HANLEY HOME

Leslie Hanley dips her tea bag into her cup before taking a sip. She anxiously sets the cup down on the coffee table and paces back and forth, checking her watch. Once Michael Hanley finally walks into the room, she hurries toward him.

"We need to get back to that hospital," Leslie says.

"In due time, Leslie," Michael says. "We should formulate some sort of plan of attack."

"Plan of attack? I don't need a plan of attack, I need a gun so I can kill the woman claiming that my husband is hers! She married him in New York? His name is Simon Price? I don't fucking think so!"

"Yes, she's clearly deranged," Michael says. '"But what if she's not?"

"What if she...what if she's not?"

"We don't know where Sean was, Leslie. Maybe he was in New York."

"Then why does he think he's Elizabeth Hanley then? Why does he have amnesia and the memories of your dead wife? If it was really some sort of trauma from the explosion that we thought killed him six years ago, then how could he have been lucid enough to marry someone else?"

Michael shrugs. "I don't know."

"And you know what, even if it's somehow true? It's not a legal marriage, just like mine and yours."

"You keep pointing that out," Michael says softly.

"Huh?" Leslie asks, not hearing Michael's comment.

Before Michael is able to respond, the doorbell rings. Riley Schaefer enters the living room with Alec Bale. Alec trades nervous glances with the adults in the room before Leslie finally greets him.

"Mrs. Hanley," Alec says. "It's good to see you."

"How many years have I been telling you to call me Leslie, Alec?"

"Right."

"Are you here to see Vince or something?"

"No, I'm here to see Mr. Hanley, actually."

Surprised, Leslie nods and goes toward the foyer. "I'm going to the hospital, Michael."

Riley follows Leslie out of the living room as Michael cautiously takes a seat on the arm of the couch. He leans forward, frowning at Alec.

"You're here to see me?" Michael says. "What exactly is it that I can do for you?"

"I know that you hate my father," Alec says. "And right now, I'm sure that you also know I hate him as much as you do. Probably even more."

Michael nods. "Yes. I know that."

"So I want your help," Alec says. "I want you to help me get revenge on my father...I want to destroy his life as much as he's destroyed mine."

VINCENT MOORE'S BEDROOM

"I'm heading out," Akilah Moore says, poking her head into Vince's room where her brother is seated across from Jessica Reyes. "In case anyone tries to assume I've been kidnapped again."

"Where are you going?" Vince says, narrowing his eyes.

"None of your business," Akilah says. "Oh, and by the way, your husband's here."

"Alec?" Jessica says, nervously rising to her feet. "Maybe I should go."

Akilah shrugs. "Whatever. I'm out."

As Akilah leaves, Vince takes Jessica's hand. "Don't leave. We're not done talking."

"I shouldn't have come here," Jessica says. "I don't even know why I did."

"Because we've been friends for years, and you needed someone to talk to," Vince says.

"We've never really been friends, Vince. You know that."

"Regardless. Getting divorced is a big step. Are you sure you want to go along with it?"

Jessica takes a deep breath. "I think so."

"Good," Vince says. "Because I think it's a good idea. You should get as far away from Alec as possible. You and Phillip."

"He's still going to be able to see his son."

"Not if you sue him for full custody. He's batshit crazy, Jessica. You don't need that in your life."

"I knew this was a bad idea," Jessica says, heading for the door.

Vince jumps to his feet. "What?!"

"This is about you hating Alec, isn't it? Me coming here is just giving you an excuse to start up a stupid war with him again."

"No it isn't," Vince says. "If I wanted to do that, then I'd be doing this..."

Vince takes Jessica by the arm and pulls her into a kiss. She lingers for a moment, caught up in past memories of being involved with Vince. But she quickly regains her composure and pushes Vince away.

"Stop that."

"I guess it's not much of a war if you want to be with me too," Vince says. "I mean, that is why you came here, right?"

Jessica shakes her head indignantly. "I came here because we're friends."

"You just said yourself, we've never really been friends."

"This was a bad idea." Jessica backs away from Vince, grabbing her purse from his bedroom dresser.

As she hurries out of the room, Vince watches her go with an odd intensity. He exhales deeply and collapses back onto his bed.



MARQUETTE COVE HIGH SCHOOL

Detective Jamie Grady steps down the stairwell leading into the high school's basement, unnerved by the sound of dripping water echoing throughout the room.

"Who knew I'd end up back in high school working with you," Joel Kincaid says, following Jamie into the basement, carrying a flashlight. "Did they shut off the power down here or something?"

"Or something is right," Jamie says. "Apparently the power hasn't been working here for the better half of a year. Even the janitor stays the hell out of this basement."

"So what even brings us down here? What's this have to do with a massacre at a beer factory?"

"Well, your original case had the same MO," Jamie says. "And one of those murders occurred here in the high school, right?"

"Yeah."

"Which means we should be turning this place up and down."

Joel nods. "Right."

"You've really been off your game dealing with those hypersexual college kids, huh?"

"Yeah. My biggest case has been roommates stealing each others' condoms."

"Then I'll bet you're really glad I called you to —" Jamie cries out as he trips over something in the dark. His flashlight flies out of his hand, skittering across the floor.

"You okay, buddy?" Joel says.

"Yeah...I'm good," Jamie says, groaning.




Quentin Blood stares out through the darkness, watching as Detective Grady slides across the floor, reaching for his flashlight. Quentin doesn't move an inch, doesn't breathe, doesn't alert anyone to his presence.

As Jamie grabs his flashlight and rises to his feet, his flashlight nearly illuminates Quentin in the darkness. Quentin quickly steps back, avoiding sight.

Keep looking for answers in the darkness, detectives...you may not make it back into the light.