“Footprints”
Episode 829

Previously...

- Danielle broke down and admitted to Brent that she needs help for her drinking.

- After a pregnant Natalie and her daughter moved in with Jason and Sophie, Helen expressed concern over Natalie co-parenting her granddaughter.

- Natalie’s ex-husband, Conrad, came to King’s Bay to act as Molly’s attorney after she was charged with murdering Philip.

“My name is Danielle… and it’s been one day since my last drink."

There. She did it.

Danielle Taylor looks over the basement of the community center, at the faces looking back at her — many of them familiar ones, like Patty and Edward, the de facto leaders of the area’s group whom she met when she moved back to town a decade ago. She has been dreading this moment for months and months, ever since she took that first sip of alcohol last year. She has feared the judgment and pity on their faces upon learning that she slipped, that she’s a fraud and her mentoring of newer members of the program has been all smoke and mirrors. She’s come to these meetings sporadically, wondering if each one would be the time she spoke up, but instead, she has sat silently, passing the time until she could make idle small talk afterward and then leave, the thought of a drink burning her brain. 

Until today.

Today she has said it. And they look back at her, not with judgment or pity, but with compassion and understanding. Because they have all been there, in one way or another, and they know what this is like. 

She doesn’t know why she resisted doing this for so long. 

-----

“And what was your relationship with Philip Ragan?"

Three sets of eyes focus on Tori Gray as Conrad Halston’s question hangs in the air. The young woman sits on one side of her grandmother’s dining room table, with her mother beside her and her aunt and the attorney facing them from the opposite side. 

Suddenly Tori is aware that she has been quiet for too long. “I didn’t know him that well,” she says.

“How did you know him?” Conrad asks.

“He was—“ Tori’s gaze flashes toward Molly before she can stop them, and the two share a moment of eye contact before Tori pushes onward. “He was engaged to my Aunt Molly. And he was my cousin Spencer’s brother."

“He was your cousin’s brother?” Conrad rubs the bridge of his nose and turns to Molly. “I know you explained this to me, but…"

Molly nods. “It’s complicated. Spencer — my nephew — was raised as Philip’s younger brother, but Philip isn’t actually related to our family. Which is good, because I was engaged to him."

Conrad’s eyes widen. “We need to make this sound as little like a circus as possible. Tori, we’re going to work on your answer to this, in case it hasn’t been clarified by the time you’re called to testify."

Tori glances over at Sarah uncertainly. 

“We’ll work on it,” Sarah says gently. “We don’t want you to feel unprepared up there."

“Why do I even have to do this?” Tori feels as if her entire body is itching, her skin crawling. 

“Because you are the only person Philip actually confessed to,” Conrad says, speaking slowly — which only irritates her further. 

“He admitted it to you guys, didn’t he?” Tori asks her mother and aunt.

Before they can answer, Conrad jumps in: “And they were on that balcony when he was shot. We need to do what we can to establish that Philip undeniably murdered all those people. It will help your aunt’s case immensely, I promise."

Tori fidgets in her chair but attempts to straighten out. She understands why this is necessary, but it doesn’t mean that she wants to do it. At all.

“Did you trust Philip Ragan?” Conrad asks, his tone shifting back into the calmer, more directed one he’s been using to ask her questions. 

She shrugs. “I don’t know."

“You need to give a definitive answer,” Conrad says. “Did you trust Philip Ragan?"

“No. I guess not. I thought I could…"

“Because your aunt nearly married him?"

“Yeah. I thought he was… he seemed like a nice guy. He was always nice to me. Until that night."

“The night you’re talking about — you’re referring to the night of October 16, correct?"

“Yeah."

“What happened that night?"

“I went over to his place,” Tori says, feeling her breathing become more labored. She walks herself through the logic that she has rehearsed so many times. Really, it isn’t that far off from what really happened. “To see Spencer — my cousin. But he wasn’t home."

“And Philip was?"

She nods, then reminds herself to answer aloud. “Yeah."

“Why did you stay if Spencer wasn’t home?"

Tori is sure that she can feel all of them staring at her, like they know she’s lying. But they don’t need to know that she went there thinking something would happen between her and Philip. From a distance of months and months, knowing what she knows now, it seems so stupid that she ever imagined that. He was obsessed with Molly. He was never interested in her. Even the little bit of truth she is about to admit causes her body to sting with embarrassment.

“I asked him for advice on art electives."

“College courses, you mean?” Conrad fills in.

“Yeah. He was a photographer, so I thought he might be able to explain some stuff. It wasn’t a big deal."

She feels as if they are all staring at her, like they can see through the lie and are waiting for her to crack. 

“I don’t even know why I stayed,” she hastens to add. 

“And what happened that night?"

Tori gulps before launching into her answer. “I found a duffel bag under his bed. Inside it was— I saw a pair of shoes that I recognized as the ones the killer had been using to leave the footprints."

“How did you recognize the shoes?"

“My Uncle Brent — he’s the police commander — had a picture of them that I saw. And the ones at Philip’s had red on the soles."

Conrad pauses and touches a fist to his chin. A sudden sense of dread rises up inside Tori.

“You found the bag under Philip’s bed?” Conrad asks.

“Yeah. I dropped something, and when I kneeled down to get it…"

“And why were you in there?"

Tori’s breath catches. “I told you, I was asking him for advice…"

“You did,” Conrad says. “But why were you in Philip’s bedroom?"

-----

The club slices through the air and skims over the top of the closely cropped grass before connecting with a satisfying thwack. As Jason Fisher finishes his swing, he watches the white ball soar down the green and nearly out of sight.

“Nice one,” Tim Fisher says from his spot several feet away. “Not as good as mine, but…"

“We’ll see how you do when it’s time to putt,” Jason says. “I seem to remember someone struggling a little on the fourth hole."

“Temporary glitch. Come on."

Jason joins Tim in the golf cart, and the brothers drive up toward the general area where their balls landed.

“I’m glad it’s finally nice enough to do this,” Tim says as he pilots the cart. 

“Yeah, I’ve been dying to get out here. Thank god Natalie was so eager to take the girls for manicures."

“How’s Sophie doing with having her and Bree in the house?"

Jason shrugs as he stares ahead at the expanse of green before them. “Fine, it seems like. She and Bree get along well. And Natalie’s generally pretty good with her."

Tim slows the cart to a stop. “Generally?"

“I mean, she is. She is. But she and Helen don’t always see eye-to-eye."

“Who could’ve predicted that?"

Jason chuckles, though it’s a little raw. “I know. It just feels like a constant balancing act. And as… intense as Helen can be, I do sort of get it. I’ve barely processed that I’m having another kid with someone who isn’t Courtney. It must be weird for her and Don, too. Like Sophie’s joining another family or something."

“Are you and Natalie talking about getting married?"

“We haven’t, really. Everything’s happened so fast. Just with the baby on the way, living together seems much more practical than worrying about a wedding.” He falls silent for a long moment. “I’m worried it’s getting a little awkward that I haven’t asked."

“Maybe that’s something you guys should talk about,” Tim says. “The way you explained it to me makes perfect sense."

“I guess. Yeah.” Jason nods as he works it all over in his mind. “It’s just so fast, you know? A year and a half ago, I was barely able to get myself to go on a date, and now…"

“And now you’re going to be bound to someone for life by a child."

“Yeah."

“Listen,” Tim says, hands gripping the steering wheel, “co-parenting doesn’t have to mean marriage and the perfect little house anymore. Things with Claire and Diane got much more complicated than I ever could’ve predicted, but we all found ways to make it work."

“I’m not saying I don’t want to be with Natalie—"

“I didn’t say that. But you also don’t need to make a decision about the rest of your life and stick to it just because Natalie’s pregnant. Point is, I think you’re being smart taking this one step at a time."

“I hope so.” His face stony, Jason climbs out of the cart and surveys the area. “You’ve got to be kidding me."

“What?” Tim asks as he gets out and joins his brother.

Jason points. “Mine’s in the damn sand trap."

Tim laughs. “Let’s see you get that thing somewhere near the hole before you taunt me about my putting, huh?"

-----

Danielle kneels down in the grass in front of the gravestone. The earth is damp beneath her, and she feels the springtime moisture seeping through the knees of her dark jeans as she settles in. It has been too long since she visited the cemetery; much like her meetings, she has been telling herself that she should go, promising herself that she would, but when the appointed times have come, she has felt overwhelmed and kicked the can down the road.

“I miss you,” she says as she reaches out a hand to touch the stone that marks the spot where Ryan Moriani is buried.

“I’ve made some mistakes,” she continues. She always feels a little self-conscious talking to him this way, but today it feels imperative. “I started drinking again. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even want to, really. It just… everything felt so bad, and it happened."

She takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. Wispy white clouds weave their way over and through the brilliant blue of the sky; it is one of those peaceful, perfect Northwest days that she realizes she has not taken the time to appreciate in far too long. 

“But I went to a meeting today,” she says, “and I spoke up. I haven’t had a drink since yesterday. And I feel like I’m turning a corner."

She keeps her hand on the cool stone, feeling its curve beneath her touch.

“I wish you were here so badly. I keep thinking about all the things we could be doing and how different life would be if you were — we had our whole marriage ahead of ourselves. A whole second act. And now I have no idea what mine is supposed to be."

She didn’t expect it — not after the emotional release of attending the meeting earlier — but the tears come suddenly and powerfully. She bows her head, increasingly blurry vision focused on the swath of green grass beneath her, as thoughts of regret and longing dash through her mind. 

“I wouldn’t have done it if you’d still been here,” she sobs. “I know I wouldn’t have."

“Danielle? Dear?"

The voice causes Danielle to startle, and she jerks upright as she looks over her shoulder. Standing a few feet away is Paula Fisher, a bouquet of colorful flowers clasped in her hands. 

Danielle wipes her eyes. “Paula, I’m—"

“I’m so sorry,” Paula says. “I was coming to see Ryan, and you seemed so upset— I can give you a minute—"

“No. Please. Come here.”

Danielle climbs to her feet as Paula joins her in front of the gravestone.

“I miss him so much, too,” Paula says.

“I do, too.” Danielle inhales deeply, hoping to gather all her anxiety in one place so that she can push it out again in a single, forceful breath. And when she does, she goes for broke: “I messed up, Paula. I fell off the wagon. I felt like… I felt like I had to tell him."

Clutching the flowers in one hand, Paula uses the other to squeeze Danielle’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Can I help at all? Have you been to any…"

“I just came from a meeting. I talked to Brent earlier. I’m going to get back on track. I am."

“Good.” Paula stoops down and sets the flowers at the foot of the stone. “He’s watching over you. He’s watching over all of us."

“I know,” Danielle says as her eyes fill with tears again. “I know."

-----

Tori’s focus falls to her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. I think he was getting something to show me. It’s all a little fuzzy…"

“You said you remembered running out of the loft and to the stairs,” Conrad says sternly. “But you don’t remember why you went into the bedroom?"

“I wasn’t taking notes!” Tori snaps.

“Go easy on her,” Sarah says.

“I’m not doing this to be mean,” Conrad says. “I’m trying to prepare her for what the prosecution is going to ask in cross-examination. If she says she doesn’t remember what happened inside Philip’s loft, then they can call into question whether she’s remembering his confession accurately."

“He attacked her and left her for dead!” Molly says.

“We don’t have any witnesses who can testify to that.” Conrad pauses and draws a slow, deep breath. “Tori, why were you in Philip’s bedroom?"

She feels something swelling inside her, a glowing, red ball of rage and confusion that becomes brighter and hotter until she feels it explode. She bursts out of her seat.

“I don’t know!” She bolts for the stairs. “I’m tired. I can’t do this now."

The three adults remain at the table, dazed and unsure. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Conrad says. “I know she’s under a lot of pressure — and that she went through something traumatic. But without her testimony being airtight, our case becomes a lot weaker.”

Sarah pushes her chair out from the table. “I’m going to go check on my daughter."

Molly and Conrad sit in silence as Sarah ascends the stairs. 

He chances a look at her. “You don’t think she’s hiding anything, do you?"

“No! What would she be hiding? The man put her in a coma."

“You know what I mean."

Molly sets her jaw. “No. You think Philip could’ve…?"

“I don’t know, Molly. But something is inconsistent here. And if your niece’s story gets picked apart by the prosecution, it is not going to be good for you."

Molly looks toward the stairs; only the bottom of the bannister is visible from their post in the dining room. 

“This is all my fault,” she says quietly. “If I hadn’t been so stupid…"

“It sounds like Philip Ragan had a lot of people fooled."

“My father is dead. My brother is dead. My niece was traumatized and almost died, and now we’re putting her through this."

“We’re doing this to clear your name. Which you deserve. The man was a monster."

“And I brought him into our lives,” she says. 

“You can’t change that. All we can do now is put up the strongest defense possible."

“Yeah,” Molly says, though she isn’t sure that could come close to being enough.

END OF EPISODE 829

Will Tori’s testimony be able to help Molly?

Is Jason having second thoughts about Natalie?

What should come next for Danielle?

Join us in the Footprints Forum to discuss it now!

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