Previously…
– Sophie’s “Shannon” persona made a threatening call to Sabrina from a disposable cell phone, hoping to drive Sabrina insane.
– “Shannon” made Trevor uncomfortable by questioning him about Finn’s request for a job recommendation.
– Spencer pressed ahead with his divorce from Natalie, while Sonja awaited sentencing for Loretta’s murder.
Samantha Fisher clutches two clear plastic cups of cold brew coffee as she navigates toward the table where her half-brother is seated. Spencer Ragan has claimed a spot by the large windows inside Cassie’s Coffee House, overlooking the tail end of the parking lot and a lush wooded area just behind it. A smooth Olivia Dean song plays over the sound system, its quality a little crackly.
“Be careful,” Samantha says as she hands him one of the cold brews. “These things are like rocket fuel.”
“That sounds like what I need today,” Spencer replies as he accepts one of the cups from her. “Thanks. You didn’t have to get mine.”
“It’s my pleasure.” She settles into the worn orange armchair across the table from him. “And it’s good to see you. I know things have been…”
He grins wryly from beneath his messy bangs. “Complicated?”
“Quite.”
“So how’s the wedding planning going?” he asks after taking a sip of the cold brew. “Damn, you weren’t kidding.”
“I warned you.” She cautiously tests her own coffee before adding, “And I had no idea there were so many choices to make. About literally everything. I almost wish Tempest had more of an opinion on things.”
“She doesn’t?”
Samantha shakes her head. “She doesn’t think the color of the napkins is going to make a difference in how special the day is. Which I agree with. It’s just a lot.”
“I’m betting your mom would be happy to take control.”
“Beyond.”
“Well, you guys deserve the wedding of your dreams,” Spencer tells her.
“I spent so many years wondering if I’d get married at all. If I’d even be able to. So it feels weird to complain that so many people are excited to celebrate with us. I’m trying to lean in, as they say.”
“That’s good. Lean in.”
“How about you?” she asks.
Spencer gazes pensively out the window. “The divorce is moving along. Natalie and I aren’t exactly getting in the mud about who gets the good towels.”
“Bree said you’re making it really easy on Aunt Natalie.”
“I’m trying. I just want a clean break, you know? It’s time to move on.” He sucks some more coffee through the paper straw, which is already beginning to dissolve a little. “God, I hate these stupid straws. Why even bother with a paper straw when you’re serving the damn coffee in a plastic cup?”
She smirks at his mini-rant. “How are you doing, though? You’ve had a lot to process.”
“Oh, you mean finding out my former nurse was actually the one who poisoned and killed my mother, rather than the guy who unknowingly grew up living the life I was supposed to live? That’s nothing.”
“Spencer…”
“I know. I keep feeling like I should be able to set it all aside, but that seems to be easier said than done.”
“Of course it is.”
He continues staring out the window as he says, “I can’t get my head around it being Sonja. She just wasn’t on my radar at all. I have all these questions… not like any of it would change things, and not like I even want Loretta to be alive, but…”
Concern lingers in Samantha’s eyes as she offers him a gentle smile. “You know… I think there might be something you can do.”
His head snaps toward her, intrigued.
—–
“I keep replaying it in my head,” Sabrina Gage says as she sits on the sofa in Jason Fisher‘s living room, hunched forward with her knees in her lap and her hands knotted together.
“You’re sure you didn’t recognize the voice?” Brent Taylor asks. The police commander is seated across from Sabrina and Jason, in an armless accent chair upholstered in a dark blue fabric.
Sabrina shakes her head. “It seemed disguised. Electronic. I don’t know.”
“There are a lot of apps these days that can do that,” Brent admits with a sigh. “But this person clearly planned ahead. So we can be fairly certain this wasn’t a crank call — this came from whoever was making those threats earlier.”
“Threats?” Jason repeats with exasperation. “Sabrina’s apartment was set on fire. Then this person stole a skating dress from Helen and Don‘s attic and came onto our property and hacked it up. Those are more than threats.”
“Of course,” Brent says sympathetically. “I don’t mean to downplay anything. But there’s a pattern of wanting to threaten and intimidate Sabrina here. And now we’ve had our first direct contact.”
“It should be traceable, shouldn’t it?” Jason asks.
“We were able to source the incoming number from Sabrina’s cell provider,” Brent tells them. “Unfortunately, it was a prepaid phone. It isn’t registered to anyone.”
Sabrina drops her head in despair. Jason reaches over and takes her hand.
“What we can do is try and figure out where it was purchased,” the commander continues. “I have a detective working on that: which retailers sell that specific model, what dates it could have been sold on, and if there’s any security footage of someone making the purchase. It’ll take some time, but it’s our best bet right now.”
“That’s something,” Jason says, though the coldness in his tone undercuts whatever optimism he might hold.
“I… I thought this was over,” Sabrina says softly. “It had been months.”
Jason gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I did, too.”
“I’m going to have patrol cars do regular laps through the area,” Brent tells them. “That way, if there’s anyone suspicious nearby…”
“You think it’s okay for us to stay here?” Jason asks.
Brent dips his chin, a clipped sort of nod. “This seems to be about intimidation, not direct harm. I don’t believe you’re in imminent danger, Sabrina. But this person is going to slip up somewhere. It could even be on that security footage already.” He lets the words land, and his expression hardens. “I’m not going to stop until we know who has been doing this to you.”
Sabrina and Jason exchange as hopeful a look as they can muster.
—–
Trevor Brooks knocks twice on the front door. It is always a bit surreal to wait at the entrance of the house in which he grew up; given that he and Lauren technically own the house, and that he has a key on his key ring, he could simply enter it, the same as he always did. The longer he has to wait out here, where anyone could see him, the more he is tempted to let himself in.
Only a few seconds go by before Finn Campbell answers the door, but as soon as he does, Trevor pushes his way inside the house.
“Hello to you, too,” Finn says sarcastically.
“Sorry,” Trevor says. “I don’t need anyone wondering why I’m here.”
“Because you’re the landlord?” Finn posits. “It’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No, but Sophie was suspicious after you came by the house. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I had a legitimate reason for stopping by.”
“A text would’ve worked,” Trevor says, a little too sharply. “We were getting fitted for Samantha’s wedding, and Sophie had all these questions for me. About you, the recommendation…”
“I don’t get why you’re mad at me because of some nosy teenager asking questions.”
“I’m not mad, Finn. And I completed the recommendation, by the way.”
“Thank you for that,” Finn says sincerely. “I’m hoping I get a second interview for that job.”
“Me, too. Then maybe we can get back to normal with this rent situation.”
“Is that all I am to you, Trevor? Some burden you have to clear out of the way so you can ‘get back to normal’?”
Trevor averts his eyes from Finn’s gaze. He finds himself taking in the living room, still sporting so much of his parents’ furniture, now interspersed with Finn’s own touches. It is strange to be somewhere so familiar and yet have it feel so unfamiliar at the same time.
“You aren’t a burden, Finn,” he says, exhaling loudly. “But I’m trying not go blow up my entire life.”
“I never wanted to blow up your life.”
Trevor has to bite his lip to stop from saying the first thing that comes to mind — that Finn has been on the verge of doing just that for a long time, for so long that Trevor can barely remember a time when that wasn’t the case.
“I know,” he says instead. “But everything got so out of control.”
Finn suddenly catches Trevor’s eye. “I really thought it meant something.”
“What?”
“You and me,” he says.
“Finn, I’m married. I love Alex. That was a–“
“A mistake, I know. That’s all I ever am to anyone: a mistake.” Finn hurriedly pulls open the front door. “You didn’t have to come by. The recommendation is done. And thank you for that. I’ll let you know if I get the job. So you can stop worrying about floating me half the rent.”
“Finn…”
“You don’t have to pretend to feel bad, Trevor. I get it,” Finn says as he holds the door open. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone. There’s no point.”
Not entirely sure what to make of this, Trevor presses his lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Your secrets are safe with me.”
He continues to hold the door open. Finally Trevor steps through it. He feels as though he should say something else, apologize, reassure Finn, but nothing seems appropriate.
The door closes gently, cutting off his view of the familiar living room. He listens to its soft click before he retreats back to his car, wondering if Finn really means what he said.
—–
“What do you mean?” Spencer asks Samantha, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
She sets her coffee cup down on the table between them.
“You should go see her,” she declares.
“See who?”
“Sonja. She’s being held locally right now,” Samantha reminds him. “After she’s sentenced, she could be sent further away.”
He regards her skeptically. “And what good would that do?”
“Ask her what you want to ask her.”
Spencer lets out a heavy exhale. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“I have a feeling the words would come if you were face-to-face.” She absentmindedly picks up her coffee again and traces her finger over the ring of condensation it has left on the table. “Maybe you just need to have an actual conversation with her in order to move forward.”
“Maybe. I just… I don’t get how she could do all of that. Plotting a murder, carrying it out, even framing Travis.”
“I know she loves TJ,” Samantha says. “And saving him was her only priority.”
“If she had let someone know what was going on, we could’ve protected both of them.”
Samantha cocks her head to one side. “From Loretta? You know better than anyone…”
“Okay. You make a good point.”
“I’m angry at her, too,” Samantha says. “What she did to Travis is unconscionable. But aside from her being TJ’s mom, I don’t really have any connection to her.”
“It’s so weird to try and reconcile the woman who nursed me back to health with the woman who planned and executed Loretta’s death.”
“That’s why I think you need to talk with her. Get some things off your chest, if nothing else.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he says as he sips the cold brew thoughtfully.
“I bet you’ve had a hundred conversations with her since the truth came out. They’ve just all been in your mind.”
A reluctant grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“At least this way, you won’t have to imagine her side of it. It could go a long way toward bringing you closure.”
“I don’t know if I can ever get there, but I’d like to try,” Spencer admits. “Good call.”
“Hey, it’s easier than making sense of all these napkin colors,” Samantha says with a laugh. “Any chance you can help me with that?”
“Sounds like a great distraction,” Spencer tells her. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Samantha pulls out her phone, and the siblings scoot closer to one another, grateful to have something frivolous on which to focus.
—–
The front door opens mere minutes after Brent’s car pulls out of the driveway.
“Soph?” Jason calls out from the kitchen, where he has just poured himself and Sabrina glasses of iced tea.
“Yeah,” comes the teenager’s reply.
“You just missed your Uncle Brent,” Jason says.
A moment later, Sophie’s head pops into the doorway that connects the kitchen to the front hallway.
“What was he doing here?” she asks.
“He was following up on that phone call I got,” Sabrina says, her expression pale.
“Oh.” Sophie’s brow furrows briefly. “Did he figure out who did it?”
“Not yet,” Jason says.
“He traced the number,” Sabrina explains, “but it came from a prepaid phone.”
“So… they don’t really know anything?” Sophie asks carefully.
Jason lets out a frustrated breath. “Not much. No.”
“They’re going to check security cameras from stores that might’ve sold the phone,” Sabrina adds. “Hopefully whoever bought it shows up somewhere on the footage.”
“Oh. That’s…” Sophie’s face remains neutral. “I hope they find them.”
“Thanks,” Sabrina says wearily.
“And until then, there’s going to be a patrol car doing rounds of the neighborhood,” Jason says.
Sophie’s eyes flick upward. “A police car?”
“So you have nothing to worry about,” Jason offers. “We’re all safe here at home.”
“That’s great,” Sophie replies.
“How was the movie?” Jason asks.
The teenager shrugs. “I didn’t think it was that scary. Christian was, like, freaking out. It wasn’t even gory, just–” She stops herself and looks to Sabrina. “Sorry. I bet you’re freaked out enough right now.”
Sabrina waves a hand through the air. “It’s okay.”
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Sophie says. She smile at them and then breaks for the stairs. Before she even makes it to the upper landing, however, the smile is gone, replaced by a dark intensity.
They don’t know, she thinks. Not about the phone, not about me, not about anything.
In the kitchen, Jason slides an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders.
“You heard Brent.”
“I know.”
“We’ve got cameras. An alarm system. Extra patrols.” He kisses the top of her head. “Whoever is trying to scare you is running out of places to hide.”
Upstairs, the door to Sophie’s room closes with a decisive click. She quickly goes to the bathroom and turns on the shower, grateful for the way that the water’s downpour fills the room with noise, creating a barrier between her and the people downstairs.
They’ll never know, Shannon whispers inside her mind.
END OF EPISODE 1309
Are the walls beginning to close in around Sophie?
Will Spencer gain any closure from visiting Sonja?
Can Trevor trust Finn not reveal their secrets?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!