Previously...

Janet was questioned by the police about her relationship with Will. She revealed that she went to his house the night of the murder with a gun, intent on threatening him into relinquishing her manuscript. Instead, she heard shouting from inside and hid in the bushes. After hearing a gunshot, she saw Stormy fleeing from the house. Stormy was subsequently arrested for murder. Stormy recounted his experience the night of the murder, claiming he'd threatened Will, but they got into a brawl and Stormy was knocked unconscious. When he awoke, Will was dead. Disbelieving his story, the police questioned Heather, wondering if Stormy killed Thomerson for her. Alex revealed to Miranda that she went to Will's the night he was murdered and saw Jordan hovering over his dead body. Heather pleaded with her not to tell the police, but Alex questioned whether she could let Stormy take the fall for Jordan's crime.  

Episode 46

"One and One Make Five"

The guard led James to the back of the police station and through a maze of secured doors.   They walked down a long corridor and into the holding cell block where Stormy was sitting on a cold metal slab of a bench.

“Dad!” Stormy exclaimed, standing up and rushing to the cell bars.  “Dad, they booked me.  They fingerprinted me and everything.  They think I killed Will.”

James nodded and closed his eyes with regret.  “I know and I’m sorry.  I talked to Brandon and apparently there’s nothing we can do until your arraignment tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.  You’re going to have to spend the night in here, son.”

Stormy gripped the bars and kicked them in frustration.  “I didn’t do it, Dad.  I didn’t kill him.  I went there, and I wanted to kill him, but I didn’t.  You have to believe me.”

“I do believe you, Stormy.  And Brandon will be able to get you out on bail and then we’ll prove that you didn’t do it.  Trust me.  I won’t let you spend another night in this place.”

Running his fingers through his tousled hair, Stormy look at his father in fear.  “You can’t make a promise like that,” he said.  “What if I go on trial and a jury finds me guilty?  What then?  If Baines doesn’t believe my story then a jury sure as hell won’t.”

“They have no proof that you killed him,” James said assertively.

Growing into a daze, Stormy thought back to the night of the murder and wished that he hadn’t gone there in the first place.  Looking back it seemed like a huge mistake.  “If we could just find out who the killer really was.  Get them to confess and then I’ll be off the hook.  Dad, do you have any idea who could have done it?”

James gave him look of helplessness.  He couldn’t let his son be convicted of something he didn’t do.  But the only way to prevent that was to incriminate the real killer, and that was something else he didn’t know if he could do.

The full moon illuminated the waves as they crashed up onto the dark beach, submerging the sand and rocks and then retreating back into the turbulent ocean.

Heather stepped out of her car and walked the short ways down to the beach where Alex was standing, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.  “Alex, thank you for meeting me,” she said. 

“Like I had a choice,” Alex said with a great deal of anguish.  “You and I are the only ones who know the truth.  You can’t tell me that saying nothing is the best thing for us to do, Heather.”

“I don’t know what the best thing for us to do is,” Heather said and stared blankly out at the never-ending blackness.  “My father killed someone for me.  How can I turn my back on him and hand him over to the police?”

Alex shook her head and pulled her macramé shawl around her shoulders, the cool spring breeze lapping at her skin and sending shivers down her spine.  “But how can we let Stormy sit in jail knowing that he’s innocent?  He’s my son and I love him more than anything.  You loved him once too, remember?  Think about what you’re asking of me.”

“Think about what would happen to my father if we turned him in!”

“I can’t think about that!” Alex exclaimed.  “I have to tell the truth!  I have to tell them that I saw Jordan there and that he killed him!”  She set her jaw with determination and started up the steps to her car.

“No!” Heather lamented, grabbed Alex and pulling her back.  “Please don’t do it!  I’m begging you!  Don’t send my father to prison!”

Alex sunk her head and shut her eyes tightly.  “I don’t want him to go prison any more than you do, but-“

“Then don’t do it!  Just don’t say anything!  James has the best lawyer working in Stormy’s defense!  They won’t let him go to jail!”

“You don’t know that!” Alex cried.

“Give them a chance to come up with a defense!” Heather pleaded, her eyes tearing up in despair.  “Please, Alex.  Do this for my father.  I know you still love him.  Don’t turn against him now.”

Alex looked at her, deeply confused, and turned back to the water and prayed that she was doing the right thing by keeping quiet.

Across town at the Blackthorne mansion, James walked inside and handed his coat to Leilani.  Brooke came down the stairs and raced over to him, followed by Brett and Miranda.

“James, how is Stormy?” Brooke asked, hugging her husband tightly.

“About as well as can be expected,” James replied.

Miranda walked up and put a hand on her father’s arm.  “I can’t believe they’re charging him with murder,” she said.  “Stormy isn’t a killer.  It isn’t fair that he’s sitting in jail while the real killer is free.”

Brooke sighed uneasily and clutched onto James’s arm.  “Does Brandon think he can get him bail?”

“We’ll find out tomorrow morning,” James replied.

“Don’t worry, James,” Brett said with straight face.  “I’m sure Stormy will be home before you know it.”   He struggled to hide his enjoyment over the fact that Stormy was sitting in jail.   He had no idea that when he planted the tape in his room and phoned in the phony tip that Stormy would confess to being there the night of the murder.  It couldn’t have worked out any better if he’d tried.

The doorbell rang and Leilani went to answer it, pulling the door open and practically being knocked down by Renee Dewitt as she rushed inside with determination.

“Renee,” James said with a frown.  “What is it?  You look upset.”

She leveled her eyes on him and lurched forward, spreading her fur coat open and placing her hands firmly on her hips.  “You’re damn right I’m upset,” she said.  “I don’t appreciate you using my husband so that you can get away with murder.”

James and Brooke exchanged worried glances and then he quickly ushered Renee into his study.  He closed the doors and turned, holding his hands up in an effort to calm her down.   “Is this about Kenny?” he asked.

“How could you ask him to lie for you?” she demanded, her curly black hair falling gently over her shoulders.  “He’s supposed to be your friend, and yet you used him to give yourself an alibi.  Do you know what kind of trouble he could be in if the police find out about your little lie?”

“They won’t,” James insisted.  “Renee, you have nothing to worry about.”

Glaring menacingly, Renee stepped forward and pointed a finger at him.   “You have no way of knowing that,” she said.  “What happens if the police find a hole in your alibi and charge Kenny as an accessory to murder?  You’ll have succeeded not only in destroying your life, but also his.  Can you honestly say that you could live with yourself knowing that?”

Sighing, James dug his hands into his pockets and walked across the room.  “I promise you it won’t come to that.”

Renee shook her head angrily.  “You surprise me,” she began in a haughty manner.  “The James Blackthorne I know wouldn’t sacrifice his own son so that he could get away with murder.”  A pause while she followed him to his desk.  “Isn’t that what’s going on here?  You killed your nemesis and now you’re allowing your son to take the wrap for it?”

“Look, I can’t go into details but I promise you Kenny is not going to be hurt in any of this.”

“He better not be,” Renee said and issued him a final look of warning.  “Because I promise if he is, I’ll see to it that you are very, very sorry.”

With that, she turned and left the study, barreling toward the doors and making a dramatic exit from the house.    James rubbed his aching head, overwhelmed by the complexity of the situation.

Brett peeled off his shirt, following Miranda into the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth in front of the mirror.

“I wonder what that was all about,” he said, standing behind her and admiring his reflection in the mirror. 

“What?  You mean Renee DeWitt?  That’s just her way.  Daddy always said she should have went into the business because she’s a natural at melodrama.”

“I mean all that business about James getting away with murder,” Brett explained, running his hands over his bare chest.  “What do you think she meant by that?”

“Oh who knows,” Miranda said and wiped her mouth with a towel.  She switched off the bathroom light and made way into the bedroom.  “The thing I can’t figure out is how that videotape got into Stormy’s bedroom.  He swears he didn’t take it.”  

Shrugging, Brett unfastened his pants and walked to the closet.  “Well how else would it have gotten in his closet?” he asked and then chuckled.  “Do you think someone planted it there to frame him?”

Miranda opened her mouth to reply and then stopped, taken aback by something her husband said.  She turned to him and frowned.  “I didn’t say that they found it in his closet,” she said suspiciously.  “How could you have known that?”

Quickly, Brett covered his tracks with more lies.  “Well, I must have heard it somewhere,” he said, carefully hiding the guilt in his voice.  “Let’s face it.  This case isn’t exactly kept under wraps.  The media is having a field day right now.”

Regarding him carefully, Miranda nodded her head and climbed under the sheets in bed.  “Yeah I guess you’re right,” she said, still not convinced that he’d heard that much detail about the videotape from the news.  They’d just found out about it earlier that night at the police station.  The media certainly couldn’t have gotten that much information so quickly.

“I’m sure it’ll all get cleared up soon,” Brett said and leaned in to her, brushing his lips seductively along her neck.   “Now, let’s talk about something else.  I’ve been wanting to bring something up but it never seems like the right time.”

“What?” Miranda asked.

Grinning happily, Brett leaned on his elbow and traced her arm with his finger.  “I think we’re ready to start a family of our own,” he began.  “I want us to have a baby.”

The announcement took Miranda completely by surprise and she shot upright with a start.  “What?” she exclaimed.  “You want to have a baby?  Now?”

“Why not?” Brett asked.  “We’ve been married a year already and things are going great.  I think a baby right now would be the next logical step in our marriage.  Don’t you?”

“No,” Miranda replied quickly.  “God Brett, I sometimes think you have no consideration for anyone but yourself.”

“Excuse me?” he asked defensively and pulled away from her.

“My father and Brooke lost their baby,” Miranda asserted.  “They may never get him back.  Can you imagine how they’d feel if I got pregnant and brought a baby into this house?  It would be like rubbing their noses in the fact that they lost theirs.  No, I can’t do that to my father.”

“So we’re supposed to ignore the fact that we have a life of our own?  Just forget about starting a family so we don’t step on anyone’s toes?  Miranda, that’s ridiculous.  We can’t be held responsible for something that’s out of our control.”

“It’s still too soon,” Miranda said and rolled over, her back to him.  “Maybe in a year or so but not right now.”

Brett sighed with frustration and reached his hand out to her.  “Babe, I was just-“ 

“I said forget it!” Miranda shouted, pulling away from him and moving to the edge of the bed.

Throwing his hands up in resignation, Brett rolled over and slammed his fist into his pillow.  He hadn’t expected her to react with such hostility to his idea.  Having a baby seemed like a good idea to him, not to mention beneficial, because if anything should happen, he’d be tied to the Blackthorne family forever.

Down the hall, James walked into the bedroom and found Brooke kneeling in front of the dresser holding the silver revolver in her hand.  His eyes flew open in surprise and he rushed toward her and snatched it away.

“Brooke, what are you doing?” he demanded.  “You shouldn’t be handling a gun.  It isn’t safe.”

Climbing to her feet, she looked at him with uneasiness and stared down at the gun in his hand.  “We can’t let Stormy go to prison, James,” she said.  “You know it as well as I do.  It isn’t right.  We have to tell the truth.”

James set the gun down on the dresser and grabbed Brooke by the shoulders.  “We can’t tell the truth,” he insisted.  “Stormy will be home soon and we’ll come up with a way to keep him from being convicted.  Trust me, Brooke.  This is the only way to handle it.  If we tell the truth-“

“But it isn’t fair,” Brooke cried, falling into his arms and sobbing into his shoulder.  “He’s your son and he’s locked up like a criminal.  Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Of course it does,” James said.  “It’s tearing me apart inside.  But believe me, Brooke, telling the truth isn’t going to make things any better.”

Distraught, Brooke turned and walked across the room.  She took a deep breath and looked down at her trembling hands.  “Where is Ethan?” she asked and turned back to her husband.  “He’s been gone for two days.  James, does his disappearance have anything to do with Will’s murder?”

“Ethan’s on a business trip,” James said firmly.  “I told you that-“

“I know what you told me!” Brooke cried.  “I don’t believe you.  He wouldn’t have just left town while all of this was going on.  And if he had, he would have come back as soon as he heard about Will, and about Stormy’s arrest.”

“Look, Ethan will be home as soon as it’s safe,” James said and put his arms around her.  “Don’t worry about him.  He’s fine.”

Brooke looked into his eyes, trying to determine what it was that he was hiding.  She knew by the sound of his voice that Ethan was involved more than he was letting on.  The prospect scared her to death.  The last time she’d seen Ethan she confessed to him that Michael was in fact his son.  The next thing she knew he was gone and no one had heard a word from him. 

Deciding to put her trust in James, Brooke walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  James, staring at the gun on the dresser, slowly picked it up and examined it in the light.  He closed his eyes, remembering the night of the murder and his last conversation with Ethan.

The next morning, Stormy was led into the courtroom with handcuffs binding his wrists behind his back.  The bailiff brought him to a row of seats in front of the judge and he exchanged worried glances with James and Alex, who sat several rows behind.  To their right was Heather, Miranda and Brett eagerly awaiting the outcome of the arraignment.

The judge called the court room to order and glanced down at his agenda.   “This court is now in session,” he began.  “First up is the question of bail for Ryan James Blackthorne.  Counselor, approach the bench.”

Brandon left Stormy’s side and made his way up to the judge.  “Your Honor, I’m requesting that my client be released on bail on his own recognizance.  Mr. Blackthorne has roots in Los Angeles and has lived here his entire life.  He’s also an executive at Sunset Studios in Hollywood.  This is Mr. Blackthorne’s first arrest and we’re confident that he poses no risk of flight.”

The judge nodded and turned to the prosecutor.  “What’s your take on this, Mr. Littleton?”

The prosecutor stood up and adjusted his tie.  “Your Honor, the city requests that bail be denied on the basis of the sheer calculated nature of this crime,” he said.  “Ryan Blackthorne has attested to the fact that he went to the deceased’s home with the intent to cause bodily harm.  We’re talking murder in the first degree.  He had every intention of breaking a law when he went to Mr. Thomerson’s home and we believe he’s a serious risk for flight.”

“How do you know that?” the judge asked.

“Mr. Blackthorne left town for five months last year.  He abandoned his wife and family and only returned when it was necessary because of financial difficulties he was having,” the prosecutor said.

“Your Honor, Mr. Blackthorne left town on business,” Brandon rebuttled.  “He was owner of a record label and went on tour with an artist signed to that label.  That’s hardly the same thing as abandoning his family.  Furthermore, I believe that a charge of murder in the first degree is a little premature.  My client admitted to going to Will Thomerson’s home the evening of October 13^th, but did not have a weapon with him.  The gun in question was already at the home of the deceased’s, making it impossible for a first degree murder charge to stick.”

“The accused freely admits to going to the house with the intention of killing the victim,” said Littleton.  “It’s our opinion that he’s a danger to society and therefore should be kept in custody of the court until the outcome of his trial.”

“Your Honor-“ Brandon began.

The judge slammed his gavel down on the desk in an effort so silence the two bickering lawyers.  “All right, that’s enough,” he ordered.  “I’ve heard both sides and I’ve made my decision.”

Stormy swallowed hard, then looked back at James who held his breath in suspense.

“Due to the violent nature of the crime committed, and Mr. Blackthorne’s history of instability, I’m denying bail,” the judge declared.  “The defendant will remain in custody until a trial date is set.  Bailiff, please take Mr. Blackthorne back to his cell.”

“They can’t do this!” James bellowed, standing up and shooting Brandon a look of concern.

Stormy lowered his head as the bailiff led him out of the courtroom.  He locked eyes with Heather who watched helplessly from her seat next to Alex.

“I told you we’re making a mistake,” Alex whispered to Heather in despair.

Heather buried her face in her hands, horrified by the prospect of Stormy in jail for another night, let alone the weeks and months until the trial was set.  The decision to protect her father seemed like a mistake now.  But the choice was an impossible one.  How could she choose between them?

Leaving the courtroom, James barreled toward Brandon who stood talking with the prosecuting attorney.

“How could you let them do this?” he demanded.  “Brandon, they have no case!”

Realizing that James was purely lashing out in desperation, Brandon led him off to the side and tried to reason with him.  “They have an admission that he was at Thomerson’s house the night he was killed.  Janet Harper already gave her statement that she heard a gunshot minutes before Stormy left the house.  They have probable cause to believe he was the one who pulled the trigger.  I’m sorry.  I’ll try to appeal the judge’s decision to deny bail, but-“

“You have to do better than that!” James exclaimed.  “He’s innocent!  I know he is!”

Brandon frowned and looked at him curiously.  “Again, I have to ask how you’re so certain of that, James.  I know he’s your son and you don’t want to believe he’s guilty, but I have to wonder if you know something that could clear him.”

James looked at him blankly, afraid to say a word for fear of implicating himself or anyone else.  He didn’t understand why anyone had to be held accountable for the bastard’s murder.  The person who killed Will Thomerson was a hero in his book.

Several feet away, Alex ushered Heather to a corner and looked at her with grief stricken eyes.  “We can’t sit by and let this happen,” she whispered. 

“We have no choice!” Heather cried, desperate to keep her father out of jail after what he’d done for her.  “Please just give it some more time!  Let James and Brandon work up a defense!  That’s all I’m asking!”

“I don’t think I can do that!” Alex cried.

Just then, Miranda approached and studied their guilty faces.  She folded her arms and looked at her mother warningly.  “What’s going on?” she asked.  “The two of you look like you’re hiding something.  Mom, I asked you before if you know something and you just blew me off.  Now I’m asking you again.”

Before she could reply, two guards marched through the courthouse with Philip Whitacre in handcuffs.   He spotted Heather and quickly looked away, burdened with the guilt over his part in her experience with Joel Armitage.

“I have to get out of here,” Heather said, shivering at the sight of Philip’s deceptive good looks.   She skirted past Alex and made her way down the hall to the exit.

Miranda glared at Philip and ran up to him hastily.  “You sick son of a bitch,” she said with contempt.  “Do you realize what you did?  You had sex with a woman without her consent.  They call that rape, buddy, and I hope you get put away for a long, long time.”

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened,” Philip said, his eyes shifting downward.  “I know that doesn’t begin to make up for what I did, but-“

“What is he talking about?” James demanded.  “He should be sent away for life after what he did.”

Brandon shrugged indifferently.  “They believe Philip Whitacre wasn’t privy to the deal between Thomerson and Armitage.  They’re trying to locate our illustrious director, but so far he’s managed to keep once step ahead of the cops.  He’s the one they want in connection to that videotape.   Whitacre is serving six months for his role based on his cooperation with the police.”

“Six months?” James complained.  “That’s a slap on the wrist!”

“I really am sorry,” Philip said.  “I honestly had no idea what was going on or that she was there against her will.”

“Just like when you kidnapped my wife!” James exclaimed.  “You got away with that so you think you can get away with anything!  Well let me tell you something, you sleazy piece of filth, I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!”

The guards led Philip off down the hall to the holding cells and left James with a feeling of helplessness.  He couldn’t do anything for his family but sit back and watch them fall apart, and it was killing him. 

When Alex arrived at her car outside in the parking lot, she jumped with surprise when Jordan appeared behind her.  Startled, she placed a hand on her heaving chest and turned to face him.

“Jordan, I’ve been worried,” she said.  “I’ve tried calling you but you haven’t answered at home or on your cell phone.  Are you all right?”

He nodded and dug his hands into the pockets of his chinos.  “I’m fine.  What happened in there?”

Taking a breath, Alex failed to hide her sorrow.  “They denied Stormy’s bail.  He’s going to have to stay in jail until his trial.”

“Alex, I’m sorry,” he said.   “I know what you must be going through.”

She shook her head, the warm breeze pulling at her hair.  “No, you don’t.  Jordan, you have no idea.  I’m sick about this.  God, if only I hadn’t gone back to Will’s house that night I wouldn’t be in this mess.  I wouldn’t have to feel so damn guilty knowing that my son is innocent!”

Jordan put his hands on her shoulders, his eyes traveling across the parking lot where Miranda was moving swiftly toward them.  He decided to leave before making a scene and before anyone else could question him about that night.

“Look, I have to go,” he said and darted off to his car.

“Wait!” Alex called after him.  “Jordan, please!”

But he was already speeding off in his car, smoke billowing up from his tires squealing against the asphalt.  Miranda jogged up and stopped at her mother’s side, blocking the sun from her eyes as she watched Jordan race off in his car.

“What’s going on?” she asked.  “Mom, what were you and Jordan talking about?”

She shook her head.  “Nothing, Darling.  He’s just upset about this whole mess."

Miranda looked at her skeptically as Alex turned and started back to her car.  She knew that her mother was hiding something.  Heather already admitted to her that Jordan was the one who confiscated the videotape from Will, and she was determined to find out exactly how he did it. 

Renee DeWitt rode the elevator up to the top floor of Merteuil Industries, pushing her curly locks away from her face and primping the collar on her silk Gucci blouse.   When the doors opened, she ambled across the reception area with a flourish.

“Is my husband in?” she asked the secretary without so much as stopping for a response.

“Yes, Mrs. Dewitt, but he’s been in a conference all morning and he asked not to be disturbed,“ said the young girl.

Renee ignored her, intent on reasoning with Kenny about his giving James a phony alibi for the night of Will Thomerson’s murder.  She wouldn’t let her husband go down for James, and she wouldn’t let him risk her father’s company out of loyalty to a friend.

“Kenny, I insist that you retract your statement to the police-“ she said as she threw open the door and entered his office.  She stopped in her tracks, unphased by the sight of her husband lying naked on the sofa while in the throws of passion with another woman.

“Renee!” Kenny exclaimed, pulling himself off of B.J. Summers and hurriedly pulling on his trousers.   “What are you doing here?  I was just-“

“I know what you were doing, Kenny,” Renee seethed, her eyes boring into his.  “How stupid do you think I am?”

“Is this your wife?” B.J. asked, standing up, topless and dimwitted.

“You’d better go,” Kenny said, shoving her clothes at her.

Renee walked purposefully into the room.  “Yes, Dear, get your clothes and run out of here like the tramp you are,” she said.  “Because by the time I get through with you, you’ll have nothing but those clothes to keep you warm.”

B.J. quickly got dressed as Kenny raced over to Renee in a panic.  “Renee, Darling, I can explain all of this.  This isn’t like last time.  I swear to you this was a one-time fling.  I’ll end it.  You’ll never have to see her again.”

“Save it,” Renee spat.   “This time I’m not giving you the choice I gave you with that nurse of yours.  I’m divorcing you, Kenny, so you’d better get a damn good lawyer because I’ll make sure that you aren’t left with one thin dime to your name.”

“Renee, please!” Kenny exclaimed.

But just as quickly, Renee turned and started out of the office, pausing long enough to rip his name off of the door and proceed to the elevator.

After she’d gone, Kenny turned around and threw his hands up in despair.  He’d blown it this time.  There would be no getting his wife to forgive him.  He was in big trouble.

Alex opened the door at her house in Malibu and grew tense when Miranda forced her way inside. 

“Darling, what are you doing here?” she asked, walking over to the bar and pouring herself a scotch on the rocks.  

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Miranda insisted.   “I know something is going on with you and Jordan.  Back at the police station you were practically crawling out of your skin about something.  Now I come here and you look like you’re fit to be tied.”  She rushed over and grabbed the glass out of her hand.  “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Alex tried desperately to remain calm, sauntering across the room and staring outside at the ocean.  “Nothing’s going on, Miranda.  You’re imaging things.”

Following fast on her heels, Miranda grabbed her mother’s arm and turned her toward her.  “I’m not imaging anything.  I know that Stormy didn’t take that videotape.  Jordan did.”

Alex feigned amusement and tried walking away again.  “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s the truth,” Miranda exclaimed.  “Heather told me herself.  Now why are the two of you protecting Jordan?  What do you know?”

“We’re not protecting Jordan,” Alex said and lit a cigarette.  “Your step-sister was obviously mistaken.  Jordan doesn’t have anything to do with this.”  She closed her eyes and thought about her husband and how much she loved him and wanted to keep him safe.  Even since they separated, the connection she felt with him hadn’t died.  Knowing what lengths he went to for the sake of his daughter only made her love him even more. 

“Mom, this is Stormy’s life we’re talking about,” Miranda said, praying that she could get through to her mother.  “Do you want to see him spend the rest of his life in prison?  Or worse yet….you do know what they do to murderers in this state, don’t you?  Do you want that on your head?  Do you want to be the reason that your son is put in the chair!?”

“Stop it!” Alex cried, turning and rushing up the stairs to her bedroom.  She slammed the door and flung herself onto her bed, crying hysterically.  Miranda’s words were painful to hear, but she knew they were the truth.  She had the power to save her son and yet she did nothing.  She was contemptible beyond belief. 

Stormy paced back and forth in his jail cell, looking up occasionally and glaring menacingly at Philip Whitacre in the next cell.   He studied the smug look on the man’s face and clenched his fists angrily.

“Why don’t you go ahead and say it, Blackthorne?” Philip said, hanging his hands between his legs as he sat on the bench in his cell.  “I can tell you want to beat the crap out of me.  I’m sure if you had a gun you’d shoot me just like you did that old producer.”

“I’m not a killer,” Stormy said through clenched teeth.  “But if I was, you’d be at the top of my list that’s for sure.”

Philip chuckled to himself and leaned back against the cement wall.   “Too bad you won’t get the opportunity.  I’ll be out of here in six months, but from what I hear, you’ll be lucky if you get out of here by the time you’re seventy.”

“Six months doesn’t begin to make up for what you’ve done,” Stormy grumbled.  “Ever since you came here you’ve done nothing but cause problems for my family.  Just remember that once you’re free, your life will still continue to suck.  I’ll make sure of that.”

“From in here?” Philip asked.  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Just then, Stormy heard the cell doors clanging open and he rushed over to the bars to see who was there.  Maybe it was his father or Brandon with good news.  But just when Brett came into view, his hopes quickly diminished and he took a few steps back.

“What are you doing here?” Stormy asked, glaring angrily at his brother-in-law.

Brett smiled and walked up to the bars separating them.  “Just thought I’d come by and see how you’re holding up,” he said.  “I have to say orange isn’t really your color.”

“Save your breath.  Your little jabs don’t bother me, Brett.  I have more important things to worry about.”

“Well let me give you some advice,” Brett said slyly.  “Don’t drop the soap in the shower.  You may have this rough, bad boy exterior, but inside you’re just a scared little kid.  The boys in the big house will pick up on that and make you their bitch your first day there.  Mark my words.  You’ll make somebody a nice little play thing.”

Philip laughed from his cell and Stormy shot him a penetrating look.  “Shut the hell up, Whitacre.  Nobody’s talking to you.”

“Quite the predicament you’re in,” Brett said with a smug grin.  “All you did was try to defend your woman’s honor, and you wound up taking a murder wrap.   But don’t worry.  I’ll make sure I’m there for your family again like I was last time.  Your father knows that he can count on me.  I’ve proven myself time and time again.”

Stormy gritted his teeth and lunged toward him, grabbing the cell bars and shaking them with all his might.  “You jackass,” he hissed.  “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were the one who got me locked up in here.”

Brett laughed and folded his arms.  “You got yourself locked up, man.  Nobody forced you to go over to Thomerson’s house and threaten him with a gun.  That was your stupidity that did you in.”

Just then, Stormy caught a glimpse of something in Brett’s eyes that made him wonder if he wasn’t right on the money.   “But you could have been the one to plant the videotape in my room, and call that tip in to the witness hotline.”

“You think I have nothing better to do?” Brett asked sarcastically.  “Besides, you would have been hauled off to jail with or without that evidence.  You were seen fleeing the scene of the crime.  Don’t pretend that it’s my fault.  Take responsibility for yourself for once.”

Stormy shook his head angrily.  “I know you had something to do with that tape showing up in my closet,” he said.  “And one way or another I’ll find out.”

Brett shrugged indifferently.  “Well, you’ll certainly have plenty of time to concoct all of the conspiracy theories you want.”  He turned and started to walk away, pausing briefly and looking back with a smile.  “Oh, and don’t worry.  I’ll make sure I keep the studio running smoothly while you’re away.”

Stormy gripped the bars tightly in his hands, resisting the urge to reach out and claw his eyes out.

Brett paused on his way back out of the cell block, turning to Philip and looking him up and down.  “Biff Majors.  I’ve seen your work,” he mused.  “I’m a big fan.

“Thanks,” Phillip replied.

Brett gave Stormy one final grin before following the guard out of the holding block.

Heather was sitting in her bedroom when Miranda knocked and poked her head inside.  “Do you have a minute?” she asked.

Growing immediately tense, Heather stood up and began fidgeting with a stack of mail on her desk.  “I’m kind of busy right now,” she replied.

“This will only take a minute,” Miranda said and walked inside the room.  “Heather, I wanted to tell you that what you’re doing is wrong.  You’re letting Stormy take the fall for something he didn’t do.”

“Me?” Heather asked with a contrived frown.  “What am I doing?”

“You’re holding something in.  I know you are.  You and my mother know something about Jordan.  Something that happened that night.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Heather said and attempted to dart past her.  

“Then how did your father get that videotape from Will?” Miranda asked, blocking her path to the door.

“I don’t know how he got it!” she replied in frustration. “Miranda, just leave me alone!”

Shaking her head, Miranda looked deep into her eyes.  “I can’t do that.  I can’t let my brother go to prison if there’s a way to prevent it.  Now level with me.  What happened that night that’s got you and Alex so upset?”

Ready to crack under the pressure, Heather shoved Miranda aside and ran down the hallway to the staircase.   She made her way through the foyer and out the door before Miranda could catch her.  

Frustrated, Miranda ran her fingers through her hair and wondered what she was going to do.   Her mother and Heather both knew something.  Something that could save her poor brother. 

Detective Baines sat in his office at the police station when Officer Fitzsimmons knocked on the door and motioned to him with a nod of his head.

“Baines, there’s guy out front who wants to see you,” said Fitzsimmons.  “He says he’s the caretaker over at the Thomerson estate.”

Frowning, Baines stood up and followed him out of the office.  “Do you know what he wants?”

Officer Fitzsimmons shook his head and shrugged as they made their way out to the waiting area and approached Lou.  “Mr. Gunnerson, this is Detective Baines.  He’s in charge of Will Thomerson’s murder investigation.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Gunnerson?” Baines asked the graying, timid looking old man. 

“Detective, I uh….well….I….” Lou stammered, sweating profusely and looking around the crowded waiting room.

“Yes?” Baines asked with a frown.

Before he could say another word, Alex ran into the police station and darted over to Detective Baines.  “I have to see my son,” she said.  “Please, Detective, it’s important.”

Baines nodded and motioned to one of the guards.  “Just relax, Miss Reynolds.  I’ll have somebody take you back to see him.”

Alex followed the guard to the holding cells, forcing herself to see the hell that she was putting Stormy through by keeping silent.

When Detective Baines turned back to continue his conversation with Lou Gunnerson, the caretaker was nowhere in sight.   He frowned, looking around the waiting room and wondering what the mysterious visit was all about.

Alex glared at Philip behind the bars, recalling all too well their involvement when he first came to town a year ago.  The fact that she slept with him was enough to make her skin crawl.  Sure, he was drop dead gorgeous and had a body that rivaled any man in Hollywood, but after the trouble he’d caused everyone recently she was determined to put the whole experience out of her mind.

“Do they allow congical visits in this place?” Philip asked with a devilish grin.  “I knew you couldn’t stay away forever, baby.  Once a lady hits the sheets with me, she always comes back.”

“Shut the hell up you son of a bitch!” Stormy yelled., then looked at Alex with a sigh.  “Mom, you shouldn’t be here,” he said and approached the bars between them.

“Why not?” Alex asked and smiled awkwardly.  “If you’re here then the least I could do is come show my support.  How are you doing, Sweetheart?”

He shrugged and leaned his forehead against the cold metal bars.  “I’m okay I suppose,” he said.  “It’s not like I have a choice.  Brandon said he’d try to rush the case to trial so I don’t have to spend weeks or even months stuck in this place.   I guess that’s something to hope for.”

Alex felt her eyes sting with tears.   “Do they know what their defense strategy is going to be?”

“I think it’s too early to tell,” he replied glumly.  “I just hope that there’s something they overlooked.  I can’t go to prison, Mom.  I’m innocent.”

A tear ran down Alex’s cheek and she reached her hand out to her son.  “I know that, Darling.”  The guilt over what she was doing ate away at her with every second she spent with Stormy.  All she could think about was the little boy she adored so much, running about the mansion and terrorizing his baby sister.  How could she send that little boy to prison?

“Mom, are you okay?” Stormy asked, gripping her hand tightly between the bars. 

Shaking her head in reply, Alex turned and raced down the hall to the guard.  He unlocked the door and she followed him quickly out into the waiting area where Detective Baines was standing with a group of police officers.

“Is everything okay, Miss Reynolds?” he asked, noting the severity in her eyes.

Alex shook her head desperately.  “No, everything’s not okay.  I have something to tell you.”

Just then, Heather walked into the police station and saw Alex talking to the detective.  She flew into a panic and rushed toward her in hopes that she could stop her from doing anything drastic.   “Alex, don’t!”

“I have to!” she cried, wiping her eyes and pulling away from Heather.  “Don’t you see?  I have to do this!  I can’t let my son go to prison!”

“Wait a minute,” Baines said and placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.  “What’s going on?  What is it that she doesn’t want us to hear?”

Alex took a deep breath, ignoring the incessant way Heather’s eyes bore into her.  “I know for a fact that my son didn’t kill Will Thomerson,” she said.

“Alex, no!” Heather cried.

But she persisted, intent on telling the whole truth.  “I saw who killed him.”

“Who?” Baines asked in bewilderment.

“My husband,” Alex replied.  “Jordan Rydell killed him.”

Heather buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of her father going to prison.

Next time....

Season 2 draws to a close.  An admission by a prominent citizen leads to a second arrest in Will's murder.  Miranda sees through Brett's lies.  Renee means business and moves out.  Ethan's search ends.  

Read the Season Finale