Previously…
James and David broke the news of Ethan’s death to a devastated Brooke. Stormy blamed Alex for Kelly leaving him. James and Alex waited for Miranda to awaken from her coma, sure that she would be destroyed upon learning of the burns she suffered. James invited Renee to move into the mansion after Hotel Terranova was destroyed in the earthquake. James questioned Renee about her past with T.T. Renee squashed T.T.’s attempts at reconnecting with her, angry over the fact that he’d allowed her to fall for him years ago while he was engaged. Benji assumed that Sierra was falling for him after he bravely rescued her from the fire. When she maintained her commitment to Malcolm, Benji grew belligerent. The police discovered that the body found on Jordan’s estate was Troy Beauchamp, Jordan’s half-brother, and that he’d been dead for over twelve years. Jordan was arrested for suspicion in the death. Concerned over Heather’s reaction to the earthquake, Brett, against his better judgement, took her to see Dr. Anderson. After Anderson’s vague response to Brett’s questions about the treatment he was providing his wife, Brett pulled off Anderson’s fake beard. A frazzled Anderson fled before Brett could question him further. Later, Brett learned that Anderson was not registered as a psychiatrist in California or any other state. After getting a phone call, Heather disappeared from their condo. Brett went to Anderson’s office to find her but found the place empty and new tenants moving in.
Jordan turned to the side as instructed, scowling angrily while the camera operator took his picture. Mug shots were always less than flattering, but then again they weren’t meant to be handed out as calling cards. He wondered how long it would take for the media to get word of the latest scandal. At least this would knock Alex and Scott Kelly off of the front page for the first time in weeks.
But even that wasn’t much comfort. “I have to find my daughter,” he said as the guard led him across the room and jammed his fingers into an inkpad. “Are you going to go look for her or not?”
The guard continued with his task of taking Jordan’s fingerprints.
“She’s in trouble. She’s missing.”
“Here, use this,” the guard said and thrust a handi-wipe into his palm.
Jordan groaned in frustration as he was ushered down a corridor toward a holding cell. “Great. So, you’re wasting time locking me up for some trumped up charge, and meanwhile my daughter is out there somewhere with some maniac.”
The guard delivered him to his cell, keys clanging while he locked the door between them.
“Are you listening to me?” Jordan demanded, grabbing the bars and gritting his teeth in anger.
“I can’t listen to this,” Brett insisted, pacing the floor of Detective Callahan’s office elsewhere in the police station. “I couldn’t care less who you found buried on Jordan’s property. My wife is missing. You’ve got to do something.”
“According to you, she hasn’t been gone but a couple of hours, Mr. Armstrong,” Stephanie replied, sitting behind her metal tank desk, a small circular fan blowing papers back and forth. “That hardly constitutes a missing persons case.”
“You don’t understand,” Brett said, running a hand over his clammy face. “She’s been having problems. Since our daughter was born she’s been remembering things.”
“What kind of things?”
Brett paused, carefully deciding exactly how much he should tell the detective. “Things that could hurt her. I think he’s using the past to get to Jordan.”
Stephanie leaned forward, crossing one leg over the other. “He?”
“Her doctor. He’s using her.”
“Using her for what?” she asked, her voice full of skepticism.
Sighing, Brett ran his fingers through his hair and slapped his hands to his sides. “I don’t know.”
Word of Jordan’s arrest and of Heather’s disappearance spread quickly. Brett called Benji who decided to score points with Sierra by calling Renee who immediately phoned Alex to cast the blame on her. They all arrived at the police station within minutes of each other. The first thing that Benji noticed was that Sierra had drug Malcolm along with her.
“Is it true?” Renee said, a hand clasped dramatically on Benji’s arm. “They found Troy Beauchamp buried at your father’s house?”
“Who’s Troy Beauchamp?” Malcolm interjected, all the while fending off steely cold looks from Benji.
“Jordan’s half-brother,” Alex interjected when she made her grand entrance in a pink tweed dress and matching wide brimmed hat. “Lola Lamont is their mother. He left town years ago. Or at least we thought he did.”
“Do they know how he died?” Sierra clasped her hand through Malcolm’s.
“I’m afraid not, Baby,” Renee replied.
“Jordan killed him,” Alex deadpanned.
“What?” Renee exclaimed in a shrill voice. “What are you talking about?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Wake up, Renee. The police have arrested him. They had to have had a reason for doing that.”
“Oh, come on,” Renee began, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Why are you always the first to think the worst of your husband? You have absolutely no loyalty to anyone, do you?”
“Are we supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence that a body was found on his property? Troy and Suzanne were always together. He probably killed him in a jealous rage.”
“Yesterday you were convinced that he’d killed Suzanne. Now it’s Troy that he’s killed. Who’s next?”
“I knew he’d killed someone. I just didn’t know who,” Alex insisted. “Frank Dunning saw him bury a body.”
Benji watched and listened, suddenly aware that he had no idea what was happening. Confusion quickly set in. He remembered seeing the blood on the floor of the living room. He remembered the tire iron laying on the Persian rug beside it. Frank told him that he saw Jordan carrying a body from the house. That was the last night that he ever saw his mother. But if the body that his father had buried wasn’t his mother, then where was she and why did she leave?
“Frank Dunning was a mad man,” Renee insisted. “He was obsessed with Suzanne. Jordan found a shrine he’d built for her in his house. He would say anything to discredit Jordan.”
“Look, none of this is helping anyone,” Malcolm interjected.
Benji regarded him with irritation. “This is none of your business,” he said. “What are you even doing here?”
Sierra’s look was scolding. “Benji, please.“ she said.
He shrugged indifferently. “Anyway, we have other problems. Brett said that Heather is missing.”
“Missing?” Alex asked. “What do you mean missing?”
“So let me make sure I’ve got this right,” Detective Callahan said in a thoroughly patronizing manner. “You think your wife’s psychiatrist isn’t really a psychiatrist, but is really an enemy of your father-in-law’s in disguise, and who also treated your father-in-law’s ex-wife twelve years ago using a different name and a different disguise?”
“Yes,” Brett replied, fully aware that it sounded ridiculous when she said it in such a manner.
“Now the psychiatrist is gone, and your wife is gone too and you think he’s done something with her. “
“I know he has,” Brett said, growing more irritated by the second. “Look, all I’m asking is for you to check him out.”
“You said yourself that Dr. Erich Anderson isn’t registered with the Board of Psychiatry in this state or any other. What more do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know,” Brett replied. “Can you trace the office space he was leasing? There’s got to be a way to find out who leased it.”
“He could have paid cash,” Callahan reasoned.
“He would have had to sign a lease.”
She shook her head. “He could have used a fake name. Look, I know you’re worried, but my suggestion is that you go home and wait for your wife to come home. You said yourself that you have a new baby. No mother is going to leave her child without some kind of explanation.”
Brett had heard enough. She wasn’t taking him seriously and he was wasting time. He quickly shot up and bolted for the door. Once in the waiting room, he approached Benji and Alex.
“How is Jordan?” Renee asked. “Have you seen him?”
Brett shook his head. “No, they won’t let anyone in. I was trying to convince Detective Robocop to do something about my missing wife. Benji, have you heard from her?”
He shook his head. “Do you really think Dr. Anderson has her?”
Brett placed a hand on his forehead and nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Dr. Anderson?” Renee asked in surprise.
“He’s a fake,” Brett declared. “Look, I’m going to try to find her. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
“If Anderson has her, they could be anywhere,” Alex said.
“I’ll go everywhere I can think of that she might have gone. At least that way we can rule something out. It’s better than standing around here doing nothing.” Brett headed for the door.
Once he was gone, Alex swooped into her giant purse and withdrew her keys. “I’d better get going too. I need to check on Miranda at the hospital.”
Renee glared angrily at her. “Without so much as asking to see your own husband?” She shook her head in amazement. “You really don’t deserve him.”
Alex steadied herself with a deep breath. She pretended not to care but knew it didn’t come off that way. “Jordan has proven he can’t be trusted. He’s guilty, Renee. You know that as well as I do.”
After she’d gone, Malcolm pulled Sierra into an embrace. From across the room, Benji watched them. He knew that it was all a show orchestrated by Malcolm to get to him. He knew that he had feelings for Sierra and he used the opportunity to flaunt their relationship. Blood boiling, Benji clenched his fists and resisted the temptation to beat him to a bloody pulp.
The construction at the Blackthorne mansion was in full swing, and James had the headache to prove it. Everywhere he walked there was a crew of carpenters and a haze of sawdust in the air. With a groan and a frustrated exhale, he made his way down the stairs and turned toward the parlor room for a drink.
“How can you live here with this dust and debris floating around?” Jackie Lamont asked when he entered. “It’s bad for your health, James. Why don’t you take a room at Moonshadows with me?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “So you can move in and have the locks changed while my back is turned? Come on, Jackie. I deserve more credit than that.” He poured them each a drink and swallowed his down in one gulp.
“Touché,” she said with a grin and sipped her scotch slowly.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, staring out the window at the hazy afternoon sun.
“I thought we were getting to be friends. Can’t I stop by to see you?”
“I meant in Los Angeles. Your attempt at taking this house and Sunset Studios from me failed thanks to David. I always thought you preferred New York. I’m surprised you haven’t raced back by now. Surely there’s a suitor or two waiting in the wings. Some CEO or theatre director that you have your claws sunk into?”
“No one special,” she said with a wink and circled him as if stalking her prey. Before he could react, she took his drink from him and set it with hers on the table. She stood behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “You’re tense.”
“I’ve had a lot going on. My nephew just died, my daughter is laying in the hospital in a coma, and my son is off somewhere trying to find his new bride who took off an hour after their wedding.”
Jackie realized now was not the time to lay on her charm. She handed him his drink again and sat down on the cognac leather sofa. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“There’s nothing anyone can do,” James said and gazed out the window again.
Jackie looked down at her drink while she contemplated his words. “Why don’t you let me arrange the service?”
“Service?”
“For Ethan.” She stood up from the sofa and followed him across the room. “You’ve got to do something, James. If you don’t you’ll never accept that he’s gone.”
“I’ve accepted it.”
“You need to say goodbye.”
He shook his head in aggravation while pouring himself another glass of scotch. “There isn’t even a body to bury. The whole thing seems pointless.”
“You want to honor your nephew, don’t you?” Jackie asked. “Do this for him. Do it for your family. But most of all, do it for yourself.”
He had to admit she had a point. Ethan was gone yet he went blindly about his days as if he was merely on vacation and would walk through the door at any minute. If they had some kind of service maybe the finality would register.
“Okay,” he said with a grim expression. “Thank you, Jackie.”
She reached out and took his hand in hers. When James’s cell phone rang he fished it from his pocket and saw that it was Alex calling.
“Alex?” he answered. “What is it?”
“I’m at the hospital with Miranda,” she said from her position outside the hospital room. “She’s awake.”
Watching the movers haul every piece of furniture, every box, and every picture back into her townhome was enough to make Brooke completely lose it. She wondered how she got to this place. One minute she and Ethan were packing their things and preparing to start a new life on the other side of the Pacific, and the next she back in the same empty house, alone.
David followed the movers while they carried the sofa inside. Once the doorway was clear, he entered and exchanged solemn glances with Brooke.
“David, what are you doing here?”
“Came to see how you were doing,” he replied, his hands in his pockets. He glanced around and took a big breath. “Looks like you’ll be settled back in in no time.”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling her hair up off her neck and gesturing to the boxes lining the living room wall. “I mean, I have a lot of unpacking to do, but I can always—”
He cut her off abruptly. “Are you sure this is what you want? I can still get you a suite at Moonshadows.”
“I’m fine here, David,” she said. “I’d rather not disrupt Michael too much anyway. He’s used to this place. We’ve been happy here.”
“I just worry that you haven’t thought this through. You were happy here, yes, but what about now that Ethan’s gone? Don’t you think the memories will make it too hard?”
Brooke busied herself by unpacking a box of blankets. “Memories are all I have. I don’t want to lose that.”
David sighed and glanced around the room. She’d already made up her mind and there was no changing it. His eyes landed on an envelope resting atop the kitchen counter.
“What’s this?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged indifferently. “Some papers Kenny dropped by earlier. Something to do with Ethan’s estate.”
“So soon?” David asked. “What do they say?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it.”
David regarded her carefully. “Why not?”
Removing the last of the blankets from the box, Brooke carried a stack to the closet and placed them neatly on the top shelf. Instead of answering his question, she turned and offered a vague smile.
“I appreciate you coming by, David, but you don’t have to keep checking on me. I’m going to be fine. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’ll get through it.”
He took a few tentative steps forward and looked into her aquamarine eyes. “I know things between us have been impossible for the last few months, but I’d like to be a friend to you if you’ll let me. You don’t have to put on this brave front, Brooke. Your world has been turned upside down.”
She started to shake her head in protest but as soon as she did, the tears came. Holding it together was harder than she’d realized. She tried to be strong and not resort to her usual meanderings of self-pity, but this proved to be too much.
David pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly as she sobbed against his shoulder. He hated the fact that it took something so tragic to bring them close, but something told him that she would need someone in the coming weeks and months. He was glad it could be him.
They moved Jordan into the interrogation room where Detective Callahan questioned him about the body and about his relationship with his half-brother. Jordan sat belligerently at the table with his arms crossed.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Rydell,” Stephanie said. “A body was found on your property. Do you mind telling me how he got there?’
“I didn’t kill him,” Jordan replied, tight-lipped.
“If it was any other body or any other place I wouldn’t have a problem buying into that,” she continued. “But being that he was your half-brother and it was your property, things aren’t exactly looking so good for you.”
“Are you going to find my daughter or not?” he asked as if he hadn’t even heard her.
“What was your relationship like with Mr. Beauchamp?”
“We were like any brothers are,” Jordan replied. “We had our disagreements.”
Stephanie crossed the room and sat down across from him. “What did you disagree over?”
Jordan was silent, his mind returning to Heather and the apparent danger she was in as a result of her sessions with Dr. Anderson.
“I can always find out, Mr. Rydell,” she went on. “People love to talk in this town, especially about rich Hollywood types like you.”
“You’re not from L.A., are you?” Jordan asked.
“How can you tell?” she asked and stood up, kicking her leg up on the chair.
He shrugged. “Just a hunch.”
“I’m from New York,” Stephanie said. “I transferred to L.A. a few months ago. And believe me, I’ve already met half a dozen men just like you.”
“Men like me?”
“Good looking, fancy sports cars, Prada golf shirts. That and you’ve all got something to hide. Now, if you’re not going to tell me what went on with you and your half-brother, then I’ll find out on my own.”
“Nothing went on. I told you, I didn’t kill him. So are you going to charge me with anything or are you going to let me go? As far as I can tell you have no evidence to continue holding me.”
She took a few cool steps forward and paused before him. “I can hold you for twenty four hours if I choose to,” she said. “That should be long enough to dig up some dirt on you. I’m getting a search warrant as we speak. There’s bound to be something hiding around in your Beverly Hills mansion.”
“You’re wasting your time. You should be looking for my daughter. The longer I’m in here the harder it’s going to be to find her.”
Stephanie went to the door and called for the guard. “Take Mr. Rydell back to his cell,” she said.
“Your warrant came through,” the guard said and handed her a folded piece of paper.
She took the search warrant from him and turned to Jordan. “I’ll let you know what we find,” she said in a patronizing fashion.
Jordan gritted his teeth angrily. While she was tearing his house apart looking for evidence, Heather was still missing. He was going crazy thinking about it. If anything happened to his daughter, he would never forgive himself.
James barreled down the corridors of Cedars-Sinai, weaving between orderlies and patients until he came to Miranda’s private room where Alex was waiting.
“How is she?” James asked in bated breath. “Does she know?”
Alex shook her head. “No, she hasn’t taken the bandages off. Eddie is in with her right now.”
James took a deep breath before pushing the door open and looking on in joy at his daughter awake and sitting up in bed. Eddie was seated at her side and stood up when James approached.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, beaming happily while taking her hand in his and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, Daddy,” she said weakly. Her hair was matted to her head and her unmade up face was bandaged on the left side from her cheekbone to her jawline. “Mom and Eddie were just telling me about the earthquake. I don’t even remember most of it.”
“It happened pretty fast,” Eddie said, the tips of his fingers in the pockets of his jeans.
“Was there a lot of damage?” Miranda asked. “Was anyone hurt?”
James glanced back at Alex and then settled his eyes on his daughter. “I’m afraid so, sweetheart. A lot of people were hurt.”
Her eyes flashed open wide and she began looking around in a panic. “Oh my god. Stormy? Is he okay? Was Stormy hurt?”
James squeezed her hand and shook his head. “No, Stormy is fine.” He could tell how disoriented she felt . A lot had happened in just a few days and it was bound to be difficult for her to take it all in. “I don’t want you to worry about anything right now. The important thing is you’re awake and you’re feeling better.”
“Daddy, tell me,” she insisted. She looked past him at her mother and then over to Eddie. “Tell me who was hurt.”
James finally gave in and told her the truth. “Ethan was killed during the earthquake,” he said. “He was driving back to the hotel from the townhouse and—”
“No,” Miranda whimpered quietly. “No, Daddy. Not Ethan.”
“I know,” he said in a soothing voice. His hands went to her face and softly stroked her skin.
Tears welled up in Miranda’s eyes. Trying to wrap her head around the awful news, she suddenly looked up and gave a tiny gasp. “Poor Brooke,” she said.
Her sentiment struck James as extremely unlikely. He couldn’t ever remember her expressing anything but hatred for Brooke.
“She and Ethan were going to get married that night,” Miranda continued, recalling the tender scene she and Brooke had shared during the reception. Maybe it was because Brooke was leaving town and she felt like it was okay to be civil to her. Or maybe it was her being genuinely happy that she was finally with the man she loved. Either way, she could only imagine what she was going through.
“Jackie is planning a memorial service,” James said. “I’m glad that you’ll be up and around. I’d hate for you to miss it.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. She brought her hand up to itch her face and frowned when she felt the thick bandage taped to her skin. “What’s wrong? Why are there bandages on my face?”
Alex took the opportunity to dart forward and take her daughter’s other hand. “It’s not that bad, darling,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I promise you. We’ve already contacted the best plastic surgeon in the country.”
“What?” Miranda shrieked, alarmed by her mother’s words. “Plastic surgeon for what?”
James groaned and flashed Alex a look of warning. He knew she was subtle as an elephant at times, but he thought she’d at least take extra care when it came to their daughter.
“The hotel caught fire during the earthquake,” James explained. “You and Eddie were unconscious in your office for a good amount of time. It took a while for the fire fighters to get to you. When they did, you’d suffered some burns.”
“Oh my god,” Miranda said, scavenging around the area for a mirror.
“Miranda, don’t,” James protested. “You have to calm down. You can’t let this upset you.”
“Mother, give me a mirror,” she ordered, grappling for her purse.
“Miranda…” James pleaded.
“Give me a mirror!”
Startled by the severity in her voice, Alex swooped into her purse and plucked around for a compact. She grudgingly handed it to her and winced in agony while she waited for her reaction.
“Just remember, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” James said tenderly and placed a hand on her arm.
Miranda flipped open the compact and aimed it at her face. She lifted the tape from the bandage and slowly peeled it away. Gut wrenching nausea immediately set in. Her face turned stark white, and her heart raced a mile a minute.
“Oh my god!” she cried, bursting into tears and staring at the burn that covered her cheek and neck. “Oh my god, Daddy. How could this happen to me?”
“It’s not fair, I know,” James remarked. “But Miranda, you’re alive. This could have been much worse.”
“It’s really not bad,” Alex piped in with a sickeningly optimistic tone in her voice. “Plastic surgeons fix this kind of thing all the time.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Miranda cried in despair, unable to tear her eyes from her reflection in the mirror. “You’re not a disfigured monster. Look at me. I’m a freak. How can I ever go out in public again?”
“I still think you’re smokin’ hot,” Eddie said, hoping that his trademark wisecracking would lighten her mood.
She shot him a look of repulsion and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Shut up, Eddie. Why don’t you get out of here?”
“Miranda, I know you’re upset, but—” James began.
“Yes, I’m upset!” she screamed hysterically. “I’m disgusting! I don’t even know how you can look at me!”
“We love you and we’ll love you no matter what,” Alex said. She felt helpless. This was something she didn’t know how to fix. A broken heart or a cheating husband was easy, but when it came to her looks, Miranda was untouchable. Take that away and you took away her soul.
“Please just leave,” Miranda said, turning away and curling into a ball. “All of you. Just go.”
James motioned to Alex and Eddie and started to the door. He knew she needed time. Before they left, he turned and watched her sobbing into her pillow.
Kenny arrived at the police station and found Renee pacing back and forth in the waiting area. He approached and she quickly filled him in on the details of Jordan’s arrest.
“Where’s Alex?” Kenny asked. “Why are you here and she’s nowhere in sight?”
Renee rolled her eyes with a huff. “Because Alex doesn’t care about anyone but herself. Kenny, you’ve got to do something.”
“I can’t do anything until Jordan is arraigned. Let me talk to the D.A. and see what they’re charging him with and then we’ll go from there.”
Renee turned and crossed the waiting room. “I don’t believe Jordan could have killed anyone, much less Troy. They were brothers for god’s sake.”
“I don’t remember them being that close,” Kenny remarked. “I always thought Jordan was jealous of Troy and Suzanne’s friendship.”
“That doesn’t mean he killed him,” Renee shot back, eyes wide with alarm.
Kenny watched her carefully. “You were close to Suzanne. Are you telling me she never talked to you about Troy?”
She looked at him point blank. “Of course she talked to me about him, but she never had any interest in him. Troy had a crush on her. An innocent crush. Suzanne knew that but she would never have acted on it.”
Kenny sighed and tried to put things in perspective. “What about Heather? You said on the phone that she was missing. Does this have anything to do with Troy, or with Jordan being arrested?”
Renee threw her hands up in resignation. “I don’t know. But according to Brett, the psychiatrist that she’s been seeing is a fake. He’s not a psychiatrist at all.”
“What?”
“They think he’s using her to get to Jordan.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kenny insisted. “Heather’s been seeing him for over a year. Sierra even saw him a couple of times after that night with Nathan on the yacht. If Anderson was a fake and only wanted Jordan, why would he have bothered seeing Sierra?”
“I don’t know,” Renee admitted. “The only thing I can think of is that Jordan and I were seeing each other at the time. Maybe Sierra factored into his plan somewhow.”
“Was Heather Blackthorne your only appointment today?” the receptionist asked. “Because I’ve only been here for an hour. The agency said I’d be here all day.”
“If you have a problem with the hours then don’t take the assignment next time,” Erich Anderson said from the doorway of his office. “Now get your things and get out.”
She hastily grabbed her purse, turning and shoving a slip of paper at him. “You have to sign my time slip,” she said.
He scribbled an intelligible signature on the bottom line and thrust it back at her. After she’d left the office he retreated to his desk, pulled open the top drawer and removed a silver hand mirror. He removed his glasses and the colored contact lenses from his eyes. Slowly, he began peeling the beard from his face.
A knock at the door alerted him to a visitor. Heart racing, he quickly reattached the beard and slipped on his bifocals. By the time he’d stood up from the desk and collected himself, Renee DeWitt was standing before him.
“Dr. Anderson?”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. My office is closed for the day. You’ll have to call my receptionist in the morning.”
“I’m sorry for just stopping by but I didn’t have your number. Stormy Blackthorne recommended you to me. His ex-wife is a patient of yours. Heather Blackthorne.”
Dr. Anderson’s eyes shifted nervously. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any of my patients with you, Miss…?”
“DeWitt. Renee Dewitt. I’m not asking for you to discuss your patients. I want you to see my daughter, Sierra. She’s been delt a few blows lately and I’m afraid if she doesn’t talk to someone she’ll never recover.”
“Maybe she just needs a nice long talk with her mother,” he said with a strained smile. He compulsively ran his fingers along the edge of his fake beard in order to make sure it was securely attached.
“I’ve tried and she won’t talk to me,” Renee insisted. “Please, Dr. Anderson. I’m desperate. Stormy said what a help you’ve been to Heather. He said you’re the best there is. I just need to know that you’ll see her.”
“I’m not taking on any more patients at this time,” Anderson remarked. He picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. “I’d be happy to recommend you to someone else.”
“It’s got to be you,” Renee lamented. “I don’t have time to look for another doctor. Please. I’ll bring her in today. Just tell me that you’ll take her on as a patient.”
Reluctantly he agreed. It wasn’t his intention at all, but the woman simply would not stop talking, and he could feel his beard pulling away from his skin. He’d have done anything to get her out of his office.
Once she was gone, he sat down and held his head in his hands. He would see the woman’s daughter a couple of times and then tell her that she was fine. Somehow he’d fake his way through it.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a small bottle of glue. Carefully, he brushed it onto his cheek and firmly reattached the beard.
“I doubt it,” Kenny remarked. “You and Jordan were together for two seconds. What would Anderson, or whatever his name is, have needed Sierra for?”
“I don’t know,” she said and dropped her hands to her sides. “But when I think of my daughter being alone with someone who wasn’t even a real doctor it makes my skin crawl. Who is this man?”
Their discussion was interrupted when T.T. arrived, darting over to them in an Armani suit and matching overcoat.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Malcolm told me you were here. I heard about Jordan Rydell. I wanted to see if you needed anything.”
The last thing Renee needed was T.T. complicating matters. She had enough to worry about. When she spotted the confused look on Kenny’s face she decided to rush through a hasty introduction.
“Kenny, this is T.T. Levitt. T.T., this is my ex-husband, Kenny DeWitt.”
They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Kenny looked him up and down and raised a curious eyebrow.
“How do you two know each other?”
“We met years ago on a cruise,” T.T. explained.
“Before you and I were married,” Renee added.
“Look, I don’t know Jordan Rydell very well, but I wanted to offer my help if it’s needed,” T.T. said, getting straight to the point. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need money for bail?”
“Bail hasn’t been set,” Kenny began.
“We’ll be fine,” Renee cut him off, glaring heatedly at T.T.
“Are you sure? Because I can call my accountant and—”
“I have money, T.T.,” Renee said slowly. “Jordan has money too. We’re perfectly capable of taking care of things ourselves. We don’t need your help.”
He knew she was acting out because of their last run-in. She still hadn’t forgiven him for not telling her about Julia when they met on the cruise.
“Well, if you change your mind…” T.T. offered.
“It was good of you to come,” Renee said, using her eyes to direct him to the door.
Finally taking the hint, T.T. turned and left the police station. After he’d gone, Kenny looked at Renee and noticed how flushed she seemed. Something about T.T. Levitt got to her. She was cold toward him, but he knew her well enough to know it was a cover for very different feelings.
“What are you staring at?” Renee asked him, irritated.
He shrugged with a knowing grin. “Nothing.”
Benji stood by helplessly while the police ransacked the house. Detective Callahan had shown up with an army of police. They looked through closets, in cabinets, under beds and ran metal detectors over the floors.
He poured a few gulps of straight vodka into a glass and drank it while the police went about their business. Still confused and unsure of his own sanity, he tried to piece everything together in his mind. For years, he’d held on to the belief that his father had killed his mother in cold blood. Frank even confirmed it. But now the reality was that the body Frank had seen him bury wasn’t his mother’s after all. So, what was going on?
Deciding he needed to go out and find some trouble to get into, he phoned Blake at home and told him there was a warehouse party in Van Nuys they should go to. Most times Blake would have been on board, but today he seemed different.
“I can’t,” he said from his bedroom. “Something’s going on with my dad.”
“Join the club,” Benji said wryly. “My dad’s in jail. Beat that.”
“I don’t think my dad’s been taking his medication,” Blake said in a worrisome tone. “He’s kind of lost it. I went into his room last night and he was just sitting there talking jibberish. Today I have no idea where he is.”
“You call Eddie?”
“He’s been at the hospital, so his phone is turned off,” Blake replied. “I was going to drive down there. Shit, how can things get any worse?”
Benji watched as a police officer came down the stairs with a plastic bag in his hands. Two other officers followed him. He squinted, realizing that inside the bag was a tire iron.
“I think they just did,” he said and swallowed the rest of his drink.
Brett had no luck finding Heather at any usual place she might go to. The park, the beach, Jordan’s house. Everywhere he thought of turned up nothing. He became more sure than ever that Anderson had her. Anderson. Whatever his name really was.
He went back to the condo, paid the sitter, and fed Violet her bottle while doing some research. First was looking in the phone book for every Anderson with the first initial E. A long shot, yes, but he was desperate. In the greater Los Angeles area alone, there were hundreds of E. Andersons. He slammed it shut and ran a hand over his clammy face.
Violet twisted in his arms and started to get fussy so he put her in her crib. He walked into the bedroom and looked around in hopes of finding something he may have missed. There had to be a clue as to where she’d gone. One minute the phone had rang, and the next she was climbing out the bedroom window.
David handed his mother a glass of sherry while they stood in the living room of her penthouse suite at Moonshadows. She accepted it graciously and floated across the room to the open doors leading onto the terrace.
“I saw James today,” she said, letting the warm ocean breeze blow through her chestnut hair. “Alex called from the hospital. Miranda woke up.”
“How is she?” David asked with genuine concern.
“I imagine once she gets over the shock of what the fire did to her face, she’ll be perfectly fine. It’s a shame, really. She’s a beautiful young woman.”
“James will take care of her. There are plastic surgeons that can work miracles. You should know,” he added with a wiseacre smile.
Jackie hit him playfully on the arm. “I resent that. I have never had surgery.”
David gave a good natured laugh and gazed out at the Pacific from their position on the terrace. “What is going on with you and James, anyway?”
“What do you mean?” Jackie asked coyly. “We’re friends.”
“Friends?” he scoffed. “A couple of weeks ago you were trying to steal his studio and his house. Don’t tell me you just dropped that idea in favor of being friends.”
Jackie took in a deep breath and smiled with her eyes closed. “We have a special bond. I can’t explain it. When we were trapped at the hotel together, we saw each other in a new light. There’s excitement when we’re together. I don’t know. It’s this kind of electricity. It’s quite exciting.”
David threw his head back and laughed. “Oh really? Electricity is dangerous, Mother.”
She grinned. “Actually, I’m planning Ethan’s memorial service for him. The poor man has no idea which way is up right now. I’m just glad I can be of help to him.”
“Who are you?” David asked. “You’re helping him with Ethan’s memorial? Forgive me if that sounds a little too Martha Stewart and a little less Jackie Lamont.”
“I’m trying to be a friend. I was as surprised as you at first, but he seems to really be accepting of me.”
“How do you know he’s not using you?”
“How do you know I’m not using him?”
“Are you?” he asked, eyebrows arched.
She sipped her drink and turned toward him. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, David. You may have thwarted my plans to take over Sunset Studios, but there may just be another way.”
David grew serious now. “Mother, I told you I didn’t want you hurting James Blackthorne or his family. They’ve been through enough.”
“And I haven’t?” she asked in a shrill voice. “My father died and James Blackthorne took everything that was precious to him. Then Brooke Taylor and her gin soaked mother took my husband from me. The way I see it, the Blackthornes have done nothing but steal from me. I think it’s about time I start stealing back.”
Knowing full well there was no reasoning with her, David threw up his hands in resignation. “So what is it you intend to do?”
“I’m going to marry him,” she said with a smile. “And then I’ll take everything he’s ever cared about.”
James paced the waiting room at the hospital, glancing at his watch and waiting for Alex to report back to him. He and Eddie exchanged glances briefly. Moments later, Alex appeared, her face drawn and her eyes red and watery.
“Well?” James said and barreled toward her. “Did you get her to talk to you?”
Alex shook her head, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “She won’t even look at me. She thinks she’s hideous and so she wants no one in her room. I just can’t understand how she could push us away like this. Doesn’t she know how much we love her?”
“She knows,” James said, frustrated.
“I can’t take this for much longer, James,” Alex said. “When does the plastic surgeon you found get here?”
“Not until next week. We’re just going to have to help her through this in the meantime. That means all of us. If we can ever get Stormy to stand still for a minute, then we could show her as a family how much we love her and need her.”
Eddie bit his lip and left the waiting room while they continued their discussion. He approached Miranda’s room and watched her through the glass window. She sat on the bed, sobbing into her pillow with the mirror gripped tightly in her hand. He decided he wasn’t going to let her push him away. He was used to her salty disposition. To him it was nothing new.
Pushing the door open, he entered and did his best to lighten the mood. “It wasn’t just the earthquake,” he said with a grin.
“What?” she asked, pulling her face from the pillow and frowning in his direction.
“In your office. We kissed and the earth moved. Only it wasn’t because of the earthquake.”
Miranda sighed and flung herself onto the bed. “Get out, Eddie. As usual, your timing sucks.”
“Well that’s too bad,” he said and marched toward her. “For months you’ve been saying that I’m just a dork and you could never see yourself with me. But that kiss proved otherwise. Nobody kisses like that without meaning it.”
She rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed again. “We were at a wedding. People get mushy at weddings and do things they don’t normally do. Stop reading more into it.”
“I’m not letting you off the hook this time,” he continued.
“Eddie, I don’t care,” she said, tired. “I just want you to get out of here.”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Get out!” she screamed in despair. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Especially you.”
He frowned. “Why especially me?”
But she quickly dismissed her remark. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. I just want you to leave. I don’t have feelings for you. I only kissed you because I was feeling lonely and jealous that my brother and Kelly were getting married.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“I don’t care,” she said and rolled over onto her side. “You’re just a nuisance. Why don’t you just go home and leave me the hell alone?”
As much as he tried to take what she said with a grain of salt, he couldn’t stand there any longer and listen to her snarling at him. Slowly, he turned and backed out of the room.
Once he’d gone, Miranda turned to the door and burst into tears. She lifted the mirror to her face again and cringed at the hideous burns on her face.
The tire iron made a loud clunking noise when it hit the table in the interrogation room. Jordan looked at it and closed his eyes tightly. When he looked up again, Detective Callahan was standing before him with her hands positioned firmly on her hips.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but tire irons belong in the trunk or the garage. This one was buried beneath the floorboards in your attic.”
Jordan forced himself to appear unaffected. The detective watched his expression, patiently waiting for him to react.
“No response to that?” she asked.
He shrugged indifferently.
“Okay,” Stephanie said with a shrug and removed a plastic bag from her pocket. “Then how about this?”
Jordan took the bag and inspected its contents. Inside was the gold chain with a locket on the end. My Darling Suzanne – All my Love. He read the engraving and winced in anger.
“Still nothing?” Stephanie asked. “Mr. Rydell, these items were found together hidden away in your house. Someone had to have put them there. I’m guessing it was you.”
He shook his head and lied. “I’ve never seen these things before in my life.”
She folded her arms and circled the interrogation able. “So they just magically appeared underneath a loose floorboard?” she asked.
Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Stephanie flipped her long brown ponytail over her shoulder and sat down across from him. “So if we dust this locket and this ax for fingerprints or DNA, yours won’t show up on either one?”
The room began spinning and Jordan felt nauseous. Never in a million years did he think this would be coming back to haunt him now. Not after twelve years of silence.
“Let me ask you again,” Stephanie said and leaned forward. “Where did this locket come from?”
Finally Jordan decided he’d had enough. “I bought it for my ex-wife before she left me. I’d forgotten about it until now. It wasn’t exactly a happy time in our marriage. I guess she must have thrown it in the attic with some of her other things before she left.”
“So you bought your ex-wife the locket?”
“Yes.”
Reaching into her pocket, she removed a photocopied sales receipt. “From Tiffany?”
“I think so.”
She smiled patronizingly. “No wonder your wife left you, Mr. Rydell. Your attention to detail is seriously lacking. This locket is from Cartier. It says so right on the clasp. Luckily Cartier keeps pretty good sales records. I just came from there. This locket was purchased in August of 1996 by Troy Beauchamp.”
Jordan still didn’t react. He couldn’t.
“Now, why would your half brother be giving your wife a locket with such a personal inscription?” the detective asked.
All Jordan could do is stare at the wall in a daze. The less he said, the better off he’d be.
“Here’s what I think,” she said. “I think your half brother was sleeping with your wife, you found out, and killed him.”
Still, Jordan kept quiet.
“Tell me, why did you pick tire iron to do the deed?” she demanded. “I think it’d be kind of messy. Why not something like poison, or strangulation? Or was the tire iron just there and you picked up the first thing you could get your hands on?”
“I want to speak to my lawyer,” Jordan finally said.
It didn’t take long for her to go under. A few suggestive words and she was in a trance-like state on the sofa in the small cabin at the Yacht Club. Dr. Anderson stood above her, using a soft voice and speaking as slow as he could. All that was left to do was plant a few key words in her mind so that when the time was right she would do what was necessary.
“When you leave here, you will remain in a hypnotic state. You will take a taxi to Beverly Hills and wait at your father’s house. You’re not to talk to anyone. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Heather murmured softly.
“When your father returns home, do you remember what I told you to do?”
“I remember,” Heather said slowly.
“Good. Very good.” Dr. Anderson opened Heather’s purse and placed a small handgun neatly inside. “You’ll wait for further instructions from me. No one else is to enter the house. If they do, you know what to do, don’t you?”
“Shoot them,” Heather said.
He smiled. “Yes, that’s right. Now when I count back from three, you will feel awake and refreshed, but you will remain under my control.”
“Okay.”
“Three…..your eyes are opening. Two….you are alert and refreshed. Three….you are awake.”
And in that instant, Heather sat up on the sofa and looked around to get her bearings. She took her purse, stood up and walked slowly out the door of the cabin.
Anderson smiled gleefully. He moved across the room to the dressing mirror and removed his glasses. It was a long time in coming, but he’d succeeded in planting enough suggestions during their sessions to finally put his plan into action. He recalled the numerous hours where her husband would wait in the lobby while he put her into a hypnotic trance. Each time she would emerge normal and not remember anything about their session.
Staring in the mirror, he removed his colored contact lenses.
Not until recently did Brett Armstrong begin to question what was happening during their hours together locked away in his office. He had no doubt most of it was due to Jordan Rydell’s past with Dr. Wainwright and his inability to trust psychiatrists. His mistrust was warranted, however, as he’d attempted to do the same thing with Suzanne many years ago. The only way he was able to pull it off again was because as Dr. Anderson, he never had to come face to face with Jordan Rydell. The only people who’d seen him besides Heather were Brett Armstrong, Stormy Blackthorne, and, strictly by error, Renee DeWitt and Sierra Merteuil. It would have taken only once for Jordan Rydell to see him and recognize him as Dr. Julian Wainwright.
He peeled off the fake beard and set it gently on the dresser. Next, he carefully removed the gray wig, revealing his own brown hair beneath.
It was time that Jordan Rydell paid for his crimes. Time that he answered for ruining his life and the lives of his boys. His oldest son had moved out years ago, fed up with him and his neediness. But how could he not need his children? His wife had left him after falling in love with another man. She told him he wasn’t good enough anymore. Without so much as looking back, she packed her things and left them. He was destroyed.
Reaching to a flap just beneath his chin, he slowly peeled the thin layer of latex from his face, removing it in one clumsy movement. Afterwards, the mask dropped limply to the floor and Victor Distefano peered at himself in the mirror.
Yes, it was time for Jordan Rydell to pay for his crimes.
Next time….
Friends and family gather together to pay their respects to Ethan. Tom King, writer and producer of Wonderland, puts his spin on The Blackthornes for Webseries Writers Swap II.
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