Previously…
– Samantha prepared to donate bone marrow to TJ, in hopes of curing his aplastic anemia.
– Spencer reported to Brent that Elly admitted she had seen Travis at the Ragan home on the night of Loretta’s death.
– After the police conducted a search of the Jimenez home, Travis was placed under arrest for the murder of Loretta Ragan.

The hospital waiting area has gone eerily quiet in the wake of Travis Fisher‘s shocking arrest. The crowd of onlookers has long dispersed, though their whispers still float through the halls.

Tim Fisher rubs his temples, his voice low and ragged. “I should be down there with him. He’s my son.”

“You can’t be in two places at once,” Paula says gently. “Samantha‘s still in surgery. TJ, too. They’ll need you when they wake up.”

Claire‘s arms are folded across her chest, crinkling her light-blue scrubs. “This doesn’t make any sense. Travis wouldn’t kill someone — not even Loretta.”

“I don’t understand what evidence they think they have.” Tim shakes his head. “I hate sitting here not being able to help… any of my kids.”

Paula lays a steadying hand on her son’s arm. “Rosie is with him. She was going to make sure Conrad got there as soon as possible, too. That’s the most helpful thing right now.”

Tim’s gaze drifts toward the closed doors that separate them from the operating room, and his shoulders sag.

“All of my kids are suffering in such different ways,” he says solemnly.

Neither Paula nor Claire has a response that will fix this for him. Claire takes his hand, and the three of them sit in heavy silence, the hum of the hospital machines the only sound between them.

The sterile gray walls of the interrogation room feel like they are closing in around Travis Fisher. His hands, free of cuffs, remain clasped tightly on the scuffed wooden table, as if he’s afraid to let go.

The door opens, and Conrad Halston strides in, his leather briefcase swinging by his side. Rosie hovers just behind him, her gaze darting anxiously between her husband and the uniformed officer posted just outside the room.

Conrad sets down his briefcase and takes the chair opposite Travis. His tone is brisk but steady: “All right. I’ve made it clear to the detectives that you won’t say a word to them without me present.”

Travis nods mutely, his throat too tight to answer.

Rosie perches at the edge of the table. Her hand slides over Travis’s. “We’re going to fight this,” she whispers.

Conrad clears his throat, pulling Travis’s focus. “Listen to me carefully. If I’m going to do my job, I need the truth. All of it. No half-answers, no hedging. Whatever happened the night Loretta Ragan died — I need to hear it now.”

Travis swallows hard, his eyes flickering toward Rosie before settling back on Conrad. The silence stretches, weighted with so many things unspoken.

In a conference room inside the offices of Vision Publishing, a biweekly editorial meeting drones on. A junior staffer is rattling off sales projections while Spencer Ragan tries — and fails — to concentrate. His pen taps absently against the margin of his notepad.

At the far end of the table, another employee’s phone buzzes. She glances at it, then lets out an involuntary gasp.

Spencer looks up, as do several others.

“Something wrong?” he ventures to ask.

The woman hesitates, then blurts out, “It’s a news alert. You might want to…” But she trails off uncomfortably.

“What is it?” Spencer presses. The others in the room watch raptly.

“They arrested someone for– for Loretta Ragan’s murder,” the woman, a brunette in her late 20s, says stiffly. “I’m sorry. I know this has to be hard for you.”

Spencer leaps to his feet, palms pressing down onto the conference table. “Well? Who is it? Does it say?”

She nods slowly. “Tim’s son. The– the other one.”

Spencer’s face goes ashen. “They think Travis killed her?”

He hardly even waits for the confirmation. He snatches his phone from the table and bolts from the room, leaving a trail of uneasy silence behind him.

—–

The next time Claire pushes open the double doors that connect the waiting area to the operating areas, Diane Bishop is on her feet.

“How is she?” Diane asks. Tim hurries up behind her.

Claire exhales and gives Tim the briefest of looks. “Samantha is doing great. She’s still coming out of the anesthesia, but the procedure went exactly as it should’ve.”

“Oh, thank god.” Diane claps her hands together. “When can we see her?”

“She’s being moved to a recovery room. We’ll let you know when you can go in,” Claire says.

“So the doctors got what they needed?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” Claire says with an officious nod. “TJ still has to undergo the transplant, but things are on track. Is Sonja around?”

“She’s in the cafeteria with my sister… God only knows why,” Diane says. “I truly can’t imagine Natalie making anyone feel less unhinged at a time like this.”

Again Claire glances briefly at Tim, then says, “I’ll make sure someone notifies Sonja, too.”

Tim offers her a grateful look over Diane’s shoulder.

“We’re going to do our absolute best to make sure everyone comes out of this healthy and happy,” Claire tells them before turning to go back through those doors. Once she is gone, Diane pivots toward Tim.

“She’s okay. She made it,” she says, her relief evident.

“I’m so happy,” Tim replies. “Now we just have to pray that this transplant helps TJ, too.” Thoughts of what Travis must be enduring flood over him, as well, and that searing sense of hopelessness comes roaring back.

—–

The police station buzzes with controlled chaos. Phones ring, officers shuffle papers, and a Xerox machine whirs and whizzes in the background.

Spencer storms through the glass doors, his face still pale from the news alert. He bypasses the front desk and cuts across the bullpen, determined to find Brent Taylor‘s office.

“I was right,” he announces as he arrives at the open door.

Brent is seated behind his desk. He slaps his hands on the table before pushing back the chair to stand. “We didn’t want the news to get out yet, but you can’t always control these things.”

“So it is true,” Spencer says. “Travis did it.”

With a sigh, Brent quickly crosses the room and closes the office door firmly, shutting out the curious stares from the bullpen. “He was arrested, yes. That doesn’t mean he did it.”

“If you don’t think he did it, what kind of corrupt operation are you running here?”

Brent bites his tongue and takes a beat. When he speaks, his voice is more controlled. “I’m not able to be too directly involved at this point, due to my personal connections to some of the associated parties.”

“Travis and Elly. I gave you the tip, Commander. You can tell me.”

“Spencer, I can’t discuss details of an open investigation with the public.” Brent’s voice is firm, professional, but not unkind.

“I’m the son of the murder victim,” Spencer shoots back, his volume escalating. “I know Loretta was a– was complicated. But she raised me. She was my mother my entire life until I met Claire. Now the guy who grew up in my place is under arrest for killing her. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“If Travis is guilty — or innocent — the evidence will show it,” Brent says. “But I don’t have much to share with you besides the fact that, yes, he was placed under arrest.”

Spencer narrows his eyes. “Or maybe you just don’t want to admit that poor, perfect Travis could be capable of something like this.”

“You’re my nephew, too, Spencer. And Elly is my niece. I’m doing my best to remain neutral here.”

“Are you arresting her, too?” Spencer presses. “Elly?”

“I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you,” Brent repeats flatly.

“She was involved in this, too. Mark my words.” Spencer huffs out a bitter laugh. “Let me know when you’re allowed to have an opinion of your own.” He turns and storms back out into the bullpen, leaving Brent staring at him with a conflicted expression on his face.

—–

The overhead light beats down, throwing sharp shadows across the table. Travis sits rigid; his knee bounces under the metal chair. Rosie’s hand rests on his forearm, steady but insistent.

“Travis,” Conrad says evenly, “I need to know what happened. If you hold anything back and it comes out later, the prosecution is going to bury you.”

For a long moment, Travis stares at the table. Then, finally, his voice comes out hoarse: “I went to see Loretta that night.”

Rosie’s eyes widen. “You what?”

“I just… I wanted to tell her off. I don’t know.” Beads of sweat form on Travis’s forehead. “You had just left town, Rosie, and I… I was angry. So I went there. I wanted to make her realize the extent of what she’d done. How many lives she’d ruined.”

Conrad sits across from him, simply waiting for Travis to be ready to share more. The tension is thick in the small, quiet room.

“But when I got there, she wasn’t alone,” he eventually continues. “There was someone there to do her hair. So I left.”

“Did anyone see you? The hairstylist?”

“No, she didn’t. I snuck out the side door — the one in the garage.”

Conrad leans forward. “And that was it? You went there, you went inside, and you left?”

Travis nods.

“No one saw you at the crime scene, then?” Rosie asks. “Like, at all?”

The way Travis again looks down at the table is answer enough.

“Who knows you were there, Travis? This is important,” Conrad presses.

“Elly,” Travis admits, and even though he can’t bring himself to look at Rosie, he can feel the shift in her energy. “Elly saw me there.”

—–

Detective Suppo flips through a slim case file as Brent approaches.

“You ready to go in?” Brent asks the mustached man.

Suppo nods, then lowers his voice. “Yeah. Gave him a few minutes with his lawyer, but now we gotta question him.”

“There might be a perfectly good explanation for all of this,” Brent says.

“Not for what we found during that search,” Suppo replies. “The lab confirmed that the powder in Fisher’s gym bag was a key component of the compound that poisoned Loretta Ragan. Not too many ways to explain that.”

Brent grunts, realizing just how incriminating this all looks.

“We’ve got someone who can place him at the crime scene and the poison in his personal possession,” Suppo says. “Looks like a pretty open-and-shut case to me.”

Without another word, he pushes open the door to the interrogation room, leaving Brent staring grimly after him.

END OF EPISODE 1271

How is Travis going to explain all of this?
Will Rosie continue to stand by her man?
Is Spencer going to do something rash?
Talk about it all in the comments below!

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