know. “That’s not going to happen—” he started, but Cameron clearly wasn’t in the mood for that.

“I’m not stupid, Jason. Bad things happen all the time. You can’t fix everything. If you could, Franco wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Cameron winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—’

“You’re right.” Jason looked at him. “I don’t know what happens to the three of you if your mother isn’t here to take care of you.” He hesitated. “I know that before—before Jake’s accident, she left custody of the two of you to me. She wanted you two to stay together. That was before Aiden was born. Laura might have taken over as guardian.” His lips tightened. “Or someone else from the Spencer family.”

“Oh.” Cameron closed his mouth. “I guess you’d get Jake, then. And Aiden would go to Grandma Laura or something, like Spencer.”

“Your mother might have other plans now. It’s been a long time since she could depend on me.” Jason hesitated. “But she can now. So can you.” He gestured down the hallway. “You want to sleep? My room is down the hall or you can take the couch—”

“I can’t sleep. I want—I need to see my mother.” Cameron shook his head. “I know you said the judge will let her go, but—”

“But you need to see for sure. Understood.”

An hour later, Diane called again — Elizabeth had been released on bail. Jason had already arranged to pay for it. Within thirty minutes, Diane had brought Elizabeth to the apartment.

She didn’t look much better than when Jason had left her five hours earlier, but she was relieved to see Cameron. Mother and son rushed at each other, and with a start, Jason realized that Cameron now towered over his mother—

He’d grown up. Just like Jake. None of them were little boys he’d known once.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth murmured. She took Cameron’s face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Cam.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Cameron’s voice broke, and he sounded for a moment like a small child again. “It’s okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

He hesitated. “Mom, Jason told me Franco had—that he’d been stabbed. I didn’t—I didn’t do that.”

“Stabbed.” Elizabeth frowned. She stepped back, looked at Diane and Jason. “What are you talking about? He—he fell and hit his head.”

“No one told her?” Jason asked Diane sharply.

“Told her? Why would? She confessed.” Diane planted her hands on her hips. “Are you—”

“I didn’t kill him,” Elizabeth said. “I—” She swayed slightly, then looked at Cameron. “Oh, God, you didn’t do it either. You didn’t—”

“But then how the hell did he die?”

Diane frowned, then strode forward. “Elizabeth—at any point before Cameron left the house, were you hit in the head?”

Elizabeth turned, looked at her with bewilderment. “What?”

Jason saw what Diane was looking at—at the slight blood trail at Elizabeth’s hairline. “You—” He touched her face. “You were bleeding earlier. I didn’t think to ask—”

Diane pinched her lips together. “Elizabeth—”

“I don’t—I was in the living room—and the boys were gone, and I was going—” She looked at Jason. “I was going to call you, but then I—” Her hands fluttered up to her head. “I fell. Didn’t I?”

“Aiden had already called 911, because the cops were at the house by the time I got there. You didn’t calle them. Neither did Jake or Cameron. It had to be Aiden—”

“Unless someone knocked Elizabeth out, stabbed Franco, and called the police themselves.”

This entry is part 6 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in  20   minutes. No time for typos.

After Elizabeth’s revelations about the fate of the Lewis brothers, she closed up and Jason knew he wouldn’t get any more answers, so he left the ranch and headed back to town. Instead of going to the boarding house where he was staying, he rode towards the older part of town, where the founders’ families lived.

Where his grandmother still lived in the elegant home his grandfather had built when Diamond Springs had been little more than a boom town in 1850. Edward Quartermaine had uprooted his entire family to travel west, taking the fortune he’d made in property and commerce in New York City.

The Quartermaines had come west with the Hardys, the Webbers, Lewises, and Joneses. Jason had traveled with them, no more than three years old, the illegitimate grandson that Edward had refused to leave behind when his mother, Susan, had died in childbirth.

The Quartermaines had built the town, but had declined over the last decade as men died and women left to find better options in San Francisco or Sacremento. Now, only Jason and his grandmother were left.

Lila beamed at him as he strode into her little parlor. “Darling! I have been longing to see you.” She extended her hand and Jason bowed over it, an old habit from his youth when she’d been missing the England and ballrooms of her youth.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by very much,” he told her.

“You could solve that if you lived in your old rooms,” Lila said with a sly smile. “You’d have the run of the house—”

Jason hid his grimace, but shook his head. “I like the boarding house for now. It’s closer to the jail.”

Lila pursed her lips, then nodded. “All right. We’ll discuss it at another time.” She patted his hand. “It’s rather late for a visit, dearest. Have you a reason for coming by?”

Jason hesitated. His grandmother was a wonderful woman, but she was strict about manners and propriety. He couldn’t simply ask her what had happened to Elizabeth Webber five years ago, when she’d stopped writing—but maybe he could work around to it.

“I was told today that the Lewis brothers both died,” Jason said hesitantly. “I was surprised by that—they were young. I was hoping you might tell me what happened.”

Lila frowned slightly with a bit of a gimlet eye—as if she knew exactly why he was asking. “The Lewis brothers? Alexander and Peter? Why, I haven’t given them a single thought in years.” Her voice shook slightly, and he heard the lie.

“Interesting.” Jason raised a brow. “Because I would think a murder-suicide would be memorable.”

Lila pursed her lips, drew back her hands. “Well, if you already know the gory details, my dear, then why are you asking me?”

“Because you never mentioned it,” Jason told her. “You wrote about everything—but not this. And I wanted to know why.”

“This is about that Webber girl,” Lila said, her voice tight. “You were hoping to marry her when you came home. But you never came home—”

“Because you wrote to tell me she was married. I always thought she’d married one of the brothers.” And it had torn at him—Jason had refused to touch the inheritance from his grandfather or father, but the Lewis brothers didn’t have that problem. He’d wondered if Elizabeth had married for the money.

“Well, by the time she married, there was only one Lewis left,” Lila said sharply. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. She was a lovely girl, but I couldn’t abide being connected to that family. That Jeffrey Webber was a terrible person—”

“Grandmother, Elizabeth and I wrote to each other for two years—and her father arranged to keep all of our letters from reaching us.”

Lila’s nostrils flared as she reared back. “That reprobate! How dare he! You are a Quartermaine! He should be so lucky!” She twisted her hands in her lap. “How dare he,” she muttered. “If your grandfather were still with us—”

“Do you know what happened to Cameron’s sons?” Jason asked gently. “And why is Elizabeth at the Lazy W when she should be here, in town? In the Lewis house?”

“The Lewis house was sold after the incident,” Lila said. “She and Cameron made their home on the ranch. There was no—” She sighed. “There was no money. Alexander gambled away his share, and Peter had made a terrible investment—between the two of them, it was all Cameron could do to settle their debts. Then—” Lila twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “Alexander and Peter insisted that they were being tricked—that they’d been tricked out of their money, but they argued with each other, and—well, no one knows for sure what caused it. But it was over the loss of the money, we’re sure of it.”

Jason sat back. “So…Elizabeth’s marriage had nothing to do with them?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, I don’t know about any of that. I know that Jeffrey Webber was hoping she would agree to marry that awful banker,” Lila said with a sniff. She didn’t trust anyone who handled money for a living. “But she never did. She and Alexander were always friends as children—you know that. I suppose we thought they might marry, but then the tragedy—” Lila smiled thinly at him. “Does it matter now, dearest?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. He was looking for a reason Elizabeth had stopped writing him, why her letters seemed to be such a secret — but maybe it wasn’t that difficult to understand.

She’d written more than a hundred letters to a man who’d never answered them. Why would anyone keep writing?

Jason frowned, looked at Lila. “Wait, Alexander and Peter claimed someone was tricking them?”

“That was the rumor, but I don’t pay much attention to those. It was probably their pride—”

“Maybe.” But Jason couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Elizabeth had stopped writing him, might have married Alexander Lewis—and then Alexander and Peter were broke, without money.

And Ric Lansing was a banker who was still bothering Elizabeth now, seven years after she’d rejected his proposal of marriage on her seventeenth birthday.

June 25, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

This begins in 2012, near the end of the water poisoning crisis after Jason has saved Elizabeth from Ewan. Thanks to Tania for inspiring this particular idea.

Written in 21  minutes. No time for edits or typo checks.

Elizabeth Webber felt a hundred years old as she stepped up to the porch to unlock her front door. Behind her, she could hear the booted footsteps of Jason Morgan who had driven her home from the hospital.

In the last twenty-four hours, she’d been kidnapped by her most recent romantic mistake, then rescued by her ex-fiancee, and then, somehow, the city had been saved when the antidote to the poison in their water system had been located. She and Jason were still slightly damp from the rain that had finally given them a sense of relief at the end of it.

It had been a hell of a couple days, she thought dryly as she slid her key into the lock. She turned back to Jason. “I’m pretty sure I have a frozen pizza in the kitchen. I want to call Gram and the boys in Disney World one more time, but if you want to stay—”

“Sure,” Jason said, with his own tired smile. He likely hadn’t slept much in the last week either—it usually took him three days of running on empty before he looked this tired, she mused, as they went inside and Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the living room.

“You know what?” she said, stopping abruptly. Jason bumped into her, putting his hands at her waist for just a moment to steady them both. “I’m done.”

“Done?” he repeated.

“Done.” Elizabeth nodded. “I just kidnapped by the first guy I’ve dated since I almost dated Matt Hunter. And then he turned out to be a murderer. And before that—”

She scowled. Best not to think about about what had been before her brief flirtation with Patrick’s younger brother who was now in prison for killing Lisa Niles.

“Okay,” Jason drawled. He stepped around her to pick up a photo that had fallen from her table. He set it back in its place. “So you’re done.”

“I have the worst taste in men—present company excluded, mostly—” She added as an afterthought. She wandered into the kitchen. “Zander. Nikolas. Lucky. Matt. Ewan. Ric. Am I leaving anyone out?” she tossed over her shoulder as she pulled out the pizza from the freezer and flicked the oven on to preheat.

“Uh…” Jason slid his hands into his pockets and furrowed his brow at her, as if actually thinking it over. “I don’t know. I think that’s it.”

She pursed her lips, not sure if he was teasing her or not. “Hmph. Anyway, that’s a terrible list, and you—” Elizabeth stabbed a finger at hime. “Are the best of a bad bunch, and let me tell you, you’re not a shining star either.”

“No arguments there,” he muttered. “Elizabeth—”

“Anyway. I’m going to raise my boys, go to work, and keep Patrick out of trouble. That’s it. That’s all I want to do for the next twenty years. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll be in the mood to find someone to die with.”

Jason raised his brows. “You’re planning to die at the age of fifty-three?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “Listen—”

“Elizabeth—”

“Never mind.” She reached into her fridge and handed him a bottle of the Rolling Rock she’d bought on a whim a few weeks earlier. Jason had been stopping by more and more, and she’d just grabbed it the last time she’d been in the store. She opened her own bottle. “I’ll talk to Brad tomorrow,” she said.

Jason sighed and sat on a stool at the island. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I think,” Elizabeth said, slowly, “that you’re feeling guilty about everything that’s happened in the last year.” She offered him a faint smile. “I know you think it was your fault—”

“If I’m right, and Tea Delgado’s son was switched with Sam’s,” Jason said, “then it was my fault. Sam was only at the motel because of me.”

Elizabeth sighed and took a pull of the beer. It was hard to argue with him on that score, she knew. Sam had been living apart from Jason because he’d struggled to accept her pregnancy, the result of a rape from Franco, the serial killing psycho Jason had finally killed in January.

“Thank you for not arguing with me.”

“I think that it’s simple to say it was your fault it happened,” Elizabeth corrected. “Yeah, I think you were probably not as accepting as Sam probably deserved—” Jason looked away. “But to say someone kidnapping Sam’s son and replacing it with a dead child is your fault for that is to say it’s Sam’s fault for living in a motel instead of with her mother.”

“Elizabeth—”

“We’ve been over this,” she reminded him. “Just because there’s a possibility Danny might still be alive—it doesn’t mean what happened is one hundred percent on you.”

“But you’re not saying it’s not on me,” Jason replied.

“I—” Elizabeth shrugged, and ignored the question by turning around to slide the pizza into the oven. “Could you have done better with all of it? Sure. But you’re human, Jason. Maybe thing would have been different if Danny had survived.”

“Maybe.” Jason was quiet for a moment.

“You never used to think about this kind of stuff,” she said. Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. “Things were what they were, and there was no point in looking back. I used to envy that about you.”

“Yeah, well, then I started to make a lot more mistakes,” Jason muttered.

“Well, hey, then join the club. I am the Queen of Regrets.” She held out her beer and he clinked his bottle with hers. “You can be the King.” Elizabeth wagged her finger at him. “Platonic though. Because I told you, I’m on a twenty year break.”

Jason shook his head, but then smiled. “Yeah, okay, we’ll talk in twenty years.”

——

Brad Cooper was cleaning up the lab in the hospital after a long week of running tests and devloping serums. He was whistling under his breath, thinking of the vodka and popcorn he’d have when he finally got home.

He heard a throat clearing in the doorway, and he turned to see Tracy Quartermaine in the doorway. “Ms. Quartermaine.” Brad snapped to attention, bu frowned. He didn’t think he’d ever seen this member of the family in the lab. “Did you need something?”

“Someone is going to ask you run a test tomorrow,” Tracy said with an arch of her brow. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do it my way.”

This entry is part 5 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 20  minutes. No time for typos.

It was late when Justus finally left them alone in the penthouse that night and Jason didn’t really know what do once he was alone with his wife.

When he’d gotten the news that Tommy Graviano, their explosives guy, had been pulled out of the harbor with a broken neck no more than six hours after telling Jason that Carly Corinthos had been the one to pick up a device the day before the bomb —

Jason knew the danger wasn’t over. He’d always assumed he was the target — it hadn’t occured to him that Sonny or Carly would give a damn about Elizabeth or their daughter with Jason out of the picture — it was Jason that was the threat. He’d simply left, knowing that leaving Elizabeth completely in the dark would give her the best chance.

For six months, he’d kept moving forward, kept moving, kept the focus on him and he’d hadn’t thought far enough ahead to contemplate telling Elizabeth the truth.

With Justus gone, Elizabeth had gone upstairs to take a shower while Jason had remained in the penthouse, thinking over what they knew, who they might be able to trust—

“Why would Sonny or Carly want you dead?”

He blinked, turning at the desk to find Elizabeth at the bottom of the stairs, her hair slicked back from her head, her face still tired and pale. She was wearing only socks which explained why he hadn’t heard her on the stairs.

“What?” he asked, roughly, drinking her in. She’d always been slender, but she’d lost even more weight, and he found himself worried about her. He’d thought Steven would take care of her, but—

“Sonny and Carly.” Elizabeth sat on the sofa, curling her legs up in front of her. “I always understood why I would be targeted. Sonny didn’t want you to get married, and Carly was always jealous of the time you spent with me. But—”

“I think…” Jason pressed his lips together, looked back at the paperwork on his desk, the papers he’d been dragging around the world. “I think one of them found out I was talking to Robert.”

“Robert,” Elizabeth repeated. “Robert Scorpio—why—” She faltered. “Jason, why were you talking to a WSB agent? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know if—” Jason scrubbed his hands over his face. “Because I didn’t know if it would work out. I didn’t know if Robert could get a deal, or if I could go through with it. And I didn’t want to get your hopes up—”

“A deal.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “You were going to flip on Sonny?”

“I—” Jason dipped his head, then got to his feet. He couldn’t stand sitting down, being still right now. “I was thinking about it. With Lily—” He swallowed. “I wanted something else. I didn’t care when it was just me, and I know you said you were okay, but I didn’t want her in danger.”

She just stared at him. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Because I didn’t—it didn’t get that far.” But he fumbled on this because he didn’t have a good reason. He should have told her. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how it got started. After Michael nearly got killed—”

An inch of difference, and Michael would have been shot in the head.

“Robert came to me. He said that he could pull some strings—I told him no at first, but I kept thinking about Lily, about you—”

“I don’t know if I would have done it,” Jason repeated. “But for Sonny, considering it would have been enough.” He met her eyes. “I never thought he’d go after you. I never considered Carly. But you’re right, if Carly was involved—Sonny had to be.”

“How else would she have known where to go?” Elizabeth said softly, finishing the thought. “I never—” She sighed. “I never suspected her. She was kind to me when we lost Lily, and she was so angry when you left. Are you sure? Are you sure that Sonny didn’t frame her?”

“I—” Jason shook his head. “No.”

“Because you know they were never the same after Sonny had that last affair. She forgave Brenda because, you know, Sonny had a history with Brenda, but Sam—” Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her temple. “I don’t know, Jason. She hated Sonny. They were only together because of Michael. I can’t see it.”

“Someone didn’t like that Tommy talked,” Jason reminded her. “And someone shot me in Cairo.” And had tried to blow him up in Istanbul, but that could wait.

“I guess we’re not much better than we were six months ago,” she said faintly. “Except now Carly’s dead, my brother is gone, and Sonny isn’t talking to anyone.”

She paused. “Ric won’t talk to you, Jason, but you know—”

“Don’t—”

“He’ll talk to me.”

Jason shook his head. “No—”

“He’ll talk to me,” Elizabeth repeated. She got to her feet and crossed her arms. “And you don’t have the right to stop me.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Because it doesn’t matter that you were trying to protect me when you left,” Elizabeth said. She strode forward, took his hand, then shoved her rings into his hand. “You left. And we’ll be divorced in two weeks. Nothing has changed my mind about that.”

He stared down at the jewelry in his hands, then met her eyes and swallowed. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I want you to talk to Ric Lansing.”

“I’m the only one who can get in to see him,” she insisted. “He won’t talk to you. He hates you—”

“Because he never—” Jason bit off, irritated with himself.

“Because he never forgave me for leaving him and marrying you.”

June 24, 2020

This entry is part 5 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in  20  minutes. No time for edits.

Cameron stared at Jason’s profile, then swallowed hard. “W-hat? No. That’s not—”

“Damn it,” Jason muttered. He flicked his eyes at the teen, then back at the road. “How—this doesn’t makes sense.”

He thought back to his conversation with Elizabeth, with the wildness in her eyes, the desperation—

Had she stabbed Franco? Then why had she sent the boys away? For their safety? Why hadn’t she just told him she’d done it—

“It doesn’t make sense,” he repeated. “Your mother wanted me get you out of the country. She said it was her fault. She wasn’t lying then. It was just us and Diane.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t have killed him.”

He frowned. “You said Jake and Aiden were tied up. That Aiden had gotten free and called 911. When did Jake call me? The timeline doesn’t make sense—”

“I don’t—” Cameron exhaled slowly. “I didn’t know they were tied up at first. They were already free when we were getting in the car. Jake was trying to call you when Mom was putting us in the car.” He furrowed his brow. “His phone slipped when he was getting in the car. It broke.”

“When did you found out the boys had seen Franco? That he’d tied them up?”

“After you’d called. When we were waiting for you to show up.” Cameron scrubbed his heads over his face. “Jake told me. Aiden learned how to tie knots in Boy Scouts—”

“If Jake called me as you were leaving—the police were already on their way. And Franco wasn’t in the kitchen then. You’re sure he was upstairs in the bedroom?”

“Mom must have—he must have been downstairs when she—” Cameron squeezed his eyes shut. “I wanted her to come with me. I was scared he wasn’t dead, but she told me to go. And I had to protect them.”

“Cameron, I’m not blaming you—but if you didn’t stab him—and I don’t think your mother did—” Jason grimaced. “Who could have done it?”

“It had to be Mom. He probably tried to attack her again. Maybe she just blocked it out. After everything she’s been through. You know, with that guy, Baker?” Cameron cracked his knuckles, then rubbed them, restlessly. “It probably brought it all back. I mean, he stalked her just like, two years ago—”

“What?” Jason snapped. “Tom Baker’s out of prison?” He swore. “Damn it. 2016,” he muttered. “Ten years. She told me it would be another ten years—”

“He’s dead. His brother killed him, but it was rough on Mom for a while. That’s when she told me who he was.” Cameron looked out the passenger window. “Wish you’d been here. Drew was crap. But he was pretty terrible after he found out he was supposed to be you. I liked Jake Doe better.”

“Cameron—”

“It must have been Mom,” Cameron repeated. “She was probably just worried that PCPD would try to go after me, too. For, like, running or something.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out when we get back into town.”

“It’s Franco,” Cameron muttered. “Everyone wanted him dead at some point. Wouldn’t it be harder to figure out who didn’t have a motive?”

“Yeah.” Jason flicked the turn signal for the ramp up to the highway. “I’ll take care of it, Cameron.”

“If Mom killed him, he deserved it. And you better get her out of the country if they try to put her in jail,” Cameron said fiercely.

“It won’t come to that—”

“Jason—”

“But yeah, I’m not letting her go to jail for it. Not when I should have done it six years ago,” he muttered.

——

Framing Elizabeth for Franco’s murder hadn’t been the plan, but once in a while, an opportunity dropped into a person’s lap and it would be silly not to take advantage of it.

In a room somewhere in Port Charles, a woman carefully washed the blood from her hands and looked at her face in the mirror, at the tired eyes and scratch on her cheek.

She’d left town to find herself, and decided that she’d spent a lot of time letting people get away with hurting her. She’d forgotten who she used to be—

She’d left town when her supposedly beloved husband had begun to warm up to Franco, when he’d seen some good in him—

Well, fuck that.

She’d spent too many years letting that man breathe the air.

Sam Cain raised her eyes to the mirror again and let her lips curve into a smile. It had been a bonus to finally get her revenge on Elizabeth for stealing Jason away from her all those years ago, for lying about Danny and lying about Jake Doe. Elizabeth deserved whatever happened to her.

And it went without saying it was about time that Franco paid for his sins.

June 23, 2020

This entry is part 5 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits.

It was nearly sunset when Jason was able to take the letters out to the Lazy W. He’d packed them carefully into his saddlebags, wishing he’d found a way to handle all of this without bringing Elizabeth more pain.

It was an unsettling sensation to switch off the last five years of resentment he’d felt towards Elizabeth. He’d stopped writing her after his telegrams had gone unanswered, but the letter from his grandmother a year later with its single off hand mention of the Webber girl marrying into the Lewis family had changed things. He’d wondered at first if maybe she’d just lost interest or if he’d imagined how they felt about each other—

But to know that Elizabeth had married into the Lewis family, one of the most respectiable—and wealthiest in Diamond Springs—he’d started to think that maybe she’d wanted something better than a guy who’d needed to leave town to make his money.

He’d never dreamed she’d married the head of the family—the much older Cameron Lewis. He’d expected Alexander or Peter, Cameron’s sons. He’d known them growing up, and Elizabeth had always been the prettiest girl in town. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had used Jason’s absence to court her.

He wondered where those sons were now, and why they weren’t helping her with their youngest brother. Why Elizabeth appeared to be struggling to make ends meet on her family’s ranch when the Lewises had once had more wealth.

Jason suspected the answer to all these mysteries were hidden somewhere in her letters—and now the resentment he’d once felt had been replaced by concern. Worry.

Something had happened to drive Elizabeth away five years ago-to make her stop writing him. Something had destroyed the Lewis family’s wealth.

He just didn’t know how to find any of that out without hurting Elizabeth.

As Jason rode up the drive towards the ranch home, he furrowed his brow at the gray horse hitched up out front of the house. He’d seen Elizabeth’s small collection of horse on his He previous visit—this wasn’t one of hers.

Jason had no sooner tied up his own horse than the door opened and the owner of mystery house revealed himself as Ric Lansing stalked out of the front door, the porch door slapping against the wall of the house.

“I am out of patience, Elizabeth,” Ric snapped, all the charm and swagger Jason expected from the older man, absent. “You either agree now or—” He sputtered to a stop as Jason stepped out from behind his horse and tipped the hat back on his head.

“Is there a problem here?” Jason asked, flatly.

Still inside the house, Elizabeth stood at the threshold of the door. He couldn’t quite see her face clearly behind the mesh screen. She didn’t move. Didn’t open the door.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Ric snarled. He threw another glare at Elizabeth before stalking down the steps and roughly untying his horse. He mounted and took off down the drive at a gallop.

When Ric had passed under the arch entrace of the ranch, Elizabeth finally pushed open the door and stepped outside, her face pale but her expression carefully blank. “Did you bring them?”

“Yeah. Elizabeth—”

“Leave them on the porch.” Then she went back inside, the door slapping shut.

Jason ignored that direction. He grabbed his saddlebags and, cautiously, pulled the door open to step inside her foyer.

The house looked the same as it had when he’d last been in it—the week before her elder brother, Steven, had died from an infection. The wallpaper was a bit thinner, some of the furniture in the parlor had faded, but it looked familiar.

Elizabeth was standing in front of the mantel, holding herself tightly. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to look at him. “I didn’t ask you in.”

“No, you didn’t. But I was worried some of the letters might get taken by the wind.” Jason flipped open the saddle back and started to take out the letters. There were a few stacks of them, bundled together with twine.

Her lips were thin, nearly white as she watched him. “I’d forgotten how many…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “She never mailed a single one.”

She stepped closer to him—just a few feet—so that she could pick up one of the bundles. “She didn’t even bother with postage.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if it does either of us any better to have these,” Jason admitted. He took out the final stack and held it out.

Elizabeth frowned as she took them. “These are—” She met his eyes briefly, then they darted away. “These are addressed to me—” She ran her fingers over her name. “These are yours.”

“Yeah. All twenty-four. Twice a month for a year.” The corner of Jason’s mouth quirked up. “Felicia Jones even packaged the telegrams with them.”

She closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. Just one. Elizabeth pressed the bundle to her chest as she took a deep breath. “You—” She looked at him. “You didn’t forget me.”

“No.”

Her breath was shaky as she exhaled. “I didn’t forget you.”

“I know.” He looked at the letters. “And you had more faith in me than I did you. I should have—I should have asked my grandmother about you.”

“I should have asked her about you,” Elizabeth repeated. “She might not have answered me, but maybe she would have told you.”

After a long moment, Elizabeth met his eyes again. “Thank you for bringing them in. I am relieved to have them back. But I should be getting supper together for Cameron—”

“I’ll go,” Jason told her. “Before I do, there are just—there’s just—Lansing looked angry when he left. Is he bothering you?”

“He’s always bothered me,” she murmured. “Since I turned seventeen. It’s nothing new, and I can handle it.”

Jason wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to press it. He’d keep an eye on Ric Lansing in town and find out for himself. “Where are Alexander and Peter?”

Elizabeth blinked at him, then frowned. “What?”

“Cameron’s other sons. Why aren’t they here? Why—” He swallowed his question about why she’d married the father, not the sons.

“They’re—they passed away.” Elizabeth held his letters out. “You should take these.”

“I wrote them to you. They’re yours.” Jason tipped his head. “How long ago? When did they die? My grandmother never wrote about it.”

She stared at him for a long time—so long he didn’t know if she’d answer. Then finally, Elizabeth sighed. “Five years ago. And because I know you’ll only ask someone else—Alexander killed his brother, then himself.”

June 20, 2020

This entry is part 4 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 25  minutes. No time for typos.

Elizabeth stared at her estranged husband for a long moment, then shook her head. “No-no, that’s not—”

She swallowed hard, looked at Justus who was blinking at Jason — but didn’t look shocked. “I thought you said—”

“I didn’t know,” Justus murmured, watching his cousin’s ashen, ashamed face carefully. “But I can also say I’m not surprised.”

“You—” Elizabeth couldn’t quite gather her thoughts. It felt like her brain had just sputtered to a stop. “You—Carly?”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked away. “After—when we were in the hospital, she came to see me. She was surprised you—” He met her eyes. “She was surprised you’d made it. She thought you were dead.”

“Because I should have been.” Her eyes burned. “You knew—all this time—”

“I didn’t have any proof. I didn’t—” Jason’s voice faltered. “I couldn’t prove it. And Sonny would never listen to me. And I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I was just—I thought I was imagining it. I told myself Carly had a reason to be surprised — no one survives car bombs.”

“I only did because you—because you stopped me before I got in the car—” Tears slid down her cheeks, and Elizabeth turned away from him.

They’d never talked about that day—she’d never asked, and he’d never brought it up. She simply couldn’t.

“I heard the click,” Jason murmured. “When Cody started to turn on the engine. I was close enough—”

He looked at Justus. “I didn’t know before. I don’t even—I was so sure—”

“What made you decide it was Carly?” Justus asked. “You’re right—she might have—she might have just been surprised anyone survived. I was, too. That bomb—” He looked at Elizabeth. “You almost died. Jason nearly died. Cody did.”

She couldn’t correct him, couldn’t tell him that of course she’d died. That she might as well as have. She’d gone into labor, and her beautiful baby—

She’d been killed by shock wave of the explosion, too fragile to survive it. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her abdomen. “How did you know—” She stopped. “Did Steven know? Could he have—”

Oh, God, had her beloved brother realized he’d been working for the woman who’d done this to his sister? Had—

Had Steven done something to give Elizabeth justice?

“I knew for sure the day I—” Jason shook his head. “I knew for sure six months ago.”

The day before he left.

She strode forward, stalking towards the man who had hidden this from her, grabbed his shirt and tried to shake him. “How did you know? And why did you leave me alone with her?”

“Tommy Graviano,” Jason said. He looked at Justus. “He came to me—he’d been blaming himself for months—and he wanted to get it off his chest—he told me that Sonny had—Sonny had asked him to put together a device for Moreno’s car.”

“But—”

“And Carly picked it up. The day before the bomb.”

“Tommy didn’t think anything of the boss’s wife picking up a bomb?” Justus bit out. “Why the hell—” He exhaled. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t plan it together,” Elizabeth said. She released Jason and stepped back. “Otherwise how did Carly know Sonny’d ordered it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t—”

“You were supposed to be in the car, too,” Justus offered. Elizabeth turned around as she and Jason looked at him. “You were both going to the hospital, remember? Whichever one of them did it—it was both of you—”

“And you left me alone in this penthouse with them across the hall after they murdered our daughter—” Elizabeth pressed her hands to her face, looking at him, feeling so betrayed— “How—”

“I thought maybe I was the target,” Jason said. “And if I wasn’t here—if I—I thought if I left, they’d come after me. And I didn’t think—” He looked at her with anguish. “It was my fault. They came after you because of me—”

“You should have told me,” Elizabeth snarled. She stalked away from him, dragging her hands through her hair. “You should have—”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

“Did anyone come after you?” Justus asked blandly. “Did it work?”

When Jason didn’t answer, Elizabeth looked back at him, her heart pounding. “Did someone come after you, Jason?”

“A few months ago. Someone caught up to me in Cairo,” Jason admitted. “I tried to stay on the move, but they—” He grimaced. “I was in the hospital for a few weeks. But you were safe.”

“Safe.” She hated that fucking word. “Oh, well, I’m glad I was safe, living across the hall from the people who murdered my daughter while my husband abandoned me so he could nearly die halfway across the world—”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I can’t—I can’t—” She curled her hands into fists. “It can’t be a coincidence that my brother is missing in action while Carly is dead and Sonny is inaccessible. Someone found out the truth.”

“If it was your brother, then maybe—” Justus offered her a faint smile. “Maybe he’s hiding out—”

“Or maybe Sonny found out what Carly did, and killed her. Maybe Steven saw him do it.” Elizabeth shook her head, looked over at the desk and her daughter’s memory box. “I don’t know anymore. I thought I knew what happened. I thought I knew why—but—”

“I didn’t handle this right,” Jason said from across the room. “I’m sorry—”

“Sorry isn’t going to make any of this right.”

“I know.”

Elizabeth opened the box and drew out the photograph of their daughter again. She reached for a frame on the desk that held a photo of Jason and his sister when Emily had graduated medical school. She replaced it with the one of Lily and shoved it on the desk.

“She deserves better from both of us,” Elizabeth said looking back at Jason who’d come closer to look at the photo. “I want justice for her. Carly’s already dead. If Sonny was involved in any way, if he covered it up or did something to my brother, I’m going to destroy him.”

She lifted her chin and looked at Jason. “Are you going to help? Or are you going to run away again?”

“Running didn’t solve anything,” Jason admitted. “I should have stayed. I should have fought—” He hesitated. “I didn’t have proof. I still don’t.”

“What about that guy—Tommy?” Elizabeth looked at him, then looked at Justus. “What happened to Tommy? Where is he?”

“He was pulled out of the river the night I left town,” Jason admitted. “He’d been grabbed after he met me, so I knew someone was watching me.” He looked at Justus. “His neck had been broken.”

“Just like Carly’s,” Justus offered grimly.

June 19, 2020

This entry is part 4 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 20  minutes. No time for reread or typos.

Jason was relieved when Jake and Aiden agreed to drive back to Port Charles with Max in the SUV while he took Cameron in Elizabeth’s car. He wanted some time with Elizabeth’s oldest son away from the younger boys.

If Elizabeth wouldn’t tell him what had happened that night, Jason was going to get the bottom of no matter what. He had a terrible feeling that they had begun to repeat the same mistakes Jason and Sonny had made nearly ten years ago with Michael.

He hugged Jake one more time before closing the door. “I’ll see you guys at my place,” he told Jake through the window.

“You’ll make sure Mom and Cam are okay?” Jake asked. He swiped at his nose. “I don’t know what happened, but they got in a fight with someone, and my phone broke—”

“They will be okay,” Jason told him. “Take care of your brother. Thanks again, Max.”

“Anytime. Come on guys,” Max said, as he put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Jason turned back to the other car and the sullen teenager sitting in the passenger seat.

Jason got into the driver’s side and started the car, but didn’t put it into reverse. He looked over at Cameron’s hands. The knuckles were bruised and scratched. He could see a black eye blooming on the teen’s face.

“Do you remember Claudia Zacchara?” Jason asked.

Cameron blinked at him, turning his head. He wrinkled his face in confusion. “What? Uh. Yeah. Yeah. She—” He scrubbed his hands over her face. “Yeah. I remember her. She kidnapped Carly. And Michael—”

His voice faltered. “Michael killed her to protect Carly.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And it was self-defense, but I made the mistake of thinking I could protect Michael from all of it. We covered it up. Sonny and I tried to make it go away. And it made Michael look more guilty.”

“He went to prison.” Cameron looked at him “So did you. I remember Mom crying about it.”

Jason exhaled slowly. He’d made Elizabeth cry a few times over the years. “Whatever happened—”

“I killed him,” Cameron said flatly. “Is it normal not to care? Because I don’t. I’m glad. I’d do it again.” His eyes were fierce now, flashing with that same light he recognized from his mother—and maybe some of the recklessness of his father. “You should have done it a long time ago.”

“Yeah. I thought I had,” Jason muttered. He finally put the car into park and pulled out of the spot. “How did it start?” he asked.

Cameron was quiet for a long time—Jason wasn’t sure he’d say anything, but once they’d pulled onto the highway and were headed back towards Port Charles, he finally spoke. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t there when it started. I was—”

He grimaced. “I was sneaking back in. I was out with Joss. And Oscar and Trina.” He stared at his hands. “That feels like a thousand years ago,” Cameron murmured.

“Has Franco been coming around a lot since your mother moved?”

“I don’t know that either,” Cameron admitted. “Mom—you know, she takes forever sometimes to see how terrible people are, but usually once she makes up her mind, she cuts them off. You know, like Lucky. And Nikolas.” He waited. “After she found out Franco was lying about who you were—how long he’d known—he moved out. And I didn’t really see him around.”

“Okay. Then why was he there last night?” Jason asked. On the left side of the car, the sun started to peek out over the horizon.

“I don’t know,” Cameron repeated. “I was just—I was trying not to make any news, and I went past my mother’s room—” He swallowed. “And I heard—I heard a weird muffled something—then I knew—I heard crying—so I went to the door and started to push it open—”

Jason’s knuckles clenched on the steering wheel. “What happened then?”

“Mom was on the bed and she—her mouth was gagged—Franco slapped her and was on top of her trying—” Cameron swallowed hard. “She was struggling, trying to get him off her—”

Jason pressed the pedal down harder and the car lurched forward. “Did he—”

“No, I don’t think so. She, ah—” The teenager’s voice roughened. “She was still dressed. “But I don’t know. I just—I saw red. I reacted. I shoved him off her, shoved him into the wall and started punching him. And he was—we were just fighting, and I guess Mom tried to stop him from—”

Cameron touched his throat. “His hands—” He exhaled slowly. “Mom—she’s tiny. I mean she’s strong and all, you know, but it doesn’t mean—he just picked her up like a doll and threw her into the wall. She didn’t get up right away, so I went after him again. I grabbed something—I don’t know—a baseball bat, I think. Mom always keeps it upstairs.”

He exhaled slowly. “I hit him and he fell back. He hit his head on the corner of the dresser and laid there. Mom got up and took the bat from me, then she—she was scared he wasn’t dead. So she told me to get my brothers out of there.

“He’d tied them up in their rooms,” Cameron continued. “Aiden untied himself first, I think, and called 911. It must have been Aiden, because Jake would have called you sooner.”

“You just—you hit him with the bat once?” Jason repeated, frowning.

“Yeah, and then he hit his head. But it was my fault—”

“That’s not how he died.”

Cameron stared at him. “But—”

Jason stared at the road ahead of him. “He was stabbed repeatedly with a butcher knife in the kitchen. They found him in the kitchen. Not the bedroom.”

June 18, 2020

This entry is part 4 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits.

Several days after her encounter with Jason out at the ranch, Elizabeth ventured back into Diamond Springs to pick up her mail and complete a few other errands. She drew up her cart in front of the Western Union and turned to her son with a smile. “Would you like to get some peppermints from the general store when we finish here?”

“Yes, Mama,” Cameron said, with a teethy grin. “I like peppermints.”

“Let me help you there, Mrs. Lewis,” Lucas Jones said, striding forward with a quick grin. He held her hand as Elizabeth navigated her skirts of the wheel and settled herself on the ground.

“Thank you, Lucas,” Elizabeth said, tying the horse to the hitching post while Lucas hauled Cameron out of the cart. “How are you? How is the family?”

“You know my mother,” Lucas said with a roll of his eyes. “Looking for gossip and drama.” Barbara Jones, his mother and owner of the local general store, had a reputation for enjoying the peccadillos of Diamond Springs residents—

Which was why Elizabeth never lingered.

“I’m sure. Well, thank you again,” she said, reaching for Cameron’s hand. “Have a nice day.”

She left the blinding sunshine behind, walking through the doorway of the telegraph office. Felicia Jones was busy behind the counter, looking through some paperwork when. When the blonde looked up—her face drained of her color.

“Mrs. Lewis. I wasn’t….I didn’t—” She swallowed hard. “I was wondering when you might come in.”

Elizabeth frowned, walking up to the counter. “Don’t wander too far,” she murmured to her son as she released his hand. “And be careful.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Is everything all right, Mrs. Jones? I’m here to for my mail. I’m expecting—” She tilted her head to the side as Felicia sucked in a deep breath.

“You just want your mail.”

“Yes. What else?”

“I would have thought—” Felicia began to wave a fan back and forth, the tendrils of her blonde hair stirring with the light breeze. “I thought the sheriff—but if he didn’t tell you—”

At the mention of Jason’s name, Elizabeth’s chest seized. “What about the sheriff?”

Oh, God. Had Jason come here searching for the truth about their missing letters? Elizabeth hadn’t let herself think about where exactly her mail had gone missing—but of course—she’d given her letters directly to Felicia Jones twice a week.

“Mrs. Jones,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “If you would please, explain to me exactly what did Jason Morgan have to say to you? And how did you respond?”

Felicia swallowed hard. “Well…”

——————

Jason shook his head as he walked away from the holding cell and hung up the keys. “You’re not gettin’ out of there, Coleman, until I’m satisfied you’re stone cold sober,” he called to the slurring and angry man behind him. “And until you swear on the Bible you won’t be visitng Mrs. McCall’s or any of her girls.”

“Aww, come on…” Coleman rolled over the cot, his bleary eyes red and bloodshot. “It was just a tickle—”

“I guess you’ll be in there for a long time,” Jason muttered as he closed the door to the back room and went back out front where his deputy—and cousin—Dillon Quartermaine was lounging with the newest book from the circulating library.

He shook his head and knocked Dillon’s legs off his desk. “No wonder they needed someone to come in and take over for the last sheriff. Go in the back and sit with Coleman if you’re gonna read.”

Dillon muttered but got to his feet. “I was just getting to the good part,” he complained, but he obeyed.

No sooner had Dillon disappeared back to the holding cells than the front door was shoved open and a very angry woman strode in, a small boy attached to her side.

Jason blinked. “Elizabeth, I didn’t—”

“Where are they?” Elizabeth demanded as she came into the light. Her eyes were sparking with fury, and some of her brown hair had come loose from its topknot. “You had no right—”

“I—”

“Mama, is he the law?” the little boy asked, ducking behind his mother’s dark blue skirts. He peeked out, the sunny blonde hair a stark contrast against the fabric.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, seemed to gather herself. “Yes, Cameron, apparently, he is.” She lifted her chin. “This is my son, Cameron Lewis.”

“I’m named after my papa,” Cameron said, feeling a bit better obviously with his mother’s tone having shifted. “He smelled like butterscotch.”

Jason didn’t know what to do with Elizabeth’s presence so he concentrated on the boy. He crouched down and offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. “I knew your father. Dr. Lewis was a nice man.”

“He went to heaven,” Cameron said with a sigh. “Mama said he was gonna take care of me there.”

“I’m sure he loved you very much.” Jason’s throat tightened at the sight of the little boy with the blonde hair and blue eyes. He could have been Jason’s son from the coloring, but he knew he’d just likely inherited the streak of blonde from Elizabeth’s sister, Sarah, who’d died when they were children.

He got to his feet and focused on the mother again. “Elizabeth—”

“I just spoke to Mrs. Jones at the telegraph office,” she said tightly. “Imagine my surprise when she seemed terrified to see me, sure I was going to make a scene about some letters she’d hidden from me. Or letters she’d never mailed.” Her lips trembled slightly. “Where are they?”

“I didn’t—”

“I don’t care if they were addressed to you, that doesn’t make them yours now!” Elizabeth retorted. “I want them back. They’re not for you. Not anymore.”

“I understand—” His chest ached, and he wondered again at what she’d written that she was so desperate to get back. “I’d like to give them back, but—”

“But what?” Elizabeth cut in, her voice like ice.

“They’re not here. They’re in my rooms at the boarding house.” Jason exhaled slowly. “I’ll bring them to you. After I’m finished here for the day. I have them—”

“Did you read them?” Her breath was shaky now. “How many? Which ones?”

“None of them,” Jason told her gently. “You’re right. They were written to a boy who didn’t deserve them. They’re not mine. I’ll bring them out to the ranch.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “I just—I just want them back. I never—” Elizabeth looked at him again, then nodded. “All right. I’ll be expecting you before dark. Good day.”

He watched her sweep out with her son in tow, wondering what the hell was going on and why whatever had happened five years ago was still haunting her now.

June 17, 2020

This entry is part 3 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written 20  minutes. No time for typos.

Jason scowled at the cell phone in his hand, irritated that he wasn’t getting any answers but not surprised either. You didn’t get to walk out on this business and expect to come back six months later with no issues.

Sonny’s brother still wasn’t letting anyone in to see him, and Jason wasn’t in the mood for a pissing content with Ric Lansing. He just wanted to find out what had happened to Steven Webber, make sure Michael was safe, and then get out.

He glanced over when the door opened again, then his focus simply vanished because it was Justus, as he’d expected, but Elizabeth was behind him, a box clutched in her arms.

Lily’s memory box.

“It’s perfect.” Elizabeth beamed at him as she slid the box out of the white tissue wrapping paper. She turned the porcelain container in her hands, sliding her fingers over the delicately painted enamel. “It matches her room.”

“You said you wanted one of these,” Jason said, brushing his lips against her temple as he rested a hand over Elizabeth’s belly, grinning when the baby kicked fiercely. “For the ultrasound photos and—”

“And for the photos I want to take. One a week for the first year so we can put it into a scrap book.” Elizabeth slid the box open and set the ultrasound from their first visit. “The first time we felt her heartbeat.”

He picked up the second one. “When we found out she’d be a girl.”

“And the last one before we meet her.” Elizabeth set the third and final photo on top of the others. “Just another month until she’s here.”

He stared at the box. It had vanished after Lily’s stillbirth, after they’d buried her in the cemetery next to his grandmother. He’d put Lily’s photograph from the hospital inside—Elizabeth hadn’t been able to look at her, but Jason thought she might want to someday.

So he’d asked Steven to take a picture of their daughter, looking so peaceful, as if she were sleeping.

So still.

“We came back up because there wasn’t anything in Steven’s apartment,” Justus said, his words breaking into Jason’s thoughts. Jason blinked, focused on his cousin.

“No sign he’s been there in the last week?”

“The last newspaper was the day Carly died,” Elizabeth said, her voice so empty, so flat. He’d never heard it that way, not even in the months after…

Jason hesitated. He didn’t know where to start, where to look. Not if he couldn’t see Sonny, find out what was going on. He squinted at Justus. “Can you get me in to see Bernie? Would he talk to me?”

“Yeah.” Justus pressed his lips together as if thinking over his next words carefully. “Look, the thing is—Sonny hasn’t really been running things since you left. That’s been on Ric. Sonny’s been mostly—” He traded a look with Elizabeth he didn’t quite understand. “He’s been MIA. Going back and forth to the island, staying in his room for long periods of time. It’s been bad. Even before Carly.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, I heard that from Johnny.” He looked at Elizabeth again, looked at the box. “Maybe you should go back to Boston.”

She set the box on the desk by the door and lifted her chin to look at him. “Why? So I’ll be safe?”

“I—” He nodded. “Yeah,” Jason said, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going on—”

“There’s nothing left they can take from me,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere until my brother is found.” She looked at Justus. “Can you find me somewhere to stay? The hotel?”

“If you’re going to stay,” Justus said, gently, “then we should stick together. You should stay with one of us.” He flicked his eyes to Jason. “Here. Or you’re welcome to come with me.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly and looked at the floor. “With you, Tamika, and…Kimi,” she added, naming Justus’s daughter who had been born the month before Lily’s death.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly.

“I’ll—”

“I’ll stay here,” Elizabeth said. She met Jason’s eyes. “On one condition.”

“What?” Jason asked.

“Tell me the truth.” She folded her arms. “The bomb in the parking garage—you know who set it.”

His heart seized. “Elizabeth—”

“You knew almost from the moment it happened,” she continued.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes searing into him. “You never lied to me. Not one. So tell me who killed our daughter, who tried to kill me—”

“It wasn’t—” Jason shook his head. “It wasn’t—you weren’t—” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know who it was.”

Justus blinked at him, startled. “You never—”

“What was I supposed to do?” Jason demanded harshly. “I didn’t have any proof. Who would have believed me? Sonny? He wouldn’t—”

“Wait—” Elizabeth held up a hand, then curled into a fist. “Wait. It wasn’t Sonny?”

“Sonny?” Jason frowned. “No. No. Why would he? It was—” He exhaled slowly. “It was Carly.”