Previously…
– Lucy moved into Landon’s spare bedroom in order to stay safe from her abusive ex, Bryce.
– Sabrina and Jason were shaken to discover another threat from her stalker: a photo of the two of them, with Sabrina’s face scratched out with a red pen.
– Conrad suggested to Travis that Rosie might have lied about her visit to Seattle the night Loretta died.

The faint glow of a carved pumpkin in the corner throws shadows over the room. Two video game controllers lie abandoned on the coffee table in the living room of Landon Esco‘s apartment. Travis Fisher now sits rigidly on the couch, staring at the floor as if it might give answers. Across from him, Landon leans forward in a recliner, elbows on knees as he tries to get a genuine read on his friend.

“You’re really not gonna come with us? It’s Halloween,” he says. “And you literally work at the place hosting the party.”

“I’m not exactly in a party mood. And I don’t think it would be a good idea for anyone to get photos of me partying right now.”

Landon chews on that for a moment before responding, “You’ve got a point there. We could also stay in. Have a mini-party here.”

Travis shakes his head. “You guys go. Have fun.”

“Trav, I know this is… tough. But we’re not abandoning you.”

“Thanks,” Travis says with both gratitude and surprise. “There’s something else going on.”

With a heavy inhale, Landon sits back in the chair, sinking into its ample but uneven stuffing. “Like… another set of murder charges? ‘Cuz the one is kind of enough.”

Travis tries to fake a smile at the attempt at levity but cannot quite pull it off. “Conrad has a theory he wants to pursue.”

“Okay…”

“He has another suspect he wants to try and throw suspicion on,” Travis explains. “Rosie.”

Landon’s jaw hangs open. “What? Why? And also how?”

“I know how insane it sounds. But she took off for Seattle that night.”

“To go see her brother.”

“Who would also give her an alibi, no questions asked,” Travis continues. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy.”

“It is crazy,” Landon adds.

Travis shrugs. “Yeah. But so is this entire situation.”

“So,” Landon says. “Do you actually think Rosie could’ve done it?”

Travis’s jaw clenches. The jack-o-lantern flickers in the corner.

The restaurant looks nothing like itself tonight. The usual nautical décor is buried under fake cobwebs, orange string lights, and hanging skeletons that sway with every opened door. Outside, October air whips in off the bay, gently rattling the windowpanes.

Tori Gray leans against the bar, a barely touched cider in hand. Her mermaid costume, with its blue sequins, shimmery makeup, and hair glitter catching the light, felt so magical and fun an hour ago when she put it on. Now, however, she feels silly and exposed, waiting alone like this. Around her, the Halloween party swirls with energy and laughter.

She checks her phone again, but the last message from Landon is still the latest update she has: Trying to convince Trav to come. Be there asap!!

The band in the corner launches into another cover, this time of Rihanna’s “Disturbia” with crashing guitars. Tori glances toward the entrance again, willing Landon and Lucy to walk through it, but she has no such luck. Instead, it’s another group in masks, laughing out loud.

Her reflection glints in the mirror behind the bar. As she studies it, she notices something — or someone — lingering near the hallway that leads to the restrooms. It is a man in a skull mask. He doesn’t seem to be part of any group — rather, he is simply standing there. But standing is too benign a word. He seems to be looming.

Tori’s skin crawls with the pricking sense that she is being watched. But when she turns, angling for a better look, the skull mask is gone.

“You’re making yourself nuts,” she mutters as she takes out her phone again and searches for a game to occupy herself.

—–

The doorbell chimes again. Sabrina Gage takes a deep breath, then opens it and manages a smile as she drops a few fun-size candy bars into a little vampire’s bucket. The kid offers a muffled “Thank you!” through plastic fangs before racing down the driveway to rejoin his parents.

With a wave, Jason Fisher closes the door. He watches Sabrina as she draws a deep breath, finger delicately touching her temple.

“We can just leave the candy outside,” he offers.

“It’s fine. It’s Halloween. It feels good to be doing something normal.”

He studies her for a beat too long. She’s paler than usual, and her black-cat headband sits slightly askew in her dark hair, somehow making her appear even more fragile than she has lately.

From the hallway, Sophie Fisher appears. The contrast is startling: she wears a tight, glittering red dress and shiny knee-high boots. Her hair is curled and glossed. On anyone else, it would register as a bold costume, but for the usually gothic teenager, it is more like she is wearing someone else’s skin.

“Um, excuse me,” Jason says to the teenager. “What’s all this?”

“I thought you were being Morticia Adams,” Sabrina says.

“Change of plans. I’m going with zombie influencer. Still need to do the makeup. But how do I look?”

“Like a grown-up,” Jason says. “You’re leaving the house like this?”

“Plus zombie make-up. But yeah. Why?”

Jason looks to Sabrina, a little helpless, and realizes that she has no idea what to say or do, either. He reaches for his keys.

“Come on. I’ll run you down to the restaurant for the party.”

“Bree is picking me up,” Sophie says. “And it’s literally at our family’s restaurant. So don’t worry.”

Jason sucks in his lips, not totally convinced that letting his teenage daughter out of the house dressed like a full-blown adult is a great idea.

“You still need to be home by 10,” he says.

Sophie rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

Sabrina suddenly sways a little. She grasps her head again, as Jason catches her elbow.

“And you need to rest,” he tells her softly.

Sophie watches the scene uneasily. Then comes the sound of a car horn beeping outside.

“That’s Bree,” she says. “And don’t worry: I’ll be in by curfew.”

“Good,” Jason replies.

“Have fun,” Sabrina says, her voice ragged and worn.

Sophie disappears out the door. The red from her dress casts a streak across the porch light as she goes. Jason turns his attention back toward Sabrina.

“Why don’t you go lie down?” he suggests, and she is weary enough that she does not argue.

—–

“I don’t know,” Travis admits after a long, weighted pause. He looks at Landon across the coffee table. “Do I think Rosie’s capable of murder? No…”

Landon squints. “But…”

“But I don’t think I’m capable of murder, and yet all these other people seem to think I am. So… I don’t know. I have no idea what’s up and what’s down at this point.”

Landon’s nose crinkles rapidly several times.

“What are you doing?” Travis asks.

“Trying to sniff out the truth. Your Aunt Sarah says I’m getting pretty good at it.”

“You guys wanna help clear my name? I’m sure Conrad wouldn’t mind the group effort.”

“Consider it done,” Landon says. “I’m not letting you go down for this, Trav.”

Travis offers a wan smile. “Thanks.”

Landon slaps his hands against his thighs. “If I’m listening to my investigator instincts — which, as previously noted, have been receiving some serious praise — I do think this Rosie angle warrants more looking into.”

“Conrad said he’s gonna subpoena her phone records.”

“A fine move,” Landon says, lifting his index finger into the air. “That should give us a sense of when she really went to Seattle. Unless she drove there, left her phone there, and then came back to knock off Loretta.”

Travis’s jaw falls open in slow motion. “Do you think she’d do that?”

Landon shrugs. “Rosie’s a cop. So if she were also a murderer, she’d know that cell phone data would give her away. She’d cover her tracks.”

A tense beat passes before either of them speaks again.

“I can’t believe this is my wife we’re talking about,” Travis says, voice brimming with emotion. “It’s Rosie. She wouldn’t kill someone and let me take the fall for it.”

“I agree… under normal circumstances. But the situation with Gabrielle gutted her. That can do weird things to a person. And it’s not like she framed you for it. Maybe she got in too deep, and now she doesn’t know how to get out of it.”

Travis frowns at him in response, too overwhelmed to produce words. Landon picks up his phone, checks it, and quickly types out a text message.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to come?” Landon asks as he sets his phone back on the coffee table. “Tori’s already at the party.”

“Don’t keep her waiting,” Travis tells him. “You guys go. Have fun.”

The door to the second bedroom creaks open. Lucy Champlain steps out in a short, glittering cape, her outfit halfway between a superhero and a fairy, paired with leather boots that thud confidently against the engineered vinyl floor planks.

“Come on, Travis. It’ll be fun,” she says.

He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea. The last thing I need is the press getting wind of murder suspect Travis Fisher living it up while awaiting trial.”

Lucy bows her head sadly. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

She and Landon exchange a look that says they both want to help but have no idea how.

“Do you even have a costume?” Travis asks Landon.

Landon jumps up from the chair. “Basketball player. Jersey, shorts, headband, Jordans. I’ll be dressed in 90 seconds.”

“Of course you will,” Travis says, and he even manages a grin as Landon darts into his room to get ready.

—–

The restaurant glows under the orange lights. The band plays another cover, this time of Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me.” At the bar, Tori contemplates the drink menu, ready for something stronger than a cider.

Before she can decide, however, her phone vibrates. She pulls it out and sees the text message from Landon: Be there in 12 minutes, according to my trusty Waze app

She quickly sends him a response, and as she is putting her phone away, something in the mirror behind the bar catches her eye: that skull face, bobbing along in the crowd.

She turns quickly, but the mask is gone just as quickly.

“You’re being paranoid,” she tells herself, and she tries to refocus on the drink menu… but that sense of being watched persists.

In the hallway by the bathrooms, the man in the skull mask lifts the bottom of the plastic disguise to give himself some fresh air.

“C’mon, Tori,” Bryce says to himself. “Get your pal Lucy down here so I can have it out with my girl.”

A grin curls his lips as he lowers the mask back over his mouth and chin.

—–

At Jason’s house, the porch light glows, and a bucket of candy rests beneath it, awaiting trick-or-treaters. Inside the house, however, the lights have been dimmed; though Jason hoped the quiet would be calming, there is an eerie undercurrent to it.

Upstairs, he peeks into the primary bedroom. Sabrina is curled up beneath a blanket, her face pale in the glow of the TV. A half-empty mug of tea rests on the nightstand.

“You doing okay?” he asks softly.

She nods faintly, her voice small. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Then rest up. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, even producing a faint whisper of a smile before closing her eyes. The TV continues to play quietly in the background.

Jason tiptoes through the room and into the primary bathroom. His own head is pounding a little now, no doubt from the stress of Sabrina’s condition. He pulls open one of the drawers on his side of the vanity but doesn’t spot the aspirin anywhere. He checks more drawers, moving to the side of the vanity that Sabrina has taken over since moving in; the drawers were never fully cleaned out, so now they contain a disordered mix of her things and items that have been there for years.

When he pulls open one drawer, his hand freezes.

A red pen lies there, uncapped. Smears of ink pool around its exposed ballpoint tip.

All Jason can see in his mind’s eye is that photo that was left on the porch, Sabrina’s face violently scratched out with red marks so forceful that they nearly went through the paper.

“What in the hell?” he says under his breath. He looks back toward the bedroom where Sabrina is sleeping, and a sense of unease creeps up his spine, cold and sharp.

—–

In another bathroom, across town, a hand — small, slender, and female, covered in a latex glove — pulls a crinkling item out of her purse. The plastic front casing and cardboard backing of the case have been pulled apart but are still attached, the pen that was once held inside the package no longer there.

“Sabrina Gage, there’s no need for you anymore,” the voice says with a quiet steeliness.

The woman holds the pen packaging with her gloved fingers, then uses her other hand to roll the glove off her hand. The packaging stays inside it, unblemished by fingerprints. She drops both the glove and its contents through the cutout in the countertop marked Trash.

“No need for you at all,” she continues to say. “Not when the real Shannon Parish is around.”

Her fingers press against the cool glass of the mirror, tracing her own reflection with intensity, with admiration.

“Go get ’em, Shannon,” she tells herself, her voice brimming with the stirrings of a maniacal laugh. Sophie brushes a strand of black hair out of her face and continues to watch herself in the mirror, her bold red lipstick standing out against her alabaster skin.

Outside the bathroom of Bill’s on the Pier, the band continues to play as the Halloween party rages.

END OF EPISODE 1277

What do you make of this episode’s ending?
What is going on in Jason and Sabrina’s home?
Should Travis be suspicious of Rosie?
And what in the world is Bryce up to?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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