The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 16: “”Suffer the Children”

MONDAY MORNING, LONDON… SUNDAY EVENING, LOS ANGELES

Ever since her arrival in the United Kingdom, it seemed Allison was receiving the coldest reception. It was if Callum’s essence still resided in his homeland, for within hours she had been mugged and had lost her wallet, cell phone, and passport in the process. Fortunately, she had at least one credit card in her pocket and some clean clothing in her lone carry-on luggage that she had brought with her from her hospital office. After meeting with the necessary authorities, she checked into her hotel and fell asleep, the obvious effect of both jet lag and the horrendous incident.

When she awakened, she had wanted to call Chloe, but she couldn’t risk Callum finding out—much less deal with Chloe’s curiosity as to why she had left the country without telling her. She’s probably worried sick over me. I’ll be back home soon, Honey, and Callum will be a thing of the past. His reign of terror will be over once I get the necessary information needed to stop him. Perhaps I should leave Chloe a message so that she doesn’t get too worried. Allison dialed the house number from the hotel and left a simple message that she was away and would be back in a few days—and most of all for her not to worry and that all would be explained when she came back home.

Hopefully that will calm her nerves. Unfortunately for Allison, Chloe would not get the message since shortly thereafter leaving it on the answering machine, there came a power outage that erased it moments before Chloe enter the darkened house. Taking notice of the darkness, Chloe fumbled for the flashlight, and with its assistance found her way upstairs, packed a few articles of clothing, and rushed back downstairs and outside none the wiser that Allison had attempted to reach her.

As she was locking the front door, Chloe was startled by a voice. Spinning around, she was met with the presence of a tall, middle-aged, mustachioed man who immediately identified himself as Detective Jack Milton.

Milton: I’m sorry to have startled you, Miss Dalton?

Chloe: Have we met? How do you know me?

Milton: I spoke with your partner Dr. Trudeau the other day.

Chloe (anxiously): Allison? Have you seen her?

Milton: No, I haven’t. That’s why I came by here. I needed to speak with her about the park incident. When was the last time you saw her?

Chloe (growing antsy): Friday night.

Milton: That’s nearly forty-eight hours ago, Ms. Dalton. And you haven’t heard from her since then? (looking at the mini-suitcase beside her leg)

Chloe: Detective, I really need to go. As you can see, there’s a neighborhood blackout, and I don’t really feel comfortable staying here in the dark all by myself.

Milton: Yes, I understand. The heat has really come down on this city. I’m sure there’ll be more blackouts as a consequence.(pause) So Dr. Trudeau has just disappeared, leaving you all alone in this state. You were both attacked in the park. Of course, I needn’t remind you of that. I’m just finding it a little odd that your partner would “skip out on you” like this.

Chloe: Detective, I really should go now.

Milton: Please let me know if and when you hear back from Dr. Trudeau. It’s urgent I speak with her.

Chloe: I will. Thanks.

Milton: I’ll be in touch with you.

Chloe watched as the detective strode down the sidewalk and got into his car, driving off in the eastward direction. Grasping the handle of the wheeled suitcase, she rushed over to her car in the driveway, quickly got inside it, turned down the soothing classical music that had been left playing on the radio, and started the engine before leaving her darkened neighborhood.

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY EARLY EVENING

While Tristan had chosen to volunteer at the Pride Weekend beer booths, Heath had stayed at the apartment all day, tidying the place and consequently incurring the wrath of Vittoria, who knew where to find her stuff amid her clutter. His cleaning had upset her method of style, her nerves already frayed ever since she got that phone call from Brendon a few nights ago. She had tried to call Callum, but he was not returning her messages. Something has to be done about Brendon. Surely Callum will take care of him. He won’t let him walk out that hospital in good condition, especially if he’s dead set on stealing Nathan from Brendon.

Heath, clad in only Tristan’s black silk boxers, was in the kitchen, preparing something delicious, its aroma wafting into the living room, stimulating Vittoria’s appetite. Maybe Tristan should keep this fag. He cooks and cleans (as long as he stays away from my shit). She flipped on the television at the same time there was a knock at the door.

Vittoria: Could you get that?

Heath (opening the door): Y-Yes.

Bralen: Is Tristan here?

Heath (coldly): No, he isn’t. Is there a message I can give him?

Bralen: I thought he’d be back home by now. I saw him at the festival beer booth earlier today. I wanted to show him my medal and cele— (awkward pause as he notices Tristan’s boxers on Heath) Uh, why are you here?

Heath (candidly): I’m with Tristan now.

Vittoria (turning around, bored with the television and more thrilled with the burgeoning drama in the apartment): You tell him, Girlfriend!

Bralen (laughing): What are you talking about, Heath?

Vittoria (getting off the couch and coming over): I think what Goldilocks is trying to say is that Tristan has dropped your ass for someone who cooks and cleans and doesn’t do all those strange exercises you do.

Bralen: It’s called yoga, and I’m an instructor, a yogi. (turning to Heath) And as far as I know, Tristan and I are still together. He didn’t give any indication that he wanted out. Besides, aren’t you with Kyle?

Heath (his demeanor visibly softening): No, that didn’t work out.

Vittoria (to Bralen): So I guess he’s gone after yo’ man. Now you two don’t mess up your hair getting into some bitch fight.

Bralen (pushing past Heath and going into the living room): I need to speak with Tristan.

Vittoria and Heath (in unison): He’s not here!

Bralen: Then I’ll wait for him. He’s got some explaining to do.

Heath: What’s there to explain? He’s over you and he wants me back.

Bralen: Back? Just how long have you “been with” Tristan?

Heath: Longer than he’s been with you. He was with me last night.

Vittoria: Ooh, snaps! Tell it to him, Girl!

Bralen (in full rebuttal mode): While that may be true, just who do you think he was with the night before that? (pause) That’s right. Me!

Vittoria: Yogi the Bear does have a point. He was here Friday night, and from the sounds of it, there was a third wheel involved.

Heath (incredulously): What?

Vittoria: Let me simplify this for you two bitches: YOU BOTH BEEN PLAYED! My whore ass roommate got what he wanted out of the both of you.

Bralen (to Vittoria): Would you just butt out?

Vittoria: Fine, but he’s done this a lot. And for what it’s worth, I like Heath better. As I said before, he cooks, cleans, and he’s not as loud when Tristan’s banging him.

Bralen (insulted): I’m leaving. Just tell him I stopped by. (slamming the door behind him)

Heath: Thanks, Vittoria.

Vittoria: Now get your ass back into the kitchen and finish dinner. I’m starving.

PRIDE WEEKEND FESTIVAL, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY LATE AFTERNOON

Tristan had the most interesting day capped off with one of his most memorable nights. He had decided to work the beer booths today as he had ditched his volunteer responsibilities yesterday, and he narcissistically knew that whenever he tended the booths, he always earned the most in tips, his striking good looks the primary reason. He had been there all through the pandemonium of the baby disappearance that had threatened to shut down the whole festival.

He had no idea that he would become greatly embroiled in it. Toward the end of his six hour shift, his last customer was Peyton, who had arrived already drunk as a skunk, apparently having been thrown out a bar after exceeding his drinking limit.

Tristan: You’re not driving home like this?

Peyton (slurring): No, I-I’m a responsible person.

Tristan: Was it the booze or the size of my cock that’s got you brain dead? (pause) Just kidding. Hope you had fun the other night.

Peyton: I need to lay off the booze.

Tristan (gesturing to him): Come on back here and sit down. You need to sober up some. (pause) So I guess you heard about Callum’s son and the kidnapping. It’s really sad… would hate to be in his shoes.

Peyton: I-I need another dr-drink. (pause) You should bring out the cigars for Father’s Day.

Tristan: That was last weekend, you doofus, and besides you’re not a father.

Peyton: I’m the father of Callum’s baby. (putting finger to his mouth) Shhh! B-But no one’s supposed to know that… it’s just our little secret.

At that moment Peyton officially passed out, leaving Tristan in a state of confusion. Though it was a general rule of thumb to never put much stock into an inebriated Peyton, Tristan knew that sometimes alcohol loosened not only one’s libido but also one’s secrets. He had heard Allison mention that Callum and Peyton had a brief past back in London last year. Wait a minute! Peyton was Callum’s shrink after Callum had tragically lost his partner. That baby is not that old. There’s no way that rich husband fathered that child when he was still alive. Could there be some truth to what Peyton said? Could he be the father? And more importantly, was Callum passing the child off as his late partner’s? And if so, did Callum’s wealthy in-laws know this?

The wheels of his ingenious mind turning, Tristan thought he had just found a way to possibly get back at Callum for all the things he had done to him. It was then that Tristan received the call that would potentially change his life forever.

DETECTIVE MILTON’S HOME, LOS ANGELES, SUNDAY EVENING

Detective Milton arrived home after grabbing a quick bite at a hamburger stand. It had been an eventful weekend amounting to nothing. All he had was a mountain of speculative information, and concrete evidence was what he needed. He had his mind on three people: Dr. Allison Trudeau, Dr. Peyton Ashland, and Callum Sutcliffe. He had spoken with the staff of Hollywood Hospital, and no one had seen Dr. Trudeau since early yesterday—over 36 hours ago! Not even her partner knows where she’s gone off to… or was that just an act? Ms. Dalton genuinely looked surprised as if she hadn’t heard from Dr. Trudeau, but then again I did put the fear of the law into her partner, paying her that unexpected visit at the hospital. Perhaps the good doctor skipped town. That makes her guilty as hell in my book, blackmailing Dr. Ashland with that sex DVD in her possession.

In spite of these ruminations, his mind kept coming back to Chloe. She seemed to be in a hurry. It was true that an electrical blackout had gripped the neighborhood of Los Feliz earlier this evening, but there was just something suspect about her behavior. I wonder if she was ditching town along with Dr. Trudeau. I’ve heard about these lesbian pairings that evade the law like Thelma and Louise and that duo of hot chicks from that Bound movie. I should have found out where she was going. She looked too innocent and harmless to be involved in something unlawful, but those are the ones you’ve got to really watch out for!

One person he knew who easily wore the blanket of guilt was Dr. Peyton Ashland. That man was terrified when I made the slight remark about finding a DVD, and the most surprising aspect was that I didn’t indicate it was a sex DVD. I’m sure I could push some of his buttons and get him to admit that Dr. Trudeau was blackmailing him. But where does Callum Sutcliffe fit into this?

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, EARLY MONDAY MORNING

The haunting sounds of Radiohead’s “All I Need” opens the scene as Godfrey stands silently outside Callum’s bedroom door, having knocked several times. His impatience reaching its peak, Godfrey twisted the knob and entered the chambers only to find Callum, lying crouched in a corner, the salty remnants of tears blemishing his face, his lips murmuring nonsensical words, one of which the elderly servant recognized as “Somerset,” which closely followed the name “Gavin,” that of Lord Armitage’s birth name. Godfrey soon realized that Callum was in a near catatonic state, holding a picture of Lord Armitage close to his chest as he continued mumbling the words.

Godfrey: Are you all right, my Lord? (pause) Mr. Moynihan is downstairs in the reception area. He’s come to check on you.

Callum (the reference to Nathan having awakened him from his trance): Have they made any developments in the case?

Godfrey: None of which I’ve been informed. There are some reporters and camera crewmen outside. Do you wish to make a statement?

Callum (still crouched): This is not what I wanted. This publicity is not good. Everything’s falling apart. I’ve lost everything. I’ve made a wreck of too many people’s lives already. This is karma for what I did with Justin. Now I know what I put Nathan through, but I’ll be damned if I ruin an innocent child’s life. I’ll do whatever it takes for his safe return.

Godfrey: Do you wish for me to get rid of the reporters?

Callum (rising and moving toward the door): No, I’ll handle them.

Godfrey: (his hand shooting out and stopping Callum from moving any further) I’m sure you wouldn’t want Mr. Moynihan (wresting the framed photo from Callum’s possession) to see you in this state.

Callum (mental clarity momentarily coming back to him): Thank you, Godfrey, for averting that catastrophe.

Callum rushed into the bathroom quickly to shower and get dressed and then rushed downstairs to see Nathan sitting on the couch.

Nathan (rising): Callum, how are you?

Callum: I’m not sure I’ll make it through today. I was just about to speak to the media.

Nathan: Did you want me to stand by you? (pause) That sounded awkward to say.

Callum: I know what you meant. Nathan, I really appreciate your support, but you really should be at the hospital with Brendon and Justin.

Nathan (firmly placing his hand on Callum’s shoulder): I’ll head there after I’ve made sure you’re fine.

They then went outside, and over the news camera Callum thanked everyone for all their assistance and support in this matter. He pled with whomever had taken Edward to safely return him, specifically stating that he would pay a hefty sum if he were brought home soon. Callum then burst into tears and nearly collapsed onto the ground had Nathan’s strong arms not been there to catch him. The news camera caught this moment in all its histrionic glory.

DRAKE AND AUSTIN’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SAME TIME (MONDAY MORNING)

Watching the news, Austin Monroe placed another private call on his cell as he enjoyed his second cup of strong, black coffee that morning. This time the call was answered on the second ring.

Austin: Hey, Lance, did you get the results?

Lance: You owe me big time for going into the lab on a Sunday night to test the contents of a syringe.

Austin (impatiently): Well, is it…?

Lance: Meth? No, it wasn’t. I won’t bother you with its polysyllabic clinical name, but it was steroids. (pause) Why was it so important to know this, Austin? Are any of your boys taking this to buff up for their spreads?

Austin: No, all my models are clean. Anyway, Lance, thanks for the favor. Let’s do lunch sometime .

So Mr. Olympian Bralen Jones is taking steroids. Some act he put on yesterday when got a personal record in the Pride Run. Well, you can kiss your Olympic dreams goodbye once the IOC finds out about this. At that moment, Drake stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and yawning.

Drake: Are you watching the news? Callum is on.

Austin (turning around to the television in time to see Nathan catch a fainting Callum): Was that Nathan?

Drake: Yeah, it looks like him. Even with such a despicable person like Callum, Nathan has always been such a considerate and supportive guy.

Austin (sotto voce): And a possible pedophile. (aloud) I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m definitely running for president of Outrunners. This club is fast going to hell in a hand basket.

Drake: Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m sure things will calm down by the time elections are held in December.

Austin: I’m not waiting until then. I’m talking a special recall to immediately replace Brendon and Nathan as executive leaders.

Drake: Are you serious? I think all that talk about Governor Schwarzenegger has gone to your head.

Austin: Yeah, well, that’s how he became governor of California, supplanting Gray Davis. I’m within my own rights. I’ve read the bylaws and all I need is a majority of club signatures. I’ve already drafted the petition, and I’m getting ready to send out an official email announcement of my candidacy.

Drake: Why is this so important?

Austin: Drake, you and I practically ran and represented Outrunners during Pride Weekend. On Friday, you had to speak on behalf of the Executive Board since Allison had to take Chloe home. Brendon and Nathan were also nowhere to be seen that evening. On Saturday, I had to do extra time volunteering because Bralen wasn’t feeling well—not to mention that Tristan ditched his duties that day. And well, yesterday we had to give out medals to the winners. Sheesh! Sometimes I feel like we are the Los Angeles Outrunners. (pause) Besides, if you knew what I’ve learned about a few of our club members over this weekend, you’d want to do some cleaning shop as well.

Drake: What did you find out?

Austin: I’m sure you’ll learn of it soon enough without my telling you.

Drake: What about your business relationship with Brendon’s production company? Won’t this cause much tension between you two?

Austin: Not really. I mainly work with his business partner. At any rate, I need to know you’ll support me.

Drake: You know I will.

Austin (kissing him): Good! Now that’s settled. What’s for breakfast?

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY, LATE MORNING

Rodrigo arrived at Callum’s home under the guise of getting all of his autographed novels. He really wanted to know how Callum was holding up. He had seen the news coverage that morning, and saw that Callum had fainted. He looked awful onscreen and he was still with that Nathan guy. What’s the deal with those two? They were together all day yesterday. I should have been there for you, Callum, instead of him. Next time… definitely next time!

Godfrey answered the door and cautiously let Rodrigo enter, sending him to the reception area while he went to alert Callum. Rodrigo could hear some weeping in the background and knew it definitely wasn’t Callum who was doing it, for he soon heard the tone of his calm voice.

Callum (heard prior to his entrance into the reception area): Inga, would you please take your wailing into the other wing? I already have a headache, and you’re only making it worse.

Rodrigo (rising): Mr. Sutcliffe.

Callum: You’ll have to pardon Inga. She partially blames herself for what happened to Edward. She was not feeling well enough yesterday to accompany me to the Pride Run to properly look after Edward.

Rodrigo: Have you heard anything?

Callum: Nothing so far, although I’ve been on the phone with the police department one too many times. (pause) Anyway, I assume you’re here for the books. They’re in the other room. I’ll get them—

Rodrigo: No, don’t worry. It’s the same room as the other day, right? (leaves upon Callum’s affirmative nod)

As he rose and went into the room, his backpack fell off the seat, its contents spilling on the floor. Callum immediately noticed his name either inscribed or typed onto various letters. He soon realized it was mail. What would Rodrigo be doing with it? Perhaps he was kind enough to bring inside to me. Picking up the packets, he rifled through it until he came across a nondescript envelope that had just his name written upon it. He opened it and read what he had both feared and expected—a ransom note for the safe return of Edward.

HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL, EARLIER THAT DAY

After leaving Callum’s house, Nathan decided it was time to clean up his own mess. I need to get to the hospital and set things straight with Justin… get him to confess to lying before this blows out of control. Once he reached the floor of Justin’s room, he was met with a reception that he had experienced just an hour before at Callum’s—namely the media. There were two reporters in the room with Justin, one of whom had a camera on him. What were they talking about?

Nathan (knocking and entering): Justin, I need to speak with you.

Justin: I have nothing to say to you, Nathan.

Nathan: Why are you lying about this?

Reporter: Are you Mr. Nathan Moynihan?

Nathan (to cameraman): Would you turn that off? (to reporter) Would you mind stepping out for a moment? I need to speak with him privately.

Justin: Nathan, leave me alone. (to reporter) Could you call security?

Nathan: I can’t believe you’ve gone to the media with this bogus lie.

Justin: I already spoke with the WeHo Beat and the Hollycove Tribune. People need to know what kind of a sick guy you really are!

At that moment, a security guard entered the room—a cue for Nathan to leave, but he rushed up to Brendon’s room where he go the coldest reception of them all.

Nathan: Bren, he’s gone to the media with this story. You have to stop him. What if people—the school board—hear about this?

Brendon: I’m sure “your boyfriend” can afford you an expensive attorney. I’m sure it’s the least he can do for you providing him a warm body to fall back into—like you did earlier this morning for him on TV.

ESTRELLA TARTARO’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SUNDAY EVENING

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of excitement for Estrella. On Sunday morning, she had awakened with the worst hangover, barely recalling what had happened on Saturday night, although finding a sleeping woman in bed next to her lent her somewhat of an idea of what happened. It had been one of those nights. She would have to go through the same shtick, breaking it to her easily that she was not that interested in women and that last night had been a mistake. She didn’t know the woman’s name.

Estrella rose and took a shower. When she came out, she was spared the ordeal, for the woman had apparently taken leave. Well, I hope she loses my address. I still can’t believe I did that. Oh, well, hopefully it was good enough for her since I don’t remember a damn thing. It was then that she got a phone call from one of her clients, seeking to settle a case out of court. This is potentially good news, although I’m not sure it’ll fly well. She went to prepare something to remedy her headache and fell back asleep out of sheer exhaustion. She woke up a few hours later, put in a call to Tristan, who reluctantly made it over to her house later that evening.

Tristan: What do you want, Estrella? I thought I told you it was over between us.

Estrella: Well, I thought you would want to know that the Debenhams are willing to settle out of court. They’re asking for $300,000.

Tristan: I was quoted a rumored figure of $250,000.

Estrella: What difference does it make? I’m betting either way you don’t have the money.

Tristan: Get that look out your eyes, Estrella. I know what you’re thinking.

It was then that the door rang, prompting Tristan to dart into the adjoining room, not wanting to be seen in Estrella’s company. She opened the door, and there stood the woman to whom she had awakened in bed that morning—only this time she held an infant in her arms. What the hell?

Estrella: Yes, how may I help you?

Chloe: I had no one else to turn to. Some people are trying to take my baby away from me.

The child started crying, and Chloe attempted to coo him back to sleep. Estrella gestured for her to come inside. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into this time? Then came a flicker of memory.

Estrella: You came by the legal aid booth yesterday. Now, you said someone is trying to take your baby. I’m assuming you’re talking about the biological father and perhaps a custody battle he’s waging.

Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing—or rather eavesdropping. He recognized Chloe’s voice and knew damn well she wasn’t he mother of the baby she was claiming as hers. What a coincidence that Callum’s son goes missing, and Chloe miraculously has a baby now—especially after her outbreak at Fancy’s Restaurant on Friday night when she thought the baby was hers.

Chloe: Estrella, I really need your help. They want to take my baby from me.

Estrella: Who are they?

Chloe: The police!

It was then that Tristan hatched his scheme.

KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, MONDAY

Nick Lachey’s “I Can’t Hate You Anymore” plays over the following scene as darkness swallowed the figure of Kyle Walgrove. He had called in sick to the station and sat in the living room in the reclining chair, thinking of the mess he had made of his life. He had closed the blinds and turned off the lights, although slivers of light managed to slip into the room, revealing that the infamous photo album lay in his lap. He had gone through the task of removing any indication of Tristan and Heath from it. The ashes of those photos lay at the bottom of the nearest trash bin. Kyle’s hand shot out and grasped the bottle of vodka, and he took a quick swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the growing stubble as he hadn’t shaved in two days.

He flipped through the expurgated album, recalling Heath’s laughter and amusement at the photos in the front. How things would be different if he hadn’t strayed from our love. We were so good together. I loved you, and you loved me. No, not loved… but love… I still love you, Heath, but you’ve moved on… moved onto that bastard Tristan. His hand automatically brushed over the loaded gun lying on the arm of the chair. That bastard doesn’t deserve you. He ruined you… desecrated you… turned you into some sex freak… you’re not the same man, but I can’t give up on you… on us! Kyle’s hand then tensed as he firmly grasped the gun.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, SUNDAY NIGHT/MONDAY NOONTIME

Estrella stood paralyzed at the reference to the police. Had this woman kidnapped this baby? And was I foolish enough to sleep with her last night? Oh, God, I’ve got limit the booze to two. Estrella’s cell phone rang at that moment. She answered it, instantly seeing a panicked Chloe head for the door.

Tristan (on the phone): Don’t let her leave!

Estrella: Please don’t go! I can help you.

Tristan: Come up with some excuse to make Chloe stay.

Chloe? So that was the woman’s name. I vaguely remember that name from the bar last night. But why is Tristan giving me instructions?

Estrella: Chloe, please stay. We can talk about your case.

Chloe: Oh, thank you, Estrella. I-I knew you would understand that a mother shouldn’t be separated from her baby.

Estrella: What’s his name?

Chloe: The police and everyone keep calling him Edward, but that’s not the name I gave him. His real name is Jacob. (pause) Who’s that you’re talking to on the phone?

Tristan: Tell her it’s a friend from work. Make some excuse to come me in the other room.

Estrella (to Chloe): It’s a coworker at the festival. (speaking into the phone) I’ll call you back later. (snapping phone shut)

Chloe (the baby having started crying again): I think he needs changing, but I’ve run out of diapers.

Estrella: I’ll go get some fresh cloths from the other room. That’ll suffice until we can get to the store. Be right back (leaving the room and entering the other one)

Tristan (whispering): Good job!

Estrella: What the fuck is this, Tristan? Do you know that woman? Is that even her baby?

Tristan: No, it’s not. She kidnapped him earlier today.

Estrella: What the—

Tristan: Shh! The poor girl thinks it’s hers! She did the same thing Friday night—not wanting to give the baby back to Callum except Allison was nearby to calm her down.

The reference to those two names helped Estrella put the pieces together. Ah hah! Chloe… as in Chloe Dalton, partner to Dr. Allison Trudeau, both of whom were attacked in Griffith Park. I read that she had miscarried her baby as a result of the attack. And now she thinks that this baby is hers, but it’s Callum’s… as in Callum Sutcliffe! What a coincidence!

Estrella: I need a drink!

Tristan: Now is not the time to get drunk. Listen, I’ve just figured a way for us to get rich quickly. Are you game for it?

Estrella: What are you thinking?

Tristan: Chloe is practically harmless. Make up some reason for her to stay the night. We can take the baby away from her when she’s not looking. Like I said, it happened last Friday at a restaurant.

Estrella: And then what? We contact Callum and get a reward for returning his son?

Tristan (adamantly): No.

Estrella: Pardon?

Tristan: Not reward but ransom.

That had been last night, and Tristan had managed to get Estrella to go along with the plan. She had even worked her mojo to get Chloe to stay the night. He had caught the morning news and had seen Callum was willing to pay for the safe return of Edward. It was then that he had crafted the note, cryptically wording it in such a way to ensure Callum’s full cooperation.

The ransom note should be there by now. I had dropped it in the mailbox seconds after the postman made his daily delivery. Callum’s definitely going through with this… or else his perfect world will come crashing down upon him.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY NOONTIME

Godfrey: Shouldn’t we contact the police about the ransom note?

Callum: Absolutely not! We’ve already received too much unwanted publicity. What if this got back to Eleanor and the rest of Gavin’s family? Thank goodness, most Americans aren’t into following the lives of famous authors. This shouldn’t make national news.

Godfrey (disbelievingly): So you’re going to give into the demands of the ransom?

Callum: If the police know of this ransom, it will definitely become a media storm, and I definitely can’t risk that. Besides, do you think the Los Angeles police can really find Edward? Hell, they couldn’t find Justin, and he was staying with me the whole time—mere yardage from his own home.

Godfrey: May I see the letter? (given it and glancing through it) Bloody hell! One million dollars! Whoever kidnapped him knew you were wealthy. (pause) The demands seem fairly simple. Obviously, they want no police to be notified of this letter, but to leave the money in a briefcase on the banks of the Los Angeles River seems rather questionable to me. And just where is this Atwater Village location?

Callum: I looked it up online. It’s near Silver Lake, and the Los Angeles River runs through it. I don’t care how odd a location it may seem. That doesn’t matter to me. I just want this to be over. I’ve already spoken with my accountants, and they’re working on getting the money prepared.

Godfrey: Can you even trust them not to go to the police? Naturally, their suspicions shall be alerted with your asking for such a large sum of money so soon after your son’s disappearance.

Callum: They know to be discreet about this measure. (pause) Why do you look so pensive, Godfrey? You don’t think this a good measure?

Godfrey: I wish I knew who was behind this whole heinous act. Surely you must know who’s behind it.

Callum: I have a whole legion of enemies but none that would purposely abduct a child. My first thought was that nutter Chloe. She did think Edward was her baby and didn’t want to give him back to me at the restaurant the other night.

Godfrey: Well, have you gone to see her? Perhaps she is the—

Callum (cutting him off): No, she wouldn’t be behind this. Besides, it like I just told you. She wouldn’t want to give the baby back to me, therefore I can’t imagine her asking for ransom for his return!

Godfrey (heavily sighing): Okay, who else could it be? Perhaps Mr. Moynihan’s partner?

Callum: Brendon? He’s wheelchair-bound. I can’t imagine him engineering this scheme. (sighing heavily now and frantically raking his hands through his hair) I honestly don’t know what to think anymore. I just want Edward back home!

Godfrey: You honestly haven’t been in your right mind since this morning when I found you upstairs. Callum, I’ve never seen you in such a state since Lord Armitage was lost at sea.

Callum: And you only call me by my birth name when you’re really worried.

Godfrey: You very nearly made a mistake this morning that would have unwittingly blown your cover.

Callum (sighing deeply): Which may already be blown, given what I know.

Godfey: What had you at such unease? And don’t lie to me. I can read you like a book, you know.

Callum (softly spoken): Just like Gavin could read me. (suddenly falling into the nearest chair, his face contorting into an expression of sincere trepidation)

Godfrey: You kept saying his name this morning. Had you dreamt of him again? That must be what has you so distressed. (pause) Were you dreaming of a holiday you had with him in Somerset? (suddenly witnessing a shade of fear in Callum’s eyes and rushing to explain himself) You kept murmuring “Somerset” alongside Lord Armitage’s name in your catatonic state so I assumed you were talking about a holiday—

Callum (cutting him off): Gavin and I never went to Somerset together. I was speaking not of the county but of Somerset House.

Godfrey (shockingly making the connection): Oh, my God!

Callum (recognizing the astonishment in Godfrey’s eyes): Yes, someone foolishly went in search of information about me at Somerset House.

Gavin: Well, that’s not an instant cause for concern. They won’t immediately find anything.

Callum: You’re quite right there. But it’s only a matter of time before they find their way to Identity and Passport Services, and should they go in search of me there, we both know what will be found. It would lead them straight to Gavin, and that must be prevented at all costs.

TO BE CONTINUED…