Previously…
– Travis’s trial for the murder of Loretta Ragan got underway.
– Sarah and Landon began to scour Juanita Jimenez’s phone records for anything that might reveal she could have been the one to poison Loretta and later plant the poison in Travis’s gym bag.
– Rosie was desperate to pursue a lead that could connect Finn Campbell and Gia Vincent to Loretta, possibly showing that they had motive to kill her.
– Natalie revealed to Elly that she and Spencer were once again sleeping together.

The courtroom is hushed as Elly Vanderbilt takes the stand.

She appears composed, but only barely. Her shoulders are rigid, her jaw tight as if she could be bracing for impact. At the defense table, Travis Fisher sits beside Conrad Halston, with his hands folded atop the wooden desk and his face carefully neutral. Audrey Tam rises from the prosecution table and takes a few slow, deliberate steps.

Her calm voice commands the courtroom as she begins, “Ms. Vanderbilt, you previously gave a statement to police that you went to Loretta Ragan‘s home on the night of her death?”

“Yes,” Elly says. As a lawyer herself, she knows enough not to offer any more information than is being specifically requested.

“And did you proactively offer that information to police?”

Elly’s fingers tighten around each other in her lap, though she tries not to let the tension show to the jurors. “No.”

“Why was that? Why did you change your mind?”

“A witness — a delivery driver — happened to identify me while I was at the police station on other business. I’m also an attorney,” she says, glancing quickly at the jury. “It was at that point that I admitted I had been there.”

Elly can feel Spencer Ragan‘s gaze driving into her from his seat in the gallery, though she dares not glance directly at him. She just needs to stay focused and get through this — keep it as unemotional as possible.

“Now, was that the only information you shared with police?” the D.A. continues. “That you had gone to the Ragan home?”

A beat. Then Elly says, “I’m sure my official statement was more than one sentence. I had to give context, all that.”

Audrey Tam grins for only a split-second. “Did you see anyone there? Anyone you knew?”

Elly’s eyes meet Travis’s quickly. The years and years of history flicker between them. Elly looks away first.

“I did, yes,” she says.

Tam cocks her head and waits. Someone in the gallery coughs.

“Ms. Vanderbilt, I’m going to need more from you than that,” Tam says.

Elly sighs. She looks toward Conrad, wondering if he will object on grounds of the prosecutor being argumentative, but she suspects that he doesn’t want to make it look like she is in league with him and Travis.

“I saw the defendant there,” she finally states.

“You just saw him there? On the street?”

“I saw him at the Ragan house.”

“Where?” the D.A. presses. “Inside?”

“No. I never went inside the house,” Elly says. “That was included in my statement to police.”

“Then where did you see Travis Fisher? Walking down the street?”

Elly’s fingers tense even more. “I saw him on the side of the house.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was near the side of the garage,” Elly says, hoping that she can get away with only that much.

“Ms. Vanderbilt, your statement revealed information beyond that. Are you lying under oath now, or did you lie to the police previously?”

“I’m not lying,” Elly says. “I saw Travis near the side of the garage. What I said in my statement was that it appeared he was coming out of a door that led into the garage. But I can’t say that with 100 percent certainty.”

“Thank you,” Tam says, with an exasperated exhale. “Did you speak to the defendant?”

“I did, briefly.”

“What did the two of you discuss?”

Again Elly looks out at the people in the gallery. She sees her own father, Jimmy Trask, seated with his wife, who happens to be Travis’s biological mother. She sees her friend and former roommate, Samantha, who is also Travis’s sister. And she sees Spencer, his hard gaze fixed right upon her, but she still cannot meet it.

“We were surprised to see one another there,” Elly explains. “We both admitted that we had come there to con– to talk to Loretta Ragan about things she had done to us and our families.”

“You were both there just to talk with a woman who you admit had done things to your families?” Audrey asks.

“I wanted to tell her to stop trying to manipulate me. And Travis — he said he wanted answers from her about why she had done the things she’d done to his family. But he never spoke to her.” The pace of her speech quickens as she feels the opportunity to steer this in a direction that looks better for Travis. “He said there was someone there working on Loretta’s hair, and it wasn’t a good time to talk to her, so he backed off and left.”

“Then Travis Fisher admitted that he’d gone into the house?”

“I don’t think he said that specifically,” Elly goes on. “He said there was a hairdresser there, so he was leaving without having spoken to Loretta. I don’t know if that meant he saw the hairdresser, or if someone opened the door and told him, or what.”

She can see a glimmer of annoyance in the D.A.’s eyes.

“But you can place Travis Fisher at the Ragan home, possibly inside that home, on the night that Loretta Ragan died,” she finally says.

“Yes,” Elly admits, a bit grudgingly.

“Thank you. No further questions.”

—–

Some time later, the hallway outside the courtroom hums with low, restless conversation. Members of the Fisher family hover, tense and murmuring in hushed voices.

Elly stands off to one side, checking her phone as she grips a paper cup of water she has not touched. Her pulse is still loud in her ears after her ordeal on the witness stand.

She senses him before she looks up to see him.

“I guess I should say thanks,” Spencer Ragan begins. His posture is guarded, and he has his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

She blinks cautiously. “Why?”

“I know it couldn’t have been easy to get up there and tell the whole truth like you did. But I appreciate it.”

Elly lets out a short, humorless laugh. “I’m not going to commit perjury, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” he says, his words taking on that hard edge that she recognizes so well. “Seriously. After everything… I appreciate you getting on the stand and being factual about what you saw and knew. I can recognize when someone does the right thing, even when I don’t love the circumstances.”

“I have to say I’m a little surprised. You’ve been treating me like I’m radioactive for months.”

He shifts his weight. “That’s not fair.”

A hot ball of fury surges inside her chest. “What, did Natalie kick you out of her bed? So you’re trying to get back into mine?”

She sees realization blaze across his face.

“She’s my wife,” he says.

“And you’ve made it clear that your personal life is none of my business. So I don’t need updates from your wife about your joint sex life.” She takes a drink of the lukewarm water and tosses the cup into the nearby trash receptable. “I hope you’re happy, Spencer. I really do.”

“I’m trying to thank you,” he fires back, as she walks away. Suddenly self-conscious, he glances around.

“Dammit, Natalie,” he mutters, watching as Elly disappears back inside the courtroom.

—–

When the trial resumes with a sharp rap of the judge’s gavel, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor takes the stand. He is dressed in a gray suit that looks more functional than fashionable. Audrey Tam approaches the stand, slithering slowly like a deadly snake about to pounce.

“Could you please state your name and profession for the court?” she asks with a surprising warmness.

“Mike– um, Michael Larradee,” the witness replies. “I’m a social worker with the King’s Bay Department of Family Services.”

“How long have you been in that line of work?”

“It’ll be seventeen years this April.”

“Thank you for everything you do for our community,” Audrey says before taking a few pensive steps. “How did your responsibilities bring you into contact with the defendant, Travis Fisher?”

In the gallery, Rosie Jimenez‘s breath catches. She recalls the meetings she and Travis had with Mr. Larradee and his colleagues so vividly — meetings that were anxious but so full of promise and hope. As if sensing her distress, Travis turns back over his shoulder and offers her a short, compassionate expression. Rosie reflexively touches her slowly growing stomach as memories of late-night feedings and the soft weight of a baby in her arms threaten to overwhelm her.

“Mr. Fisher and his wife were fostering a baby and planning to adopt her,” the social worker explains.

“And what was that baby’s name?”

“Gabrielle.”

“How did she come to have that name?”

“Mr. Fisher and Ms. Jimenez chose it, as I remember,” Larradee says.

“Wow,” the D.A. replies with a bit of forced emotion. “The foster parents had the opportunity to choose the baby’s name? Did they have her from birth?”

“Almost. Gabrielle was left outside the King’s Bay police station shortly after birth. Ms. Jimenez — Travis’s wife — was actually the officer who found her. After she was placed into emergency care, Ms. Jimenez and Mr. Fisher stepped forward to foster her.”

A few rows behind Rosie, Molly Taylor reaches over and grips her husband‘s hand. Reliving the way that they thought they lost their child, only to find out she was being raised by Travis and Rosie, always brings a jolt of pain that rocks her system.

“I didn’t know they were going to get into this,” she whispers to Brent.

Brent leans in even closer and whispers back, “She’s trying to establish motive.”

Molly nods uneasily as she continues watching the woman who aggressively prosecuted her several years ago.

“As someone who was involved with little Gabrielle’s case, what can you tell us about Mr. Fisher and Ms. Jimenez’s parenting?” the D.A. asks.

“Exceptional,” the witness says. “They were considered strong candidates for long-term placement. Stable home, support system, excellent recommendations. And the observations that my colleagues and I made all supported that.”

“Why isn’t Gabrielle with the defendant and his wife today?”

“It was discovered that Gabrielle had been falsely reported as deceased at birth. Her biological parents were identified. There was a custody suit.”

“And what was the result of that custody battle?”

“The biological parents ultimately took custody back,” Larradee says.

Tam takes a few more steps, the sound of her heels loud in the otherwise silent courtroom. After several seconds, she asks, “As a social worker involved in the case, did you have to issue any reports on that?”

The witness nods. “Yes.”

“Did you make any personal observations about how Travis and Rosie were affected by that outcome?”

Brent again slants his head toward Molly. “See?”

“They were devastated. Understandably so,” Larradee says. “They had built their lives around this child and loved her deeply.”

“That sounds incredibly traumatic,” Audrey Tam responds somberly. “No further questions.”

She returns to the prosecution table as Conrad stands, preparing to cross-examine the social worker.

—–

During the next recess, the hallway is busier. Travis exits the restroom and feels momentarily overwhelmed by the crowd, feeling — or, really, knowing — that all their eyes have been waiting for him. He scans the space nervously and is relieved to see Rosie coming his way.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

“How are you holding up?” she replies.

Their hands meet by their waists, and their fingers intertwine in a wordless commiseration. Conrad approaches, straightening his tie.

“Just a little more to get through for the day,” he tells them.

“And then it starts all over tomorrow,” Travis says with a sigh.

“I know. It’s a lot,” the attorney says sympathetically.

Rosie pulls out her phone and checks the screen, but there are no alerts. “Still nothing from Gia Vincent.”

Conrad opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it and escorts them around a corner, into a short hallway leading to an exit.

“We don’t need to tip anyone off about any leads,” he explains quietly. “You never know who’s eavesdropping or filming or lip-reading.”

“Lip-reading?” Travis asks with surprise.

“I’m tempted to jump on a plane and track her down in New York,” Rosie declares.

“I don’t want you doing that,” Travis says, with a cautious glance at her belly.

“Travis, I’m pregnant, not incapacitated. I’ll be fine.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” Conrad interjects.

Rosie’s eyes widen. “How? Do you have some other angle?”

Conrad hesitates for a fraction of a second too long.

Her police instincts in overdrive, Rosie asks, “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing,” Conrad says. “I’m working on several angles. Nothing is developed enough yet–“

“Maybe I can help,” Rosie offers.

“Sarah and Landon are checking out some things for me. You stay on Gia Vincent. If there’s anything there, it could be enormous for Travis’s defense. But I don’t want to create false hope, okay?”

Travis nods, though he notices how tense Rosie remains.

“I need to check in with my office before we resume,” Conrad tells them. “Make sure nothing has come in.”

He steps away, leaving them alone in the hallway.

“There’s something he isn’t telling us,” Rosie says.

“He said he doesn’t want to give us false hope.”

“Whatever it is,” she says, “I want to know. I’m not letting a single lead slip through the cracks, Travis.”

—–

With the courtroom doors open again, spectators and trial participants filter back into the space for the final testimony of the day. Spencer is headed toward one door when he hears his father’s voice behind him.

“Spencer. Hang on,” Tim Fisher says, and he walks more briskly to catch up to his son. Spencer turns to see his mother right behind Tim.

“How are you doing?” Claire asks. “This has to be hard.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty damn hard,” Spencer replies. “Especially having my entire family sitting on the other side of the courtroom–“

“We want to support both you and Travis,” Tim says.

Spencer’s brow furrows, squeezing in his dark eyebrows. “Kind of hard to support me when you’re sitting there visibly supporting the guy who murdered the woman who raised me.”

“We believe that Travis is innocent,” Claire says. “We hope this trial will prove that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, then,” Spencer says, shrugging before he disappears back inside the courtroom.

Tim and Claire exchange a heavy, helpless look. There are no words that can ease this pain right now.

END OF EPISODE 1294

Will Conrad be able to mount an effective defense?
Should Rosie fly to New York to chase down Gia?
Can Elly and Spencer ever end their push/pull?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!