Hello! So how are we feeling after that finale hm? I couldn't help myself and threw this chapter together as soon as it ended. Sorry this update took so long! Between graduation and moving I've been super busy. But I am home now and hopefully I can get the next one out soon! Enjoy!

The woman looks absolutely grief stricken. Almost unrecognizable from the socialite with the biting comebacks and haughty smile, with perfectly coiffed curls she loved to throw over her shoulder when she knew she landed a punch in a sensitive spot.

God she loathed this woman.

But this, this isn't that woman.

Jessica pulls Cricket by the shoulders, being sure to avoid the crimson stain. It's not hers, with that much on her she'd be unconscious if not dead. "Did anyone see you?" Her voice comes out thicker than she intends, though how the hell is she supposed to explain a bloody woman showing up at her door to Gil? Least of all when she knows nothing about the situation herself.

"What? No. No, I didn't see anyone." Jessica breathes a little easier then. "I didn't know where else to go."

"What happened?"

"Robert, he-"

"Robert?" She remembers her husband, but only in passing. The man liked to smoke cigars and drink with the men. The ones that were gruff and brutal and reminded her too much of her father that it often left a sour taste in her mouth when one would saunter over, pretending to be interested in anything but her money. Well, before Martin at least. She shakes his name out of her mind. "Is he hurt?"

"No!" Jessica bites her tongue at the growing frustration. "He-" And then it clicks for her. The wild, frightened look in her eyes. The desperation, begging to be told it wasn't true, that this was just a dream. The shaking fingers, clutching to anything solid enough to hold her upright, that just happened to be Jessica's blouse.

"Did he hurt someone?"

Cricket swallows but nods. "He didn't, or I don't think he knew I was home. There was supposed to be a gala. He was yelling. And the man he begged him- And then he shot him. He didn't even stay to see if he- I tried to stop the bleeding. I tried."

"Why did you come here? Why not go to the police?"

"Robert… He has this book. He's always guarded it with everything he has. I thought it was a call book, god forbid. It had names, but not just women."

"I'm confused."

"He had Nicolas Endicott scratched out. I thought, maybe he was a business partner is all, but with what he had done coming all out now I thought-" She shakes her head. "And then I saw Martin Whitly. And I knew."

"Martin?"

"His name was in the book. The names, I think they're all killers."

The thought sounds absurd at first, then she remembers John Watkins. His taunts of how long he'd known her son. How long this man, this killer, had been in their lives and she'd never even known. She thought he was some imaginary friend. He'd hardly be the only one. A network of killers.

All tied to Martin.

All tied to them.

She swallows the bile that builds in the back of her throat. "You can stay here tonight."

"That's it?"

"Hardly." She huffs. "Go to the guest bedroom, second door on the left and take a shower. Throw your shirt in the trash. I'll take care of it. I will bring you clothes, I should have something of Ainsley's old clothes that would fit. I have some calls to make." Once the woman's off her hands hover over the call button. Her mind wracks for a few seconds. If she calls Gil, this could go horribly. That book would be destroyed long before the police could even touch it. All the names would be gone. Burned up with smoke.

Just like-

No.

She dials a different number. "Hello, it's Jessica Whitly. I need a favor."

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Jessica paces back and forth in the living room. Cricket's eyes follow her with every anxious step. She should have gotten something, anything an hour ago. At least the news should have hit by now. All they needed was a tip of where the body was, a description of Robert Van de Camp being the last one at the scene. It would be enough for a warrant. Enough to find-

A pounding on the door makes her jump, that knock signifies one person. She shoves Cricket into the next room shutting the door behind her just as Malcolm strides in. "Mother, I have a question for you."

"Good morning!" She mocks in a gruff tone, "Oh good morning to you too Sunshine, I do hope you slept well last night." She throws her head to the side in the same evasive way she's seen him do hundreds of times. "Oh, you know. Night terror here, waking up screaming there. The usual." "Please tell me you're talking about your night terrors to Gabrielle, she's supposed to help you know."

"Mother-"

"Mother-" They speak at the same time and she just tilts her head at him and he sighs with defeat.

"Good morning. Happy?"

"Quite. Now, what did you need?"

"Do you remember Robert Van de Camp?" Her hand slips on the glass she was cradling making it land with a loud clang, tipping precariously before she carefully balances it on the table again.

"Sorry, slipped." She clears her throat. "Yes, I remember him."

"What do you know about him?"

"Did something happen?" Her eyes flutter to the door where Cricket is no doubt listening. She just hopes she has some sense and stays put. "What happened?"

"An employee of his turned up dead this morning. Van de Camp was the last one to see him alive." Accurate, but wrong one. Relief floods her chest that the plan had gone well. All he needs now is a warrant. "We spoke to Cricket this morning and-"

Her head peaks up at that. "You spoke to Cricket?" Where the hell did the woman get a phone? She didn't even see her carry it in.

"Yeah?" He shrugs off the outburst but continues. "She didn't know anything. Claimed she was at a gala all night."

"The Johnson foundation?"

"I think. But it doesn't matter, the others aren't convinced he had anything to do with it. Even if he did, he's completely fallen off the grid. There's no call logs, no money trail, it's like he fell off the earth."

"Well that's not shocking in the slightest. Any bad press sends cowards running." Malcolm rolls his eyes but she watches his lip twitch. Good, she's keeping up appearances then. "Even if you find him, he'll have the best lawyers in New York on his side. You'll need more than my opinion on the man."

"That's why I was hoping you'd give me something more concrete."

"I'm sorry, I only knew him in passing. He seemed like any other rich man. Cigars, cocaine, and younger women. That's all I've heard him talk about." Malcolm sighs.

"I just." She watches as his hand shakes and she reaches for him, but he snatches himself away. "Sorry." He winces recognizing the hurt in her expression before she can say anything. "I have a bad feeling about this. If we can't get him quick-"

"You think he'll get away with this?" Jessica leans against the bar cart, intentionally pushing a little too hard so it scrapes noisily against the floor. The sound covers up any potential noise coming from the other side of the door. A gasp, a sob. Anything small, Malcolm would pick it up. Thankfully he just nods in confirmation.

"I'm afraid so. I'm not going to let it happen though, not if I have anything to say about it."

"Malcolm. You can't do anything rash. They'll latch onto that in a trial and the entire case could fall apart. This needs to go completely by the book. No surprises."

"Have you been hanging out with Gil lately?" It's her turn to tilt her head disapprovingly. "Fine, no surprises. I'll just have to pull some strings, call in some favors."

"Be careful." She grabs his hand squeezing it gently. "Love you."

"Love you too. Thanks for the help."

"Any time."

She watches until he's well out the door and waits even longer until after she is certain his cab has driven away before she opens the door where Cricket is. Her eyes are red rimmed and she looks disheveled, like she'd been panicking.

"You need to get that book."