Previously…
– Finn suggested to Gia, who is filling Molly’s role at Objection Designs, that they wage a campaign to convince shareholders to vote Molly out permanently. 
– Molly, Brent, and Travis continued to agonize over Rosie and Gabrielle being missing.
– Eric Westin, who is holding Rosie and Gabrielle captive for Loretta, forced Rosie to give him the PIN for her debit card.

A rhythmic rapping cuts through the murky haze of Travis Fisher‘s sleep. He bolts upright in bed, his wife’s name already on his lips, but he stops the outburst as his senses come rushing back to him. He is not in the bedroom at the apartment where he and Rosie live with Gabrielle; he is in a spare bedroom on the second story of his father‘s house, with hazy autumn daylight filtering in through the closed blinds.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice raspy.

“So you are up,” Landon Esco says as he pushes open the door and enters the room.

“I am now.”

“Samantha let me in,” Landon explains. “Seems like she’s doing better.”

Travis rubs his eyes and scoots himself upward so that his back is pressed against the headboard. “She is. For sure.” 

“And how are you?” 

“I’m awake,” Travis tells his friend. “What the hell time is it?”

“It’s almost 10, dude.” Landon ambles over to the side of the bed. “Glad you’re actually sleeping.”

“I was tossing and turning all night. I don’t even think I fell asleep for real until almost 6:00.”

“Well, I wanted to come check on my best bud.”

“Thanks. I, um…” Travis struggles to produce any words at all. “This is like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. And every day that goes by…”

“They’re gonna find Rosie and Gabrielle,” Landon says, extra-cheerfully, as if he feels obligated to sport enough optimism for both of them.

Travis is mum as he continues to gather his bearings. He reaches for his iPhone, which is plugged in on the nightstand. 

“What the hell?” he says as he scrolls through the notifications on his lock screen. 

Landon’s head juts forward. “What? What happened?”

“It’s Rosie,” Travis says in disbelief. “It’s a message from Rosie.”

“Done with the day already?” Trevor Brooks asks with a grin. 

He leans against the doorframe in the anteroom of the Chief Creative Officer’s suite at Objection Designs. Despite the early hour, Finn Campbell stands behind the first assistant’s desk, wearing an olive-colored utility jacket as he slips his work laptop into a navy blue clamshell-type duffel bag. 

“Not quite,” Finn says as he looks up. “The boss and I are about to hit the road.”

“Really? Where to?” Trevor asks as he holds his coffee mug’s handle with his right hand and wraps his left palm around the warm object.

“Seattle. Gia has some stuff to take care of, so I’m going with.”

Trevor reacts with surprise. “Seattle? Something going on with the boutique there?”

“No, it’s…” Finn hesitates for a noticeable moment. “Executive stuff. We’re coming back tomorrow.”

“Exciting,” Trevor says, unable to stop his curious mind from wandering through possibilities. “Seems like you’re getting a little more responsibility.”

Finn’s grin returns as he zips the bag. “Yeah, it’s exciting. I’ll, uh, I’ll fill you in later, okay? I have to get downstairs and make sure the car service is waiting.”

“Of course. Good luck.” 

Finn slings the duffel’s strap over his shoulder and exits, passing Trevor as he does so. The two men make eye contact, though no words are exchanged before Finn disappears down the hallway.

Trevor looks toward the closed door to Gia Pearson’s office and sips his coffee as he wonders exactly what the interim CCO might be up to.

In mismatched sweatpants and hoodie — the first things he was able to grab from his hastily packed suitcase — and full of purpose, Travis marches through the bullpen of the King’s Bay Police Department. Landon is right on his heels as he turns a corner and picks up his pace even more.

“At least I’m getting my steps in today,” Landon says, glancing quickly at his Apple Watch before breaking into a jog to catch up with Travis.

He does so just as Travis lands at an open door.

“Uncle Brent,” he says, immediately grabbing the attention of the police commander, who is behind his desk.

Brent’s eyes fall on the pair, but it takes him a few seconds to respond. In that brief pause, his exhaustion is apparent. The lines on his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the purple-tinged hollows beneath his eyes.

“Travis. Hey,” he says at last. “Landon.”

The younger men step into the office.

“I was going to give you a call,” Brent says. “We detected some activity–“

“I know,” Travis cuts him off.

“You do? How?”

Travis pulls his phone out of the pocket of the sweatpants and holds it up. “Because I got a notification. The bank account that Rosie’s card was used to make a withdrawal from — that’s our joint account.”

“We’re already on it. We had flagged her accounts with the bank,” Brent explains. “We’re checking to see if there are security cameras where she made the withdrawal. But thanks for coming by–“

“That’s the thing,” Travis says. 

Brent’s forehead crinkles. “What thing?”

“This is big,” Landon interjects, using his index finger to point insistently at Travis.

“We just opened the joint account,” Travis tells Brent. “It’s supposed to be a rainy day type of thing. We don’t touch it.”

“Well,” Brent says as he folds his hands on top of the desk, “someone touched it. From what I can gather, they just about cleared it out.”

Travis takes another few steps, closing in on the desk. “Rosie wouldn’t do that.”

“Travis…” Brent exhales, his pent-up stress and fear apparent. “I know you and Jimenez love each other, but…”

“No. She has her own account,” Travis says. “I wouldn’t have gotten an alert if she’d taken money out of that one.”

Now Brent’s eyes widen with comprehension.

“She was sending him a signal,” Landon says.

“Yeah!” Travis plants his palms on the desk. “Someone forced Rosie to make that withdrawal, and she used the joint account because she wanted me to know about it.”

Brent springs to his feet. “We need to get that security footage right away.”

—–

Molly Taylor is sitting at the table in her kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. Although her iPad sits propped up in front of her, its screen reflecting her thus-far unsuccessful attempts to read the news, she is staring at the etched glass on the pantry door when she hears the sounds of a key in a lock in the distance.

“Brent?” she calls out as she hears someone entering her home. Her ex-husband normally rings the bell — he only has a key for emergencies — but in light of everything going on, perhaps he has chosen to let himself in. Maybe he even has news about Gabrielle and Rosie.

“It’s me,” a voice answers, and a moment later, Christian Taylor appears at the entrance to the kitchen. He wears a dark denim jacket over a black t-shirt with slim-fitting joggers.

“Honey, hi,” Molly says as she stands from her chair. “What are you doing here? I hope you aren’t missing class–“

“This is my free morning,” Christian tells her. “I thought I’d come check on you.”

“That was sweet of you.”

The mother and son embrace. As thankful as Molly is to have one of her sons here, it reminds her all the more acutely of the fact that her young daughter is so far out of her reach right now.

“How are the dorms so far?” she asks, forcing a cheery expression onto her face.

“They’re cool. Kind of loud sometimes, but cool. The food in the dining hall is, like, freakishly good.”

“Better than Meatloaf Surprise every night,” Molly says. “I’m glad. And Caleb‘s been going to class?”

“So far.” Christian grips the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “What about you? Are you okay? Has Dad found anything yet?”

She shakes her head sadly. “No. There’s no news. I really can’t believe this is happening. It feels like I’m living in some kind of horror movie.”

“I bet. It’s so weird that Caleb and I have this little sister who’s, like… been around this whole time and we had no idea.”

“We’re going to find her and bring her home,” Molly says with determination. “Gabrielle belongs under our roof, with her family.”

Two of Christian’s top teeth work uneasily at his bottom lip. 

“What is it?” Molly asks, recognizing the sign that her son is building up to saying something difficult. 

“It’s just…” He taps his fingers against the chair. “What if Travis and Rosie really don’t want to give her up?”

“If Rosie really did kidnap Gabrielle, then that’s exactly what she’s doing. And I won’t let her get away with it.”

“I know, I know. But if she didn’t — like, if someone really did kidnap them…”

Molly lets out a huff through her nostrils but doesn’t interrupt him.

“…then what if they want to go to court and fight to keep Gabrielle?” Christian asks. “They’re the only parents she’s ever had.”

“Because she was stolen from us by that crooked doctor and Loretta Ragan,” Molly says forcefully.

“Yeah, but… do you think it would, like, traumatize her?” Quickly he waves a hand through the air, as if trying to dispense of some noxious fumes. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

“It’s okay.” Again she draws him into a hug. “I think about that, too. But I couldn’t just sit back and let other people raise my daughter. Not when I didn’t choose that in the first place.”

The doorbell rings, startling both of them. Without having to say it aloud, their expectations soar as they hurry out of the kitchen and to the front door.

When Molly opens the front door, she is surprised to see Trevor standing there.

“Hi. Come in,” she says, motioning with her hand. “What brings you by?”

Trevor notices Christian lingering behind his mother and nods. “Hi, Christian. Good to see you.”

“Oh, um, hey,” Christian says, forcing down the lump that has emerged in his throat. “Hi, Trevor. You, too.”

“I might be totally off-base here, but there’s something work-related I need to run by you,” Trevor tells Molly. “Do you have a minute?”

“I have nothing but minutes,” she says as she begins to lead him toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m already caffeinated to hell and back, but sure,” Trevor says. “One more coffee won’t kill me. I don’t think.”

Christian, following them to the kitchen, laughs a little too loudly at the joke. Molly retrieves a mug from an upper cupboard and turns back toward Trevor. 

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“It’s Gia,” Trevor reveals. “She took Finn to Seattle for the day. I think she’s up to something.”

—–

A handful of hours after it leaves the Objection Designs headquarters, the black SUV pulls up beside a curb in the prestigious Denny-Blaine neighborhood of Seattle.

In the backseat, Finn slips his utility jacket back on, having removed it for the ride. He turns to his boss.

“Looks like this is it,” he says. “Pretty nice, huh?”

Gia Vincent gazes through the window at the exquisitely maintained Victorian home, which sits a comfortable distance back from the road. A storybook turret stands out on one side of the home.

“Stunning,” she replies. Gia then reaches for the door handle, but she pauses before tugging on it.

“You didn’t tell anyone what we were doing, did you?” she asks Finn.

“Not a soul. I just said we had to go to Seattle for business.”

“Good. No one can know what we’re doing until it’s time to drop the hammer. Now let’s hope this goes our way.”

Gia opens the door, and the pair exits the SUV. They walk over the stone path leading from the sidewalk, through the lush green lawn, to the front of the home. Finn stands behind Gia as she presses the doorbell; a melodious chime sounds within the house.

Moments later, the door is opened, revealing an elderly woman dressed in flowing black garments and tasteful heirloom jewelry.

“You must be Gia Vincent,” she says.

“I am. This is my assistant, Finn Campbell,” Gia says. “Thank you for meeting with us, Mrs. Fitch. The future of Objection depends on this.”

END OF EPISODE 1150

How does Katherine Fitch figure into Gia and Finn’s plan?
Do Brent and Travis have the lead they need to find Rosie?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

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