Guilt

Ryder is taken totally by surprise. He doesn't even see Nate's flying fist coming. As it connects with his mouth, he reels backward, knocking into another cubicle and falling to one knee.

Fighting reflexes kick in and he's back up in an instant to face Nate, but does not retaliate. Nate's words are like a second slap to the face, stinging all the more. Ryder's eyes are wide with confusion, hurt and anger for being hit.

Wiping his lip, he glances down at his hand where he finds blood. He looks back up at Nate and just stares at him for the longest moment. He could easily try to defend himself. He could easily try to explain. He could easily fight back. But he saw the look in Nate's eye and knew that nothing he did would matter. He had crossed a forbidden line.

Without a word, he spins on his heel and walks away. More than his lip had been broken.


Laura is just coming up from paying attention to Henry when she glances across the room. What she saw made her jaw drop and her heart skip a beat. What on earth... Her eyes narrow as she makes her way over to Nate's cubicle as quickly as she can, holding a hand to her sore side.

Arriving just in time to see Ryder disappear down the hall, she whips her head around to Nate with a glare. "What do you think you're doing? What did you do that for?!"


Ryder stalks down the hall, aiming for the bathroom to nurse his wound. His stomach churned and fire burned in his eyes. He knew exactly what had just happened, and he knew exactly the consequences that would occur. And it didn't feel good.

Getting to the bathroom door, he's just about to open it when he hears a scream. Backing up, he realizes that it's coming from the spare room. A chill runs down his spine and he forgets about himself. Sprinting to the door, he throws it open, ready to fend off somebody, but he finds only Thirteen and Trooper.

The dog was pacing and whining, nudging Thirteen lightly with his nose, but unable to wake the sleeping girl. Ryder sees her writhing on the floor, obviously in the middle of a nightmare.

His heart still pounding, he slides down on his knees next to her. Reaching out, he takes her shoulder gently. "Hey, hey," he croons. "Come on, wake up. You're okay... it's just a dream, wake up."


Guilt is written all over Carson's face. He knows that while he was mostly sober, someone as smart as Angelica could easily deduct what he'd been up to. He's just as glad that they don't have enough time for her to give him a reprimand.

Going over last-minute details, Carson can feel the knots forming in his stomach. They had a won case... he knew they did. But that didn't mean the process would be pleasant. They knew that Heather had a personal grudge against single fathers, but Carson would still have to endure an interrogation in front of the judge.

It was too soon before Carson was on the stand. There was a handful of other people there. Heather had several others with her, all of their noses in the air with a confidence that made his blood boil. And then there was... Misty? Surprise flickers in Carson's eye as he catches her gaze for an instant before his attention is drawn back to the slick lawyer in front of him. The games began. Questions were fired, answers were given. Carson had a hard time concentrating, his hangover worsening each time he had to think.

"Mr. Banks, is it true that when Mackenzie was with you, that you had a phone conversation with Heather Jones?"

"Yes."

"And is it true that she told you to take Mackenzie to your local authorities?"

"Yes."

"And did you do as you were told?"

Carson grits his teeth, his hands fidgeting in his lap out of sight. "No. I didn't want to-"

"Why didn't you do as you were told, Mr. Banks?" The prosecutor paces in front of the stand. "Why didn't you do as Heather Jones requested?"

"I didn't want the girl to go through any unnecessary trauma."

"But staying with you - her kidnapper - that didn't seem traumatic to you?"

"I didn't kidnap her."

"Mr. Banks, were you aware that keeping Mackenzie with you was illegal?"

Carson hesitates. But he and Angelica had agreed to total honesty. "Yes."

"And yet you still chose to keep her. Why?"

"I just told you."

"Isn't it true that you wanted to keep Mackenzie and gain custody?"

"No."

"Isn't it true that you saw an opportunity for control by gaining access to your daughter?"

"No!"

The prosecutor's voice rises as well. "Isn't it true that you hired someone to kidnap your daughter, so she would be brought to you, so you could hold her for personal gain?"

"No!"

The prosecutor chuckles and shakes his head. "You... have a record, Mr. Banks."

"I've been pardoned."

"Do you deny having a criminal past?"

Carson keeps himself from rolling his eyes as his shoulders drop. He hadn't been ready for this one. "I do not deny it."

"And... you think while having this past that your living quarters is a safe one?"

"I don't claim that it is or isn't. But-"

"Do you really think it's a safe environment for a little girl?"

Carson's had just about all he can take. "I never said I wanted her to live with me!" His tone rises with irritation. "I never said that I wanted to keep her or gain custody! Whether my residence is so-called "safe" or not doesn't matter because I never claimed to even want her with me."

The prosecutor remains calm. "So you did kidnap her for something else. Money? I understand you're renting an apartment with your sister. Are you financially stable?"

"Money doesn't have anything to do with this! I didn't kidnap Mackenzie!"

The prosecutor spins on his heel to stalk back to his table with a smug look on his face. "I'm done here."

Carson rubs a hand over his face, thoroughly agitated. To anyone watching, he knew that he looked guilty. There were so many reasons he could have had for kidnapping Mackenzie. They had to prove he hadn't. But in his state, it might even be harder than they'd thought. His eyes catch Misty's again. His own were bloodshot and still held a slight glaze. She would know... he knew she would know without even being close to him. He looks down, feeling the guilt for his actions the night before. He couldn't have chosen a worse time to fall to pieces.