"So you don't like Brer Rabbit?" Jessica directs her question to Adam who is sitting on Lauren's lap.

"No. He's boring." Adam replies as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. "He doesn't do anything."

Lauren steps in, "He does plenty. Like…" Before she can voice her defence, the phone rings and passing Adam over to Jessica she gets up to answer it. "Hello?" Her voice contains about as much enthusiasm as she can muster.

"Is that Lauren Erikson?"

"Yes who…" She doesn't need to finish the question. "Peter Kingsley. I'm surprised to hear from you."

"Oh I bet you are." He spits.

Becoming increasingly alarmed, Lauren puts her hand over the mouthpiece and whispers to Jessica. "Can you take Adam upstairs? This is going to be a difficult call."

Without seeming suspicious of the request, Jessica takes Adam's hand and leads him out of the room. Now alone, Lauren goes back to the sofa and speaks again, "Has something happened?"

"You're damn right. You are what's happened. My family is falling apart thanks to you."

"Mr Kingsley please. If you only called to snipe at me…"

"You don't think I have a right to vent my anger after what you've done?"

"I can't actually see that I've done anything to warrant this kind of reaction."

"Then you're even more arrogant than I first thought. Oh I know you've got money. Probably think it can buy you anything. My daughter included."

"I resent that. I never mentioned my background when I was in Cleveland. The conclusions you drew had nothing to do with me. Now are you finally going to tell me whether there was a point to this impromptu phonecall?"

Peter sighs and his voice begins to sound a little calmer, "Yes. Megan has told us she wants to visit you in San Francisco in a few weeks."

The words cause a sense of elation to course through Lauren's body but she immediately feels guilty. After all, Megan has a life of her own in Cleveland. "Do you object to that?"

"What do you think?"

"You really want to know?" Lauren asks wearily.

"Shoot."

"I think that you're pushing Megan away yourself by acting like this. She's not going to want to be around an over protective father."

"Thanks for the that. But you gave up your right to dish out parenting advice when you deigned yourself unsuitable to keep Megan as your daughter."

Stung by the comment, Lauren's voice becomes shaky and she presses hard on the arm of the sofa she is sitting on. "Perhaps I should talk to Sheila. She might be a little more agreeable."

"Oh no." Peter snaps. "She's upset enough by this already. All Megan's talked about for the past few days is you and Sheila's at the end of her tether. I don't want you saying a word to her."

"You talk to me like a human being or I go to your wife. Your decision."

"Fine." Peter admits defeat and pauses for a second. "Have you got my cellphone number?"

"I think so."

"I want you to call me on that, not at the house do you understand? If Megan gets in contact with you, I want to know about it."

"Why should I put my loyalty with you instead of her?"

"Because you owe me that much. I'm not asking for you to betray my daughter's trust. Just let me know if she speaks to you so I have a clue what she's doing. I don't want her running away to find you."

"Okay. You have a point."

"I better go. I'll call you if anything comes up." Before Lauren can reply, there is a click and the lines goes dead. She stares at the phone for a moment before switching it off.

"Who were you talking to?" The living room door opens and John stares at her coldly.

Of all the times he could have come in. "Flo. She has some papers in the office that need to be signed."

"Oh." John turns to leave, taking off his jacket but stops when he hears Lauren calling after him.

"So where were you last night?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where were you? You didn't come home so I assume you found someplace better to spend your time."

"I stayed in a motel. It was late and I didn't want to drive back from the city."

Lauren nods but she has trouble believing his story. Crossing her arms, she rubs her fingers over the smooth fabric of her blouse. "That was very considerate of you."

San Francisco General Hospital: San Francisco

The door to David's hospital room closes slowly behind Tommy who has just left for a cup of coffee and Kyle watches the gap becoming smaller until finally the door clicks shut. The tension in the room is palpable and Kyle can feel his brother's eyes piercing through him, causing his stomach to knot.

"I guess he needed a break." David finally speaks, remaining still in his bed. There are fewer tubes connected to his body now but the bandages remain as a reminder of his condition.

"He certainly does." Kyle spins round and sits down beside David. "He's been at the hospital every day since the accident. You should be proud of him."

"Oh I am. He's the only person in the family worth bothering with."

"Just as I remember." Kyle remarks dryly. "At least the head injury didn't cause any personality changes."

"Well c'mon little brother. Do you expect me to welcome you with open arms? We're not exactly close."

"Close enough for me to be concerned when you were nearly killed."

"But I wasn't killed. So why did you bother coming back here? Did Mommy disown you again?" David chuckles and reaches for the water jug on his nightstand.

"I came because I cared. You're my brother."

David takes a small sip of water which relieves the dryness he has been experiencing, "Yeah well that's too bad. And what about my lovely ex-wife? She too busy on some rampage to come and visit me? Or have the authorities finally seen sense and locked the nutcase up again?"

"She's at the house…on bail because the police think she is responsible for this. She couldn't face you."

David laughs again making Kyle shift uncomfortably, "She couldn't face me, huh? Little old me…"

"Have the police been to see you yet? All it will take is one word and you can clear her name."

"Why would I want to do that?"

Kyle's eyes widen, "You're not saying she really was behind this?"

There is no response and Kyle raises his voice impatiently, "Tell me damn it. Did she run you down?"

David places his water back down and grins, "Calm yourself Kyle. If you get agitated then I'll get agitated and that'd mean calling the nurse to have you removed…" His hand moves teasingly towards the red button of the emergency alarm at his side.

Kyle rolls his eyes, "You want me out of here? Then I'll leave. But just give me a straight answer…please. I can tell that you know who did this and you can't let Stephanie take the rap if she's not responsible."

"Of course I know. Geez, get some patience already." David coughs and fumbles for the water. Kyle jumps up and hands it to him, placing the straw to his brother's lips.

"Sip it." Kyle warns as the water begins to disappear at an alarming rate and after a moment he takes it away allowing David to continue.

"You were always too brash and upfront about things. Whereas I…I make plans."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the person who did this to me will get theirs. It's just a matter of time."

Red Store Restaurant: San Francisco

Isabelle is unable to suppress the grimace on her face as she moves through the crowded restaurant. She knows she is ten minutes late and deep down hopes that Mark gave up and left. But no, he's here. She spots him seated by an exotic fish tank where he has his head bowed over the menu.

"Mark." She acknowledges him caustically and remains standing. There is a bottle of red wine on the table but little of it has been poured.

"Isabelle. I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Smiling, Mark gestures for her to take a seat and she does so grudgingly.

Placing her clutch back to the ground, Isabelle sits up and stares at Mark icily. "What's the expensive wine for? Do you really think there's something worth celebrating?"

"I just wanted to put you at ease." The waiter disappeared long ago so Mark reaches over and pours a moderate amount into Isabelle's glass before setting the bottle back down gently. "I hope you don't mind it being red. I didn't know what you'd order for lunch but…you seem like a red meat eater."

"How very presumptuous of you."

Mark shrugs, "That's me. It's my intuition."

"I hope you won't be so intuitive when it comes to writing your little book."

"I think fact is going to be much more interesting than anything I could come up with. You should be proud of your heritage Isabelle. There are stories in the Wheeler family that could fuel Jackie Collins for years."

Isabelle sighs impatiently, "What exactly did you expect to get out of this meeting? I have told you I will not stand for you digging up the past and hurting my family just so you can get a hefty check from your publisher. I still plan on slapping you down with a lawsuit if the book goes ahead and I think I'll enjoy doing it."

Mark decides to remain silent for a while to make her sweat. He takes a sip of his wine and savors the velvety red liquid as it travels down his throat. "What are you so frightened of? If you haven't got anything to hide then there's not a problem. You're certainly reacting badly if you're really the saint your reputation makes you to to be."

"I'm reacting badly because I have got a lot more to deal with than just you and this damn book. Don't tell me you haven't heard about Jake…"

"I have and I'm sorry. But I'm not forcing you to get all riled up like this."

"I am not riled. I'm just warning you to stop this project now. If you want money I'll give it to you. But I won't let anybody hurt my family."

"Yeah I've heard. Especially how you were with poor John. Whew you certainly showed him." Mark sighs exaggeratedly. "Tell me, do you have some kind of psychotic hatred for all your daughter's beaus?"

Isabelle remains silent and maintains her glare. Holding up his hands, Mark continues, "Honestly you're scaring me. That bread knife in front of you seems to have my name on it. A deranged outburst would give me a hell of a lot of material…but it might just get you chucked out of a few social circles."

"Look at me. Do I seem amused?" Isabelle remains stony faced and leans forwards, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Don't push me Mark. Do the decent thing and end this now. It's in the best interests of everybody."

"I'll bear that in mind."

Pushing her chair back, Isabelle stands abruptly and wraps her fingers as tight as she can around her purse. "I hope you do. Good day Mark." Turning, Isabelle pulls the ticket out of her purse for the valet and starts to walk away.

Click.

The noise isn't loud enough to cause any disturbance in the restaurant but it is at high enough a volume to command Isabelle's attention. Suspicious, she swings back round again to see Mark drinking his wine. "What was that?" She inquires, raising an eyebrow.

"What was what?"

"Don't play games with me. I heard…" Storming towards him, Isabelle whips up the cream table cloth and recoils in disgust as she sees Mark holding a small black Dictaphone. "You snake. Give it to me."

"Isabelle…"

"Give it to me!" Anger boiling inside of her, she wrenches the device out of his hands and begins to walk away. There is a sound of cutlery being set down on china as the restaurants' diners look up to watch the scene unfold.

"I want that back Isabelle. Now."

"You want it? Fetch it!" With that, Isabelle bends her wrist and furiously throws it into the fish tank, watching with satisfaction as it sinks to the bottom. "Enjoy your lunch."

Beverly Hills Hotel: Los Angeles

Reaching into the lined pocket of her navy blue uniform skirt, Amanda moves at a brisk pace down the hallway and pulls out the key card she took earlier this morning.

She saw the man only a couple of hours ago when he made her call him a cab and left the hotel with the baby. The brief encounter only confirmed her suspicions that she had seen him before. But where? Boston? Or perhaps…no the idea is too chilling for her to entertain it.

As hard as she tries to think about it, Amanda knows she is not going to work out the answer by herself and that is why she knows she has to do this. Placing the key card in the lock, she watches a red light flash and opens the hotel room door. The suite has barely been altered since it was last cleaned apart from a few wrinkles in the sheets of the bed which has obviously been slept in. Personal effects are scarce except for a black overnight bag on the dresser and some toiletries.

Amanda goes over to the bag and unzips it, pulling it open to take a look inside. Baby bottles…diapers…a toothbrush…definitely nothing that will help her. She zips it back up with a sigh and looks around the room. A drawer in one of the nightstands has been left open slightly and she goes over to it, sliding it open.

"Bingo!" She exclaims and pulls out a black leather wallet searching for identification. It's not hard to find and she stares at a driver's license, running a fingernail over the information on it. Jake Wheeler. Napa Valley.

Donna's Apartment: San Francisco

"Donna?" Michael's voice travels through the apartment as he shuts the front door. His shoes thump on the wooden flooring adding to the noise. "Donna? Where are you? I thought you were going to meet me?"

The living room is empty but the large screen television is on, it's volume set to mute. "Where are you?" He asks again and finds the remote, turning the television off.

There is still no answer.

"Donna?" Michael starts to walk quicker and goes to the bedroom, pushing the door open. Donna is on the bed, her eyes closed and auburn hair spread out around her head. "There you are! Did you fall asleep?"

He reaches out to touch her but she doesn't move. "Oh my God!" Horrified, he springs his body to the other side of the bed and bears down over his wife, shaking her. "Donna!" He yells, gripping her arms.

But she remains unresponsive to his cries.