Previously…
– Claire, thinking she’d been stood up by Brent, came upon the scene of the accident in which Tori and Marcus had been involved.
– Rosie latched onto something Christian recalled about his near-abduction and thought she knew where Brent and Molly might have been taken.
– Molly and Brent realized that the car whose trunk they were trapped inside was being set on fire and that they were going to die.

“I’m here with you,” Brent Taylor says. “I love you. I love you, Molly.”

“I love you, too,” Molly Taylor replies through tears. She and her ex-husband lie there, trapped and tied up in the trunk of a car, smelling the gasoline and feeling the heat of fire all around them.

But then she hears it. At first, she thinks she must be hallucinating. The lack of air has been making her feel weak, and she is certain it must be too good to be true, but even through the dark, she sees Brent reacting to it, too.

Sirens. There are sirens coming.

“The police,” Molly gasps. “They’re coming.”

They both listen for another moment. They’re real. The sirens are real.

“Help us!” Brent shouts. “We’re in the trunk! Help us!”

“Help!” Molly screams, but she feels her voice growing weak — as does her entire being from the effort of making so much noise.

“They’re coming,” he assures her.

But it is all too much: the heat. The smoke that feels as if it is filtering in. The smell of the gasoline. The darkness.

Molly always thought it would be worse than this, more painful, but all she feels is herself slipping into even greater darkness, drifting off into some land of shadow and rest and utter unawareness.

“Molly! Stay with me!” she hears Brent say, but it is faint, distant, and then it is all gone.

—–

Rosie Jimenez’s heart threatens to pound right through her police uniform as she pilots the squad car over a winding two-lane highway that leads north out of King’s Bay. The car’s red-and-blue lights illuminate the sky, and its siren sounds a warning that seems like a mere echo of the urgency within Rosie herself.

Her nervous mind strays back to the Taylor home as she reviews the best — and only, really — lead that she has…

“It was like, ‘We have to bring him to Black’s’ or something,” Christian Taylor says.

“Black’s?” Rosie zeroes in on Christian even harder. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

Christian’s eyes widen as he leans back. “I think so.”

Black’s Pass. That has to be it. It can’t be a coincidence, not with the way Brent’s family has become connected to Diego Barrera and his drug ring thanks to Caleb’s near-arrest.

“Dammit!” Rosie says, slamming her hand against the steering wheel as she passes a sign alerting her that she is still fifteen miles from Black’s Pass. This drive feels as though it is taking an eternity. She can only hope that the cars that were dispatched from more northern jurisdictions already made it to the cabin — and that Rosie’s hunch was right.

Brent has been a mentor to her, in a way that so few commissioners could possibly be to mere beat cops. He has trusted her, given her chances — and, even more than that, he and Molly and their boys are Travis’s family.

“This can’t happen again,” she mutters as she presses down just a little harder on the gas pedal. “I won’t let it.”

—–

Paula Fisher stands on the back deck of her daughter’s house, trying to ignore the chilly night as she stares up at the stars in the sky.

“Dear God,” she says, clasping her hands together, “I can’t lose my girl. Not Molly. Her boys need her– I need her–”

She feels herself breaking. A sob shakes her body, and she bows her head. She has already had to bury one child; she cannot fathom losing another, especially without Bill here to support her. And the twins — they need their mother and father. It would be too tragic if Christian and Caleb lost both parents on the same night, particularly at their age.

Finally, with a sniffle, she looks back up at the dark sky and the small points of light that adorn it.

“Please,” Paula says, nearly too overwhelmed with emotion to speak, “keep watch over Molly and Brent tonight, and bring them home safely to their family.”

—–

Christian Taylor lets out a heavy sigh as he returns to the living room of his mother’s house, iPhone in hand. His twin brother is sprawled across the couch, staring at a YouTube video of skateboard stunts gone awry playing on the Apple TV.

“I called Claire but she didn’t answer,” Christian says, “so I texted her.”

“Maybe it’s good she doesn’t know anything ’til, you know, we know anything,” Caleb answers without breaking his gaze from the TV.

“I’m sure she’s worried sick. Dad was supposed to meet her for dinner, like, a while ago.” Christian looks between his brother and the TV for a moment. “How can you watch this when Mom and Dad are missing?”

With a groan, Caleb pulls himself to a sitting position. “What am I supposed to do? Jump in a cop car and go find them?”

“No, but like… aren’t you too nervous to focus?”

“Ever heard of keeping yourself occupied?”

Before Christian can fire back a response, a uniformed police officer — one with a beard, whom Christian doesn’t recall having seen earlier in the evening, though that isn’t surprising considering how many different squad cars and officers have appeared at different times — enters the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the officer, who is on the low end of middle age, says. “Found this out in the driveway. Look familiar to either of you?”

Christian walks nearer and sees what the man has in his hand: a small, black ring box.

“I don’t think so,” the teenager says. The police officer flips open the box to reveal a glimmering diamond ring.

“Is that Mom’s?” Caleb asks from the couch.

“No.” Christian reaches out and takes the box. “That’s why Dad was so nervous.”

Caleb looks at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Dad was acting super-weird when he was dropping me off. And he was supposed to meet Claire at Windmills. He was gonna propose to her.”

“No way.” Caleb finally stands and comes over to have a closer look at the ring. “Seriously?”

“Mom wouldn’t have dropped a ring in its box in the driveway,” Christian says. “And I’ve never seen her wear this before. Dad totally must’ve dropped it when he was here.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Caleb says, as the cop takes a step back and observes the twins. “What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do until we hear something from the police,” Christian says. “You haven’t heard anything yet, have you?”

The officer shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Officer Jimenez was on her way to where she sent those units — still no word on if anyone’s there, though.”

Christian stares down at the ring hopefully. Something about it seems so special, like it represents a future unfulfilled, the hope of things yet to come.

“Mom and Dad have to be there,” he says. “They have to be.”

Sarah Fisher Gray folds her arms tightly across her body as she paces the small, square waiting area in the emergency unit of King’s Bay Memorial Hospital. Ringing phones and loudspeaker announcements fill the air, but to Sarah, they are nothing more than empty background noise.

“Jake and Mia are ten minutes away,” Matt Gray says as he looks up from his phone.

“Good.” Sarah flashes a pointed stare at him. “I just wish someone would come out already and tell us something.”

Matt meets her gaze, attempting to see through it, or wear it down, or– he would do anything to melt down the wall of ice that has solidified between them tonight, mostly since Claire called to tell them about Tori and Marcus’s accident.

“If they’re actually operating, it means they can save them,” Matt offers. “That’s a good thing.”

“A good thing would be our pregnant daughter not in some operating room fighting for her life. And our nephew, too.”

Matt wilts at the force of her statement. He can hear the blame in her voice, even if she doesn’t spell it out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she says, wiping a hand over her eyes.

“I know. But Tori’s strong. She’s a fighter. And the baby — she’s so close to her due date, anyway…” He trails off, feeling Sarah’s anger searing into him.

“I’m never gonna forgive myself for what I did,” Matt says, “or for the way Tori found out. I screwed up worse than I ever thought I would again. This is all my fault.”

He can see Sarah soften slightly at the proclamation, as if taken aback by his straightforwardness. Before he can respond, however, Claire pushes her way through the swinging double doors and hurries toward them in her light-blue scrubs. Matt immediately tries to read news from her demeanor, as he sees her glancing around.

“Your brother and Mia aren’t here yet?” she asks.

“They’re a few minutes out,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“Is it Marcus?” Sarah asks as she steps up to his side, breathlessly awaiting information.

“Marcus is still in surgery,” Claire tells them. “The trauma to his head was more severe than I initially thought–”

Matt’s eyes bulge. “What does that mean? Is he gonna make it?”

“It’s too early to know anything aside from the fact that the surgery is more complicated than we originally expected. But he’s still fighting.”

With his stomach sinking, Matt tries to formulate his next question, but Sarah beats him to it.

“What about Tori?” she asks, though it comes out as more of a demand. “And the baby?”

“Tori’s out of surgery,” Claire says. “We have her stabilized.”

“Oh, thank god.” Sarah instinctively covers her face in relief, while Matt lets out a loud sigh.

But then they notice Claire’s expression. Rather than relaxing, it is tightening, hardening.

“The baby,” Sarah says in little more than an anguished whisper.

“There was significant trauma to Tori’s abdomen,” Claire tells them, even her voice tight. “The baby…” Her slight pause alone says it all, and she struggles to get the words out: “I’m so, so sorry. Tori’s baby didn’t survive the accident.”

Matt reaches out for Sarah, not caring if she pushes him away. But she doesn’t. Instead she remains still with shock.

“Our grandchild is dead?” she asks.

“I am so sorry,” Claire says. “If there was anything else we could have done…”

Sarah shakes her head in disbelief, her body trembling ever so slightly. Matt keeps his arms wrapped around her like a protective ring, determined to do anything he possibly can to ease both of their pain.

—–

Rosie whips the squad car around a bend in the road, just in time to see headlights coming wildly in her direction. Rosie’s nerves kick up, but she attempts to swerve.

The other car, however, loses control, and she sees its lights coming right at her.

“Shit!” she screams, doing everything she can to flip the car around before the horrific screeching and slamming of metal.

—–

The brilliant orange of the flames begins to fade into a soft yellow, blending with the red and blue of the emergency lights against the dark sky. A scant crew works to dull the fire, shielded from the billowing smoke by their gear.

Off to the side, EMTs apply oxygen masks to the two motionless bodies on the ground.

“The commissioner’s still breathing,” one tech reports.

“So is she, barely,” the other says. “Looks like we might’ve gotten them out in the nick of time.”

“They’re not out of the woods yet.” The first tech looks up at the charred vehicle slowly appearing through the smoke and fire. “Can’t believe whoever did this got away.”

“Maybe not. They can’t have gotten far. There’s still hope.”

—–

When Rosie opens her eyes, she can still hear the squad car’s siren blaring as its strobing lights throw red and blue all over the mountain. Quickly checking that she is okay — or, at least, okay enough to function — she throws open her door and steps out to survey the wreckage.

As she observes the other car, a dated sedan, smashed into one of her back taillights, she pulls her service weapon from her belt.

“King’s Bay PD! Step out of the vehicle!” she demands.

The other car is still for a prolonged moment. Through the darkness, and given her angle, she cannot make out anything or anyone inside it.

She holds her weapon aloft as she slowly steps sideways, hoping for a better vantage point.

And that is when the passenger side door opens.

“King’s Bay PD!” she shouts. “Arms in the air!”

Thankfully, she sees two arms move upward — but when the figure comes into view, she nearly loses hold of her gun.

“Rosie,” says the familiar, drowsy voice as it slithers through the night like a serpent. “Come on.”

“Diego,” she spits, her body quaking with fury as she tightens her grip on the weapon. “Give it up. It’s over.”

END OF EPISODE 975

Will Rosie finally bring down Diego and his ring?
Are Brent and Molly going to survive the fire?
How will the Gray family cope with this tragedy?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

 

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