Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

06x10 - Road Kill
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Author:  bunniefuu [ 12/05/08 11:48 ]
Post subject:  06x10 - Road Kill

I know, come on.

Sit down.

Why are you hiding?

'Cause we weren't invited, Lucas.

It's the after party. It belongs to all of us.

An invitation would have been redundant.

It would have been polite.

Come on. They're all going to be happy to see us.

They're never happy to see us at lunch.

Why would it be so different now?


Come on.


Hey, guys. Look what we brought.

They don't look so happy.

Help. Help, help...

NCIS Season06 Episode10 Road Kill

I'm not even going to ask.

Allow me.

What are you doing, Tony?

Best deep-in-thought face.

I guess there's a first time for everything.

Nailed it. All right, strawdawg24, beat this one.

Yeah, baby. The place to compete online with anyone in anything.

Yeah, it's very fun. It's very addictive.

Look at this guy. Best air guitar. Look at that guy. Best do The Hustle.

I mean, you name it, they got it.

"The Hustle"?

The Hustle.

Saturday Night Fever? Travolta.

You know.

What is the point?

What is the point of any dance? It's about letting loose.

It's, you know, having a good time.

I meant the Web site, Tony.

It's fun.

It is amusement, light-hearted pleasure.

I know what you're doing. I know how to have fun, Tony.

Really? Do tell.

The hustling and the deep-thinking photos, those are all just, you know, child's play.

Tell him, McGee.


Uh, I'm working on my best psycho face here.

That's not bad, probie.

Just need to work it a little bit at the eyebrow.

See what I'm saying? See how that reads?

See that? That's what you want. - Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah...

Would you two like some time alone together?

Uh, no, boss. We were just...

Acting like children.

You say that like it's a bad thing.

Got a dead petty officer in the woods; let's go.

Check out the air guitarists yet?

I'm in third place right now.

Petty Officer Greg Collins. Twenty-six.

Worked as a boatswain's mate on the USSShenandoah.

On 30-day leave.

Lives alone in Norfolk.

Gibbs. Found a blood trail, goes this way.

Leads back to the car.

Run off the road.

You know that just by looking?

Listening, DiNozzo. The sheriff told me.

Gonna follow the blood trail.

Wait for me, Pocahontas.

Well, this fellow didn't come here to roast marshmallows.

Blunt force trauma.

Glass fragment cuts on the exposed skin.

Seatbelt restraint contusions-- all consistent with a...

Car accident.

Stumbles in looking for help.

Yeah, well, he certainly need it.

However, what is strange is that these minor abrasions were tended to, whereas his most serious injuries were not.

This explains it.

These wounds are older.

They show signs of primary hemostasis.

First stages of scab formation.

Ah, it appears our deceased had an unfortunate accident before he had his unfortunate accident.

Someone didn't know how to parallel park.

I have always found it hard to park when someone is shooting at you.

Found the slug in the passenger headrest.

Missed its target, huh?

Got the job done.

Talk to me.

Well, it looks like Collins' car was shot at, boss.

Several partial fingerprints on the driver's side window here.

Time of crash?

Well, the kids didn't hear any gunshots or the crash, so it must've been...

Wasn't a question, DiNozzo.

The clock on the dash is broken.


7:22 p.m.

Hour before the party started.

Shoe print. The victim's?

That's not a Chuck.

Collins was wearing Chuck Taylor Converse All-Stars.

You know, basketball shoes. That's not a Chuck. Somebody else was here.



Or shooter.

This is getting like a Greek tragedy.

Did you know that legend has it that in 456 B.C. a vulture mistook a man's bald head for its prey and dropped a stone on it?

Killed him instantly.

Yeah, the unfortunate fellow became known as...

The father of Greek tragedy.

I had no idea you were familiar with the classics, Jethro.

Perhaps it's only the tragedies?

What do you got for me, Duck?

Well, like Aeschylus, our petty officer's death is both tragic and unique.

He suffered two types of injury: those sustained in the car crash and those inflicted on him prior to it, see?

This fist-shaped bruise on his forehead, the gouges on his cheek by the broken jaw.

He was beaten.


And he fought back as well.

See, the knuckles on his right hand are skinned raw.

However, Abby performed a DNA test on some skin fragments I found under Collins' fingernails.

Presumably, they belong to his attacker.

Our brilliant forensic scientist has now come up with something most interesting.

The same DNA on Collins' bandages.

Same person.

The hands that pummeled the petty officer also bandaged his wounds.

Whoever did this, Jethro, is both savage and a Samaritan.

Hey, McGee, do you have the crime scene photos? I need to cue them up for Gibbs.

Tony was supposed to upload them.

Where is he?

Big Wong's. It's his turn for takeout.

Sothisis air guitaring?

Yeah, you know, you, uh, pretend to play the guitar.

Why not actually play the guitar?

Well, because it is calledairguitaring?

Right. I got that part.

I still do not understand...

Ziva, photos. Plasma.

There are two sets of tire tracks on the road near the crash.

Based on the vectoring of the skids, both cars were traveling in the same direction.

Bullet through the back window.

I smell road rage.

And I smell Big Wong.

Collins swerves, rolls down the embankment.

The other driver goes down looking for him.

Finds a corpse and bails, hit-and-run.

Shoot and run.

My God, Gibbs, I'm so sorry. I just...

Shooter could have known Collins. Ran him off the road on purpose.

Well, we'll know soon enough.

Abby's running the prints from the driver's side window through AFIS.

Boss, I've been monitoring Collins' cell phone activity.

He just received a call.

From who?

Home security service.

Collin's alarm is going off.

I see you like going through my photos, huh?

Yeah, I like reading.

Hemmingway, Dostoevsky-- guess what he wrote?

The Idiot.


Clear inside.

But we got something.

Found it in a laundry basket.

Maybe the Laundromat was out of quarters.

Looks like six, $700 there.

They forced the latch on the back door open.

Forgot the money.


Blood's dry. At least a day old.

Looks like the Tooth Fairy missed one.

A couple more here. Bag 'em.

Ah, damn. Neighbors.

Come on.

I'm Bruce Solomon. I, uh, I live across the street.

I'm, uh, Adam Parker, the duplex with the English ivy.

We, uh, we heard the alarm. It's been going off for 46 minutes.

Um, we did a quick patrol.

No signs of any suspicious activity.

Let me guess, Neighborhood Watch.

Mm-hmm, is Greg okay?

Petty Officer Collins is dead.

Car accident, last night.

Oh, my God.

Was it on Route Ten?

'Cause we've petioned the city for a turn lane there for a long time.

Collins was murdered. Run off the road.

You don't look surprised.

You have a lot of murders here on Wisteria Lane?

Well, it's a, it's a very quiet area, but ever since Greg moved in...

Not so quiet. There's music, parties... lots of drinking.

Last week, it got completely out of hand. There was this whole gang of them.

And then a fight broke out, but nobody tried to break it up.

They were just standing around cheering. It was weird.

It reminded me of, um...

Tyler Durden.

Yeah, exactly.


Ed Norton, Brad Pitt, Fight Club.

Sorry, Ziva, we don't talk about fight club.


In your case, I'll make an exception for you, boss.

Underground backyard brawls.

No rules, no gloves, no mercy.

There's a huge black market for underground fight videos.

It starts in the backyard...

Ends on the back road.

No match on the partials from Collins' car.

And this is the best of them.

Partials are a little tougher.

But that hasn't stopped me, nor will it ever, because I am the Energizer Bunny of forensic science.

I never sleep and I never give up.

Help, I'm losing power.

Shoe print.

We couldn't match it to any known brand.

Even Tony didn't recognize it.

You know his shoe collection.

We think the shoe was custom-made.

And very pricey.

Sweet. I heart the VODD.

Virginia Offender DNA Databank.

Abby ran the DNA from Collins' bandages and hit the jackpot.


Patience, fearless leader, I'm just uploading the data right now.

And the winner is...

Sam Bennett. Civilian.

Rap sheet includes petty theft, B and E, disorderly conduct.

Doesn't appear to have a permanent address.


Well, shiver me timbers, looks like Bennett is part of a salvage crew on a ship.

Navy frigate, boss. USSRubicon.

You know how a ship is decommissioned?


First the military removes all the, uh, classified material-- the, uh, electronics, weapons.

Yes. I know.

The hull of the ship is, uh, is striped for scrap.

And if a ship has a history, it may be turned into a maritime museum.

You guys the Navy cops?

Yeah, my seahorse is double-parked outside.

You ought to see the lights. We're here to talk to Sam Bennett.

Not here.

Come again?

Bennett-- he's not on the ship.

Are you the foreman that I spoke to earlier, said that Sam Bennett was here?

Yeah. Was.

He clocked in earlier today.

He's wanted in connection with a murder.

We're here to speak with him.

Look, I can't find him, okay?

I had my crew look everywhere.

After I told him you were coming, he told the guys he was going out for a smoke.

He never came back.

Do you know where he's staying?

I don't really ask a lot of questions.

You know, these-these salvage guys, they're not exactly...

Employee of the Month material. We got it.

Here you go. Sorry.

Bennett's on the run.

I need a BOLO. Sam Bennett. Caucasian male, 23.

Go, McGee.

Well, Bennett doesn't have a cell. No e-mail. No driver's license.

No living relatives.

Not even a library card.

No. Bennett. As in Tony.



As in Sam I am. Sam, play it again, Sam. Sam with an "S."

All right, got it.

Oh, my gosh.

He's 23, six foot, three, 210 pounds.

Light brown hair, blue eyes, and a barbwire tattoo on his left bicep.

He was last seen...

Standing right behind you, DiNozzo.

I love it when they turn themselves in.

You want to tell me about Greg?

Stood by me when everyone else bailed.

Taught me how to look out for something else besides just myself.

Four-oh sailor.

He was my best friend.

I made a lot of mistakes.

And he-he turned my life around.

I owe him everything.

He got me the welding gig on the ship.

I'm-I'm good with my hands.

Greg's face said the same thing.

Tell me about the fights.

Not supposed to.

Fight club.

Told you.

You should look into it sometime.

I'm sure you'd enjoy yourself.

I remember my first fight.

I was eight. Shmuel Rubinstein.

Sounds like a real stud.

One punch and it was over.

What did poor Shmuel do to deserve the wrath of Ziva?

He said he liked me.

I keep my promises. He was my buddy.

Your buddy's dead.

The locations move around a lot.

Last week the fights went down at Greg's place.

He cleaned up, won some cash.

And the fights yesterday?

Vacant lot in Chesapeake.

So you and, uh, Collins-- you fought each other.

We didn't want to, but we didn't have a choice.

The-The fights are random draw.

When it was over, I-I fixed him up as best I could.

Then I killed him.

Oh, wait a minute, that was way too easy.

He didn't even get the Gibbs glare.

Could be covering for someone.

...with my own bare hands.

When my foreman told me that you guys were looking for me, I-I freaked out.

But I'm done running.

I owe it to Greg to do the right thing and to turn myself in.

You didn't kill him.

He's dead because of me.

You in the car with him?

No, his-his eyes were-were practically swollen shut from the fight.

I told him that it wasn't safe to drive.

He wouldn't listen.

I-I tried to stop him, and he just got in his car and he left.

Well, 20 minutes later, somebody shot up his car.


Crash wasn't an accident.

Wait, somebody killed him?

Sit down.

Who shot at him?

Any fighters have a grudge?

I don't know. I-I don't know any of them.

Greg would just bring me in to make some extra dough when I was tight for cash.


Reaper, Wild Dog...

No, their real names.

I don't know their real names.

But when I find out who did this to Greg, they're gonna know mine.

And that is the last thing they're ever gonna know!

Think one of those backyard brawlers whacked Collins?

Well, I doubt they're the most stable kind of people.

Big, hairy, sweaty Neanderthals pounding the pudding out of each other for giggles?

For green.

One of those fighters make a lot of money.

I'd pay to see the right bout.

Like Leroy Jethro Gibbs versus...


Oh, McGee, I was thinking like Terminator.

Which model? T-X? T-1000?

All of them. Gibbs terminates.

All right, how about Gibbs versus Godzilla.

King of the Monsters... toast.


Wingless in a nanosecond.

Come on, McGee, give me something fierce.

Boss man's got mad skills.

All right.

Ooh, okay. Gibbs versus...


Oh, that's good.

Okay, so, um, evil twin or a clone?

Gibbs! Good timing. I have something to show you.

Okay, we found three layers of paint on the left rear quarter panel-- silver and then brown, and then silver again over the original gold.

This is old-fashioned bumper cars.

By using the tire skids on the road, we were able to recreate the accident.

The first layer of paint is silver.

It came from the evil, mystery car. Bam!

It rams Collins' car. He swerves.

Pumps the brakes, and he leaves this tire skid on the road.

Then Collins' was shot at.

That's the, uh, bullet hole in the back window.

And there's two more slugs in the car.

So, uh, Collins hits the gas-- he burns rubber, and then fishtails into a barricade.

Bam! A brown barricade!

The second layer of paint.

Then another-- bam! as the evil car hits Collins' car one last time, sends him off the road and giving us the final layer of silver paint, and confirming its evilosity.

The silver base coat-- it contains three properties: methyl ethyl ketone, xylene and titanium dioxide.

Now, the first two are common solvents.

Titanium dioxide, not so much.

So, we should be able to trace it.

Then do it.

Hey, boss.

Yes, McGee?

Have you ever lost a fight?

Not sure I even ever won one.

Definitely a Gibbs clone.

I'm cross-referencing the paint against a database of automakers.

Got a match here, Maserati Quattroporte, 2009.

Need some serious coin to roll in one of those.

Find it.

Several registered in the tristate area.

Two belong to Muhammad Al-Qazir.

Unfortunately, his are both Baltic Black Metallic.

Argenta Silver.

Got it. Tabitha Summers.

Looks rich.

Uh, is rich.

Father died three years ago, left her the family's import business.

She's worth over 50 million.

Bring her in.

I'll send the limo.

You're on.

You owe me.



Dale Kapp, Mrs. Summers' personal attorney.

Can we get this over with?

Sure. This way, please.

That is what they call the eye of the cougar, probie.

Isn't she married?

She's a t jungle cat. The cougar is always on the hunt.

It's the nature of the beast.

I always thought cougars like young guys.

This is extremely mortifying for my client.

And while she has nothing to hide, she certainly wouldn't want it implied in the press that she has anything to do with your ongoing investigation.

You recognize him?


Do you recognize this?

Mm, my car. Or one of them.

It was involved in a hit-and-run accident last night.

But my husband and I were both in for the evening getting massages.

Then we'll need to talk to your husband.

You are.

Dale is my current husband.

Current? right. Uh, husband number... three.


Dale handled my previous divorce.

Mazel tov.

We never left our home.

Car drove itself then?

Look, we have a dozen house employees who could have possibly accessed the motor pool-- cooks, gardeners, pool staff.


And we need to see the car.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's being taken this afternoon to our home in Nantucket.

Actually, it's going to the Hamptons cottage.

I thought I told you we're spending Christmas in Nantucket?

Don't you ever listen?

Still, we need to see the car.

I'll take care of it.

Are we done with these people?

Any other questions for my client?

Need a DNA sample.

Is my wife being charged, Agent Gibbs?

Not yet.

Then we're leaving. Thank you.

Oh, the old fingerprint-off-the-glass trick.

Who needs DNA.


You're right. I need DNA. It's my lifeblood.

Okay, well, doesn't match the partial from the car.

It wasn't Tabitha.

I will start rounding up their house employees for questioning.

I thought you said her prints didn't match.

That's not from Tabitha's glass.

It's from her husband's, Dale Kapp.

Get him back here.

He's probably already off the base by now.

I'll put out a BOLO.

Cell phone.

I'm already triangulating for a signal, Gibbs.

You've got to be faster than that. Got him.

He's on the phone right now, and he's still on the base.

As a matter of fact, he is right in front of the building.

That's weird. Looks like he's driving into the lobby.

DiNozzo, front gate-- shut it down.

Who are we stopping?

Everyone, I guess.

This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

We need to shut down the front gate. Lock it down.

Where's your husband?

I don't know. Spending his last few hours as a married man?

He went to get the car, and then just drove off. Left me.

First Bennett runs, and now Kapp.

Maybe the only thing Kapp's running from is his wife.


You know how fast a cougar can run?

Not fast enough. She could not catch his car.

Kapp must have known we were closing in.

He's running for a reason.

But she has no idea why.

Says she has never heard of Collins.

Well, Kapp obviously has.

Oh, hey, boss. We got his laptop. It's down with Abby.

Spoke with the Summers' masseuse.

Kapp cancelled his shiatsu.

When he was supposedly at home, a traffic camera a mile away shows him running a red light in the Maserati.

It time-stamped yesterday, 7:16 p.m. six minutes before Collins was run off the road.

That's gonna be 400 bucks for a traffic violation, and 50 years for murder.


Motive. There's a question.

We cross-referenced Kapp and Collins' cell phone records and credit cards.

We got nothing.

No apparent connection.

Collins' C.O.?

Never heard of Kapp. Neither have any of Collins' shipmates.

Gold-digging, society lawyer and a squid who spends his spare time beating guys to a pulp.

Next, on an all-newMaury.

Yeah, Abs.

Gibbs, can you come to the lab?

Mm-hmm, be right down. McGee. Find him.

I'm checking to see if there's any hits on the BOLO.

Still nothing.

But my current rank in the air guitar competition is up with a bullet to second.

Oh, you must be so proud.

You're jealous.

Because you can air guitar?

Because you can't.

Tony, I've told you. I like to have fun in more... adult ways.


Yes. Reading.

Look, everybody enjoys a good book, but don't you ever have the urge to just act a little...


Silly. Stupid. Brainless.

Like you?


Tony, you anI come from two totally different places.

In my world, you grow up... fast.

You have no choice.

Now you do.

I found a series of encrypted files in a hidden partition in Kapp's computer.

A lot of e-mails and chat room conversations.

Over 20 in the last month, all from the same screen name.



Decrypt it.

Uh, we already did, boss. It's...

Well, you know, it's a chat room.

It's IM-speak.

You wouldn't know.

It starts off with, "Hey, how are you today?" "Fine, thank you."

Gets interesting further down.

He wants to know what she's wearing.

Says he wants to take her shopping for lingerie.

Then he says...

Yeah. Yeah, McGee, I get the picture.

Who is she?

Not his wife.

There's an embedded hyperlink.

He's chatting with a Jodi, and here's her MySpace page.

Blink, McGee. It's just a girl.

What? I'm just...


Uh, no. Pinging.

Boss, by pinging the site's DNS cache, we can see what computer last logged in to Jodi's page.

And get the IP address, which is registered to...

205 Wilcox.

Going by yourself, boss? Need, uh, backup?

Reminds me of my first apartment in college.

You can almost smell the Ikea.

Come on in! Door's open.


I'll be right there. Grab a drink if you want.

Think she was expecting someone.

Want a drink? Just kidding.

Federal agents. We need to talk with you.

Did I mention my roommate went home for the weekend?

Nice timing, huh?

We're federal agents. We'd like to ask you a few questions, ma'am.

You know what? I got an idea.

Why don't you strip down and jump in the shower with me?

Hey, DiNozzo!

No, it's not what you think. Check it out, boss.

Lipstick camera.

Oh, we're being watched.

There's another one.

Federal agents. We're coming in.


You see, things are not what they seem.

Jodi's voice was precorded.

Maybe it's one of those voice-activated, motion-activated, sensor thing-a-ma-jobs.

You know, gets her talking.

Where's McGeek when you need him?

Oh, I got another one.

It's getting kind of lonely in here.

How long you gonna keep me waiting?

Careful, boss, it might be rigged.

Or not.

Like a sort of a computer storage megagiga thingy.

We're not being watched.

We're being recorded.

It's kind of like that TV show, To Catch a Predator.

Yeah. Only, this is more like To Catch a Sucka.

Here's how the scam works.

Jodi hangs out in chat rooms, looking for unhappily married men.

Unfortunately, when the men show up, there is no Jodi.

Just video cameras.

Yup. Recording everything.

Then the mark gets e-mailed a threat, saying if they want that videotape to disappear, they got to pay.

Ten Gs.

I'm trying to find the owner of the Web site now.

Lot of cash for Joe Blow.

Blackmailer isn't targeting Joe Blow.

No. He is targeting men with rich wives.

Suckas like this guy.

Dale Kapp.

If he gets naked, I'm out of here.

Video footage on this server going back almost two years.

Well, wherever Jodi is, she's making a killing.

Oh, she isn't anywhere. She doesn't exist.

I ran facial-recognition software on Jodi.

I traced the face back to a modeling Web site in the Ukraine.

The image was stolen.

So, who's the man behind the shower curtain?

And we have a winner. The e-mail account is registered to...

Petty Officer Collins.

Got our motive.

Kapp didn't want to pay, and killed Collins.

BOLO came back on Kapp's Town Car.

It is parked outside Collins' house.

Kapp's ride.

Why did he come here?

Probably looking for any backup copies Collins had of the incriminating footage.

Hood's still warm.

Boss, I got the front.

Looks like we missed another fight.

Somebody just murdered our murder.

Our man has been murdered, our killer killed.

Kapp capped.

He has a possible fractured skull.

And there's multiple contusions to his head.

Beaten to death?

The usual disclaimer until I do a thorough examination.


Something harder.

With an edge.


Like a length of wood.

Got a witness, boss.

There was someone here today after lunch.

One of Collins' friends: big guy with fair hair.

I got a really good look at him.

Sam Bennett.

Got a BOLO out in every homeless shelter in Norfolk, boss.

Coordinate with Norfolk PD.

Already done.

Bennett must have known something we didn't.

Found out Kapp was the killer.

He did say he would get payback.

And he did. Beat Kapp to a pulp with a 2x4 after we released him.

Where is he going?

Well, doesn't have any family. No money.

BOLO doesn't come back soon, he's gonna disappear.

You need to unplug yourself from the Matrix, do some old-school sleuthing, Pinkerton.

It's all about asking the right question.

Well, ask away, DiNozzo.

Why did Kapp rabbit out of here, leaving his wife behind?

Why did he go straight to Collins' house?

And how did Bennett know to find him there?

He didn't find him. He lured him.

Easy enough-- all Bennett had to do was phone Kapp, tell him he had a couple of photos of him showing up to Jodi's apartment.

Running Kapp's cell phone records.


Got a call after he left us and dumped his wife.


Tracing the call.

Came from Collins' house. Bennett must have been there.

Left before we arrived.

Got it. Collins' phone records.

Five calls to his house from a pay phone located at...

Western Dock.

Where the USSRubicon is being decommissioned.

Gear up.

How's that for old-school slothing?

Sleuthing-- having fun yet?

No one home.

Salvage guys have called it a day.

Hey, keep it down.


Lost the lights.

Knows we're here.

Found Bennett's crash pad, boss.

Why does it always have to be rats and boats?

McGee, heading your way.

Federal agent-- stay where you are.

Boss, C-deck, heading towards the bow.

Status, McGee.


Anybody got eyes on McGee?


No sign of him, boss.

Got him.

Way to go, McGee.

Taking down the fight club champ. I'm almost impressed.

Well, I would be, too, except he fell over and hit his head while he was trying to get away.

You killed him. You killed Kapp.


You beat him to death with a lump of wood, not your fists.


Perhaps not the fighter you think you are.

It wasn't me. It wasn't.

McGee, I'm busy.

If I find anything, you will be the second to know.

I'm up to my choker collar in dried blood and partial fingerprints and wood splinters.

Gibbs wants anything I can find to pressure Bennett.

Then, why are you running a WHO-IS search?

I found some anomalies in the extortion e-mails Kapp received.

I'm trying to track down the source of a header mismatch.

McGee. I got a ding.

Now, that's a ding.

That's not a ding. That's a leech.

I told you, it wasn't me.


You told Agent Gibbs you would kill whoever was responsible for Petty Officer Collins' death.

When you found out it was Kapp, you called him from Collins' house.

I wasn't at the house.

Yes, you were.

No, I wasn't.

We have a witness who saw you there.

I didn't do it.

Do you know what a lineup is, Sam?

All right, thank you.

Hey, thanks for coming, Mr. Parker.

Just doing my civic duty, Agent Gibbs.

That's him. That's the man I saw.

That's him-- that's the guy, the one I saw at Greg's house.

What is this?

Well, you've just been identified by an eyewitness who saw you beat Dale Kapp to death this afternoon.

You believe him?

No, no, not just him.

Collins' Wi-Fi signal wasn't password-protected.

As a result, anyone could use it, and you did.

Called leeching.

If they traced the sender, they would have ended up at Collins' house, not yours.

You were the leech.

Guess Kapp didn't want to pay up, came looking for you.

Found Collins.

I'm not saying anything.

Nah... You don't have to.

We got enough on you anyway.

You can shut it off.

I was gonna stay at Greg's house.

Look after his stuff, you know?

I was in the bedroom... and I heard the back door open, so I hid.

Didn't want to get in trouble.

It was that guy-- Parker.

Used the phone, made a call.

The man that killed Greg.

Pay up or else.

So, I waited.

I wanted to see who he was.

And then, when he got there, Parker hit him with a piece of wood.

And hit him. And...

I just stood there... watching from the window, and I didn't...

I didn't stop him.

Because I wanted him dead, too.

Midnight screening ofGoodfellastonight at the multiplex-- you want to come?

Uh, no, not tonight.

All right, enjoy the book.

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