Previously...

James and Ethan searched desperately for Winter.  Hidden away in a motel room in the Valley, Winter had a meltdown in front of the mirror while chastising herself in her mother's voice.  Knowing the baby was Ethan's, she renamed him Ethan Jr.  After the police arrived, she grabbed the baby and fled in her car.  A car chase ensued and Ethan cornered Winter on the edge of the pier. Desperately wanting to keep the baby for herself, she plunged off the pier with the baby in her arms. Meanwhile, Gwen blackmailed Brett for cash in exchange for keeping quiet about their affair.  Brooke and Heather had a heart to heart.  

Episode 39

"The Mystery of the Whispering Walls"

Gwen was sitting in her room at the Blackthorne mansion when the door opened and Brett entered with a briefcase gripped tightly in his hand.   He paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing on her suspiciously.

“I thought you’d be packed by now,” he said and closed the door behind him.

Gwen stretched languorously on the bed and shot him a wicked smile.  “I started packing and then I had second thoughts,” she said.

“Second thoughts about what?” Brett demanded, thrusting the case of money at her.  “You said you were leaving today after you got your money.”

She sat up and popped the latches on the briefcase.  Her eyes widened and she felt a surge of greed sweep over her.  She hadn’t seen that much money in one place in her entire life.   To her it was a fortune, but to the Blackthornes it was a drop in the bucket.

“How did you come up with this much cash all at once?” she finally asked and closed the lid again.  “I suppose your wife and father-in-law have no idea that you took it.”

Ignoring her remarks, Brett anchored himself to the floor and crossed his arms neatly over his chest.   “Don’t worry about where I got it from,” he began.  The truth was he had taken it from the petty cash account at Sunset Studios.  It was a risk, especially since Stormy watched every penny going out of the studio.  He’d have to come up with a believable story as to what he really did with it.  Admitting that he used it to pay off Gwen and her blackmailing attempts was not an option.

“It must be quite a lifestyle change for you,” Gwen continued.  “Going from running cons at Las Vegas casinos to passing out fifty thousand dollars whenever you feel like it.  Now I see why you’re so eager to hold on to everything you’ve got.  Even if you stole it.”

“I’ve worked for everything I have,” Brett retaliated.

“Oh really?” Gwen asked and stood up from the bed.  She placed her hands on her hips and moved toward him with accusatory eyes.  “So drugging James Blackthorne to keep him in the wheelchair was just another day in the life of a studio executive?  And when you thought I had kidnapped Michael and yet were willing to keep quiet about it – that was just you working for the future?”

Brett had had enough of her thinly veiled threats.  “Cut the crap, Gwen.  You’ve got your money.  I kept my end of the bargain and now it’s time that you kept yours.  Are you going to finish packing and leave this house or not?”

Sighing, Gwen turned and looked back at the case of money.  “Actually I’m having second thoughts,” she said.

“What?” Brett asked in a rage.  He clenched his fists and moved closer, his eyes flaring angrily and menacingly.   “You can’t do that.  You said yourself that James and Brooke will terminate your position here when they get their baby back.  They don’t want you hanging around after learning of your shady past and prison record.”

“When they ask me to leave I’ll leave,” Gwen replied.  “But I want to make sure I’m well taken care of when that happens, and somehow I don’t think that fifty thousand dollars is going to cut it.”

Brett closed his eyes with regret.  He knew he shouldn’t have given in to her blackmail demands.  A blackmailer always got greedy and wanted more.  He should have taken care of her in his own way when he had the chance.

“I want half a million dollars,” Gwen announced and met him with her gaze.

“What?”

“You heard me.  And don’t even tell me that you can’t get it because I know how much James Blackthorne is worth.  Your own wife is an heiress to that fortune.”

“That doesn’t mean I can just ask for five hundred thousand dollars and expect no one to ask questions,” Brett insisted.  “Be reasonable.  Take the fifty thousand and just be grateful that you’re walking away with that much.”

“I spent six years in prison before I came here and took orders from you and your family,” Gwen said.  “I’ve been walked on and used for far too long.  I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it happen again.  You owe me, Brett.  You and everyone else.”

His hands were tied.  If he didn’t pay her the money she asked for his scheming and plotting would be exposed to everyone, and that was something he couldn’t let happen.  But on the other hand, he couldn’t come up with half a million dollars without throwing up some red flags.

Suddenly an idea came to him.  A way to shut Gwen up once and for all.  Maybe it was the answer he was looking for.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow morning,” Gwen said and picked up the briefcase of money.  “I’ll keep this in the meantime.”

Brett gritted his teeth and started to the door.

“And remember what I said,” Gwen called over to him.  “I’d hate to see what happened to your cushy lifestyle if you wife found out about all the nights we spent together, and that you were the father of my baby.”

Refusing to let her get to him, Brett opened the door and walked out into the hallway.  He had to get moving if he was going to make Gwen Hardisty a distant memory.

James stood on the shore below the pier, barely breathing as he watched with anticipation at the events playing out in the choppy ocean water.  He heard the ambulance in the distance growing nearer and he wrung his hands together in agony.  The sight of Winter jumping off the pier with his baby was almost enough to stop his heart from beating.  The chances of the tiny baby surviving in the water was next to none.  How was he going to tell Brooke?  What words were there to tell his wife that their baby had died?

Twenty feet off shore, a police officer had grabbed hold of Winter and was swimming back to land with her.  Ethan was close behind, holding on to the baby and making his way to shore.   James couldn’t bare the pain that the waiting caused him.  The ambulance arrived on the scene and the paramedics stood by to administer whatever needed to be done to save the baby.

Finally the officer drug Winter’s unconscious body to the sandy beach and dropped her onto her side.  The paramedics rushed over to see if she was breathing.   James looked down with contempt as they began performing CPR on her.  He wanted to tell them to let her die.  Her pathetic life wasn’t worth saving after what she’d done.

But Ethan was nearing the shore and he quickly shot out to intercept him.  He took the baby from Ethan’s tired arms and rushed back to the shore where Detective Baines and another paramedic rushed over.

“Do something!” James lamented as the paramedic peeled the blanket from around the baby.  “Please don’t let my son die!”

Exhausted and out of breath, Ethan pulled himself onto the sand and knelt down beside the motionless infant.   He looked up at James and shook his head, tears mixing with water that dripped from his soaked body. 

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” he panted.  “He’s not even moving.”

“Oh my God,” Detective Baines said as he paramedic unraveled the protective blankets around the baby. 

“What?” James exclaimed, tears bursting from his eyes.  “What is it?”

Baines looked up at James and Ethan, then gestured back to the bundle of blankets and towels on the beach.   “It’s not a baby,” he said. 

“What do you mean it’s not a baby?” James demanded and picked up the soaked blankets.  “I don’t understand…”

Suddenly realization finally dawned and Detective Baines stood up just as Winter coughed and choked up the salty ocean water from her lungs. 

“She didn’t have the baby at all,” Ethan said in astonishment.

Baines nodded.  “It’s just a bundle of blankets and towels.”

“What?” James gasped, then turned to the ocean.  “Then he’s still out there!”

Ethan stood up and grabbed his uncle’s arm.  “No, James.  She didn’t have him.”

Winter sat up and looked with wide eyes at the blankets on the wet sand.  “My baby!” she cried and crawled on her hands and knees, scooping the blankets up in her arms and cradling them with a demented gleam in her eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Ethan Jr.  I don’t know what I was thinking.   I just couldn’t let them take you away from me.”

Ethan and James looked down at the insane woman holding onto the wet umble of seaweed and fabric.  James closed his eyes in relief, finally understanding that Winter had completely lost all sense of reality.

“I killed him!” Winter shrieked and climbed to her feet in hysterics.  She turned to Ethan and shook her head in despair.  “I’m sorry, Ethan!   I killed our baby!”

The uniformed police officers grabbed hold of her arms and led her to the nearby squad car.  She continued crying and struggling in their grasp, dropping the blankets and staring at Ethan with an empty, hollow look in her eyes.

“I killed him!” she cried as she was forced into the back of the squad car.  “Oh my God, I killed our baby!”

Ethan rubbed his face with his hand and realized they were back at square one.  He turned to James and pulled him into an embrace.  Part of him was relieved that Winter was as far gone as she was, but the other part realized that they were no closer to finding Michael and bringing him home.

Miranda passed by the game room where Heather was sitting in front of the TV watching the news.  She stopped and sauntered inside, her eyes narrowing on Heather’s pale, listless face.

“You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” she said, the bottoms of her jeans scraping against the old, thick shag carpet.   “What’s going on with you, anyway?”

Heather turned off the television and looked up at her.  Leave it to Miranda to cut through the bull and tell it like she saw it.  “I’ve had some stuff to sort through lately,” she replied with a shrug.   “I just needed to be alone for a while.”

“We’ve all had stuff going on,” Miranda countered.  “My baby brother is still missing and my father is about ready to crack.  What could be so earth-shattering important that you’ve barely come out of your room for a week?”

Biting down on her lip, Heather decided that she had to confide in someone.  She had to have an accomplice to help her with her plan, and Miranda’s spunk and ability to think on her feet might be just what she was looking for.  She got up and walked across the room to close the door so they could talk in private.

Miranda frowned, amused by Heather’s sudden cloak and dagger routine.   “Wow, this must be big,” she started.  “Wait a minute.  Are you a lesbian?  Is that what this is all about?”

Heather rolled her eyes and pulled her step-sister to the sofa.  “No, don’t be ridiculous,” she said.  “I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Miranda asked skeptically.  She’d never seen Heather so serious about anything before.  It was almost unnerving.

“Help with breaking and entering,” Heather explained.

Miranda almost laughed.  “Breaking into what?” she asked.  “Man, you are losing it, aren’t you?”

“Just shut up for a minute and listen to me,” Heather said, her tone full of harsh reality.  “I need to get into Will Thomerson’s estate.”

“What for?”

Heather was suddenly reluctant to give her any more information that she had to.  If Miranda knew about the tape of her and Philip Whitacre then she’d most likely tell Stormy.  And she certainly didn’t need her ex-husband knowing what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into.  Stormy was protective enough of her since their divorce.

“I need to find something,” she replied ominously.  “Something that belongs to me.”

Miranda shrugged indifferently.  “So just go up and ask him for it,” she said.

“It’s not that simple.  I have to be discreet about this.  I don’t want him to know that I’m looking for it because then he’ll just hide it someplace where I can never find it.”

“Whoa,” Miranda said and stood up from the sofa.  “What is it of yours that Will Thomerson has up the street in his estate?  How do you even know this guy?  You do realize that he and my father are mortal enemies, don’t you?”

“Yes, and that’s all the more reason to keep this thing quiet,” Heather replied.  “I just want to get in, find it, and then get out.”

Miranda sighed and folded her arms across her chest, her eyes leveled evenly on her.  “And you won’t tell me what it is we’re going to look for?  I’m just supposed to go along and supervise?”

“I’ll tell you more later,” Heather said.  “After you promise to help me, and to keep it quiet, especially from Stormy.”

“Keep what quiet from Stormy?” asked a voice from across the room.

They both spun around and saw Stormy standing in the doorway, a look of suspicion on his face.  

“Stormy-“ Heather began nervously.  “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” he replied and pressed further into the room.  “What is it that you want Miranda to keep from me?”

They both looked at each other, their eyes darting nervously around the room.  In a moment of selflessness, Miranda decided to give her former sister-in-law a helping hand.  “I was just telling Heather that we should give mom and Jordan a party,” she said, making it up as she went along.  “I mean, they never really had much of a reception and they have been having a hard time lately.”

Stormy frowned distrustfully.  “And why couldn’t you tell me about it?”

Miranda looked at Heather, trying desperately to think of a plausible story.   “Well….”

“Because you’re lousy at keeping secrets,” Heather explained with a shrug.  “I mean, you remember when you told me about my twenty-first surprise birthday party.  I had to force myself to look surprised when I came home.”

“Oh…” Stormy said and scratched his head.  “I guess I didn’t realize.  So, when’s the party?”

Miranda smiled and pushed her brother back to the door.  “You know we can’t tell you because then you’ll ruin it,” she said.  “This way you’ll be just as surprised as mom and Jordan are when it happens.”

Before he could protest further, Stormy was shoved out into the hallway and the door slammed in his face.  He shook his head in irritation and started back down the hallway.

Miranda turned to Heather and threw her hands up in resignation.  “Okay, so what we do we have to do?”

James sat on the sofa in the library with Brooke, holding her in his arms as she cried hysterically on his shoulder.   Ethan was standing across the room by the window watching them apprehensively.  It tore him up seeing what this was doing to Brooke.  In a way he wished Winter had taken Michael, because then by now this whole nightmare would be over.

“I don’t understand,” Brooke sobbed into James’s shoulder.  “What about the diapers and the formula that Ethan saw her buying at the store?”

Ethan shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets.  “She’d become unhinged,” he said apologetically.  “She was so grief stricken when I ended it with her that her mind snapped.”

“Detective Baines went back to Winter’s motel room, “James continued.  “He found newspaper clippings of the kidnapping.  We think she heard about it and somehow got it into her mind that she had taken him.  The room hadn’t been cleaned in days and they found no traces that a baby had ever been there.  No dirty diapers, no open bottles of formula or soiled bibs.  It was all in her imagination.”

Brooke buried her face into her hands and stood up from the sofa.   “What’s going to happen to her now?” she asked.

“She’s been admitted to the psychiatric ward at the hospital,” Ethan replied.  “She’ll undergo forty-eight hours of tests and then probably be sent to an institution.”

Brooke couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young woman.  “It’s sad,” she said, then looked at Ethan.  “What about her family?  Maybe you should call them.”

He shook his head.  “Her father ran out on them when she was young, and her mother died a few years ago.  She’s pretty much alone in the world.”

“How awful,” Brooke said and sat down again.  She looked at James and reached out for his hand.  “So what now?  Does Detective Baines have any other leads?”

James took a deep breath and shook his head slowly.  They were at a dead-end.  No one they’d suspected had turned out to be the real kidnapper.  No ransom had been demanded, and it was well over a week since Michael had been taken.

It looked like they may never see their child again.

In his office at Sunset Studios, Brett held the phone to his ear as he paced back and forth across the expansive room, stopping to glance outside at the bright afternoon sun.

“Yes, I know people are released from prison on good behavior all the time,” he said with an irritated frown.  “But in this case I’m wondering if it was such a good idea.  Gwen Hardisty is a menace to society.  She should have served the full ten year sentence.”

Pausing while he listened to the prison warden in Paraguay, Brett raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head in protest.  “I’m prepared to make it worth your while,” he said.  “How does fifty thousand dollars sound?”

Again, Brett clenched his fists and started pacing rapidly.  “All right.  Fifty thousand dollars and we’ll do some location shooting in Paraguay in our next picture.  The revenue you’ll take in from the tourism alone will be ten times that amount.”

Finally, the warden agreed and Brett smiled with satisfaction.  “So you do have a vacancy after all?” he asked.  “Good.   I’ll see to it that Miss Hardisty is delivered to you first thing in the morning your time.  I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to serve out the remainder of her sentence.”

After he hung up the phone, Brett went to sit down behind his desk and smiled from ear to ear.  Finally he’d be rid of Gwen and her threats to expose him.  The pills, their affair, the baby they made together, as well as his pronouncement when he thought she was the kidnapper, were all going to remain a secret.  And Gwen would be a distant memory.  He could use the fifty thousand he’d already given her to pay the warden.  At last everything was going in his favor.

Picking up the phone, he dialed the air strip and talked to the pilot.  “This is Brett Armstrong,” he said.  “I’d like you to gas up the jet.  I’ve got some cargo I need to deliver to South America tonight.”

That evening, Stormy sat at the bar at Hotel Terranova.  He downed his fifth drink and ordered another from the bartender.  After having all their hopes dashed about finding Michael, he and the others were left with a sinking feeling that their search had come to a halt.  There were no more leads and no more hope to cling to.   Seeing the torture his father was going through was torture in itself. 

The sound of clinking glasses at a nearby cocktail table caught his attention and he turned around.   There, sitting in a cozy booth together was Jordan Rydell and a young woman whom he couldn’t place.  Probably a starlet who’d come to Hollywood to break her way into the business.  And what better way than to cozy up to Jordan Rydell, who happened to be married to his mother.

“You son of a bitch!” Stormy yelled in his half-drunken state as he charged across the room and plucked Jordan out of the booth by the shirt collar.  He drew his fist back and punched him square in the nose, sending him flying back into a passing waiter.  “How could you do this to my mother?”

Jordan flew back and knocked the waiter – along with his tray of drinks – to the floor.  An enormous crash ensued and the lounge grew suddenly quiet as onlookers gasped in awe at the spectacle.   The young girl who’d been sitting with Jordan cowered back into the booth and watched with surprise as Jordan climbed to his feet and went after Stormy.

“Knock it off!” Jordan yelled as Stormy tried to get free of his grasp.  “It’s not what you think, Stormy!  Now cool it!”

“Not what I think?” Stormy yelled, angrier at life in general than he was at his stepfather.  “You’re sitting here with a girl half your age and my mother is nowhere in sight, and it’s not what I think?   I’m not stupid, Jordan.