Previously...

Devon exposed Brett's past as a con artist but he quicly explained it away to Stormy and Miranda. Later, Devon told Brett that if he didn't give her half of his money she would tell the police he killed Bailey.  News of Ethan's death spread quickly and left James devestated and searching for answers.  Stormy kissed Lauren.  After failing to give Devon the money, Brett was arrested for murder.  Alex and Jordan prepared to fly to the Dominican Republic to find out what was going on with Brooke and Ethan.  On his private jet, James anticipated his reunion with Brooke, but the plane suffered engine damage and crashed onto the island.

 Episode 13

"Distant Locations"

The firemen stood by the wreckage just outside of Santo Domingo, spraying out small fires that sprung up from fuselage that had been thrown from the jet.  A team of U.S. medics arrived on the scene and quickly went to work.

"This one's dead," said one of the medics as he reached his arm between the collapsed cockpit where the pilot, Jake Lane was pinned.

"There's only one passenger in here," called another medic from the rear of the ruined jet plane.   "If there were any others they might have been thrown out on impact."

"What's his status?" someone asked.

The medic felt for a pulse on James's wrist.  He shook his head in hopelessness and looked up at his partners.  "He's alive, but he has a very weak pulse.   We need to get him out of here pronto."

"All right, lets go," said the other medic, bringing a canvas stretcher from the back of their vehicle.   He set it down amidst the debris from what was left of the plane and they worked at getting James's unconscious body unhooked from the seat.

"The rest of you start searching for other survivors!" said their leader.  "Until we know otherwise, we have to assume there were other people on board!"

The crew scattered around the vast jungle as the fire fighters sprayed out another patch of flames that burst up from the pile of heaping metal.

Alex and Jordan arrived in Santo Domingo and took a jeep from the airstrip.   They arrived at the Del Mar hotel and checked in to a suite.   While standing in the lobby, Alex glanced around the elegant, tropical surroundings.  

The possibilities of her being there were endless.   Brooke was there with Ethan, who was killed in an explosion.  James was there, or on his way there, perhaps to save his damsel in distress.   She couldn’t let that happen.   She’d brought that scoundrel Philip Whitacre to Los Angeles to break James and Brooke apart and she’d succeeded.  She wasn’t about to let them reunite over something like this.  If she had to, she would use her trump card.   Telling James she knew about Ethan’s paternity could be a very useful maneuver.

“Are you ready?” Jordan asked after checking in at the front desk. 

They started through the lobby to the elevator, the bellboy following behind with their bags.   The elevator doors opened and they started into the car just as Brooke was stepping off.

“Brooke, isn’t this a surprise,” Alex said, eyeing her up and down.

Frowning, Brooke looked at Alex with disbelief.  She couldn’t handle her right now.  Not after everything that had happened.   “What are you doing here?” she asked, glancing back and forth between her and Jordan.

“We heard what happened to Ethan and so of course we took Jordan’s jet straight here,” Alex replied.

“You don’t care about Ethan,” Brooke spat, eyeing her suspiciously.  “What are you up to, Alex?”

Alex chortled and looked at Jordan.  “I’m not the heartless shrew you take me for, dear,” she began.  “James and I were married for twenty-three years.  Ethan is still like family to me.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and started to walk past them.  She knew Alex was up to something but she didn’t have the energy to figure it out.   Not that she cared anyway.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of this that easy,” Alex said, pulling her back.

“What?” Brooke asked with a frown.

“What happened to Ethan?” she asked.  “The reports were very sketchy.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Brooke exclaimed.  “James is on his way.  That’s all that matters.  I’ll tell him everything he needs to know when he gets here.”

Alex realized that James must not have arrived on the island yet.  She decided to use it to her advantage.  “What makes you think James is coming?”

“Because I left a message with Leilani.  I told her about Ethan.”

Alex shrugged.  “As far as I know he’s working on a deal in L.A.  His studio is in dire straits.  He’s having to fight tooth and nail just to keep it afloat.  I doubt very much that he’s going to drop everything to fly off to the Caribbean   Especially when his would-be wife and his nephew were there together.   Incidentally, how did that come about?  You and Ethan being on this island together, I mean.”

“I came here to get my divorce from Philip,” Brooke replied.  “You know, the guy you went all the way to Phoenix to find and bring back with you.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed on her.  She knew Brooke would find out about her involvement eventually.   Not that it mattered.  The damage was already done.

“When are you going to learn to stay out of people’s lives, Alex?” Brooke continued.

Alex laughed.  “This coming from a tramp who now has a reputation of being a bigamist?”   She laughed again.  “That’s rich.”

Brooke glared at her with contempt.  “Go to hell, Alex,” she spat and then pushed her way past them.

“I see,” Alex called after her again.  “So Ethan came with you to give you support in your divorce proceedings?   Or was it just to keep you company on those lonely nights?  I mean let’s face it, who wants to be alone while they’re stuck in a romantic tropical paradise, right?”

Brooke knew what she was getting at.  But she was bluffing.  There was no way she could have known about her and Ethan’s night together.   She turned and raced out of the hotel into the bright afternoon sun.

Jordan raised an eyebrow and held the elevator door open for Alex.  “That was quite a scene,” he began.  “Obviously there’s no love lost between you and Brooke Taylor.”

Alex smiled.  “Why would you say that?” she asked coyly as the elevator doors shut.

Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, Brett was seated in an interrogation room at the police station.  He shook his head in frustration as Detective Baines badgered him relentlessly.

“I already told you!” Brett exclaimed, his forehead dripping sweat.  “Bailey, Devon and I were partners.   We were in business together in Vegas.”

Detective Baines, a tall, athletic, dark haired man of forty, glanced at a pad of notes and shrugged.  “Ahhh yes, R&J Tour Company.  Is that the business you’re referring to?”

Brett paused for a beat and then nodded reluctantly.  “Yes.”

“The same tour company that dozens of senior citizens claimed had taken their money with the promise of a guided tour of the city, only to have the tour guides disappear before they could board the bus.”

Brett didn’t reply.

“We’ve got statements from every one of those people you ripped off, Mr. Shively,” Detective Baines continued.  He laughed and looked down at Brett.  “That was quite the scam you had going there.   Hit every major hotel on the strip and make a few thousand in cash, right?”

Brett rolled his eyes and looked away.  He might be guilty of fraud but no way were they going to get him for murder.

Detective Baines looked back at his notes and began pacing the floor of the interrogation room.  “So you spend a few weeks in Vegas, make a few thousand dollars between the three of you.  Then what happened?”

“All you have is their word against mine,” Brett said.  “You’ll never make those charges stick.”

“Don’t be so sure,” the detective replied, then leaned down across the table from Brett.  “But that’s not what we’re really after you for, Shively.  What we want to know is what happened up in that hotel room with Bailey Freeborn.”

“Nothing happened.”

“We have eye witnesses who saw you leaving the hotel room at the Flamingo HIlton,” Baines announced.  “A maid who had just came on the afternoon shift saw you running out of the room like your pants were on fire.   She went into the room, saw that the place had been trashed, saw that the window was open, looked outside, and saw Freeborn’s body splattered all over the ground.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“What happened in that room?” Detective Baines asked again.  “You struggled, we know that much.   But what about?   Was it about the business?”

Brett shook his head.  “I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer present.”

“Tell me if I’m on the mark with this,” Baines continued.  “You got greedy, went up to your room and tried leaving with all the dough.   Freeborn caught up with you, there was a struggle, and rather than give up all that money, you pushed him out the window.  Am I right?”

“No!” Brett exclaimed.  “I didn’t push him out the window!”

Baines slammed his fists on the table and leaned in closer to Brett.  “Then how did he wind up taking a nose dive out of a ten story window?”

Brett folded his arms and stared at the wall in a daze.  He knew that if he said anything else he’d be incriminating himself.   He had to sit tight and wait for Miranda to come through with the lawyer.   He hoped to God she would.

“I don’t care what you say!  I want to see my husband now!” Miranda yelled out in the waiting room at the police station.   “We have rights, you know!  You can’t just keep me away from him!”

“Mrs. Armstrong, you have to understand that your husband has been arrested for murder,” explained the sergeant on duty behind the desk.  “You can’t see him while they’re interrogating him.”

“They shouldn’t even be interrogating him until his lawyer gets here!” Miranda replied in a shrill voice, throwing her hands up in a panic.  “It’s against the law, you know!”

“Mr. Armstrong has been advised of his rights,” said the desk clerk.  “He doesn’t have to say anything he doesn’t want to say.”

Kicking the counter with her foot, Miranda spun around, her long black hair whipping through the air.   She didn’t understand what was going on.   Brett being arrested for murder?   Who was this guy they think he killed anyway?   It didn’t add up.  Her husband wasn’t a murderer.   He just wasn’t.

“I did not kill Bailey Freeborn!” Brett insisted, growing angrier by the minute.

“We have a witness saying they saw you leave the room!” Baines replied.

“Well they’re wrong!  I wasn’t even in the room that afternoon! “  He knew it looked bad for him.   He had to do something fast.

The detective raised an eyebrow and tried to gain his composure.  “Okay, suppose you tell me where you were while Mr. Freeborn was pushed out of the window.”

Brett looked at him and shrugged.  “I was getting married,” he replied.

“Married?”

“Yes,” Brett nodded.  “I was at the Barbary Coast chapel getting married.  Check it out with them if you don’t believe me.”

Baines rubbed his forehead and pondered the new information.

“Mrs. Armstrong, thank you for speaking to us,” Baines said to Miranda a short while later in the interrogation room.  “I just have a few questions for you and then you’ll be free to go.”

“Where’s my husband?” Miranda asked defensively.

“He’s in a holding cell.”

Her expression turned to one of shock.  “You’re holding him?  What for?  He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Detective Baines replied, trying to speak in a calm voice so as not to upset the volatile young woman.  “Now, Mrs. Armstrong, your husband claims that you were getting married at the Barbary Coast chapel in Las Vegas on January 14th at around four pm.  Is that correct?”

Miranda thought back for a second.  “Yeah, that’s right.”

“How long had you known him?”

“A couple hours,” Miranda replied.

Baines let out a slight chuckle.  “A couple of hours?  Wow, that’s not long enough to get to know someone well enough to marry them is it?”

“Is there some kind of law against that?” Miranda asked with a frown.

Baines realized she was not in the mood for joking around so he got back to the matter at hand.  “You realize that you’re his alibi, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I know,” Miranda replied, irritated.

She thought back to their Las Vegas wedding.  It was so impulsive and wild that it made the occasion all the more special to her.   The detective acted like Brett had only married her so he would have an alibi.   That was ridiculous.  Brett loved her and she didn’t believe anything different.

The medics wheeled the stretcher into the emergency room at the hospital in Santo Domingo. A doctor and several nurses rushed to the scene and began examining James immediately.

“We’ve got a U.S. citizen suffering severe head trauma,” said one of the medics as he pushed the stretcher into the examining room.  “His pupils are dilated and his pulse is weak.”

“Let’s get him into the O.R.” said the doctor.  “We’ve got to stitch that up before he loses any more blood.”

Brooke stood in the lobby at the Del Mar hotel, holding the phone to her ear as she tried to find out where James was.  She couldn’t imagine him not wanting to be there.  It just didn’t add up.

“Yes, Miss Taylor, I did give him the message,” Leilani said from the Blackthorne mansion.   “He left the house this morning.  He took his private jet.”

Brooke frowned in confusion.  “Thank you, Leilani,” she said and set the phone back on the cradle. 

She didn’t understand what had taken James so long to get there.   If he left that morning, he should have been there hours ago.   She suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, although she was sure that not much more could go wrong. 

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she rushed out of the hotel hoping to get a ride to the airport.   Maybe she would meet James there as he was arriving.  Or maybe someone there had information on his whereabouts.

Miranda paced around the waiting room at the police station, growing more frustrated by the minute.   No one would tell her anything.  Her father’s lawyer had finally shown up and was in the interrogation room with Brett and the detective at that very minute.   She hoped they would come out before long and say that the whole thing had been a big misunderstanding.

When she turned around, she saw Devon Graham enter the police station and march up to the desk clerk. Miranda’s eyes narrowed on her and she gritted her teeth, seething at the sight of the troublemaking witch.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here!” Miranda screeched, darting across the room and physically attacking the young woman.   “This is all your fault!   You set my husband up, you bitch!  All because he dumped you!”

“Get away from me you lunatic!” Devon yelled, pushing Miranda away.

Miranda rushed toward Devon in a blind fury, her hands grappling for anything they could find.  She violently yanked the woman’s hair, slapped her face and dug her nails into her arms.   Devon tried desperately to get away from her.   Before long, two police officers were pulled Miranda away as she continued screaming.

“This is all you!” she shouted hoarsely.  “Everything was fine until you showed your ugly face here!  You’re just jealous!  You’re a jealous bitch!”

“Mrs. Armstrong, please!” the officer said, finding it difficult to physically restrain her.

Just then, Stormy and Heather arrived at the police station and raced over to help them get Miranda away from Devon.   Stormy tried getting between the two women, holding his hands up to keep them apart.

“My husband is not a murderer!” Miranda continued in a shrill voice, fighting to push her brother aside.  “You’re a lying slut!”

“Miranda!  Stop it!” Stormy ordered.

Devon chuckled heartily.  “You are so clueless,” she said.  “You didn’t even know his real name until I showed up.  What makes you so sure he isn’t capable of murder?”

“He wouldn’t kill anybody!”

“Not even for ten thousand dollars?” Devon asked, glaring at her.

Suddenly Miranda stopped her violent struggle and stared at her with wide eyes.  The image of Brett’s duffel bag full of money flashed through her mind and she staggered back a step.   She thought it was a lot of money for him to be carrying around.   Did he actually kill someone for it?  Is that was this was all about?

“Keep that psycho away from me,” Devon said, trying to regain her composure as Stormy and Heather led Miranda off to the other side of the room.  “Or I’ll have her ass thrown in jail too.”

“What is going on?” Stormy asked, looking into his sister’s troubled eyes.

She shrugged.  “They arrested Brett for murder.”

“Who did he kill?” Heather asked.

Miranda shot her a cool stare.  “He didn’t kill anybody, Heather.  It’s a mistake.  That bitch set him up!”  She glared across the room at Devon standing with the police officers.

“When did this happen?” Stormy ask.  “The supposed murder, I mean.”

“Weeks ago when we were in Vegas,” she replied.  “And once they talk to the minister who married us they’ll realize he couldn’t have killed this guy because we were getting married at that time.”

Stormy ran his fingers through his spiky black hair and sighed.  “You know, I hate to say it, but Brett is sure living up to Dad’s expectations.”

“Oh that’s just great, Stormy.  You’re supposed to be his friend and partner.