Season Nine
A body is found at the bottom of a lake on the Carrington property. Fallon becomes romantically involved with John Zorelli, the police officer investigating the case — much to Blake and Jeff's dismay. The dead body turns out to be Roger Grimes, the man with whom Alexis was sleeping when she and Blake divorced. He had been dead for 20 years but the cold temperatures in the lake preserved his body. Fallon is haunted by memories of Roger Grimes that she cannot make sense of. Zorelli sees this and tries to use Fallon to get information about the murder, but develops true feelings for her. Fallon's relationship with Zorelli causes much friction between her and her family; Blake asks Fallon to not become involved in the investigation but she goes against his wishes. The friction between the usually close Fallon and Blake causes Fallon to temporarily move out of the mansion and into Sammy Jo's ranch. Ultimately, it is revealed that 8-year-old Fallon had shot Roger Grimes after finding him beating Alexis, and her late Grandfather Tom Carrington had hid the body in a mine under the lake to protect Fallon. The situation is complicated by the fact that the mine is full of stolen Nazi treasure, also hidden there by Tom Carrington. Roger's body had been disturbed from its hiding place by a diver hired by Alexis' cousin, Sable Colby,trying to find what was hidden at the lake .
Fallon learns that her half-sister, Krystina, has found an alternate entrance to the mine. They go there together and stumble upon the treasure, but are followed by the son of Roger Grimes and soon trapped by a cave-in.
Read more about this topic: Fallon Carrington Colby
Famous quotes containing the word season:
“When we reached the lake, about half past eight in the evening, it was still steadily raining, and harder than before; and, in that fresh, cool atmosphere, the hylodes were peeping and the toads ringing about the lake universally, as in the spring with us. It was as if the season had revolved backward two or three months, or I had arrived at the abode of perpetual spring.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.”
—John Donne (c. 1572–1631)