♪ ♪
Sure this is a good idea?
Totally.
Got them from Froomie, who said they're safe.
You trust a guy named Froomie?
(expl*si*n)
(loud expl*si*n)
What was that?
Probably nothing.
Nothing?
Boy: Did we do that?
You're an idiot.
So is Froomie.
Boy: Holy crap.
I'll get a hose.
Aah!
Come on, come on, hurry!
Chas, there's someone in there!
Go inside, get him out!
(grunts)
Go! What you are waiting for?
Chas: It's no use. The guy, he... he's dead.
Girl: What?
♪ NCIS:New Orleans 2x05 ♪
Foreign Affairs
Original Air Date on October 20, 2015
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
Pride: Ready, music major?
Totally.
♪ I wonder where my friend has gone... ♪
Is ts the...
Old Trutone.
Where Grandma used to sing?
Used to sneak in.
Tuck into this corner right here.
Man, your grandma had soul.
Gave Billie Holiday a run for her money.
(sound system fizzes)
Oh...
(lyric stutters)
Still kind of a work in progress.
No, it's amazing.
It'll be more amazing when you and I can jam in here together.
So, you tell Mom about this place?
Mentioned it.
And did she mention Carl?
Guy who's taking her to the Bahamas?
Carl Walsh?
Investment banker?
Works for Loeb and Wexler?
No priors?
Minimum parking violations?
That Carl?
Of course, you ran his background.
Wanted to make sure she'd be safe.
Is that all you were doing?
(phone beeps)
Done in by the dead.
Let's go.
Oh, is it okay if I hang out?
Soak it all in?
Lock up when you go.
♪ Better off if ♪
♪ He was coming home ♪
♪ Better off if he was coming home. ♪
(siren wailing)
Brody: Victim was found in the burning trailer.
Pride: Trailer belongs to...?
It's a navy rental.
Called the housing office.
Waiting to hear back.
Kids found the body.
Called the cops in a panic, thinking they had caused the fire.
Did they?
Negatory!
Fire marshals found this.
Some type of incendiary device.
Room was soaked with kerosene.
Arson.
When Percy gets here, I'll have her canvass for witnesses.
Uh, no Percy. She's got a week of counterintelligence training.
She's gone?
Yep.
I, uh, pulled the screws out of her chair so she'd fall down when she sits in it.
And I swapped all her pens with disappearing ink.
Brody, let the kids off with a warning.
Chris, you're with me.
Morning, Loretta.
What we got?
Caucasian male, late 20s.
Remnants of a wallet.
Rear pocket.
b*rned to a crisp.
But I've got something that might interest you.
Looks like a crown, yeah?
That's Royal Australian Navy.
Guy seems lost by about 9,000 miles.
Brody: Our victim is Lieutenant Lachlan Colston of Melbourne, here as a part of the Navy's Personnel Exchange Program.
Allied sailors from around the globe switch places with an American counterpart of similar rank for one year.
In this case, Colston life-swapped with a Lieutenant Brad Ryder.
Both men worked logistics.
And the trailer Colston was living in belonged to Ryder as well.
We know what Colston was working on specifically?
Details are compartmented.
Information is being controlled by the Royal Australian Navy.
We're trying to get read in, but the Aussies aren't talking.
And cue my entrance.
Naomi Parsons, Australia Defense Force Investigative Services.
Australia?
Yeah.
Got here fast.
I was on assignment in your capital.
I just hopped on the early flight.
(phone ringing)
Oh, that will be your director, Agent Pride, confirming my participation.
Pride here.
So... I am...
Special Agent Christopher Lasalle?
Spent seven years at NOPD Vice.
And also you have received multiple commendations for your work at the New Orleans Children's Hospital. You must be Agent Merideth Brody, youngest special agent in the history of the Midwest Office of NCIS.
I just like to be thorough.
Appears you are who you say you are.
Well, that's a relief.
So let's get started.
Lieutenant Colston was part of a team conducting high-level negotiations between our countries.
Negotiations that would allow U.S. Minuteman missiles in the Cocos Islands.
Nuclear warheads?
Pride: Tactical response to a potential Chinese air strike.
Colston's plan was the linchpin of any agreement between our countries, and without him...
Talks stall.
More than stall. They fall apart.
Now, my thesis is that he was m*rder*d to scuttle a treaty between our two countries.
We'll need to compile a list of any groups or countries that would have a reason to not want the U.S. to be in the Cocos Islands.
And also, love it if we could contact your State Department to get an update on the status of those talks.
Okay, Investigator Parsons, I feel...
You know, I would also seriously love a cappuccino.
Is that your kitchen?
I'm gonna help myself.
What the hell was that?
That was what my mother. a tornado riding on the back of a hurricane.
Agent Lasalle talked to the State Department.
Cocos Island negotiations...
Are highly secretive with a small delegation of diplomats.
Chinese are the obvious suspects.
Of course, Pakistan, Indonesia.
Frankly half the developed world...
Has a stake in these talks.
Oh, I cut you off, didn't I?
Couple of times there.
I do that sometimes. Sorry.
Appreciate that you're aware.
There's that Southern politeness you're famous for, Agent Pride.
Am I famous?
Second highest arrest record in Jefferson Parish history.
Top marks from NCIS Headquarters.
You're from Sydney, right?
Mm-hmm.
My Aunt Effie went to Sydney once.
Said the people were real nice.
Was big on etiquette, Effie.
When she came to visit, she brought pastry.
Took her shoes off at the door, helped out with the chores.
You saying you want me to be a good guest, Agent Pride?
(phone beeps)
Please and thank you.
Our local medical examiner.
She's finished the autopsy.
If I promise to be like Aunt Effie, can I tag along?
Please and thank you?
Wade: As you can see, the body's very badly b*rned.
We still looking at smoke inhalation?
Well, that would require functioning lungs, which I no longer think Lieutenant Colston had.
Could find no evidence of swelling or damage to the respiratory tract.
I did, however, discover this perforation in the anterior and posterior wall of what remains of the left heart ventricle.
m*rder w*apon?
Judging by the depth and length of penetration, I'd wager a Kn*fe at least six inches in length, sawback edge.
So, someone stabs Colston, douses his body in kerosene, leaves an incendiary device behind...
To cover his tracks.
Missed one step, which I almost did because the distal phalanges of both his hands and feet had almost turned to ash, but I believe Lieutenant Colston had his right index finger cut off by the w*apon that stabbed him.
m*rder*r took a trophy.
Yeah, and it's happened before.
Oh, this is Sebastian Lund...
Lund, forensic scientist, undergrad at Penn.
Graduate Degree from MIT, and you also have a pretty tricked-out Web site on the Illuminati.
Um...
Pride: Investigator Naomi Parsons from the R.A.N.
Oh.
She likes to be thorough.
(with Australian accent): Two men enter, one man leaves.
Thunderdome?
Wade: Sebastian, you were saying?
I was saying.
Thank you. Yes. I've found two cases in the last three years, both with the same modus operandi.
s*ab, burn the evidence, remove the index finger with a six-inch sawback blade.
Your k*ller has done this before.
Brody: Shirley Pappas was due to testify against her employer Lou Sussman in 2013.
Sussman was a physician accused of bogus billing practices.
Shirley's testimony would have put him away, but she was m*rder*d before trial, and Sussman walked.
In 2014, Fred Brower was k*lled two weeks after his estranged wife took out a $1 million life insurance policy on him.
There's no apparent link between either of the victims.
And no links to Colston?
NOPD suspects they both were m*rder-for-hire jobs, but can't prove it.
Okay, where does one hire a hit man in New Orleans?
Patton: Let Triple P paint you a picture.
See, the Dark Web is a cesspool of sin and temptation, beyond the reach of the ordinary d*ck and Jane.
How do you get access?
Well, in layman terms, you need special software and password.
Dude or dudettes in the know-- they can shop for g*ns, dr*gs, and all kind of icky sex.
Hit men.
Oh, yeah, baby.
Tons of advertising for dirty deeds done dirt cheap.
I did some pokey-poke around-- look what I found.
Naomi: "Hit man for hire.
St. Mary to St. Bernard"?
Parishes in Southern Louisiana.
Our version of a county.
Check out the Kn*fe.
Sawback edge.
So, how do we get to him?
We order up a hit.
Give me a couple of hours.
Laurel: I'm taking this B.B. King.
You're leaving the B.B. King.
"Sweet Little Angel"?
You used to sing that to me every night.
Which is why it's staying mine.
(phone chimes)
Your mother?
Yep.
She having fun?
She's going scuba diving.
Oh.
Tell her not to feed any sharks.
So, you're really okay with this?
Mom and a guy named Carl?
Just want her to be happy.
Well, I want you both to be happy.
I'm happy. Got you.
Bar.
Work.
Work is work.
Bar is just more work.
When do you have time for... something else?
I'm the father.
You're the daughter.
My job to worry about you.
Daughters are allowed to worry, too.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
See, somebody else gets it.
Update on our hit men.
Mr. P set a drop for 9:00 a.m. tomorrow--
$10,000 cash, Armstrong Park.
It's Triple P.
And you need me to authorize the money.
I was just trying to be efficient.
Leave the B.B. King, daughter.
♪ ♪
Pride: Comm check.
Loud and clear.
Lima, Charlie.
Pride: Good and good.
Thank you.
Leave 'em open.
Now we wait.
We could pass the time with another folksy allegory.
Well, try this one on for size, Naomi Adele Parsons.
Born in Brisbane.
Graduated top of her class, Melbourne Law.
Six years at a prestigious trust and wills firm... before quitting to enlist in the Navy.
Yeah, that sounds vaguely familiar.
Mm-hmm.
I can be thorough, too.
Follow up?
If you must.
Why would someone leave a six-figure gig less than one year before making partner?
I didn't see myself that way anymore.
How do you see yourself, exactly?
Got a Dumpster diver.
Movement at the drop.
African-American male, hoodie, five-seven.
Suspect has the envelope.
I've lost visual contact.
No worries. We got Agent Lasalle and Brody on the backside.
I'm losing him.
Damn it. Move now!
Everyone, move now!
Stop!
Aah!
Don't move a muscle!
Go easy, babe.
Palms up!
They up.
Ross P.?
Lasalle?
Man, get Crocodile Dandee up off me.
I-I give.
Go easy on him, Parsons. We know him.
This could be our hit man.
Highly unlikely.
(tires screech)
More likely that was our hit man. And you just scared him off.
Lasalle: What's going on, Ross P.?
Like I told you before--
I got sprung a few weeks ago.
My P.O. said I need a job.
Pope was taken, so I applied for GopherU.
What the hell's GopherU?
People, they pay you for all kind of odd jobs.
You know? Pick up prescriptions, drop off their laundry.
Grab envelopes out of trash cans?
I mean, I ain't picky.
The client.
Who was it?
No clue.
I know his handle, though, is, uh...
Hunter28.
All right. Where were you supposed to deliver the package?
Another trash can, just a few blocks away.
Come on, Ross P.
Nothing good was ever delivered from one trash can to another.
Come on, man. Of course I knew it was shady, but, if you hadn't noticed, my considerable skill set doesn't exactly translate to the legit job market.
Maybe with your help, you know...
Well, the last time I helped, you sold dr*gs behind my back.
Don't be like that, Lasalle.
Look, I'm really trying to walk on the straight side of the street here.
I mean, a leopard can change his stripes, huh?
Only problem with that... is leopards have spots.
Change those, too.
You jumped the g*n back there.
May have lost us the trail of our k*ller.
Now, I'm sure you're under all kinds of pressure from the R.A.N.
You want to know what my pressure is?
Colston's wife and his two little girls, Susie and Maureen.
Six and eight years of age.
They deserve to know what happened to their dad.
Trust me, we got the same priorities on this side of the Pacific.
But moving forward, you need to take it down a notch.
You need to work on my terms.
And you need to work unarmed.
Give it up.
Keep it coming.
How about what's in the boot?
That's all of it.
Pleasure doing business with you.
Good news or bad?
Get the bad out of the way.
GopherU's not cooperating.
Citing privacy issues. We're gonna have to play the whole warrant dance to get anywhere.
And the good?
SUV speeding from the park-- got the license plate from a traffic cam.
Registered to Phil Kasey, lives in Algiers.
Long list of felonies.
Possession of expl*sives and as*ault with a Kn*fe.
Just like our hit man.
Let's go pay Mr. Kasey a visit.
NCIS!
Brody.
I got something.
expl*sives.
Could be what was used to start the fire at Colston's trailer.
Could be.
Look.
Info on our other m*rder victims.
Fred Brower.
Shirley Pappas.
Here's a picture of Colston.
Wait a second.
Ryder.
Ryder is the Navy officer who traded places with Colston.
Ryder lived in the same trailer, worked at the same office.
Is it possible that our hit man was hired to k*ll Ryder...
But k*lled Colston instead?
Owner of the house is Phil Kasey, former longshoreman now on disability.
Seem to moonlight as a hit man on the Dark Web.
Appears to be responsible for at least three murders, including Lieutenant Colston.
Yeah, we're thinking Colston was not Kasey's target.
Every piece of information in the hit file corresponds to Lieutenant Ryder.
The American.
We found expl*sive material at Kasey's home, sent 'em over to Sebastian.
Also found a laptop that's been wiped clean.
Patton's examining.
We need to talk to Lieutenant Ryder.
Australian Central Command's got him ready.
I wanted to wait for you, this being your turf.
Let's go get him up on SCIF.
What is this, some kind of joke?
Did Commander Wallace put you up to this?
No joke, Lieutenant.
You're saying the guy who I traded jobs with was m*rder*d?
We're saying Lieutenant Colston might have taken a Kn*fe because someone thought he was you.
There anyone in New Orleans who has issues with you, Lieutenant Ryder?
No, sir.
I pay my bills on time, open doors for strangers, I mind my Ps and Qs.
Besides, I was only stationed there for 11 months before my PEP transfer.
I usually find 11 months plenty of time to make enemies.
Let us ask you this: we found a notebook in the hit man's house.
Three addresses next to your name.
Your trailer.
Navy logistics office on Dauphine Street.
And an address on Rampart Street.
The Black Penny?
That's it.
It's a music joint.
My... my girlfriend Cheryl-- she gigs there three nights a week.
Is she in some kind of danger?
♪ And now I'll never be ♪
♪ The same ♪
♪ Can't help but feeling ♪
♪ Like I've gone ♪
♪ To Heaven ♪
♪ And all this started ♪
♪ When you said ♪
♪ You loved me. ♪
(applause)
Brad's not hurt, is he?
Lieutenant Ryder's fine.
This man-- Lieutenant Colston-- not so lucky.
Current theory is, someone put a hit out on him.
We think the k*ller may have mistaken him for Ryder.
That's... awful.
Everything okay?
Yeah.
Luke Elliott, piano player.
Should we be worried?
We don't think there's a current thr*at to you, but the address to the bar was on the hit man's list.
Brad practically lived here when he was in New Orleans.
He came every time we played and stayed through all our sets.
Our most loyal fan.
Are you two still together?
Yeah, but, you know, long distance, time difference. Tough.
Did anything out of the ordinary happen in the past few weeks?
Someone hanging around that shouldn't be here?
There was a guy the other night-- he came in, sat at the bar, stared at me.
At the end of the show, he came asking about Brad.
What did he want?
I don't know.
But he said if I saw Brad, that he'd better contact a guy named...
"Sug... Sugar Wells?"
Describe this Sugar fella.
Um, African-American.
Had tattoos down his neck.
Mohawk.
And, um...
He had a gold grill on his bottom teeth.
Guy was scary as hell.
So you're Sugar Wells.
In the flesh and bone.
We hear you're the biggest online bookmaker on the East Bank.
(laughs) I'm glad to see my reputation's still intact.
Brad Ryder-- he's a client of yours?
I have lots of clients.
Yeah, well, this one wears a Navy uniform--
Lieutenant Brad Ryder.
You can shove that picture in my face all you want.
I don't know faces.
It's online bets and online payments.
Well, what about this? Maybe this jogs your memory?
That's just nasty.
That's what it looks like when a man don't pay his debts.
Care to put the phone away?
It's football season, my busy time.
Yup.
Hey, man.
Back to Ryder.
Look, far as I know about his accounts, the dude was like a hundred grand in the hole.
And he maxed out all his credit cards.
Ryder set up, "Pay My Bills," not so much.
After those cards were maxed out, you went and threatened his girlfriend.
When you couldn't find him, you hired somebody to take him out.
Look, dead men don't pay.
I took a loss with Ryder.
Had to close all his accounts when I heard he got k*lled.
You heard he was k*lled?
Rumor had it he was deep-fried.
So I went by the house, saw the char, which I had nothing to do with.
Now could I get that phone back?
Pride: Okay, Chris.
Keep looking.
So far, no connects between Sugar Wells and our hit man.
Still looking.
Sounds like squeaky clean Lieutenant Ryder lied to us about a couple of things.
The question is, what else is he hiding?
Well, I don't know about Ryder, but your hit man had massive quantities of ammonium nitrate, nitrobenzene, baker's sugar and aluminum powder in his house.
Or aluminium powder in your native tongue.
Got some of it from Kasey's hidden workshop, the rest from the Dumpster outside of his house.
You know, people throw away a lot of really useful stuff these days.
I actually toyed with being a freegan in college, but it turns out that female anarchists rarely shower.
Naomi: So, are these the items that made the expl*sive that destroyed Colston's trailer?
Yeah, but, uh, given the amount of scrap metal I found, I think it's safe to say that Kasey had made multiple devices.
Could be more than one b*mb?
Exactly, which is why I wanted to show you this receipt.
What's on it?
Oh, uh, pizza grease, stale beer, some kind of bodily fluid?
(clears his throat)
You mean what's on it on it.
It's a shipping receipt.
Package mailed yesterday to New South Wales, Australia.
Where Ryder is stationed.
What if Kasey realized that he k*lled the wrong man and wanted to make good on the contract?
By sending a mail b*mb.
We need to find that package.
Pride: According to the clerk, truck has one more stop before heading to the airport.
Yeah, according to the tracker, I think you want to take a left up ahead.
Left. Left's gonna be a little bit of a problem.
Hang on.
(tires squealing)
(engine revving)
(speaks indistinctly)
(tires squealing)
Federal agents. Step out of the truck.
(siren blaring, garbled radio transmission)
It's clean. No expl*sive materials.
Safe?
Can't guarantee safe, just that it won't blow up.
Thank you.
Oh, no.
Got to be Colston's.
On its way to Ryder?
Proof of death.
Ryder's deep in debts that he can't pay.
Suddenly, there's Colston living in his trailer, living his life.
And then Colston ends up dead.
But everyone thinks it's Ryder.
Specifically, Sugar Wells, the guy he owed money to.
It's convenient.
Or the point of it all.
Your guy kills my guy, and then all his problems go away.
Loretta confirms the finger belonged to Colston.
Package was on its way to Ryder in Australia.
If Naomi is right, Ryder put the hit out on Colston to get out from under gambling debts.
Big if. Still got to get our hands on the hit man Kasey.
Get a BOLO out.
We need to get back in the room with Ryder, too.
Australian Central Command's giving us the runaround.
Access to Ryder has been denied.
What do you mean denied?
He's been detained for questioning in the m*rder of Lachlan Colston.
Give us a minute.
You hijack my investigation, you better have a good reason.
My people have jurisdiction over U.S. forces with respect to offenses committed whilst inside Australia.
I know the damn treaty.
One of my countrymen is being shipped home in a flag-draped box.
And we're doing everything we can to find out why.
But this case is a joint task force.
Not anymore.
If Lieutenant Ryder arranged a m*rder-for-hire plot while serving under the R.A.N., my turf now.
You want to withhold access to Ryder.
You want to make it your guy versus my guy.
Then I got to question your priorities.
You do what you're gonna do, but as far as I'm concerned, you're off this case.
Someone's mad.
Is it 'cause of the pretty redhead?
(sighs) Yeah, she's pretty... something.
Sounds like a certain brunette I share a gene pool with.
Huh.
No, not even in the same area code.
Look, your mother...
One of a kind.
But she's moved on, and I'm okay with that.
I'm also okay not rushing to replace her.
I'm not asking you to rush or replace.
I just want to make sure you're not using your work and the bar to... hide.
I want to acknowledge that daughters can worry, but they don't have to.
I'm gonna be fine, promise.
Anything useful on the hit man's laptop?
Yeah.
So, I found an e-mail from whoever ordered the hit on Colston.
It was placed in the draft folder two days after Colston was k*lled.
"Final payment. Drop off tomorrow same place as last time." Where's last time?
I don't have that.
(phone chirps)
Break in the case?
No, more like a pain in my ass.
Ugh. (scoffs)
Find our where "last time" was.
Man, I don't do miracles, man.
Ross P.: Took you long enough.
Now can you please tell this fine officer that we know each other?
Maybe ditch these bracelets?
Breaking and entering?
Let me explain.
This is not change, Ross P.
It's a misunderstanding.
Look, it's the same old crap.
You messing up, doing something stupid.
Then you call me to bail your tail out.
You finished?
Nope, but you are.
(phone beeps on)
Soon as I get your parole officer on the phone.
Whatever it is you stole, I hope it was worth it.
Why don't you take a look?
What'd he grab?
(phone beeps off)
You broke in to GopherU's offices?
You said I needed to do you a solid.
Stealing files... files that can't be used in court-- it's not a solid.
I want to help you catch a hit man.
Look, man, I'm not just a leopard changing his spots, all right?
I'm talking full-blown evolution here.
Uh, wings, a beak.
Before you know it, I'm gonna be a whole eagle.
(laughs) You're damn straight, eagle man.
Brody: Based on these files, our hit man had GopherU pick up a package for him here.
I guess this is the drop site.
Means it's probably where he was coming today for his final payment.
Brody: Looks like he got his final payment, all right.
Wade: Thank you.
A single g*nsh*t to the chest, small caliber.
Victim d*ed instantly.
How long has he been here?
Judging by lividity, three hours, maybe less.
We're right on the k*ller's tail.
Mm-hmm. Cell phone ended up in the pool.
Lasalle: I'm sure Sebastian will squeeze something out of it.
How's Investigator Parsons?
Benched. Unnecessary roughness.
Ooh! Takes talent to get under Dwayne Pride's skin.
It seems our agent from down under is quite a natural.
Pride: Headed home?
I believe that's where we left it.
Found the hit man.
Dead. Recent.
We believe he was k*lled by whomever hired him.
And Ryder was still in Australia.
Yeah.
Also, Ryder's credit cards appear to have been compromised.
Someone else seems to have gotten ahold of all of the cards' numbers and made the bets with Sugar Wells.
So, again, not Ryder.
Think he was just an innocent victim.
Like Colston.
Wanted you to be able to update Colston's wife and his girls.
Hey... I've got a folksy story for you.
There was this lawyer.
Uh, expensive suits, fancy apartment overlooking the Harbor.
Her clients were all one-percenters, before they even called them that.
And every time one of them would die, the vultures would come out of the woodwork.
Wives, exes, sons, daughters... just clamoring for their share of the stuff.
Imagine that... wore the lawyer out.
So much so that she began to drink.
A lot more than her five-foot-four, 110-pound body could handle.
And then, one day, she wakes up behind the wheel of a car... just as she's about to run over a seven-year-old girl.
She missed.
Lucky.
Yeah.
And the very next day, she quit her job, joined the Navy.
Now, she's still hard-charging-- maybe even more so-- but when people's loved ones die... she's there to provide answers.
And comfort and closure.
I know that racket.
(phone beeps)
Sebastian.
Mr. Thunderdome?
(both laugh)
He's been working on the hit man's phone.
Thinks he's got something.
You should go.
You should come with.
Closure... it beckons.
Sebastian: Did everything I could to resuscitate the phone.
Started simple: paper towels, followed by the, uh, bag of rice trick.
Then, I had to operate.
Opened up the casing, gave the internal mechanisms a thorough vacuuming...
But I'm afraid it was no use.
Phone d*ed on the operating table at 4:03 this afternoon.
Then what are we doing here?
'Cause I was able to save the memory card.
And?
Sebastian: Photos... of Colston.
Pride: So hit man Kasey was tracking Colston.
Sebastian: For days. There's dozens of photos like this.
Hang on, is that...
Pride: Cheryl Eastman.
Naomi: Ryder's girlfriend.
Sebastian: Yeah, there are a ton with Colston and this girl.
She lied to us.
Yeah.
Question is why?
And what does she have to do with Colston's m*rder?
You acted as if you didn't know Colston, Cheryl.
Photos tell a different story.
After Brad left, we left it up in the air.
But I got worried things were going to end and I was lonely.
Lachlan was new in town, lonely, too, so we started hanging out.
Friends, but... yeah, things got intense.
It was a mistake.
Which part?
Scam on Ryder, the seduction of Colston?
The hit man?
Okay, I swear...
I got no clue what you're talking about.
Really?
Yeah.
No clue?
Well, a woman with no clue would have no problem coming clean.
Well, I didn't want Brad to know.
b*rned up body in a trailer trumps an "up in the air" relationship.
In my opinion.
Mine as well.
So I...
I think you have a clue.
Little voice in your head.
Little voice saying something you may not want to listen to.
What's it saying to you, Cheryl?
I don't understand.
Why does this always happen?
Why does what happen?
Luke... says I'm cursed.
Any time I get close to someone-- like, really start to care-- something ruins it.
Mike from, um...
Nashville, he, uh, got in a... car accident.
And then Justin from Galveston...
God, things are going great, and then... all of a sudden just... stops calling me.
Freezes me out.
Changed his number, his e-mail.
And now this.
With Lachlan.
And Brad.
It sounds like you are awfully unlucky in relationships.
None of them stick.
Except for one.
Where were you?
I was trying to call.
Oh, NCIS, they called me in.
They had all sorts of questions.
Why? What'd you say?
Oh, nothing.
I just stopped talking.
They assigned me a lawyer.
(sighs) Let's get out of here.
You know?
Go on the road, head to Florida, pick up some gigs.
Yeah. I, um...
I want to go to Australia.
See Brad.
Brad?
Yeah.
After he left you?
He didn't leave me, he just got assigned.
He left, Cheryl.
And the Lachlan guy?
What kind of man screws another man's girlfriend?
Luke, that...
I-I just don't get it.
These guys, they're all the same.
They get what they want from you and then they're gone.
Over and over again.
And who's left?
Me. Always me.
I'm the one who takes care of you, but no matter how good I am, you-you don't see me like you see them.
What did you do, Luke?
Nothing.
You k*lled Lachlan.
You set up Brad.
You drove away every man that has ever cared about me.
To protect you.
Oh, my God...
Those guys... they... they didn't care about you.
Not like I do.
You're sick.
Get away from me!
No, no, look...
Let go of me! Let me go!
Listen to me.
Get away from me!
Just let me explain.
Federal agents!
Get your hands in the air!
Get 'em up!
Hands on the roof.
On the roof!
Got a g*n.
Got him covered.
Where'd you get the w*apon?
Naomi: You disarmed me.
I had to rearm.
I'm thorough, remember?
You're one for the books, lady.
Think we have enough on the wire for a confession?
If not, I'll bet you dollars to donuts the ballistics from this g*n will match the slug taken out of the hit man.
I'll do the honors.
Back at the office.
Got it, King.
Hey, uh, I'm just gonna step away and make a call.
Sun's just coming up at home.
Family should know.
Closure.
Lasalle: You got it?
Ross P.: Hold your damn horses.
(music playing clearly)
(chuckles) There you go.
All right.
Coax was bad, so I took the liberty of rerouting the audio through the digital optical port.
I mean, know my tunes, man.
That's more than I can say for your cop work.
Yeah.
I learned my lesson on that front.
Guess I just have to stick to being the handsomest handyman in the hippest bar that ain't even open yet.
A bar that's owned by my best friend and my boss, which you got 'cause I vouched for you.
All right?
So if you devolve from an eagle into a rat... you gotta deal with me.
Thought I was a leopard or some damn thing.
Wasn't I a leopard?
(laughs)
Just turn it up, Ross P.
Come on, turn it up!
Yeah!
♪ Now wait just a second ♪
♪ I want to state for the record... ♪
Airport already?
Probably be thrilled to get rid of me.
Oh, no, I wouldn't say that.
Dwayne Pride.
Former Jefferson Parish Deputy Sheriff.
Recently divorced, with one child, Laurel, who suggested that I mention... that I'm gonna be back in the city in a couple of months.
(laughs)
Is that what she suggested?
Mmm. She's sharp, that one.
Sharp... and insistent.
Yep.
Well... good.
Good, 'cause I'm kind of in the middle of a transition now, so...
I know that racket.
Well, I'm quite sure you do.
Well, you know, just... take your time.
Pleasure doing business with you, Parsons.
The pleasure was mine...
Agent Pride.
(chuckles)
Safe travels.