Previously…
– Sabrina panicked after receiving a phone call from her stalker, unaware that it was Sophie’s “Shannon” persona using a burner phone.
– Tempest and Samantha continued to plan their upcoming wedding.
– Brent offered Rosie her job at the King’s Bay PD back — with a promotion to detective — after she has her baby.
– Isaac tried to balance his romance with Diane and his co-parenting relationship with Sienna.
– Despite her friendship with Tori, Lucy developed a crush on Landon.
– Samantha suggested to Spencer that going to talk with Sonja might help him achieve closure.

“Shannon” stirs awake to the smell of barbecue sauce. She blinks against the morning light filtering through her bedroom window, listening as cabinet doors open and close downstairs. When she finally checks the time on the phone lying on the wireless charging pad, she sees that it is late — almost 11 a.m. Finally she throws the covers aside and pads downstairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Morning,” Sabrina Gage says from her post at the stove. She wears leggings and an oversized King’s Bay University t-shirt. Several ingredients are spread over the countertop nearby. “Someone’s taking advantage of summer break.”

“Mm-hmm,” Shannon grumbles. She gestures at the counter. “What’s all… this?”

“Alex and Trevor are coming over for dinner with Chase, remember?” Sabrina says. “I’m making my Meemaw’s baby back ribs and mac-and-cheese. Some coleslaw, too.”

Sounds like explosive diarrhea waiting to happen, Shannon thinks from inside Sophie’s head.

“Sounds great,” she mutters.

As Shannon wanders to the refrigerator and pours herself a glass of orange juice, she hears Sabrina clanking around, checking various cabinets.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says.

Shannon turns. “What?”

“I forgot the cornstarch.” She opens another cabinet, as if the item might magically appear. “Well, that’s not going to work.”

Sabrina reaches over and twists the burner knob firmly to OFF before grabbing her purse from the back of a chair.

“I’ll just run to the market. Fifteen minutes, tops. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

Sabrina flashes a grin, then disappears out the front door. Outside, her car’s engine starts up and then fades into the distance. Silence settles over the house. Slowly Shannon crosses the kitchen and rests her fingertips on the stove knob. A smile creeps across her face.

Click.

She turns the gas back on just enough to hiss into the empty kitchen.

There. Sabrina will come home, smell the gas, and panic. She’ll swear she turned the stove off. And then Sophie will rush in and save the day.

Sabrina will be left wondering if she’s losing it.

Satisfied, Shannon slips through the sliding glass door onto the back deck. The morning air is warm, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass from somewhere down the street. She drops into one of the patio chairs, unlocks Sophie’s phone, and begins absentmindedly scrolling through social media.

Behind her, inside the still house, the quiet hiss of escaping gas continues.

Tempest Banks steps inside Cassie’s Coffee House, the familiar bell above the door giving its tired little jingle. Nothing about the place has changed in years. The mismatched chairs. The bulletin board covered in flyers, some of them so old that it is shocking that nobody has bothered taking them down. The shelves lined with coffee mugs collected from who knows where.

Every mug has the Cassie’s logo painted across the side, though no two look exactly alike. Some are faded. Some have chipped handles. One has a crack running down the side that has been there for years. Nobody replaces them. They’re just… what Cassie’s is. Years ago, Tempest might have found that all very cringeworthy, but now, she finds it kind of comforting.

Girl, you’re getting corny, she thinks to herself, nevertheless smirking as she steps up to the counter to place her order.

“Can I get two iced coffees with almond milk?” she asks.

“Of course,” the barista, a college-aged woman with blue tips on her hair and a septum piercing, says. She enters the order into the register and flips the screen around. “You can tap when you’re ready.”

As Tempest fishes her debit card out of her wallet, the barista uses a marker to write the orders on two plastic cups. Then she says, “We never see you in here on a weekday.”

Tempest taps a finger to the payment screen and then looks up with a smile. “My fiancée and I are skipping out on work today. Gonna meet with our wedding florist.”

“That’s awesome. I hope it goes well,” the barista says before handing the cups off to an associate.

“Thanks,” Tempest says. She moves to the end of the counter to await the drinks and scans the rest of the café. The stage at the other end of the space is empty, but the same orange sofa — the one that has been there for as long as she can remember — is positioned in front of it. She remembers seeing Danielle Taylor perform on that stage with her acoustic guitar; her style of music was never really Tempest’s thing, but seeing someone she knew perform like that was always impressive.

“Damn, you are in a cheesy mood today,” she laughs to herself as the coffee grinder begins to whirr on the other side of the counter.

Behind the baristas, one of the open shelves shakes slightly, mugs clattering together.

Isaac Banks steps out of the examination room carrying Noelle’s stuffed rabbit under one arm and a folder of paperwork under the other.

“All done,” he says.

Sienna Ridley looks up from where she sits in the waiting area, immediately scanning his face. Noelle sits in a chair, her little feet kicking over the edge.

“Is everything okay?” Sienna asks.

“Everything’s great,” Isaac replies with a smile. “Her pediatrician is happy. Growth is right on track. Ear infection totally cleared.”

Sienna’s shoulders relax. “I hate how nervous I get even with totally normal doctor’s appointments like this.”

Isaac hands his daughter back her rabbit, and the little girl immediately hugs it against her chest.

“See? You and Fluffy are both perfectly healthy,” he tells her.

“Good,” Noelle says before she begins chattering to the bunny.

Isaac lowers his voice as he leans into toward Sienna. “Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking about taking Noelle out to the shore for a few days.”

“Like, the Pacific coast?”

“Yeah. We reserved a cabin. It would be fun to take her to the beach–“

“We?”

Isaac pauses. “Diane and me. Yeah.”

Sienna stiffens. “Of course.”

“She’s my… my significant other,” Isaac says, pointedly choosing a term more elevated than girlfriend.

“It’s a long time for Noelle to be away from me.”

“And she’s also my daughter. I’m not a stranger.”

“No, but…” Sienna’s eyes dart around the waiting area for a moment. “She hasn’t spent that much time around Diane.”

“And this is a chance to change that.”

“I don’t know, Isaac…”

“I’m her father,” he says, a little more firmly. “Why are you acting like I’m trying to borrow your kid?”

“I’m trying,” she finally says. “I know you have your own life. Things are different than they were before.”

“Things are different than they were before because we didn’t have a child before.” He softens. “I’m not trying to take Noelle away from you. And Diane isn’t trying to replace you. Believe me, she’s perfectly happy to have a grown daughter.”

“I’ll think about it,.” Sienna says.

“Great. I can even send you the AirBnB listing for the cabin.”

“Daddy, are you coming home with us?” Noelle abruptly asks.

“Daddy has to keep working,” Isaac explains, “but how about I walk you to the car? I can put you in your car seat.” 

“Okay!” the little girl exclaims.

The trio walks to the elevator, Noelle wedged between her parents, none of them noticing the faint flicker of lights overhead.

—–

Rosie Jimenez pauses at the front door before ringing the bell. Mere moments later, the door opens, revealing Molly Taylor.

“Oh.” The surprise escapes before Molly can stop it. “Hi, Rosie.”

The other woman manages a polite smile. “Hi. I was actually looking for Brent. I called the station, but they said he was…”

“He left a few minutes ago. Had to take Gabrielle to her day camp.”

“Got it.” Rosie’s face falls.

Molly finds herself jumping in: “She would’ve loved to have seen you.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Good. Loud.”

Rosie laughs quietly. “That tracks.”

Molly steps to the side. “Do you want to come in and wait for Brent? He should only be about 20 minutes.”

After a cautious glance inside the house, Rosie relents. “Sure. Thanks. I only have so much energy these days.”

“Come. Sit.” Molly leads her into the living room, which is just off the entryway. “Can I get you anything? Tea? A snack?”

“Do you think my mother let me out of the house without a big breakfast?” Rosie replies as she rests a hand on her stomach.

The women share an uneasy laugh.

“I remember those days well,” Molly says.

Rosie eases her way onto a brocade-upholstered loveseat. On the TV, an old cartoon plays quietly. Molly picks up a Frozen coloring book that has been left on the floor.

“Brent told me about the job offer,” Molly says. “Is that what you came to talk to him about?”

Rosie reacts with quiet surprise, then says, “I wanted to talk to him a little more about it before I even brought it up to Travis.”

“But you’re thinking about it?” Molly waits a beat until Rosie nods. “You were excellent before. And it sounds like you were the key to nabbing Sonja. The force would be lucky to have you back.”

“Thanks.” Rosie shifts uncomfortably on the loveseat. “You don’t have to… wait. Until Brent gets back, I mean. I can…” She holds up the iPhone clutched in her hand. “If you have things to do.”

“I’m waiting on some work e-mails, but that’s all.” Molly takes a seat on the matching loveseat, across the coffee table from Rosie. “How are you feeling? You’re close to your due date, aren’t you?”

Rosie nods. “I’m exhausted. My back is killing me.”

“What about your feet? Mine were so swollen.”

“You have no idea.”

The women continue their conversation in awkward fits and starts, neither noticing how a picture frame on the mantel trembles almost imperceptibly.

—–

Lucy Champlain is breathing hard as she lets herself into the apartment and pulls out one earbud. She glances at the smartwatch on her wrist and, pleased with the results, ends the workout she had programmed. She braces against the kitchen counter, catching her breath, as Landon Esco enters the main living area.

“Good run?” he asks.

“Tough, but good. Good for me, at least.” She uses her forearm to wipe some sweat from her brow. “How do you feel about pancakes?”

“In general? Love ’em, obviously.”

“I was thinking I’d make some. After I get myself cleaned up, of course.” She takes out her other earbud and places both on the counter. “I could make some bacon, eggs, pancakes… give you some fuel to do your work today.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Landon says, “but I’m actually heading out in a minute.”

“I thought you were working from home today.”

“I am… but I thought I’d go surprise Tori at work with a coffee.”

Lucy’s smile falters for the briefest of moments. “Oh. That’s sweet of you.”

“Pun intended, I hope.”

“What?” she asks, distracted.

“Because the coffee is gonna be sweet, obviously. She ordered one of those S’mores lattes from Thaw last time we were there, so I thought I’d get her the same thing.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Lucy forces a chuckle. “I bet she’ll really appreciate that. You are so thoughtful, Landon.”

He shrugs before going to grab his keys off the peg by the front door.

“Actually, I’m totally thoughtless. And kind of a pain in the ass,” he tells her.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re parked behind me. Would you mind…?”

She comes over and grabs her keys from the peg beside his. “No problem.”

“Tandem parking is truly the work of the devil,” Landon says.

She laughs. “It’s fine.”

“How about I bring you back a coffee as combat pay?” he offers.

Lucy contemplates that for a moment, then nods. “I guess that works. I mean, you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Now, shall we descend into the bowels of the parking garage?”

“Let’s do it,” she says, and they step into the hallway, blissfully unaware of the way that the window panes inside the apartment chatter lightly once they are gone.

—–

The guard standing in the corner of the interrogation room barely moves.

Spencer Ragan notices that. He notices everything: the camera in the corner. The locked door. The way Sonja Kahele keeps her hands folded together on the table, the light from the dusty overhead fixture glinting off the dinged-up handcuffs that bind her wrists.

“How did you swing a private room?” Sonja asks.

“Sometimes it’s shocking how many doors money can open,” Spencer replies. “People are insanely predictable.”

They sit across the table from one another, an uneasy silence humming between them until Sonja speaks again:

“Why are you here?”

“I told you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You told me you weren’t here to yell at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why?”

A long pause. “Because I want to understand.”

She looks down. “I’m not proud of what I did, Spencer. But I was desperate to bring TJ back here so he could be tested for a match, and–“

“I know why you did it,” he interrupts. “I know what you did, I know what you used… but I want to understand what it was like.”

Sonja sits up sharply. “Spencer…”

“Did she see you?” he asks. “When you went into that room, while the stylist was on the phone… did my mother see you?”

“She had that mask on. I think she thought I was the stylist–“

“So she never knew it was you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Sonja’s fingers work together nervously. “It was quick. I was quick.”

“You put that poison in her hair and she had no idea?”

“I put the compound into the dye. I had planned to put it into her shampoo.”

“Wouldn’t that have taken longer?” he asks.

Sonja’s eyes flare, as if she cannot believe that he is asking such direct questions. “Yes. I thought it would be more of a… a gradual thing. She’d get sick and have no idea why.”

He leans forward. “She’d suffer, you mean.”

Again Sonja has to avert her gaze. “I guess. I don’t know. I thought– even if she sought medical help, she’d be so weakened and distracted, I might be able to bring TJ back without her coming after us.”

“But you knew what it would do to her,” he says.

“Yes. I guess I did.”

“How did you feel?”

The question hangs between them.

“I don’t know.”

Spencer snickers. “You don’t know? Come on. You had to feel something. There you were, knowing you finally had the Loretta Ragan where you wanted her–“

“I wasn’t happy about doing it,” Sonja says. “All I could think about was TJ. I could hear that clock ticking in my head, like every second that went by was another second I was losing to help him. I guess I was… afraid.”

He stares at her over the table. In the corner, the guard clears his throat.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Spencer says. “You were afraid of losing TJ.”

“Not only that.” Her eyes fill slightly. “I was afraid of… of failing.”

Spencer sits back in the cold metal chair, stricken by this.

“I was afraid it wouldn’t work,” Sonja admits. “And if I failed to neutralize her, then I’d be failing my little boy, too.”

“Well, you did it. TJ’s alive and Loretta is… not.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” Her voice drops. “I want to say this is not who I am, but that would be a lie. Because I did this, and I’m taking accountability for it. Have you ever been pushed to your absolute limits? Have you ever been so afraid of losing someone that you stopped thinking clearly? Imagine it was Peter. Imagine someone told you there was something you could do to save him.”

His eyes are cold as he studies her. But before he can say anything, a low rumble moves through the room. Both of them freeze. The guard in the corner straightens.

“What was that?” Sonja asks.

The overhead light flickers. Then another jolt hits. Harder. The table rattles.

All three of them instinctively grab for something solid as the walls begin to shake.

—–

Tempest sits at a table by the window, sipping her iced coffee. Her phone buzzes against the worn wooden top of the table, and she glances down to see Samantha‘s name on the display. She answers immediately.

“Hey. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way now,” Samantha’s voice says over the line. “I got stuck answering a few emails, and then one thing turned into another.”

“On your day off?”

“I know, I know. But it’s fine. It was good to get some things off my plate so I can focus fully on these floral arrangements.”

Tempest rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re probably the only person on Earth who can get me to look forward to looking at flowers.”

“And that’s why you’re marrying me.”

“I have an iced coffee waiting for you. Almond milk and all.”

“And that’s why I’m marrying you,” Samantha says.

Then, before Tempest can respond, a low, deep rumble rolls through the building. At first, she doesn’t understand what she is hearing. The coffee grinder? A truck outside?

But the sound grows. The floor shifts beneath her feet. She shoots out her free hand for the table, and the other patrons begin to shout.

“Sam?”

Over the phone, Samantha’s voice changes. “Tempest?”

The lights flicker. People in the coffee house look around, confused.

Then the first violent jolt hits. The room seems to lurch sideways.

“Earthquake!” the barista shouts from behind the counter.

“Oh my god!” Samantha yells through the phone.

“Sam? Sam, what’s going on?” Tempest asks, but the line suddenly goes dead. Realizing what the other people around her are doing, she dives to the ground and ducks beneath the table. Still, her hand clutches the phone to her face.

The shelves shake. Mugs sporting the Cassie’s logo — faded, chipped, imperfect — tumble to the floor. One shatters, then another.

“Sam?” she says into the phone, but there is no answer — nothing other than the ferocious rumbling that has consumed Cassie’s. The orange couch slides across the floor as the ground continues to roll.

Somewhere above her, Tempest hears a window shatter as her heart races inside her chest.

END OF EPISODE 1310

How destructive will the earthquake be?
Will Spencer get the closure he’s seeking?
Is Shannon’s plan going to work?
Talk about it all in the comments below!