Previously...

Brett urged a reluctant Jordan to tell Heather the truth.  Backstage at Victor's play, Miranda saw a small bottle of theatrical glue similar to the one she and Brett had found in Dr. Anderson's office.  Kelly complained about not having a bridesmaid for her and Stormy's wedding, prompting Stormy to ask Miranda if she was willing to fill the role.  Miranda turned her brother down and maintained that she was against the union.  James summoned David, demanding to know why he'd bailed him out of his twenty-five million dollar debt.  Jacqueline Lamont showed up and informed James that she'd been the loan backer and had planned on taking over Sunset Studios in order to fulfil Jonas's legacy.  Jordan tried to convince a reluctant Heather to stop seeing Dr. Anderson, afraid that she would remember everything.  Heather went to see Dr. Anderson anyway, who hypnotized her so that she would remember.  Heather finally recalled the events that followed her previous memories, particularly of a tragic car accident that landed her in the hospital for brain surgery, which wiped out her ability to remember certain things.  Heather was shocked to learn that Dr. Anderson knew about the operation, then hinted that her mother had been murdered.  Heather panicked with the possibility that she'd killed Suzanne.  

Episode 89

"True Hollywood Story"

The wedding was the biggest and most lavish that Hollywood had seen in decades.   Everything was top of the line and imported.  The flowers, the dress, the caterer, even the silver plated champagne fountain custom made for the event.  All the usual faces were in attendance.  There were A-list actors, gorgeous models, politicians, mass amounts of ex-lovers and of course a throng of paparazzi. 

The ceremony, as well as the reception, were held on the grounds of Jonas’s mansion in the Hollywood Hills.  Alex wore a flowing pearl white Chanel gown with a beaded headdress; James dapper in a classic white tuxedo.  His best man was Kenny DeWitt, a law school student who he’d met at one of Jonas’s parties.  Alex’s maid of honor was Suzanne, despite the fact that neither women really cared for the other that much.  But Alex didn’t have many female friends.

The ceremony went off without a hitch.  Lola was thrilled that Alex was no longer a threat to her precious Jordan, who was incidentally getting along roses with Suzanne.  She watched them from across the lawn while fawning over her oldest son, Troy. 

“Your matchmaking skills are as finely tuned as ever,” Troy said with a smirk as he sipped a vodka gimlet and eyed his mother suspiciously.  “Eight months and she and Jordan are still together.  Maybe the next wedding we attend will be theirs.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear,” Lola said and pushed her hair under the wide-brimmed yellow hat she wore on her head.  “First we need to get you married off.  I promised your father I’d see to it.  And you don’t want me breaking a promise to a dead man, do you?”

“I’ll meet the right woman,” Troy said distantly.

“How do you propose to do that when you’re always on location?  You never stay still long enough to meet anyone.  Honestly, Troy, you’re completely different from Jordan.  Before Suzanne he had a new girl on his arm every other week.”

“That’s because we have different fathers,” Troy said to his mother while brushing his thick blond hair with this fingers.  “Teddy Rydell was a womanizing gigolo.”

Lola pursed her lips and gave him a regal smile.  “And Topper Beauchamp was a gentleman?  There’s a pattern, dear.  All my ex-husbands have been gigolo’s.  Jonas included.”

“The truth comes so easily for you,” Troy said with a sly grin.

“Well, I’ll find you a woman.  I got Jordan and Suzanne together didn’t I?  Who says lightning can’t strike twice?”

Heather didn’t care what Dr. Anderson said.  She was going to confront her father.  She was going to tell him that she remembered that stormy night twelve years ago.  She remembered him and her mother arguing over his affair, she remembered the horrific accident on the cliff, she remembered the life-saving surgery she’d undergone afterwards.  She knew that the surgery had affected her memory, and continued to do so whenever things go too ugly for her mind to handle. 

The only thing she didn’t know was how her mother’s disappearance fit into all of it.  Dr. Anderson said she’d been murdered, but that was all he said.  She didn’t ask any more than that.  She’d run out of the office and headed straight for her father’s house.  But what if history had repeated itself?  What if she was responsible somehow, just as she’d been when she killed Will Thomerson?  She did have a terrifying vision of her mother submerged in the bathtub, blood pouring from a wound in her head.  At first she thought it was a matter of transferring what happened to her in the car accident to her mother.  But Dr. Anderson had implied that may not be the case. 

Either way, she had to know.  She pulled her car into the circular drive at Jordan’s house in Beverly Hills and raced inside.  Scouting around the first floor rooms, she finally found him embroiled in a bitter argument with Benji in the drawing room.

“I told you you aren’t leaving this house until you start telling me where you’re going!” Jordan screamed.  “No more of this staying out until four in the morning and coming home drunk and high and God knows what else!”

“I’m eighteen.  I don’t need you to tell me where I can and can’t go,” Benji said belligerently.

Before Jordan could respond, he noticed Heather standing in the doorway and quickly tried to diffuse the tense situation.  Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand over his face and attempted a meager smile.

“Heather, what are you doing here?’

“Why are you two fighting?” she asked.

“Dad’s trying to keep a short leash on me,” Benji said in a droll tone.

Jordan flashed him a scowl before approaching Heather and placing his hands on he shoulders.  “It’s nothing, Sweetheart.  What’s going on?  Is everything okay?”

She shook her head, her anxiety returning.  “No,” she said, her eyes stinging with tears.  “You lied to me.  You’ve been lying to me for years.”

Jordan studied her carefully.  He saw the confusion and the panic in her eyes and immediately knew that she’d remembered something else.  “Sweetheart, just calm down.  Whatever it is that you think you remember-“

“I don’t think, I know,” she said, backing up from him and shaking her head.   “I remembered about your affair with Sylvie Distefano, and I remember the accident.”

“What accident?” Benji asked, one eyebrow arched with curiosity. 

“Benji, would you leave, please?” Jordan said and flashed his son a look of warning.

“You let them cut into my brain and destroy part of my memory,” Heather continued, her eyes trailing off in a daze.  “The blackouts, the visions, it’s all because of that night.”

“What night?” Benji asked in frustration.

“Benji, leave us!” Jordan screamed.

“No!” he shot back angrily.  “What is going on?  Why is Heather having visions about our mother and what aren’t you telling us?”

The room closed in on Jordan as a feeling of dread set in.  He didn’t know how the lies had gotten so out of hand, or how both of his children were on the brink of learning the truth about Suzanne.  All he knew was that he couldn’t allow it to happen.

“Where is she?” Benji continued defiantly.  “What did you do to her?  I know you you're responsible because Frank Dunning told me so!  Now what is it?"

“Benji, get out!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I won’t have you upsetting your sister!  You think because I sent you away that you’re entitled to something?  You think that you’re special because your mother left?  Well I’ve got news for you, you’re not.  You’re nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anything but himself!”

“You’re a jackass,” Benji said and tore out of the room.  On his way through the foyer, he ran directly into Alex. 

“We need to have a talk,” she said sternly.

Back in the drawing room, Jordan attempted to regain his composure.  He already regretted his tirade, fully aware that it would take a lot to make things right again with Benji.  He'd also have to find out what Dunning had been telling him.  But that would have to wait.  For now he had to settle his daughter down.  She was so close to the truth that it scared him.

“You saw Dr. Anderson again, didn’t you?” he asked.   When she didn’t reply, he shook his head with exasperation. “Heather, he is filling your head with lies.”

“They aren’t lies!” she cried.  “I remembered on my own!  And if you aren’t going to fill in the blanks then I’ll find someone who will!”

With that, she turned and ran out of the room.  Jordan cringed when he heard the door slam closed.

“Your father is under a lot of pressure,” Alex said as she led Benji into the game room down the hall.  “Heather’s been very….tired lately and he’s concerned.  I don’t think you should take what he said to heart.  He didn’t mean it.”

“Yes he did,” Benji said angrily as he stared out the window, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“Since Violet was born it hasn’t been easy,” Alex said, determined to diffuse the awkward situation.  “And your father is very sensitive about your mother and the way she left.  It’s all so complicated.”

Benji wondered how much Alex really knew about his mother.  He turned and looked at her with a smirk.  “Complicated?” he asked.  “How so?”

She wasn’t prepared to expand on her remarks.  “Well…”

“Did he tell you about the affair?” Benji asked.  “With Blake’s mother?  Did he tell you that he cheated on my mother and that she wanted to leave him because of it?”

Alex nodded slowly.  “Yes, he did tell me.”

“And you don’t care?” he asked.  “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to do the same thing to you?”

“Benji, that was a long time ago.  There were circumstances.”

“So you think that my mother left because she found out about the affair?” Benji asked.

“Yes.”

He laughed.  “That’s a joke.”

“What makes you so sure there was more to it?” Alex demanded. 

“I remember,” he said slowly, staring off across the room in a daze.  “And what I don’t remember Frank Dunning filled in the rest.”

“Frank Dunning?” Alex asked and moved toward him.  “What on earth does he have to do with anything?”

“He knows what happened to my mother,” Benji said.  “He told me.”

Alex refused to believe it.  “Frank Dunning doesn’t know anything.”

Choosing his words carefully, Benji looked at her directly.  An idea formed in his mind.  He was angry and wanted to stick it to his father once and for all.  Maybe the best way to go about that was to destroy his life piece by piece, starting with his marriage.

“How do you think Dunning got all banged up and wound up in the hospital?” he asked.

Alex frowned.  “He was attacked.  In the parking garage at Sunset Studios.”

“He was attacked because of what he knew,” Benji corrected her.

She shook her head adamantly.  “No, Jordan wouldn’t have done something like that.  How could you even say something like that about your own father?”

“Frank knows what my father did to my mother.  The next thing you know he’s got three cracked ribs.  Who do you think did it?”

The thought sent chills down Alex’s spine.  If it was true, then she didn’t know her husband at all.  How could someone she thought she knew so well be capable of such violence? 

“I don’t believe this,” she said. 

Benji paced himself, quickly formulating his next words with the utmost calculation.  “I didn’t believe it at first either,” he began, adopting a tone of mock vulnerability.  “But after what he put me through when I was little, I realized it was probably true.”

Alex turned to him, her brow furrowed into a frown.  “What are you talking about?”

“At first it was isolated.  He’d get angry because I’d do something bad like track mud through the house or break one of his statues.  I thought I deserved it so it was like no big deal.  But then it got more frequent.  Once I wound up with a broken arm.  I remember I’d make up stories and tell people that I got hurt on the playground, or another kid beat me up.  Anything but let anyone know that my own father hit me.”

Alex recoiled in horror.  She saw the sadness in his eyes and the way he trembled when he spoke.  The thought of her husband doing that to a five year old boy was enough to make her sick.

“What did your mother do?” she asked. 

Benji allowed his imagination to wander.  “She was afraid to do anything,” he remarked quietly, forcing out a thin line of tears that collected just under his eyelid.  “He was already cheating on her.  She wanted to leave but he wouldn’t let her.  Who knows?  Maybe he was taking it out on her too.”

Alex placed a hand on her chest, trying to wrap her head around the image Benji was painting of her husband.  She wondered if she really knew him at all.

Satisfied with his revenge tactic, Benji  turned away and smiled. 

At the Blackthorne mansion, Stormy and Kelly walked down the stairs and joined Leilani who waited for them in the foyer.  Sighing, Kelly turned her cheek when Stormy went in for a kiss. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.  “You should be excited.  Our wedding is in three days.  You’re going in for your final dress fitting.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled her purse tightly over her shoulder.  “Nobody’s going to care about the wedding.  It’s the day before the Filmmaker Awards.  That’s all anyone in this town is going to care about.  We’ll probably be crammed onto the last page of the society section next to a Taco Bell coupon.  Not to mention the fact that tonight is the wrap party for Angel Assassin 2.  Even that will get more attention than our wedding will.”

Stormy shook his head, confused.  “You were the one who wanted to push this thing up to November.  What difference does it make how much publicity it gets?  The important thing is we’ll be married. “

She managed a smile and shrugged apologetically.  “I know.  You’re right.  I’m sorry.  I guess I’m just still bummed about the fact that I still don’t have a maid of honor.”

“Kelly, I’ll be your-“ Leilani began eagerly.

“Don’t even say it,” Kelly interrupted and held a hand up to her mother.  “I can’t have my mother as my maid of honor.”

“Well then how about your sister-in-law?” called a voice from the stairs.

They looked up and saw Miranda walking towards them, her jacket and purse slung over her arm.

“Miranda,” Stormy began.  His sister never ceased to amaze him.  Even when he thought she couldn’t get any more selfish, she pulled out another surprise. 

“You?” Kelly asked with disbelief.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, you’re marrying my brother,” Miranda said.  “I still don’t approve, but I know I’m going to have to accept it eventually.  And in case this thing does make its way into the society pages, I don’t want us being the laughing stock of the town.  You’re going to be a Blackthorne, Kelly.  You need to look the part.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Kelly spat hatefully.  “I’d rather not have a maid of honor at al.”

“Do you still how hostile she is?” Miranda complained to Stormy.  “I try to do a nice thing for you and-“

“I can’t believe you asked her,” Kelly said, glaring at Stormy.  “This is so humiliating.  Do you realize how this makes me seem?”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Miranda fired back.  “And do you know why?  Because you are desperate.  Now why don’t you drop your pride and accept my generosity in the spirit in which it was given?”

“Generosity?” Kelly exclaimed.   “This has nothing to do with generosity.  This is about you trying to look good to your family.”

“Enough!” Stormy yelled, startling them both into silence.  “Kelly, you need a maid of honor.  Miranda has offered.  Please just accept it and try to get along.  Can you do that?”

She folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.  “I will if she will.”

“Miranda?” Stormy asked his sister.

She shrugged and threw her hands up in resignation.  “Fine.  Let’s just go get this dress fitting over with.”

“The sooner the better,” Kelly replied and followed her out the door.

Leilani smiled and ran after them, leaving Stormy in the foyer with a splitting headache and the prayer that he could make it through the next three days.

“Ethan, it’s beautiful,” Brooke said, gazing at the photographs of the enormous house.  “Is it really ours?”

“Bought and paid for,” he replied with a smile.  “Do you think Michael will like it?”

She nodded happily, reaching over and touching his hand.  “Are you kidding?  The entire ocean is our backyard.  It’s unbelievable.  I had no idea Costa Rica was so beautiful.”

He looked into her mesmerizing aquamarine eyes and squeezed her hand tightly in his.  “It doesn’t even compare to how beautiful you are.”

She blushed and set the photographs on the coffee table.  They were at her townhouse sitting in the living room, stacks of boxes strewn all around them.   “You’re sweet.  Corny, but sweet.”

“Corny?” Ethan asked with a smile and kissed her gently on the cheek.  “I’m just being honest.  We could live in a shack in a rail yard and I wouldn’t care as long as I had your beautiful eyes to look into.”

Brooke laughed in spite of herself.  “What’s gotten into you?  You’ve not usually this poetic.”

“I’m just happy,” he replied.  He wasn’t used to feeling this way.  For so long he’d been going through the motions, unsure of what happiness really was.  “We’ve been building to this for so long.   How many times did we try to make things work?  And how many times did something or someone prevent it?”

“I’m glad that you’re happy.”

“But are you happy?”

She closed her eyes.  “You have no idea.  At first I was unsure about moving so far away, but now that’s it almost here I can’t think of anything else.  I can’t wait to start my life over with you, Ethan.  I mean that.  We deserve this.”

“Then I promise you the life that we should have had years ago,” Ethan said.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Brooke said and kissed his full lips.

Renee DeWitt walked across the expansive living room of her suite at Hotel Terranova, pausing to arrange a bouquet of enormous African white roses on the coffee table.  She proceeded into the dining room and picked at the buffet of food she’d had delivered.  She lifted an ivory tusk spoonful of beluga caviar and sampled it eagerly before pouring a glass of champagne into a Wedgwood flute.  As she took a sip, the doorbell rang and she quickly scurried up the steps from the sunken living room.

“Coming!” she called and pulled the door open with a flourish.

“Hi!” Sierra Merteuil exclaimed.  “I’m home!”  She set her Gucci suitcases on the floor and threw her arms around her mother.

“Sierra!” she cried and hugged her warmly.  “I thought you’d never get here!”

“My plane was late,” Sierra replied, still clinging to her mother.  “Snowstorm in New York.”

“Come on,” Renee said and led her into the entry.  “Let me have a look at you, girl.”

Sierra, dressed in a long sweater cape and a cashmere beret, twirled around once, beaming from ear to ear.  “You like?”

“Very chic,” Renee said happily.  “And very New York.  I knew you’d fall in love with the shopping.”

“I have,” Sierra gushed and followed her mother to the dining room.  “I mean L.A. is great and all, and Paris, but New York fashion is so…so…”

“Edgy?” Renee asked with a wink, recalling Sierra’s last visit where she’d used the same word to describe it. 

“Yes,” she replied, picking up on her mother’s sarcasm.  “Mother, it’s so good to see you.  I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you too, Baby.  Tell me, how is school?  Is Sara Lawrence everything you thought it would be?”

“And more.  I’m learning so much.  And my music is really coming along.  My vocal coach said I was a prodigy.”

“My, how flattering,” Renee said and handed her a glass of sparkling cider.

“Malcolm is still helping me with my singing too,” Sierra explained, lifting a giant strawberry and taking a bite.  “We recorded two songs this summer.  I brought the tapes.  I’m dying to play them for you.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear them,” Renee said happily.   “Darling, I’m really looking forward to a nice long visit with you.  I know how you struggled with coming to Stormy’s wedding.  I would have understood if you didn’t want to.  I know you still have trouble thinking of yourself as one of them.”

She shrugged and picked at a plate of imported cheese.  “I do,” she said, still to this day distraught over the revelation that Nathan Blackthorne was her father.  The same man who tried to rape her.  “But Stormy was never anything but kind to me.  The same with James and Ethan.  I don’t even hold a grudge about the car accident anymore.  I know it wasn’t Ethan’s fault.”

Renee gazed adoringly at her daughter.  “You are a beautiful person,” she said.  “Did you mean what you said on the phone?  That you’ll be able to stay through next week forThanksgiving?”

“Of course.  I wouldn’t let my mother spend Thanksgiving alone.  That is, unless you’ve met someone.”  A knowing grin followed.

She laughed and shook her head.  “No, I haven’t.  I’ve sort of swore off men for the time being.  I want to concentrate on my daughter and my company right now.  The next couple of weeks are going to be all about me and you and no one else.”

Sierra bit her lip and gave her mother an apologetic look.  “Actually, about that,” she began.   “I kind of invited someone to come with me.”

“Who?” Renee asked.  “A girlfriend from school?”

“Malcolm,” she answered.  “He’s downstairs checking into his room.  I told him to come up when he was finished so you could meet him.  I hope that’s okay with you.”

Renee raised an eyebrow.  “Just how serious are you and this Malcolm?” she asked with a faint smile.  “The last I heard he was simply a friend who was helping you with your music.  You were taking things slow.”

“We were,” Sierra said.  “We still are.  I mean, things have sort of blossomed in the last few months.  I really like him, Mom.  I want you to like him too.”

Renee couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that she’d have to share her daughter’s attention during the visit,   Weekly phone calls and two visits a year seemed like so little time together.  But she quickly reminded herself of the horrible lies she’d told her for the first nineteen years of her life.  Lies that nearly destroyed her.  She owed it to Sierra to support anything that made her happy, including a new beau in her life.

“I’m sure I will, Baby,” she finally said and pulled her into an embrace.

Fumbling with her keys, Heather pushed the door open and raced into the condo, ignoring Brett when he ran up to her. 

“Where have you been?” he asked.  “I called Dr. Anderson’s office and there was no answer.  I’ve been worried.”

She shook her head in despair, her cheeks stained with tears.  “He lied to me.  He lied about everything.”

“Dr. Anderson lied to you?  About what?”

“Not Dr. Anderson.  My father!  He knew about the accident and the operation and he never told me.  He acted like it was something I invented in my mind.  He couldn’t even tell me he truth to my face.”

Brett closed his eyes, fully aware that she’d remembered.  He wondered if she’d in fact remembered everything, including the night her mother disappeared.  He recalled the conversation he’d had in Jordan’s office recently where he told him the whole horrific truth….

“How much has Heather told you about her mother?” Jordan suddenly asked.  “Have you ever asked her about Suzanne?”

Brett shrugged indifferently.  “No, she doesn’t really talk about her.  Why?”

Jordan turned to look out the window, grappling with painful memories that forced their way into the front of his mind.  “There was an accident,” he began, his eyes glazing over.

Rage subsiding, Brett looked at him blankly.  His heart suddenly began thudding inside his chest.  “What accident?”

Jordan went to the bar across the room and poured two tumblers of bourbon.  He handed one to Brett and swallowed the other in one gulp.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Jordan began and slowly walked across the office to the window.  “I had an affair while Suzanne and I were married.  She was going to leave me.”

“An affair with who?”

“Victor Distefano’s wife,” he replied.  “The night I told her about it, she and Heather were in a car accident.  They both by all rights should have died, but Suzanne survived with only a few minor injuries.  Heather, on the other hand, suffered a severe head trauma.”

Brett shut his eyes tightly, terrified by the prospect already.

“I met the ambulance at the hospital.  Heather was pronounced dead in the emergency room.  They were actually going to give up on saving my daughter’s life.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose just between the eyes, fighting to maintain his composure.  “Until I screamed and I bellowed and I threatened their jobs.  They got her heart beating again, but her brain was severely damaged.  There was swelling and bleeding and they had to operate.”

“Brain surgery?” Brett asked in horror.

He nodded.  “They stopped the swelling and did what they could to fix her.  Days later when she woke up, she didn’t remember anything about the accident.  Over the years, when something bad would happen, her mind would cut it out.  Eliminate it from her memory.  The doctors said it was a result of the operation.”

“Like when she killed Will Thomerson,” Brett said in realization. 

“Yes,” Jordan replied.  “Suzanne blamed herself for Heather nearly dying.  She decided to stay and forgive me for the affair, but I don’t know that she ever really did.  Our marriage wasn’t the same after that.  I was the last person she wanted to confide in.  Instead, it was Frank Dunning, or my half-brother, Troy, or Dr. Wainwright, a psychiatrist she was seeing to help her deal with the guilt.  I was powerless to help her.  Eventually our marriage disintegrated.”

“What happened to her?” Brett demanded.  “Did she leave you?”

“She came home one night.  It was months after the accident on the cliff.  We had a huge argument.  She was like a different person.  I know it was because of Dr. Wainwright.  She said she was going to leave.  I left the room for ten minutes and when I came back, blood was everywhere.  There was an ax laying on the floor…”

“Brett?” Heather yelled, snapping him out of the daze.  “Are you listening to me?  What if Dr. Anderson is right?  What if my mother was murdered?  What if I did it?  What if I had a blackout and I killed her?”

He shook his head and pulled her into an embrace.  “No,” he said.  “Don’t even think that.  You could never hurt anyone.”

“I killed Will Thomerson!” she cried.  “I killed him and it took me months to remember it.  What if I suddenly remember killing my own mother?  How will I be able to live with myself?  Daddy’s right.  I have no business raising a child.”

Jordan stopped his car in the parking lot of the deserted office building.  He checked the address on a scrap of paper to confirm he was in the right place.  It didn’t look like there was much in the dilapidated old building, least of all a psychiatrist’s office. 

Once he was sure he was in the right place, he got out of the car and started up to the door.  He checked the list of occupants in the entryway and found Dr. Anderson’s suite number.  The elevator appeared to be out of service so he hurriedly started up the stairs to the fourth floor. 

After Heather’s breakdown earlier that day, he’d realized he had to have words with the doctor himself.  Whatever therapy Dr. Anderson was providing his daughter, it was doing more harm than good.  Heather ignored his pleas for her to stop seeing him, so instead he was going to go about things a different way.  For the right amount of money, anyone could go away.  Heather had remembered the accident and the operation, but he wouldn’t let her remember anything more.  It was for her own good.

By the time he reached the third floor stairwell, he bumped directly into someone coming down the stairs toward him.

“Sorry,” Jordan said, realizing he’d been too involved in his own thoughts to prevent the collision.

“No problem,” replied the man without stopping.  He continued bounding down the stairs, unaware that he’d dropped something during the run-in.

Jordan finally reached the fourth floor and barreled out in the hallway.  He went down the hall and stopped at the door of Dr. Anderson’s office.  When he found it to be locked, he groaned with frustration and looked at his watch.  Wondering what kind of psychiatrist closed his office so early in the afternoon, he turned and grudgingly went back to the stairwell.

Suddenly realizing that the man he’d bumped into could have very well been the illustrious Dr. Erich Anderson, Jordan quickly ran down the stairs.  He spotted the piece of paper the man had dropped on the floor and picked it up on his way.  When he reached the parking lot, he scouted around for the man but found no one.

Sighing, Jordan started to his car.  He looked down at the piece of paper in his hands, realizing it was a playbill for Don Juan, the production Victor Distefano was starring in that Benji and Blake were going to see the other night.

The final scene of Angel Assassin 2 was shot that day.  In line with Hollywood tradition, a wrap party was held that night at the Blackthorne mansion and the entire cast and crew were present.   The main stars; Victor, Scott, Alex and Kelly were the last to arrive, seamlessly mixing with the crew and a few other invited guests.

James spotted David enter the ballroom, taking a glass of champagne from a passing butler before approaching him. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” James said with a scowl.  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you out on your ear?  If you think I’m going to let you and your mother threaten me and my studio…”

“I’m not a threat to you, James,” David interrupted.  “I’m your friend.”

“Some friend.  You claimed half of my studio for your own profit.”

“If I hadn’t, my mother would have taken the whole thing,” David said crossly.  “I’ll stay out of the day to day operations.  I can’t say that Jackie had the same idea in mind.”

“I still don’t understand what she’s after,” James said, glancing around the room with preoccupation.  “She’s never taken an interest in Sunset Studios or Lamont 3 when Jonas ran the show.  What’s changed?”

David shrugged.  “Her life is empty,” he suggested.  “My grandfather died, my father died, I’m here in Los Angeles and she’s alone back in New York.  She doesn’t have much.  This is her way of holding on to the past, of carrying on her father’s legacy.”

James looked across the room as Jackie entered dressed in a flowing blue gown, turning all eyes in her direction.  “Well if it’s a fight she wants, it’s a fight she’ll get.  No way in hell am I giving anything up to her without a fight.”

“You won’t have to,” David said and leveled his eyes on James’s.  “I meant what I said.  I won’t interfere with studio business.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” James said, a tone of warning evident in his voice.  He glanced up when Brooke and Ethan approached from across the room.   He forced a smile on his face, shaking hands with Ethan and kissing Brooke lightly on the cheek.

“Hello James,” Brooke said with a smile, then glanced briefly at David.  “Hello David.”

“Brooke, how are you?” David asked.  “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Fine,” she replied.  “As a matter of fact, I’m perfect.  Ethan and I are leaving town.  We’re moving to Costa Rica.”

David couldn’t hide his surprise.  “Cost Rica?” he asked.  “That’s incredible.  When did you decide this?”

Ethan slipped an arm around Brooke.  “It’s a fairly new development,” he said.  “We’re leaving after Stormy’s wedding on Saturday.”

“Yes, and I wish you’d reconsider,” James said.  “At least until after the Filmmaker Awards.  It’s only one more day, Ethan.”

“If it’s anything like last year’s, I think I’ll pass,” Ethan said with a smirk.

David lowered his head, disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to know his sister.  He knew it was a difficult situation based on their history, but he wanted to at least try.  Now it seemed it would never happen. 

“Congratulations,” Frank Dunning said to Stormy and Kelly across the room.   “You’re going to be very happy together, I’m sure.  I can’t imagine two people more suited for each other.”

“We couldn’t agree more,” Stormy beamed, gripping Kelly’s hand tightly in his.   “You’re coming to the wedding, aren’t you, Frank?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied while sipping a glass of champagne.  “It’s rare to find true love in this town, you know.  Everyone is out for one thing.  Themselves.”

Suddenly, Alex crept up behind him and whispered quietly.  “I need to talk to you,” she said.

“All right,” Frank replied suspiciously and followed her across the foyer.   “What is it, Alex?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, looking him up and down.

“I feel fine.  Why?”

Nervously, Alex led him away from the crowd to the doorway beside the staircase.  “I was just thinking about when you were hospitalized after that horrible incident in the garage at Sunset Studios.  Is it true that you were barely clinging to life when they found you?”

“Reports may have been exaggerated,” Frank replied.  “But it was serious from what the doctors tell me.  Why are you suddenly so concerned about my well-being, Alex?  You’ve never cared for me much.  And vice versa.”

She shrugged indifferently and sipped her champagne while glancing around the room.  “I can still appreciate when a colleague is nearly killed by a complete stranger.”  She paused and watching his reaction.  “It was a stranger, wasn’t it, Frank?  The person who attacked you?  I mean, it wasn’t as if it was someone with a grudge against you, was it?”

After a few moments of hesitation, Frank moved forward and looked her in the eyes.  “It was personal.  It was most definitely personal.”

Terror struck Alex as she swallowed hard, trying desperately to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat.  “Who-“

“Who do you think?” he interrupted her with a twisted grin.

Alex struggled to reply, her breath shortening and her face growing pale.  “Jordan?”

“Ding ding ding,” Frank replied.  “The lady gets a prize.  Yes, your husband beat me without so much as a hint of remorse.  He left me for dead and went about his life as if nothing had happened.”

“Why?” Alex asked, chilled by Frank’s admission.  She’d doubted Benji’s story earlier, but now was forced to believe the ugly truth.  “Why would he have done this?”

“Because I knew the truth about Suzanne,” Frank replied.  “About what he did to her.  His secret was out and he panicked.  Attacking me was a warning.  A warning to keep quiet about what I saw.”

“What do you mean?  What did you see?”

Frank glanced around them to make sure no one was in earshot.  “I had met Suzanne for drinks that night at the Polo Lounge,” he explained.  “She told me she was planning on leaving Jordan.  She’d been seeing a psychiatrist who tried to help her deal with his affair with Sylvie Distefano.  She left our meeting that night planning on taking their children and leaving.  I was worried about her so I went by their house later.  I knocked on the door but no one answered.  That’s when I looked through the window and saw Jordan carrying something out the back door.”

“Something?” Alex asked. 

“It was about five and a half feet long and was wrapped in a Persian rug,” Frank explained.  “What do you think it was?”

Alex stared with wide eyes.

“Anyway, I crept around to the back of the house and watched him carry it over his shoulder.  He had a shovel,” Frank went on.  “He went to a clearing in the trees and dug a hole.  I watched him bury her.”

“And you never said anything all this time?” Alex asked.  “Why?  Why wait until now to admit what you saw?”

“He threatened my career,” Frank replied.  “I went to him a few days later and I told him I knew what he’d done.  He said if I told anyone that he would make sure I never worked again.”

Alex shook her head adamantly.  “I don’t believe you,” she said.  “The man you’re describing is not my husband.  Jordan isn’t a killer.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Frank said skeptically.

After he’d disappeared from view, Alex placed a hand on her chest and leaned against the wall.  She suddenly felt that she didn’t know her husband at all.  How could someone she trusted totally one day ago be someone totally different today? 

Stormy found Miranda playing pool in the game room down the hall.  He slipped inside and approached as she took her shot and sunk three balls at the same time.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Thanks,” Miranda replied and chalked her stick.

“What are you doing in here?” Stormy asked.  “Not in the mood for a party?”

She smiled and lined up her next shot.  “I thought I’d sit this one out,” she said.  “I need to save my energy, what with the wedding in a couple of days, and the Filmmaker Awards the day after that.  I’ll be partied out by the end of the weekend.”

“Nine ball, corner pocket,” he suggested and pointed to the table.  “Listen, I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did today.  Going with Kelly to her fitting.  She may not have acted like it, but I know it meant a lot to her.”

“Fourteen’s a cleaner shot,” Miranda replied and aimed the cue ball.  “I didn’t do it for her.  I did it for you.  What you said to me the other day made a lot of sense.  I don’t always do things for people unless it benefits me.  It won’t kill me to act like I like Kelly for a few days.  After the wedding I can’t promise anything, though.”

He laughed and flinched when she missed the shot.  “Told you so,” he said.

Miranda turned to him with a smirk.  “Know it all.”

“So you’re really going to do this?  You’re really going to be Kelly’s maid of honor?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “God, it sounds so real when you say it out loud.  Anyway, don’t make me regret it.  I’ll wear the stupid dress and I’ll hold her flowers while you’re exchanging vows, but I won’t do anything lame like throw her a shower or tie soup cans to her bumper.”

“Fair enough,” Stormy said with a laugh and hugged her tightly. 

“All right, all right,” Miranda said with a frown and pushed him away.  “God, it’s not like I gave her a kidney or something.  So where is she, anyway, little miss Hawaiian Tropics?”

Kelly wandered through the lower level of the mansion in search of where Stormy had disappeared to.  She walked into the conservatory and instead found Alex pacing the room, a trail of cigarette smoke billowing behind her.

“What do you want?” Alex spat when the young woman entered.

“I was looking for Stormy,” Kelly replied.

“Afraid he’s gotten cold feet?” asked Alex bitterly, still reeling from her discussion with Frank.  “How awkward it must be to constantly be wondering if your fiancé is going to walk out on you.”

“I don’t wonder anything of the sort,” Kelly replied with a scowl.  “Stormy loves me and we’re going to be married on Saturday whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it,” Alex fired back.  “Not only did you take my role in Angel Assassin 2 but you sunk your claws into my son.  Make no mistake, Kelly, I won’t let you take anything else from me.”

“You did your best to turn things around in your favor,” Kelly said with a wicked grin.  “As if a phony affair with Scott Kelly is going to make you any more relative to the public.  Face it, you’re a has-been.  James can put your name above the title if that’s what it takes, but everyone will see me as the star of this movie."

Normally Alex would be thrilled to go rounds with Kelly, but tonight she was in no mood.  She was completely blinded by the man she was married to and aside from that nothing else mattered at that moment.  She glared heatedly at the young woman and brushed past her without another word.

“I heard your play got great reviews,” Ethan said to Victor in the ballroom.  “How long is it running?”

“A month longer,” Victor replied proudly.  “I do hope you’ll both be able to come watch before you take off to Costa Rica.”

Brooke looked at Ethan and shrugged indifferently. “We could probably fit it in before Saturday.”

“Sure,” Ethan agreed.

“Execellent, let me just give you a program.”  Victor swooped into his jacket pocket and felt around for the playbill.  After realizing his pockets were empty, he sighed dramatically and threw his hands up in resignation.  “I must have dropped it somewhere.  Que sera, curtain time is eight o’clock on Friday.  I do hope you’ll be able to make it.”

Brooke excused herself from the conversation and went to find a free ladies room.  She started up the staircase and down the hall just as Jackie emerged from the bathroom and started in her direction.

“Excuse me,” Brooke said and attempted to enter the bathroom.

"Brooke?” Jackie asked with a smile.  “Is that really you?  You’re just as beautiful as you were all those years ago.”

Brooke frowned.  “Excuse me?  Do I know you?”

She laughed wickedly.  “I guess you were too young to remember.  It’s me. Jacqueline Lamont.  David’s mother.”

“Really,” Brooke said with surprise, setting her jaw angrily.  “Well in that case, if you’ll excuse me, I really have nothing to say to you.”  She brushed past he and started into the bathroom.

“Brooke, please,” Jackie said before she could close the door between them.  “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh really?” she demanded.  “That’s funny because I can’t think of a single thing we’d have to say to each other.”

“How about David?  Or your father?  I assume you have a lot of questions about Royce.  Maybe David has told you some things, but I’d like to be a resource for you as well.  I was married to him for nearly forty years, after all.”

“My father was Mick Taylor,” Brooke fired back angrily.  “He was an insurance salesman from Phoenix.  I didn’t know your husband and I don’t have any desire to know anything more than I already do.”

“You can’t escape it, Brooke,” Jackie said with a patronizing smile.  “Living here in L.A., you’re bound to run into David.  He’s your brother.”

“And how kind of you to keep that little bit of information to yourself for so long, by the way,” Brooke hissed.  “Do you know how many lives you ruined because you tried to protect your precious reputation?”

“I did it for you as well as anyone else,” Jackie declared as if she meant what she was saying.

“Right,” she said, her voice full of doubt.  “Look, I think what you did was irreprehensible.  It makes me sick to think about it.”

“There were circumstances that you couldn’t possibly understand.  How would it have looked if the media learned that Royce had an illegitimate daughter?  He was a successful businessman, Brooke.  He had investors and stockholders to think about.”

“That’s bull and you know it,” Brooke lamented.  “You didn’t do it to protect Royce or his business.  You did it because you didn’t want anyone knowing that your own husband cheated on you.”

Jackie laughed and examined her perfectly manicured fingernails.  “You’re very intuitive, Brooke.  You’re an intelligent young woman.  I see a lot of myself in you.”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Can’t we try to be friends?” Jackie asked, mustering as much sincerity as she could.  “For David’s sake.  I know he cares about you.”

Brooke shook her head.  “I’m leaving Los Angeles in a few days,” she said.  “For good.  I’m getting as far away from this place as I can.”

Jackie was thrilled by the prospect, but naturally kept her emotions to herself.  Brooke Taylor could only get in the way of her plans.  She was too close to the situation.  Too much history with James and with David.  Having her far away was the best thing for all of them.

“That’s unfortunate,” she said for effect.  “Well, please do keep in touch.”

“Sure,” Brooke murmured under her breath before starting to close herself into the bathroom.

“Oh, and Brooke,” Jackie said while bracing the door open.  “I hope you find the happiness that you deserve.” 

She didn’t reply, closing the door and leaning her back against it.  She was now more sure than ever that leaving with Ethan and Michael was the best decision she’d ever made.  If Jacqueline Lamont was staying in Los Angeles, she wanted to be as far away as possible.

Jordan stepped up onto the porch of the house on Laurel Canyon.  He knocked, took a step back, and then knocked again.  Just as he’d predicted, Dunning was out for the evening, most likely at the wrap party for Angel Assassin 2.  He tried the door and found it locked, wasting no time in circling the house to search for an open door or window. 

Paydirt came when he saw a storm window propped open on the lower level by the garage.  He crawled through, wincing when a jagged piece of metal scraped his leg and tore through his pants. 

Once inside the garage, he inspected his leg and wiped away a trickle of blood.  His proceeded to the door that led into the house, quietly creeping inside and peering through the darkness. 

Frank Dunning was poisoning his son’s mind.   He wasn’t about to let that happen.  He warned him twelve years ago to stay out of his life, an order which he’d taken to heart until recently.  Now he would make sure that he got the message. 

Taking a knife from the kitchen, Jordan ran the tip along the top of the plush cream sofa, splitting the fabric and watching as foam spilled out in every direction.  Next, he grabbed hold of a glass entertainment center against the wall, gave it a tug, and stood clear when the entire structure toppled to the floor and broke into shards.  Sparks from the stereo equipment flew through the air.

He made his way through the rest of the house, smashing mirrors and tipped over furnishings.  Finally, he came to a closed door at the end of the hall and found it to be locked.  Bracing himself with a hand against the wall, he kicked the door with his foot until it gave way and splintered open.

Upon entering the room, he reached for the light switch and froze in his tracks when he saw the spectacle before him.  Eyes wide, he proceeded into the room and looked in awe at the shrine that Dunning had constructed.

The entire back wall was plastered with photographs, all of Suzanne in various times in her life.  Stills from the set of The Young at Heart, publicity photos from Kidding and The Resurrectionist.  There were even a few candid shots taken quite possibly without her knowing. 

“Oh my God,” Jordan whispered to himself. 

There were cocktail napkins stained with lipstick, personalized autographs, a scarf that he was positive had belonged to Suzanne, and countless other items that all struck a familiar cord in his mind.

Jordan struggled to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.  He lifted a cassette tape and inspected it curiously.  When he found an old tape recorder on the desk, he popped it in and pressed play.  It sounded like an old answering machine tape.

“Hi Frank, it’s Suzanne,” as the recording went.  “I’m excited about the reading tomorrow.  I hope I get the part.  I’ll let you know as soon as I do.  Thanks for your help with everything.  I gotta get the kids to school.  Talk to you later."

Quickly, Jordan stopped the tape and closed his eyes tightly.  Hearing her voice again was torturous.  It had been twelve years but it seemed just like yesterday.  A tear formed in his eye and he quickly wiped it away.

He ran his hands along the desk, finding a dozen more tapes, all labeled in the same fashion as the last.  It became obvious that Frank Dunning was a very disturbed man, obsessed with his wife for God only knows how long.  He’d saved everything he could get his hands on.  No wonder he’d never let her disappearance go.  He was in love with her. 

There was a videotape in the VCR.  He pushed it in and turned on the small television positioned atop a shelf.  Moments later, images filled the screen. 

The first thing Jordan saw was Suzanne’s smile, causing him to nearly lose control and break down in tears.  Stifling them away, he took a deep breath and watched the television closely.

Finally, it was clear to him that it was a video Frank had recorded.  They were at his house, Suzanne and Troy reading lines for an audition.  The way they laughed together and appeared to be so care-free finally brought him to tears.

Jordan realized the video was taken probably a month before that horrible night, the last time he saw either Troy or Suzanne. 

Next time....

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