Previously…
– TJ’s relatives submitted to testing in hopes that one might be identified as a bone marrow donor for the little boy, who is suffering from aplastic anemia.
– Gabrielle and Molly both continued to struggle with the little girl’s transition into living with her biological family.
– Elly confessed to Spencer that Travis was also at the Ragan home on the night that Loretta died.

“It breaks my heart every time,” Molly Taylor says as she stabs the last piece of asparagus on her plate with her fork. She and her husband are seated at the wooden, farmhouse-style table in their kitchen, eating a late dinner because Brent was at the police station well past his usual time tonight.

Brent finishes chewing a piece of the baked salmon that Molly prepared. “We have to remind ourselves there’s no magic fix for any of this. Gabrielle went through a really tough transition.”

“I’d say she’s still going through it,” Molly responds before popping the asparagus into her mouth.

“So are we all,” Brent agrees with a nod. “But we have to stay the course. We’re doing what the psychologist suggested. And it is getting better.”

Molly finishes her bite. “It doesn’t always feel like it.”

He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. “What’d you used to tell Caleb when he had a bad soccer game? ‘Progress isn’t always a straight line’?”

She gives him a droll look into return. “Way to weaponize my words against me. But yes.”

“Just keep that in mind. Gabrielle is getting more and more comfortable here. We’re all doing our best.”

The chime of the doorbell cuts through the uneasiness in the air. Molly scrambles out of her seat at once.

“Who’s ringing the doorbell at this hour?” she questions as she moves toward the foyer. Brent follows her, as the bell sounds again.

“They’re going to wake Gabrielle up,” Molly says anxiously, hastening her steps to get to the door before the person hits the doorbell again. When she gets to it, she wastes not a moment in flipping the deadbolt and pulling the door open.

“Spencer,” she says as she takes in the sight of her nephew standing on the stone porch, illuminated by the warm glow of the outdoor light. “Gabrielle is sleeping.”

“Sorry,” the younger man says. “This is important.”

“What’s going on?” Molly asks.

Spencer sets his gaze upon Brent, who is standing right behind Molly. “I need to talk to you. It’s about Loretta‘s murder.”

—–

“Thank you both for saving me dinner,” Sonja Kahele says as she stops in the doorway that adjoins the kitchen of Tim and Claire Fisher‘s house to the living room. “I would have probably just had toast with peanut butter or something otherwise.”

Claire and Tim, who are lounging on the beige sectional sofa, turn their heads toward her. Tim uses the Apple TV remote to pause the episode of The Bear that they have been watching.

“No problem,” Tim tells the raven-haired woman. “We know you have a lot on your plate.”

“We all do,” Sonja says with a sigh.

“How was TJ today?” Claire asks.

Sonja folds her arms and leans against the wall. “He gets tired so easily. Even our walk around the block completely wore him out.”

“Do you think it’s too much for me to take him to the park tomorrow?” Tim inquires. “Maybe we could have a picnic instead of going to the playground.”

“That might be a better idea,” Sonja agrees, her voice drenched in sadness. “It’s killing me to see him this way.”

“I know it is,” Claire says gently. “But we need to stay positive–” She cuts off the sentence when her phone, which is sitting on the coffee table, lights up with a notification. Something about the way it steals her attention causes Tim and Sonja to become more alert, too.

Claire picks up the phone and taps the notification. Both Sonja and Tim wait anxiously.

“It’s the hospital portal,” Claire tells them, her eyes still fixed on the device. “There’s a donor match for TJ.”

—–

The bedroom on the second floor of Juanita Jimenez‘s home is quiet, save for the slow whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional creak of the old house settling. Moonlight creeps in through the cracks in the blinds, throwing silver bars over the bed. Travis Fisher lies on his side, with one arm draped over the blanket; his breath is deep and even.

On the other side of the bed, Rosie Jimenez lies with eyes wide open, watching the fan’s blades complete rotation after rotation. She thought that she was tired not long after they returned home from dinner with Tim and Claire, but once they climbed into bed, her mind zeroed in on Travis’s strange outburst during the short time when his keys went missing earlier. Her gut told her that it was about more than the keys: it was the manifestation of some very serious, very real stress. Or panic.

Then she hears Travis’s voice, low and slurred: “…can’t tell…”

Rosie’s head pivots, her cheek touching the pillow as she observes her sleeping husband. His body twitches as if experiencing some intense action in a dream. Though Travis is facing away from her, she can hear his next murmured statement just as well:

“…you promised… you promised…”

Her stomach flips. She waits for more to come, something that will shed a clearer light on what he might be dreaming about, but it doesn’t. Travis sucks in a deep breath, almost a snore, and then exhales softly. His body seems to sink further into the mattress.

Who promised what? she wonders as she resumes staring at the ceiling. She cannot shake the feeling that something is unraveling, something that Travis has been trying mightily to keep wrapped up. And maybe Elly has been helping him do that.

Rosie closes her eyes, but the blackness brings her no closer to sleep.

—–

Tempest Banks kicks off her sneakers at the entrance of the apartment that she shares with Samantha Fisher.

“The gym kicked my ass tonight, that’s for sure,” Tempest says as she opens the narrow closet beside the front door and places her sneakers on the wire rack inside the closet.

“I still can’t believe you work out so late,” Samantha responds from her seat at the dining room table, where she has been working on her laptop.

“It’s so empty late at night. It’s perfect.” Tempest uses the sleeve of her black t-shirt to wipe her glistening brow. “You could always come meet me after work. Then we get a late dinner…”

Samantha smiles over the screen of her laptop. “I like the idea of having a late dinner with you… I don’t know if I’m a heavy-weights-at-9-p.m. kind of girl, though.”

“You can always do the elliptical and listen to one of your podcasts.”

“That’s a little more my speed, yeah,” Samantha says as she shuts the laptop and pushes out her chair. Standing, she continues, “Do you want to watch something after you shower?”

Tempest approaches her and slides her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “Or we could keep the exercise going…”

Lifting one eyebrow, Samantha leans in and kisses her. “That’s definitely more my speed.” Their kiss is interrupted by the persistent buzzing of Samantha’s phone, which is resting next to the laptop on the dining table. A look of concern crosses Samantha’s face as she looks at the display.

“What’s wrong?” Tempest asks, one hand resting on Sam’s hip.

“It’s my dad,” Samantha says as she grabs the phone and answers the call. “Hey, Dad.”

Tempest watches as Samantha listens to whatever Tim is saying on the other end. The expression of panic due to the unusually late nature of the call melts into something else… something that conveys equal importance, but not in the same alarming way.

“Okay,” Samantha says into the phone. “Thanks for letting me know. Yeah, I can– just tell me where to go and when.” She pauses again to listen. “I love you, too.”

As Samantha is ending the call, Tempest asks, “What was that? What do you need to do?”

“They got results from the hospital,” Samantha relays. “They have a donor for TJ.”

“Man, that’s amazing news. Who is it–” But Tempest stops herself short, as the answer dawns on her.

“It’s me,” Samantha confirms. “I was a match.”

—–

After Molly goes upstairs to check on Gabrielle, Brent leads Spencer into the formal living room at the front of the house. The piano, which has not received much use since Danielle moved out and Christian moved into the dorm, sits against one wall. The men step over the colorful Persian area rug and take seats — Brent in an upholstered accent chair, Spencer on the high-backed sofa.

“I’ve told you, I can only share so much,” Brent explains, “since it’s an ongoing investigation.”

“I don’t need you to share anything,” Spencer replies. “I need to share something with you.”

Brent leans forward, elbows planting on the knees of the black slacks he wore to work today. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I found out something tonight. Something big.”

Brent watches and waits. He notes how Spencer’s body seems to be vibrating with nervous energy.

Finally he prompts, “Are you gonna tell me, or…?”

“It’s about Elly,” Spencer blurts out, his eyes snapping upward to meet Brent’s. “And I know she’s your niece, but–“

“I can hear information objectively as an officer of the law.”

“Good. So, I overheard her and Travis talking a while back, and they were having a conversation about some secret they were keeping.”

Brent feels a sharp stab of panic in his chest, but he does his best to maintain a calm exterior.

“I’ve been suspicious ever since,” Spencer continues. “Because of their past and everything.”

“That was a long time ago. Travis and Rosie are happily married.”

Spencer raises one eyebrow skeptically. “I don’t know how true that is. But anyway, I thought maybe something had happened between them. You know, when Rosie went out of town…”

“Are you jealous of Elly and Travis?” Brent asks.

“What? No!”

“Okay, because I’m not following your point here–“

“My point is that they’ve been hiding something, and I started to realize it must be about the night Loretta was murdered,” Spencer says. “Tonight, Elly and I got into it, and she admitted it.”

Brent sits back in the chair as he takes a few seconds to consider his reaction. Then he asks, as neutrally as he can, “Elly admitted that they’re hiding something about the night Loretta died?”

“More than that. She told me that when she came to the house that night, she saw Travis there.”

“What?” Brent’s heart begins to thud inside his chest. “Travis was at your house?”

“Around the same time Elly was. And Loretta just happened to be poisoned that same night.” Spencer’s eyes go wide with a sort of electric buzz. “No way is that a coincidence.”

“It’s definitely worth looking into,” Brent says.

“It’s more than that. It could be the key to this entire mystery.”

“I’m going to follow up on this, obviously.”

“Good. I know Elly’s your niece and you’re related to Travis, too–“

“I take my professional responsibilities very seriously,” Brent says. “If there’s anything else to know about Travis or Elly going to your house that night, I’ll find out.”

Spencer nods, his face hardened into an intense expression. “The two of them are hiding something a lot bigger than running into each other. I know it.”

END OF EPISODE 1265

Will Brent discover anything substantial about Travis and Elly?
What should Rosie do about her own suspicions about Travis?
Can Samantha be the one to save TJ’s life by donating marrow?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!

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