When Phoenix Wright returned to Los Angeles, he had been hoping for at least one day of downtime. He hadn't expected to be thrust back so quickly into the strange mix of cases he had left behind mere days ago. Perhaps that was even his reason, his motive for what he was doing right now. If he could just get this one thing out of the way, perhaps he would have earned that much desperately sought-after downtime. But in the end, much of it was for the sake of his friends and family.

He had barely stepped off the train when something compelled him to make that call. It wasn't simply a feeling of wanting to catch up with everyone else; it was almost as if he knew some big news awaited him. Of course, such a thing was impossible; he had spent the last three days in the company of his adopted daughter, the cousin of his former mentor, and many friends of that cousin. He hadn't at all had the time to call in to his friends at home, not that the wireless signals were strong in the mountains. Still, he was shocked when he heard what his friends had to say.

"Your timing could not be better, Wright," Edgeworth had told him over speakerphone. "This is truly an unexpected turn of events."

"But what does it mean?" Phoenix had asked. "So what if the letter is in Franziska's own handwriting this time? I mean, how do you figure she's alive based on that? How do you know it's not some old letter she forgot to send?"

"It's...specific, Mr. Wright," Adrian had responded. "She mentioned something that happened in the museum just this month. It must be recent."

Phoenix remained skeptical. "I don't know. Could you start over, from the very beginning? Maybe read the letter again? It was kind of long, and nothing really jumped out at me the first time."

"Okay. I was showing Miles out. We were right at the door, and I stepped on something. It was an envelope. I'm sure it wasn't there before Miles showed up. I picked it up and opened it, and this is what it said." There was the sound of paper unfolding. "'Dearest Adrian, I must apologize for my recent behavior. How distant I must seem - with all the technology at hand, there is still a mountain between us. In all the world, I have never had a friend as good as you. But now I must say goodbye. This city, once filled with my dreams, as wide as my hopes of crushing foolish fools in the courtroom, has become as small and cramped as a substandard apartment complex (particularly those pathetic studios that Scruffy inhabits), and so I must move on. I thank you for all you have done for my courtroom cases. You have been a much bigger help than that pitiful detective, or even that sad big brother of mine. I hope I have returned the favor sufficiently, and not in the manner of dropping half-eaten snacks on your desk like that strange boss of yours. Well, it will be a long trip back to Europe for me. Take care, and never forget what I have taught you. -Franziska von Karma.'"

"Hmm." Phoenix took in the whole letter again, trying to pick out specific words. "Well...hmm. She's still calling you 'big brother,' Edgeworth, so that much is still off."

"That much we agree on, Wright," the man replied. "Nevertheless, it is still her writing."

"Adrian, what were you saying with some recent event in the museum?"

"Oh. Yes, Franziska...she mentioned that in the letter. I had managed to get a deal with an heiress who owns Civil War artifacts. She wanted us to display them in honor of her great-great-great-grandfather, who fought in the war, and she said that money was no object. Of course, I didn't want to take advantage of that too much, so we worked out some numbers. My boss was ecstatic to hear of this, so much that he offered me the other half of the granola bar he had been nibbling on."

Phoenix had heard of cheapskates and terrible gift-givers all his life, but there were few stories worse than the one Adrian had just told him. "That's...pretty bad. So...that really did happen? Just this month? That's...what, within the last two or three weeks?"

"Almost two weeks ago," Adrian said. "Although, I'm not sure about what she means about thanking me. I wasn't much help to her during the Nickel Samurai case, and she disappeared before I could help her with the new case, assuming it was the appeals case. I did offer research on her other cases, too, but nothing big."

What is so strange about this letter? Phoenix asked himself. Obviously, he couldn't tell from the appearance, since Adrian and Edgeworth currently had the item. But much more was suspicious than some comments that only made partial sense, or the fact that Franziska was going back to Germany with only the letter to relay the news. There was just something off about the whole thing, and it was so oddly worded, as though Franziska was trying to convey something without mentioning too much. But what? If she was truly in trouble, was this a cry for help? Phoenix thought back to the bloody whip, and the moment it had been revealed that Franziska had indeed been on the receiving end of it. There has to be a clue somewhere...

"Adrian," Phoenix started, "you said Franziska wrote the letter by hand. Are you absolutely sure?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't typed, I can tell you that much," she replied. "What are you thinking, Mr. Wright?"

That at some point, I need to stop grasping at straws. "Not sure yet. I guess I'm just confirming that it is her writing. It...doesn't look strange at all? Forged in any way?"

This time, it was Edgeworth who had cut in. "Wright, this was a relatively long letter, and very few people are, shall we say, gifted in the 'art' of forging documents."

"Yeah, and I've met one or two," Phoenix told him, thinking back to the Mishams. "But I guess a forgery would be a stretch even in this case. The person would have to have mastered Franziska's manner of speech in addition to her handwriting, and referenced the granola bar. Not to mention, they would have had to know about her whole history. Still, I mean...we can't rule it out." Those in the forgery business were good at their "craft," but likely followed only what was dictated to them. It was possible that someone else did all the homework, obtained a few tidbits about Franziska, and then found some "artist" to creatively piece it all together...

Adrian then let out a contemplative "hmm," which was followed by the rustling of paper. "Well, I can't say for sure it isn't forged. It looks authentic. Though...if I were to look closely, the cursive isn't totally consistent...I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, some letters start with an extra loop-"

"Wait a minute," Edgeworth interrupted. More rustling. "No...could it be?"

The astonishment in the man's voice was evident to Phoenix. "What's up, Edgeworth?"

"It's just...I haven't seen this manner of writing since my childhood-our childhood, Franziska's and mine. Even at a young age, she had gotten interested in studying law. One year, I was taking classes at the university, and she sat in the class with me a few times."

Phoenix couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry. I just can't imagine her taking direction from anyone who wasn't her father."

"Well, she didn't. And Manfred von Karma initially opposed the idea of me attending classes, but later agreed, thinking I would see the inferiority of the professor's teachings when compared to my mentor's. And, of course, von Karma's daughter agreed with him, which is why she sat in with me. She rarely listened anyway, writing me little notes during the professor's lectures. But once he caught on, she found a way to be discreet...using our class exercises. That was when we had to write down long answers to the professor's scenarios, and then trade papers. Franziska...she would hide secret messages in her responses by subtly marking certain words."

Adrian uttered a gasp. "You mean..."

"Yes. A longer hook here, an extra loop there, even the exaggerated cross of a t...made for some very amusing afternoons. But...after that year, she stopped doing it."

"So you think she did it here, Edgeworth?" asked Phoenix. "Maybe looped an m a little too much and left a message for you?"

"It looks that way. Let's start from the beginning. Err...let's see...'mountain'...'world.'"

Then again, maybe not, thought Phoenix helplessly.

"'Wide,'" Edgeworth continued. "'Studios.'" He drew out that word, as though it were the most intriguing word in the world.

And perhaps it was, because now it had Phoenix thinking. It sounds familiar somehow. "Wait...studios? World... wide..."

"Studios!" Adrian joined in, sounding stunned. "Could she be talking about the old location in the mountains?"

"Very possibly," Edgeworth responded with a contrasting calmness. He went back to "decoding" the letter. "'Help'...'me.' And...and that's it."

What the hell does this all mean? Phoenix thought, just as stunned as Adrian.

The answer didn't take long to come to him.

I've got to bring her home. But Phoenix hadn't let Edgeworth or Adrian in on his brilliant plan...not that it was much of a plan. He hadn't even told Maya, someone he was supposed to be dropping in on right about now, and with whom he was supposed to be sharing the wonderful details of his trip. He could not delay; this had to be done before the terrible situation escalated further. I'll just tell them later. He had nearly died at Gourd Lake, his daughter and Pearl had almost been kidnapped, Franziska had disappeared, Adrian was being tormented by mysterious letters, and Edgeworth was being stalked by sleazy tabloid reporters. He could not afford to rest; as with most situations, there was always opportunity for things to be much, much worse.

Thirty minutes, Phoenix thought impatiently as he looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. Why, oh why did Criminal Affairs have to be on the other side of town? And why was there so much traffic this time of day? Phoenix knew his lack of patience would make neither the time nor the bus go any faster, but he couldn't help it. He had had enough. He was weary, his friends were weary. It was time to bring this to an end. I've got to bring her home.

His hand traveled to the pocket of his hoodie, fingering the object inside. The glasses that Trucy claimed she had recently picked up from an unknown source, during an unknown period of time. But it had to be from 'that time,' Phoenix knew. The kidnapping attempt. Trucy always kept track of all her props. It didn't make sense that she would suddenly come into possession of something and not remember. Especially something as unsual as this, Phoenix thought. Not that a pair of glasses was that unusual in a magic show, but something about this pair nagged at Phoenix. He was now positive he had seen the pink lenses bordered by rectangular frames...but where?

Something compelled him to seek the answer at Criminal Affairs. Not that he felt the police had been consistent in Franziska's or the girls' cases, but he somehow knew he would get somewhere tonight, and the glasses were his ticket.

Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief as the bus finally came to a stop a couple of buildings before the police department, and he quickly exited. Though the sun had set, there was still a bit of light in the sky. If he was able to catch the police chief and update him on things, perhaps he could be home by dinner. If I'm late, I'll owe Maya the number seven at the Open Sesame Burger Grill...for the next three days. As the bus sped off, he crossed the street to his true destination.

When Phoenix entered the main lobby of Criminal Affairs, he could see that it was unusually empty for that Friday. Then again, he could imagine most of the police force out patrolling or setting up traffic stops to catch those driving under the influence. The head detective was still at his desk, apparently typing up a report. "Excuse me, sir? Is the Chief of Police in? I need to speak with him."

"Oh...!" It was also evident the detective hadn't noticed Phoenix's presence until that moment. "Well, uh...Chief Grayson is in, but...I'm sorry, he isn't seeing anyone right now."

"Please. It's important. I have some information that may prove valuable in these recent kidnapping cases."

The detective sighed. "Look, I can't let you back there unless you're a servant of the law. Not even you...Mr. Wright."

So he remembers me, Phoenix thought. "But even so-"

"Oh, do make an exception this time, detective!" a somewhat jovial voice rang out.

Phoenix turned as the Chief of Police, a tall, blond man known as Cormac Grayson, emerged from the hallway. His white trenchcoat was unbuttoned to show an ordinary black business suit underneath.

"It's been days since I've seen this young man," Grayson continued. "I would love the chance to catch up with a dear, dear friend."

Friend? Phoenix thought, confused. Try 'barely acquaintances.'

"Yes, sir," the detective said before going back to his report.

"Come now, Phoenix Wright," Grayson said, beckoning to the man. "It sounds as though we have much to talk about. We can catch up in my office."

His office? The mere phrase caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of Phoenix's stomach. He recalled the last time he had visited the police chief's office, three years ago, when it had belonged to Damon Gant. Ema was with me then...that place contained so many horrible secrets. He could only wonder how much the place had changed.

Phoenix had taken several steps when he realized that Grayson wasn't following. Curious, he briefly turned around, seeing that Grayson was standing next to the seated detective, apparently telling him something in secret. A police chief keeping secrets...I wonder...maybe that much hasn't changed.

Sensing that Phoenix was watching him, Grayson looked over one time, whispered one final thing to the detective, and then hurried over to his guest. "My apologies, Mr. Wright!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "As you can see, we're a bit understaffed here tonight. Detective Brooks is actually handling the paperwork for three other men right now. He's a little stressed."

"I...could tell," Phoenix said, following Grayson to the office at the end of the hall.

"He'll be all right, though." The police chief swiped his ID card through the reader beside the door. There was a beep, followed by the clicking of a latch. Grayson pushed the door open then, signaling for Phoenix to go in first. "Now, what is so important that you had to take time out of a busy Friday night to come see me?"

"Thanks," Phoenix said as he passed by the man. "Um, actually, it's concerning a couple of cases. I've come across some information...and something that may be the key to at least one of the cases."

"Is that so?" Grayson asked as he closed the door behind him. "That's very interesting. And here I've been wracking my brain, trying to get a little investigative work out of my men. But then, you stroll in out of nowhere, not even a servant of the law! Mr. Wright, are you sure you don't want to make the switch from pianist to detective? You'd make a lot more. Heck, at this rate, you'd start out at a higher salary than that scatterbrained guy in the dirty coat."

Poor Detective Gumshoe, Phoenix thought. And he has such a high opinion of this guy.

"Anyway, have a seat over there." Grayson gestured to a set of chairs located several feet in front of his desk.

Gant's old desk. In fact, everything was 'old' from Phoenix's viewpoint, or rather, not much had changed in the actual office in three years. The giant organ, Lana's old desk, the shelf, the floor and walls...all unchanged. A certain statue of armor with a dangerous looking blade seems to have disappeared, though. Phoenix went over to the chairs and sat down in one of them.

Grayson went over to his desk, but didn't immediately sit down. He was straightening out a messy stack of papers when Phoenix realized just how tall the man really was. Intimidating, almost. Kind of like someone who used to be in his position. A strange feeling came over Phoenix, but he let it pass. I'm sure all police chiefs need to carry some air of intimidation. It just so happens the last one who did turned out to be a bad egg.

Grayson pulled his chair back, finally sitting down. "So go ahead! Tell me what's on your mind, my friend."

There he goes again, Phoenix thought, mildly annoyed. What are we, old college buddies? "It's my daughter, actually. It's because of her I now have a clue as to the identity of her would-be kidnapper." I'm sure my hunch is right this time, because I've seen this 'clue' before.

"Oh ho ho! See, that's what I'm talking about! You have quite the nose for investigations. So, tell me, what exactly did you find?"

Something about the way Grayson was staring at him was chipping away at Phoenix's confidence. I can't back down now. I know I'm right about this! Phoenix got up and reached into his pocket, pulling out the pair of glasses that had been bothering him since his visit to Kurain Village. He took a few steps forward, setting the glasses on the desk before Grayson. "These," he said, returning to his seat. "But it was my daughter who found them. I went to visit her in Kurain Village, and she showed them to me. She says she doesn't remember ever owning them, and that the first time she noticed she had them was right after the kidnapping attempt. So I'm thinking they came from whoever was driving the cab that night."

"...Interesting," Grayson commented, his reaction lacking in emotion for once. He reached forward, slowly pulling the pair of glasses to him, and played with them for a while. "So what makes you think they belong to that person? Kurain Village...that's somewhere in the mountains, correct? How do you know she didn't pick up the glasses there?"

"She's pretty good about keeping track of her things, but she specifically said these glasses ended up in a bag that no one touches."

"Hmm." Grayson finally pushed the glasses aside, bringing his attention back to Phoenix. "It is possible they belong to the kidnapper, but you said it yourself...that person was driving a cab. For all you know, the glasses belong to someone who rode in the cab earlier."

"Oh...well..." Damn. It happened late at night, but I didn't think about that. "Y-yeah, I guess that's possible."

"But at least now that person can thank you for getting their glasses back, so this wasn't a complete waste of time." He forced a smile, though there didn't seem to be any bitterness behind it.

More like...amusement. Is he mocking me? Phoenix wondered. "S-sir, please, if it is at all possible, I think it's worth pursuing this."

"Don't worry, Mr. Wright. Each piece of evidence receives the same amount of care and consideration."

"I realize that. But I think that, maybe if you ran some DNA tests-"

"-It still wouldn't confirm the identity of your daughter's would-be kidnapper," Grayson finished, sounding bored. "I get that you're frustrated, Mr. Wright, but come now. We can't pursue 'possibilities' based on such flimsiness. Don't you have something...more solid?"

Not for this, Phoenix thought in defeat. Not for...this? The words repeated in his head with new life. That's right. The glasses weren't my only reason for coming here. "Wait, sir, I do have something," he said as he stood up. "Not for my daughter's case, but for another one."

"Is that so? Do tell."

"It has to do with Franziska von Karma. I...I think I know where she is."

"You think?"

The annoyance expressed in the question briefly disrupted Phoenix's thinking. "N-no, I mean...I'm pretty sure. She was kidnapped, and she's being held at the old World Wide Studios building in the mountains."

"Mm-hmm." Grayson's hand traveled back to the pink lenses he had set aside moments earlier, and he went back to studying them. "And what makes you think she's there, let alone that she was kidnapped?"

"Well, you know how Adrian Andrews has been receiving all these weird letters, all supposedly from Franziska?"

"No. When did that start?"

Is he serious? "You...didn't know about that?"

For once, Grayson's reaction seemed genuine. "Someone failed to include that in the reports. Tell me more about these letters."

Weird. So neither Adrian nor Edgeworth told the police about these letters. Not that there's proof Franziska wrote them, but... "Um, well, there isn't too much to tell. Basically, Adrian kept getting typed letters from Franziska, and there was always some kind of request in them. Actually...heh. It's embarrassing to admit, but that's one of the reasons I jumped in that car at Gourd Lake. Adrian received a request about making sure a certain man was there to meet Franziska at the lake."

"Oh...yes, that much sounds familiar. So you're saying this has happened more than once?"

"Right...and tonight, Adrian got another letter, but it was different from all the others."

"How so?"

"It was handwritten...and both Adrian and Edgeworth are positive it's Franziska's handwriting. I thought it might be forged, but apparently, she left some secret message intended for Edgeworth, using a method only Edgeworth would know from their childhood. The message basically said she was in the mountains at World Wide Studios, and...and that she needed...help." Phoenix thought his anxiety would be alleviated by this exchange of information, but it did nothing for it. I'm not wrong about this. Something needs to be done...and we could use all the help we can get.

"I see..." The police chief stared hard at the glasses in his hand, as if to demand some sort of explanation from them. "So your friend, Miles Edgeworth, sent you to tell me all of this...?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," Phoenix blurted out before he could stop himself. "I-I mean...I just..." Why did I say it like that? "...I just thought it would be better if the police had something to go by, that's all." He had a strong urge to swallow the saliva in his mouth, but he resisted. There's no need to be nervous. I came here for a reason.

"Yes." Grayson looked as though he were contemplating something, then finally let go of the glasses. "You don't know what it means to us...to have you say that." He seemed to relax then, making eye contact with Phoenix. "I've heard many stories about you, Phoenix Wright, how as a defense attorney, you fought for justice and truth. Because of you, many were proven innocent of crimes, and the real culprits were caught. And yet, I seem to recall one story where you, shall we say, made a mistake as your emotions were running high."

Urgh. Phoenix's stomach churned. Will I ever be free of that terrible case? "I believed in the evidence, sir. I had no reason to believe it was forged."

The smirk returned to Grayson's face. "Mr. Wright, I don't blame you for believing in the evidence. I just think that, in your mission to prove your clients innocent, you tend to be reckless and don't put much thought into the repercussions of your actions."

Oof. How many times have I heard that before? "W-well, it's not that I don't think about that, it's just that I think that saving a client's life is more important than other things, like...not making someone else look bad."

"I suppose you would think that way. Well, Mr. Wright, I thank you for coming in to share your news. Everything you have told me here tonight...changes everything."

"Really?" For the first time in that office, Phoenix felt a weight come off his shoulders. Perhaps his trip there hadn't been a waste after all. I did come here for a reason. The police were slow in the beginning, but they had a lot on their plate, like their plan to capture de Killer. I complained to Gumshoe about their progress, but I have to admit they became a lot more interested in the kidnappings afterward. The fact he was even talking to the Chief of Police now was evidence of that. I came here looking for something. I know I'll find it before the night is over.

Grayson nodded. "Yes," he said as he rose to his feet. "We must do something about this immediately."

Finally. "Anything I could help with, sir?" Anything to bring her home.

"As a matter of fact..." The man picked up the glasses once more. "...there is. I...have a confession to make, Mr. Wright. You see, when I said that the owner of these glasses would thank you for returning this pair, I was being...half-serious. The truth is, that person isn't alive anymore, so he wouldn't be capable of expressing any sort of gratitude."

Phoenix's short-lived relief was replaced by surprise...and for some reason, dread. "W-wait a minute, Chief Grayson. You know who those glasses belong to?"

"Oh, yes," Grayson responded calmly. "He wore them constantly during his time here. In fact..." He unfolded the stems of the glasses, bringing them toward his face. "...he often joked about leaving them to me in his will. I guess, in a way, he did..."

What? "You mean...you're telling me that guy worked here? Are you saying...he was a detective?"

"The highest ranking. I'm sure you remember..." As if to emphasize his statement, he fitted the frames to his face. "...my father."

No. It all started coming together for Phoenix. It can't be.

"My mother forced me to take my stepfather's name, but I never forgot who I really was. My father never forgot, either. You see, Mr. Wright, he's the reason I even joined the force. But after that...unfortunate scandal three years ago, he convinced me to keep my stepfather's name. He thought it would be best for me...to move through the ranks without the stigmata attached to his own name. But still, I never forgot."

Phoenix was horrified as he realized who the man before him really was. The resemblance...isn't a coincidence after all. That face, that build...even the air around him...why didn't I see it before?

"I never forgot," Grayson repeated, opening a desk drawer. "I never forgot...that you took him from me, Mr. Wright. You...and that friend of yours."

"It was you," Phoenix said angrily, voice shaking. "You're the one who tried to kidnap Trucy and Pearl, and you really did kidnap Franziska...all to get back at me and Edgeworth..."

"As I said, you have a tendency to not care about the repercussions of your actions," Grayson said, his tone bitter. "Same goes for Miles Edgeworth. I guess...I feel a little bad for going to extremes, but you two needed reminders of what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a reckless lawyer's actions." He tried to force a grin, but it came off as a weak sneer. "Oh, don't make that face. Obviously, I didn't work alone."

This is about more than just his father being executed, Phoenix realized. He was fuming now. Goddamnit...we were all pawns in their little game. "I don't suppose you'll be naming your partners-in-crime?"

"That's not for you to know. Not today, anyway." Grayson reached into the drawer, pulling out what appeared to be a pistol. "That would interfere with our plans, you see. You have a new role now, and it's time for you to perform it...and disappear. I even made a personal reservation for you at that 'mausoleum,' my friend." He aimed the barrel at Phoenix. "Enjoy your stay." He pulled the trigger.

Phoenix felt no pain from the impact, only a heaviness that was spreading rapidly from his chest. He wanted to move, but only found himself stumbling over, eventually collapsing on his side. He lifted his head, trying to assess what was happening to him. His thoughts, however, only returned to his initial purpose in visiting Criminal Affairs that night. I wasn't wrong. I did find the owner of the glasses...and the culprit in Franziska's kidnapping. I wasn't wrong. But I was wrong to come alone...

Edgeworth...forgive me...

I just wanted to bring this to an end...but I was careless...

Phoenix let out a moan, managing to roll onto his back. The last thing he saw before his world retreated into darkness was an odd, blurry likeness of Damon Gant standing over him.