Lucy stood outside Dillon's loft. She had knocked several times but he didn't answer. She pulled out her cell phone and tried to call him.

After a few rings, he picked up.

"Lucy?"

"What's going on, Dillon? Are you alright? You called and asked for help but then hung up on me."

"Sorry," he said, sounding out of breath.

"Are you sick or something?" Lucy asked.

"Was that you knocking? I'll be right there."

Lucy waited at the door until it swung open to reveal her friend. His hair looked disheveled and his clothes were covered in red paint. His pale and bloodshot eyes were startled Lucy.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked pointing to his stained clothing.

Dillon stepped to the side to allow her in. Despite his worn appearance, he a note of excitement filled his words. "I want to show you something."

"I'm not sure if I want to see it," Lucy muttered, eyeing him with wariness.

Dillon gave a half smile and led her to a corner in his living room. White sheets covered the floor and a large canvas sat on an easel. Splattered across a red background Lucy saw a picture of a young man on the ground with the numbers 1001 scrawled in the corner.

Her brows knitted together in confusion.

A year ago, Lucy started buying art supplies in an attempt to begin painting. She even took an art class at her local community center. She remembered the art instructor telling the class, "Never ask, 'What is this?' students. Instead, say, 'This is interesting. What do you call it?'"

Lucy hadn't been a good art student because she didn't have the patience or the talent.

"Is he sleeping?" she asked, pointing to the man on the ground.

Dillon stared at his painting as if he were in some kind of trance, his eyes wide. "You could say that. He's sleeping the eternal slumber."

"Dillon, you're starting to freak me out. Why did you call me over? Should I call Donna?"

Donna had more experience in dealing with emergencies than Lucy and she had a closer relationship to Dillon.

"No, I don't want her to know. She won't understand. I need your help, Lucy. My sponsor is out of town and I didn't know who else to call."

"What?" Lucy jerked her head back in surprise. "Have you been drinking?"

"No," he answered, his voice rough with emotion. "But I want to. I really want to, Lucy."

"You've been sober for what...five years? What's bringing this on?"

"An anniversary of something. I've been painting to keep my mind off of things but it's not working."

She held up her phone. "I really think I should call Donna."

"No! I don't want her to know I'm weak. She won't get it. You can help me. I just can't be alone."

Lucy stared at her friend and sighed. This felt like a test she desperately wanted to pass.

"Alright. I'll help you. My boyfriend Jake taught me the best way to get rid of cravings."

"He did?"

"Yes. Oh man he's going to be sorry he missed out on what we're about to do," Lucy giggled.

"What are we about to do? Is it something naughty?"

Lucy cast a mischievous smile, "You'll see."

Twenty minutes later, they stood in front of a Mario's Pizza place.

"Is this place even open?" Dillon asked.

"Of course it is. For like thirty more minutes, I think." Lucy dragged him inside and after purchasing some tokens, she led him to the bumper cars.

He laughed when he realized what she wanted to do. "So this is what you meant."

"What else did you have in mind?" Lucy asked.

Dillon shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Dillon. Jake takes me here and I always end up forgetting how much I wanted a drink," Lucy admitted. "I don't get in the bumper cars but I eat pizza and laugh at everyone else."

"Jake's a lucky guy. At the very least, you're a lucky girl to have him as your boyfriend."

"Yeah, he's perfect. Too perfect for me anyway," Lucy muttered.

"You should stop selling yourself short, Lucy. I think you're pretty perfect."

Lucy grinned. She encouraged him to get into a bumper car and couldn't stop laughing at the way he'd shriek each time someone hit him with their bumper car.

After they left Mario's, Lucy glanced at Dillon and asked, "So, how are you doing?"

He shrugged. "I'm better. Thanks for taking me here. Tell Jake I said thanks too."

"He'll like that. He always asks me about you and Donna. He worries about you both."

Dillon scoffed. "Yeah right. I thought he hated me."

"Hated you?"

"He once told me that if I hit on you, he'd kick my ass," Dillon mumbled.

Lucy couldn't hold in her laughter. "He said that to you? I'm sorry but that kind of makes me happy."

"It didn't make me happy. Jake's huge!" Dillon joked.

Lucy chuckled and then asked, "So, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Dillon stayed quiet. Lucy thought he wasn't going to answer.

Dillon whispered, "It was my fault."

"What was your fault?"

"That he died."

Lucy was still confused. "That who died?"

"Brandon."

Unsure who Brandon was, she waited for him to continue.

"Brandon was my brother. He worked at a gas station. The one on Petronila Street. He was working a late shift and someone strangled him."

Dillon shared the news in a very matter of fact manner. She found it strange since he had been on the brink of relapsing before.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Dillon. You know it's not your fault someone attacked him."

"Yes, it is." Dillon tucked his hands in his pockets and looked up.

Lucy couldn't help but think how unfair he was being to himself. "Why do you think it's your fault?"

"Because it should've been me who died that night!"

Lucy frowned in confusion.

"I was supposed to work the late shift. Not Brandon! Instead, I got wasted and left him alone there. It's all my fault. Truthfully, I don't even remember that night-- that's how messed up I was. All I remember is my mom calling me on the phone and yelling at me. It's your fault, Dillon! It's your fault Brandon's dead!"

Lucy gasped at Dillon's story.

"I didn't know what she was talking about. I had a hangover and she kept yelling at me. Apparently, the manager told her I was supposed to be working that night, not Brandon."

"How long ago was this?" Lucy asked.

"Five years."

"Five years?" Lucy repeated.

Dillon nodded and Lucy put two and two together. "Is this what made you want to get sober, Dillon?"

He smiled half-heartedly and nodded. "After Brandon's death, I joined AA and cleaned up my act. Then, I started going to the meetings in town. For some reason, this time of year is always the hardest on me."

"I'm sorry, Dillon. I had no idea," Lucy said softly.

"No worries. It's not as if I told you. Anyway, I'm really glad you helped me tonight. I'm not sure what I would've done without you to help me get my mind off of things."

Lucy shrugged. "We're friends. Of course I'd help you. Are you sure you're going to be okay once you're home alone again?"

Dillon nodded. "I'll be fine. Thanks."

"That painting from earlier...is your brother, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Lucy nodded but asked, "Did the number in the corner mean something?"

"Number?"

"You had the number 1001 on it."

Dillon's brows rose as he understood her question. "That's the date my brother was killed."

"October first," Lucy said under her breath remembering the journal entry she read earlier. "It couldn't be."

"What couldn't be?" Dillon asked.

Lucy smiled nervously. "Nothing. I'm just being weird."

After Dillon entered his loft, Lucy grabbed a taxi to the gas station on Petronila Street. The journal said he had played with the victim first. She wondered what that meant. She would've asked Dillon but it would have upset him more.

She asked the taxi driver to wait and walked into the store, her eyes darting around while she wondered if Brandon had been killed inside. For a brief moment, she had even thought of telling Dillon about the journal entry but what good would that do? It wouldn't make him feel better. If anything it would make him feel worse.

"Can I help you?" the cashier asked.

Lucy shook her head and walked back outside. Knowing the author of her journal had been at that same gas station five years ago seemed disconcerting. Still, Lucy couldn't shake the feeling of being somewhat connected to him since was there now.

Meanwhile, at the Hilltop police station, both detectives on the O case were working late.

"You didn't even get me some tacos or a burger?" Holden asked, sitting at his desk, filtering through old crime scene photos again.

"Am I your wife? Your mother? Your maid? I don't think so," Vicki answered him as she sat down at her desk with a bag of fast food.

"No, but you're my partner. That's important too," Holden mumbled.

Vicki chuckled and pulled out a cheeseburger from her bag. "Don't worry. I got you one too."

"We must really have problems to be able to eat while looking at dead bodies," Holden said as he handed her another file.

"I really thought that body at the junkyard was going to be another victim of O's. I'm glad it wasn't. The last thing we need is another dead body from him," Vicki said before taking a bite of her burger.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. It was weird though, right?" Holden asked.

"What was weird?"

"That woman being there?"

"I thought we agreed she was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Holden shrugged. He had a nagging feeling about the woman and checked her history.

"Her license is currently suspended for a past DWI."

He waited to see if Vicki would have a response. When she didn't, he continued. "Why wouldn't she tell us that?"

"Tell us what? That she'd been arrested for drunk driving? Why would she?"

"Because she's being interviewed by the police. She should have been more forthcoming," Holden grumbled.

"Why do you think that's suspicious?"

"It's just a gut feeling I have."

Vicki nodded. "Well, we have her contact information so we can always get in touch with her if we need to."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Holden still couldn't help but think Lucy Hanson had a secret.