03x09 - All the News Fit to Print

[bunniefuu]

Hey, Bug!

Where's Jordan?

Oh, she's representing our office
at the annual American

Bolton Alley
Forensic Medicine and
Pathology convention in Denver.

Bet those guys know how to party.

Oh, that's a bet you would lose.

It was a joke, Bug.

Oh. Ha-ha.

Sanitation worker found him.

Lividity's not fixed.
I put TOD at two to four hours ago.

Two g*nsh*t wounds to the chest.

He bled out here, so this
is your scene.

My guess is your sh**t's not a pro.

Looks like he left in a hurry, too.

He took a significant b*ating.

Bruising around the eyes
indicates a broken nose.

And he's a reporter.

How can you tell?

Calloused fingertips,
indicative of a regular typist.

Mysteriously empty tape recorder.

Oh, and, of course,
his press pass says so.

Peter, I need you to ride shotgun
with me on a pickup.

Now?
It's pouring rain outside.

We're like the post office.
Neither sleet nor rain. Get your coat.

Thirteen days.

Doctor Maguire.

Three hundred and twelve hours,

eighteen thousand seven
hundred and twenty minutes.

One million one hundred and twenty-three
thousand two hundred seconds.

But who's counting?

Some impressive calculating.
What's your point?

How long I've been working here.

Funny, seems longer.

The point is, I have yet
to be given my first case.

The rest of my time has been spent
doing the crossword puzzle.

So, unless you hired me

because I happen to know that
Pyengana is a town in Tasmania,

I want my own case.

Are you done?

Yes. / Good, because, first of all,
you have not been hired here.

You're doing a two month
residency rotation.

Secondly, while I appreciate
the gung ho attitude,

you'll be assigned an autopsy when
and if I feel you're ready. Is that clear?

I didn't spend six years in postgraduate
studies to sit around on my shapely ass.

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable
with this conversation.

Me, too.

You don't like me much, do you,
Doctor Macy?

To be honest, I haven't formed
an opinion one way or another.

I'm a strong, attractive woman.
That makes you uncomfortable.

Don't open that door, trust me.

I nearly took a b*llet for you
on my first day here.

Doesn't that mean anything?

I just want my
own assignment.

Fine. If only to end this conversation,

consider your name moved
to the top of the list.

Thanks.
You won't be sorry.

Don't.

"I'm a strong, attractive woman."

Do you believe that crap?

It's kinda true, though, right?

She is hot.

I'm not afraid to admit
I'm a little intimidate by her.

What are you talking about?
She's a kid with a type A personality.

Just what we need, another Jordan.

Stop!

He's alive!
Help me out here, Peter!

Hey, uh, m- maybe we should call it in.

Are you gonna help me or not?!

If you're gonna just stand there,
at least call

Come on, buddy.
Give me somethin' to work with here.

Two, three, four, five, six.

Hello, ?

- What have you got?
- Looks like a hit and run.

I got a pulse at the end of my third cycle,
but he came to first rep of my fourth.

Let's get a line in him!

He's lucky you two came along.

Doctors usually steer clear
of this neighborhood.

- Actually, we're M.E.'s.
- Still doctors.

Purse doesn't work
with the shell-top kicks.

It was lying next to him
when I got here.

You okay, man?

Yeah. Yeah, I'm just not used
to working on bodies that still bleed.

So you think he's gonna make it?

He will now.

You saved his life.

Well, well,

looks like someone's got a little extra
spring in his step this morning.

Are you implying
I'm not traditionally springy?

Oh, a joke, too. What's up, Garret?
You get lucky last night?

There was a guy in the street.
It looked like a hit and run.

Anyway, the EMT said
I probably saved his life.

- Garret.
- I'm telling you, Lily,

it's an amazing feeling to lay your hands
on someone and actually--

Wait.

And actually fix him. Right, Peter?

Doctor Macy, I think
you should take a look at this.

Our hit and run victim, Antonio Vega.

Myocardial infarction.
He d*ed in the ER.

But he was breathing.
He had a pulse.

Garret, I'm sure you did all you could.

I have to protect my source.

Arrest me, thr*aten me, I don't care.

You mentioned threats.

Natasha's clients are
some very powerful guys.

The fact that they are sleeping with
a sixteen-year-old call girl is not

something they want on the front page.

So are you going to name names?

I am gonna do what I have
to do to get the truth out, yeah.

As long as it doesn't reveal
the identity of Natasha.

She gave me her trust.

Now, I am not gonna betray that trust,
and I don't care if it kills me.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Trace Evidence : Gordon Tolliver
What else did you find out?

Tolliver worked at the Boston Star,
local tabloid.

Couple weeks ago, started writing
an article on Natasha,

not her real name by the way.

A little scared call girl in over her head.

She worked for Madame X,

who ran a big ticket escort service
that fronted as a modeling agency.

So call all the model agencies.

"Hey, there.
Detective Woody Hoyt, Boston PD.

Listen, I know you run
a legitimate business,

but could you patch me
through to the hookers, please?"

Subtle.

Thing that makes me sick is that

our buddy here was milkin'some poor
teenage girl so he could win his Pulitzer.

Maybe he d*ed protecting her.

Yeah, right, him being in
such a noble profession and all.

These bruises around his eyes,
the periphery is purple.

Now look at the g*nsh*t wounds.

The dermis is inflamed and red.

He was beaten at least six hours
before he was sh*t.

And you're saying the b*ating
wasn't enough to persuade him,

so his k*ller came back
and finished the job.

Maybe the k*ller wanted
to know Natasha's identity,

but he wouldn't give it up.

We have to find her before he does.

Yeah, that's my husband.

Crypt: Antonio Vega
This is Antonio.

I'm so sorry, Mrs. Vega.

Cop said that he got hit by a car.

They catch the guy who did it?

I- I don't know, but- but I'm-
I'm sure I could find out for you.

Mrs. Vega.

Doctor Macy.

- I'm--
- I'm Garret Macy.

I'm the one who administered emergency
care to Antonio at the accident site.

- You work here?
- Yeah, I'm the Chief M.E.

If you don't mind, uh- uh, I was hoping
I could ask you a couple of questions.

- Doctor Macy, maybe now it not the best--
- What- what kind of questions?

Did Antonio have a history
of heart trouble?

I mean, did- did he ever complain
of chest pains? / No.

Did your husband ever use any dr*gs?

dr*gs? What is this about?

The doctor at the ER said they
did all they could.

Mrs. Vega,
I tried to save your husband's life.

Now, whatever happened, uh- uh- uh- uh,
I wish I could have done more.

I just uh- uh,
I wanted to say I'm sorry.

I can't give you Antonio Vega's x-rays.

Boston General Hospital
Come on, sure you can.

Boston General Hospital
Look, Doctor Flynn's really strict
about this stuff.

All the film stays here.

Alright, fine.
Where can I find the great Doctor Flynn?

Ho-ho, the great Doctor Flynn.
Mmm, catchy.

- That would be you?
- That would be me.

Garret Macy from the M.E.'s Office.

And to what do I owe this pleasure?

You treated a man named Antonio Vega
when he came into the ER last night.

If you say so.

Tend to remember the chart,
not the name.

This was a hit and run.

Right. Right-right-right, Latino,
early twenties.

He was coding when he came in,
practically DOA. / Coding?

Yeah. / The impact injury
didn't seem substantial.

Uh, there was nothing to suggest
internal bleeding.

- When I left him, his vitals were stable.
- When you left him?

- Yeah, I was first on the scene.
- Oh, I get it.

Uh, you're afraid you may have k*lled this
man and you're trying to absolve your guilt.

I mean, a big job like yours,
a lot at stake, right?

No. I just want to know what happened.

Well, he d*ed. That's what happened.

I'd like to see his chart.

You know, I'm gonna tell you somethin',

and I hope you don't take
this the wrong way.

Don't you challenge me.

Are you afraid of
what I might find if I do?

Well, you shouldn't be so hard
on yourself, Macy.

People die all the time.

Matter of fact, you hang out here for
another ten minutes or so,

you might have a little company
on your drive back to the morgue.

Gordaon Tolliver's Apartment

You know, Bug, we've been solving crimes
for a couple years now,

and I never asked
`cause it seems obvious,

your line of work being
what it is and all,

but why do they call you "Bug"?

I like bugs.

Well, there you go.

Why do they call you "Woody"?

Want to remind me
why you're here, again?

Look, Tolliver received his b*ating hours
before the m*rder.

If it happened here in his apartment,

I might be able to find evidence
of his attacker.

And this has nothing to do
with finding Natasha, right?

If not us, then who?

You're acting like this guy's all heroic.

Let's not forget he was reporter.
If it bleeds, it leads.

You think he cared about her?

I think he d*ed for what he believed in.

Looks like we're not the only ones
looking for Natasha.

Stay.

Hey!

Freeze! I'm the police!
Freeze!

Ugh.
Son of a--

Hey, Doctor Macy.

I really feel like you're not seeing
my side of the issue.

What issue would that be, Peter?

The one where you stand back to do nothing
in the face of human tragedy?

That's not fair, Doctor Macy.
I was just being cautious.

I guess that's one word for it.

Yeah, well, as it turns out, looks like
I made the right choice, didn't I?

What's that supposed to mean?

Doctor Macy,

I tried to warn you about talking
to Marisol Vega this morning.

What about it? / Well, it seems that
she has interpreted it to mean that

you felt responsible
for her husband's death.

That's ridiculous.
You were there. You heard me.

I just said I wish I could have done more.

- She's suing us.
- On what grounds?

Wrongful death.

Autopsy: Antonio Vega

What the hell's going on here?

I'm doing the Antonio Vega autopsy.

Well, I can see that.
Why?

You put my name on the list, remember?

Not this one.
This one, this one's mine.

All due respect, Doctor Macy,
but I don't think that's such a good idea.

Why's that?

Well, maybe because you're getting sued.

Lily might have mentioned it to me.

Did she?

You should probably recuse yourself
from the case, don't you think?

Okay, let's say you're right.

You still shouldn't be
the one doing the autopsy.

You're brand new here.

Again, all due respect, but that's exactly
why I should be doing it.

I'm the only around here
who doesn't know you.

I'm completely unbiased. Right?

The partial plate didn't hit,
so I put out an APB on Babyface's Impala,

and I got a squad car sitting
at our dead reporter's crib

in case anybody else shows up.

You obviously didn't go to
the sexual harassment seminar.

Yeah, I did.

Which is why I'm not asking you
if you want to wrestle.

You have any luck cracking that password
to Tolliver's computer? / No.

You know, Nigel's pretty good
at this stuff.

I could ask him if you--

Alrighty, then.
Anything else?

Yeah. Exhibit A.

Forty napkins Tolliver used for notes.

People, places, things.

Direct quotes about
how the modeling agency

Natasha was working for was,
in fact, a brothel.

It's all initials, "M.X."
"N."

Madame X and I would assume
Natasha, herself.

Lucky for us,
the napkins are imprinted.

Tally's Diner.
I think he met with her there.

Exhibit B,
I found our missing tape.

- Yeah, they know how old I am.
- Natasha.

And it doesn't bother them?

That's Gordon.
Bother them? Hell, she tells them.

That's what it's about.

All those old freaks want
to screw young chicks, you know?

What if they want you to do something
you don't want to do?

I don't want to do any of it,
but I have to. I'm stuck.

Why don't you leave, run away?

Leave? Run away?
Because they'll k*ll me.

Lily.

Did you tell the new girl
I was being sued?

Oh, it is the worst kept secret
on the planet.

You should recuse yourself
on this case.

- It's a conflict of interest.
- I'm telling you he was fine.

When I put him in that ambulance,
he was fine.

How do you know that he was fine?

Maybe he had an allergic
reaction to medication.

Maybe something happened in transit.
Did you even talk to the paramedics?

I'm on your side, Garret, but you might
want to stop pointing fingers here.

Because in the end, you might not like
who you're pointing at.

Boston Fire Depr, Engine Co.

Boston Fire Depr, Engine Co.
Sorry, we can't discuss Antonio Vega.

Why not? / `Cause of what you said
to the widow, we're being sued.

Chill, Dave.
It's not his fault.

I'm just trying to figure out what happened.
Wh- when I left, he was fine.

And he was fine
when we dropped him at the ER.

The guy's vitals were stable.

Then again, it was Flynn's shift.

Flynn?
You know him?

Some doctors care about their patients.
Others care about themselves.

Flynn's a jerk.
Treats us like we're taxi drivers.

While you're out there saving lives.

We do what we have to do.

What about the purse from the accident?
You guys ever find out what happened?

No.

Vega must have snatched it
before the accident.

The driver's license inside belonged
to some white woman,

so we turned it over to the cops.

So do us all a favor
and let the lawyers handle it.

If I could just get my hand
on Vega's chart.

What?

We've got copies of all the charts
for transports to Boston General

in the last three months.

We could do it below Flynn's radar.

I mean, it's- it's not like
you're gunning for the guy,

you're just trying
to do a fair autopsy. Right?

Right.

Sure, he was in here all the time.

Was he ever with a girl?

Maybe.

He usually just hung out in that booth over
there and kept to himself.

You ever talk to him?

Sure.

He was a nice guy.

He was a good talker.

He wanted to hear things about me.

Most of the jerks who come in here
just want my phone number.

Did he ever mention the name "Natasha"?

Uh, I don't know.

I didn't even know he was a reporter.

I did all of the talking.

You know, not many people
want to hear stories

about how pretty Iowa is
in the springtime.

When was the last time he was here?

A couple of days ago.
He was acting kind of paranoid.

I guess that other guy who came in here
had something to do with it.

Other guy?

Yeah, the young guy with red hair
and kinda preppy,

looked like he was twelve years old.

Hey, how you doin'?

Good, thanks.
You?

Good. Real good.

You doin' anything later?

You might need to be more specific.

I- I- I- I just thought
we could grab a cup of coffee,

you know, you being new here and all.
I was the last one that was new here.

Now I'm old. I mean, I'm not-
I'm not old, right?

But I'm not new, either.
You are.

Sure, we could do that.

Where is the Chief M.E.'s office?

Who wants to know?

I'm Doctor Russell Flynn, Boston General.

This is regarding Antonio Vega.

I need to speak to the Chief,
so do not pawn me off on some peon.

Doctor Flynn, I'm Doctor Maguire.
Is there a problem?

Yes.
And his name is Macy.

What about him?

I need to speak to someone in charge.

No problem.

That would be me.

You? / That's right.
How can I help you?

You could tell me
why he's absconded with my EMS charts.

Uh, I'm performing the autopsy,

so I told Doctor Macy to investigate

any procedural abnormalities
in Antonio Vega's transport.

And I would have gladly provided him
with that information,

but he took logs
for the past three months.

I'm sure he was just checking
Mister Vega's case

against the others to determine
if the emergency procedure varied.

Look, I don't know what kind
of morgue you're running here,

but you need to call off your dog,
Doctor Maguire.

He is barking up the wrong tree.

We've been sued by the widow,
you know.

You should consider yourself lucky.

Doctor Macy may be taking the hit
for your mistake.

Now, I don't want to take this
as an admission of culpability,

but I'm gonna give you a little tip.

Real doctors have malpractice insurance.

So what time later?

Never mind.

Autopsy:Gordon Tolliver

Hi, can I help you?

I'm here to get uh,
Gordon Tolliver's personal effects.

Uh, I- I'm his brother.

Great. Uh, why don't you wait in Reception.
I'll get them for you.

This is Hoyt.

Hey, you know how you told me
to call you

if anyone came around asking
about Gordon Tolliver?

Well, someone's asking.

Young guy, skinny, red hair?

Uh, no, he's older.
He's kinda stocky.

He says he's Gordon's brother.

- Uh--
- Tolliver doesn't have a brother.

That would be why I'm calling.

What is he doing right now?

Oh. Oh, crap.

- He's gone.
- Great.

Looks like we got another goon.

Hey, Hoyt. Black and white just called in.
They found your Impala downtown.

You ready for a stakeout?

Not used to seeing you on the computer.

Still poking around the Vega death?

I'm just trying to graph
three months worth of EMS reports.

If you want help, you could ask.

No, I've got it under control.
Thank you.

Sure. Uh, listen,
I just wanted you to know

I didn't find anything unusual
in his autopsy.

He d*ed from cardiac arrest consistent
with massive internal injury.

I'll be sure to read your report.
Thanks.

You're not still sore at me, are you?

No.

Uh, I just had a chat with a Doctor Flynn
from Boston General.

I told him I authorized you
to liberate some EMS files,

well, though I had no idea
what he was talking about.

Wait a minute.
You authorized me?

I might have given him the impression
that I was the interim chief.

You what? / He bought it
when I said "procedural abnormalities."

So, I guess we're in this together,
Doctor Macy.

Maybe you'd like to show me
what you found.

Pulaski Skyway Overpass

If I'd known "stakeout" for code
for providing you

with hero sandwiches all night,

I might have chosen differently.

Chicken Parm.
Dig it.

Mmm.

How do we know he's even coming back?

He could have just abandoned it here.

Babyface will show.
Even g*ons need wheels.

You find anything else on Tolliver's laptop?

Advance notes on the next column.
The initials "S.W." keep popping up.

Clients of Natasha's.

S.W. is the one who's been applying
pressure to shut him up.

Talks about harassment,
intimidating phone calls.

Maybe Mister Stocky and

our Babyfaced Impala-driving friend
both work for this guy.

How come the trunk is riding so low?

Something's leaking.

Probably just oil.

From the trunk?

Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-
whoa-whoa-whoa.

Hey, Bug, stop!
You'll blow cover!

Bug, what the hell are you doin', man?

Think we just found Natasha.

Trace Evidence: "Natasha"

I don't know about you,
but I am confused.

Someone kills Gordon Tolliver because
he's righting an article on Natasha,

a sixteen-year-old escort who was
sleeping with Boston's upper crust.

Right. / In Tolliver's notes, we find
that he's getting threatened by S.W.

and the waitress tells us that
he mixed it up with Babyface. / Correct.

The same Babyface who drove the car
where we found this girl's body.

And you claim to be confused?

Well, then another dude entirely
comes here to the morgue

and asks Lily for Tolliver's
personal effects.

So we got Babyface,
we got Mister Stocky,

both of whom are still pressing the issue,

even though Natasha's dead.

And she was k*lled by the same g*n
used to sh**t Tolliver.

Only one thing,
I don't think this is Natasha.

I saw that.
Amber Lewis, twenty-one years old.

Yeah, we know Natasha is sixteen.

Maybe it's fake. Any way
to determine her age in the autopsy?

Oh, sure. I'll just cut her open
and count her rings.

You could have simply said no.

Look, Tolliver's description
of Natasha is very specific.

Red hair, tan skin.

All of which could have been made up
to protect her identity.

Natasha claimed that she worked
for an escort service that fronted
as a modeling agency,

and Amber here has quite
an interesting portfolio.

Coincidence?
I don't think so.

It's not her.

It can't be.

I'll tell you how we can find out.

Kent Modeling Agency
Why would someone want to m*rder Amber?

We have reason to believe
someone out there

may have thought
she was Natasha,

the subject of some recent
articles ab-

I've read the papers,

and you're not the first ones to come
in here and start casting aspersions

about my business.

Ms. Kent, all due respect,
but uh, we know how it works.

And how does it work, Detective?

You represent a stable of the most
beautiful women here in Boston,

and uh, I don't know, maybe
you introduce them to powerful men.

Let's stop b*ating around the bush.

You think I'm this Madame X,

that I'm in the business of forcing underage
girls to have sex against their will.

Are you?

So cute, but so dumb.

Ms. Kent, if Amber is Natasha,
then this is over and it's gone.

But if she isn't, then uh,
someone might still be in a lot of danger.

And how might you prove that?

We have an audio recording
of Natasha's interview with Tolliver.

If we could get a sample of Amber's voice,

then we'll know for sure.

Each girl has her own voice mailbox.

This is Amber's.

I'm starting up a men's division.

If you ever need some extra cash,
Detective Hoyt--

Well, what about me?

Negligence is a tough nut to cr*ck.

Not if it's a pattern of negligence.

Oh, and here I was wondering
why you dug up an EMS file

on every one of Flynn's patients
over the past three months.

I believe in being thorough.

You also pulled tissue samples
from every corpse that's been through here

with Flynn's name on the chart.

There's thorough, then there's obsessed.

Get this.

I ran the names of ER fatalities
through NCIC.

Almost every one has a criminal record.
Look at this.

Petty theft, B-and-E, as*ault,
g*ng affiliations.

Flynn was picking and choosing.

What made you think to do that?

- Just a hunch.
- Just a hunch?

I'm thorough, too.

- Whadya got?
- Look at that.

The tissue on those thirty corpses
measure out at over

thirty miliequivalents of potassium.

That dosage would cause immediate
cardiac arrhythmia,

which is easily mistaken
as a heart att*ck.

Flynn isn't negligent,

he's a m*rder*r.

Doctor Flynn.

May I have a word?

I'll be right back.

If you don't mind making your apology quick,
I do have rounds.

You m*rder*d Antonio Vega
and at least five other people

with lethal injections
of potassium chloride.

Excuse me?

It's over. I just wanted to let you know
that before I go to the police.

I know what this is about.

Yeah?
What?

I save people's lives every day,
and if I were you, I'd hate me, too.

I have copies of the victims' charts.

Your signature's on all of `em.
They were criminals.

You didn't think anyone would care
enough to give it a second look.

Well, you were wrong.

I never even saw Antonio Vega.

I was listed on duty,
but I was never there.

I never saw him or any of the others.

As far as I know, they were all DOA.

Then why would you sign your name
on those charts?

Unless you were billing insurance
for procedures that were never performed.

Look, you- you say
that like it doesn't happen

in a thousand different hospitals
in a thousand different cities.

Maybe.

But it's not happening
in this one anymore.

Look, I may be guilty of padding
the coffers, but I didn't k*ll anyone.

Now, I hope you take
that into consideration

if you choose to take future action
against me, Doctor Macy.

Suddenly, I'm a doctor.

You sure you don't want me
to get Nigel to help you out?

You know what?

If you love Nigel so much,
you should marry him.

We could actually do
that now in Vermont.

Alright, listen closely.

Voices are like fingerprints.
Each one is unique to the individual.

Hi, this is Amber.

The green wave is Amber Lewis's
voicemail pattern.

- So give my beep some love--
- That is so cool.

- Ciao.
- Now, we've mapped Amber's sample.

Let's get Natasha's from
Gordon Tolliver's interview.

- Too bad I'm out and about.
- And it doesn't bother them?

Bother them?
Hell, she tells them.

Don't they have to be saying
the same thing for us to get a match?

Why use a whole phrase
when a single word will do?

- And it doesn't bother them?
- it's about- it's about- it's about-

Now we overlay Natasha's wave pattern
onto Amber's--

About-/about- about-/about-
/about- about-/about- about-

They're different.
She's not Natasha.

There's something strange
in Natasha's wave form pattern.

Let's go back to the original interview
with Gordon.

All those old freaks want to screw young--

Two people sitting across
from each other in a room.

What if they want you to do something
you don't want to do?--

Probably his apartment.

Why don't you leave, run away?

Leave?
Run away?

It may be modulated.

- Why don't you leave, run away?
- Leave?

Run away?
Because they'll k*ll me.

Why don't you leave, run away?

Leave? Run away?
Because they'll k*ll me--

You think Gordon altered her voice
to protect her?

We'll know in a minute.
I'm reverse engineering the modulation--

Leave? Run away?
Because they'll k*ll me.

Why don't you leave, run away?

Leave? Run away?
Because they'll k*ll me.

- Why don't you leave...
- What the?

run away?

Leave? Run away?

Because they'll k*ll me.

- Why don't you leave?--
- Gordon interviewed himself.

Run away?
Leave?

Run away?

Why would he go to all
that trouble to make that tape?

Because he made the whole story up.

There is no Natasha.

He played me.

We've been looking for a girl
that isn't real.

Doesn't mean it's over, Bug.
Just means it's getting more interesting.

What are you talkin' about?

There is no Madame X, no Natasha.

- But we still have Stocky Man.
- Yeah, good luck finding him.

Already did.

That's right. Patrol car picked him up
trying to break into Tolliver's apartment.

It's a wild goose chase, Hoyt.
None of it is real.

Yet we still have two bodies,
two g*ons and the mysterious S.W.,

so why don't we just calm down,

take a deep breath and see
what Mister Stocky has to say

when we tell him he's looking for
someone who does not exist.

What do you mean,
she doesn't exist?

Tolliver made her up.
She's fiction, man.

That's impossible.

Oh, yeah?
How is that impossible?

Because Natasha's my daughter.

Natasha's your what?

She's been gone for two years.

She was fourteen when
some modeling agency scouted her,

wanted her to leave home,
come to Boston.

I said no. Had a big fight
and she ran away.

I couldn't find her, you know.
I thought she'd come home.

Sorry you think Natasha's your daughter,

but there is no Natasha.

There has to be.
He wrote about her.

"Natasha's dimples never show.
They never appear when she smiles.

Only when she frowns."

"She has a beauty mark
right on her right cheek."

"Natasha always wears
the elegant broken watch

that belonged to her mother."

This is my daughter.

This is my Melissa.

Alright, you confront Tolliver.

When he wouldn't tell you
who Natasha was, it gets physical.

I was desperate, angry,

but he was alive when I left him.

I just wanted to tell my daughter
I'm sorry.

I just wanted to bring her home.

His story checks out.

Name's Frank Givens, owns a gas
station in the Midwest,

filed a missing persons on his daughter
a couple years ago.

Probably changed her name
when she left home.

Poor guy's so desperate to find his kid,

he thinks he sees her
in a made up article about a call girl.

But he seems so convinced.

Hey, Gordon Tolliver is a liar.

Dimples and a broken watch
do not an ID make.

This is Hoyt.

Whoa-whoa. What was that?
Say that again, Charlie.

Thank you, Charlie.

Amber Lewis's cell records show

she made over fifty calls
to a local number here in Boston

in the last month registered
to a Robert Whittier.

Why does that name sound familiar?

You probably voted for him.

Senator Robert Whittier?

S.W.

That's impossible.

Whittier Campaign headquarters
The Senator's been in Washington with
his wife for the last week.

Any connection he had with
your victim is purely coincidental.

Thank you for the brush-off,
but he's gonna want to talk to us now.

Talk to the Senator's chief aide.

He'll be able to contact the Senator.

Brian.

Now there's a coincidence.

Would you give us some privacy, please?
Thanks.

So what's this about, Detective?

What is this about?

Why don't we start with why you broke
into Gordon Tolliver's apartment,

and then why don't we mosey on
over to the fact

that your fingerprints were all over
an abandoned car

with a dead girl in the trunk?

You'd be surprised at how easily
some evidence can be explained away.

Is that so?

I wonder if your boss, the Senator,
feels the same way.

Guess we'll just have to ask him directly.
Isn't that right, Bug?

That's right, Woody.

Well, you should know that Senator Whittier
doesn't know anything about this.

I tried to warn him about the girls,
but he got serious with one of them.

- Amber Lewis.
- Yeah.

Her age, her- her clientele,
I knew she was Natasha.

So you went to Tolliver and asked him
not to put your boss's name in the paper.

I didn't tell him who I worked for.

I offered him five grand to k*ll the story.
He refused.

Then you went back with a g*n.

I wasn't gonna use it.

I just- I- I wanted the girl's name.

You k*lled Gordon in cold blood.

He checked me out.
He- he knew I worked for.

He- he threatened to print Senator's name.

So, he reached for the g*n.

It was self-defense.

You don't really think a jury's
gonna swallow that, do you?

No.

No, `cause a jury's never gonna hear it.

I'll cut a deal, do some time.

After all, I was just doing my job.

What exactly is your job?

To protect great men.

And the Senator, he'll protect me.

Sure, he will.

You know, I hated being a doctor.

Is this your new thing,
accosting me in the hallway?

And I sucked at it, too, by the way.
Other people's lives in my hands?

I only went to med school just to prove
to my dad that I wasn't a screw-up.

I'm not following you here, Peter.

I was scared.

I was having these stomach aches and- and
these headaches, just anxiety.

I started having these nightmares where uh,

I'm eh, prescribing the wrong medication,
I'm amputating the wrong body part.

The only thing that would help
with the anxiety was the dr*gs.

I've been hiding out here
in the past couple of months

like it's some kind of punishment,
but it's not.

I- I belong here.

You know, because I saw
that guy there the other day,

and it just all came flooding back.
I couldn't do anything. I...

Okay.

You know, but what you did,

that was heroic.

Yeah, well, a lot of good it did me.

I still don't know who k*lled
Antonio Vega and five other people

with potassium chloride injections.

You know, I- I couldn't help looking over
those graphs you'd compiled.

But I think you might have missed something.

I mean, Flynn's name
on the charts wasn't the only thing

that the victims had in common.

Boston Fire Dept, Engine Co.

Antonio Vega wasn't a thief.

Sorry?

He was working two jobs to put
his wife through school.

One of `em was busing tables at a restaurant
a block away from the accident.

That purse belonged to one of the customers.
She left it behind.

Her house was on the way home,
so he offered to deliver it himself.

What's this about?

Would you have let him live
if you'd known all that?

What's he talkin' about, Michelle?

You were clever to point me towards Flynn.

You were smart enough to only do it
on his shift.

Doctor with god complex, perfect patsy.

We found the potassium chloride in your kit.

So what?

I checked you out, Michelle.

You lost your father to a heart att*ck.

Ambulance took forty-five minutes to arrive.

It was just two blocks away
saving the life of a thief sh*t

by a convenience store clerk. Right?

You sued the city and you lost.

Michelle?

People,

good people with lives
and jobs and purpose,

wait for an ambulance
while they, these-

these thieves and murderers
waste our time.

They don't deserve to live.
They don't deserve to be saved.

That gives you the right?

We do what we have to do.

Yo, Bug. Found the thirty-eight
that k*lled Amber and Tolliver

in a storm drain outside
of Brian's house.

Kid's prints were still on it.

D.A.'s gonna cut a deal
to spare themselves

the agita of arguing
against self-defense.

Or of embarrassing Senator Whittier.

Forget it, Bug.
It's Chinatown.

Yes, Hoyt, I suppose it is.

- You goin' somewhere, man?
- No.

Yeah, you are. Yeah, you are.
I know that look.

You're not done with this yet.

The details are so specific.

Natasha seemed so alive.
It can't all be fiction.

Something has to be real.

Maybe when you have no life,
you've got to make one up.

You saw the guy's place.
He lived like a hermit.

No friends, no family.
He never talked to anyone.

No.
He talked to someone.

- Oh, hi.
- Hi.

Bug set me up with some larvae samples.
Thought I'd bone up.

Sure.

I'm just k*lling time, actually.

Go a little crazy
if I don't keep busy.

Yeah, I gathered.

I wanted to thank you for your help
on the Vega case.

Oh. Yeah, Peter told me
you got to the bottom of it.

- Paramedic, huh?--
- Mmm.

You know what I said the other night,

that I hadn't formed an opinion
about you?

Well, I have now.

- I'm sorry if I'm pushy.
- No, no, don't be.

It's because I wasn't raised with a father.

You know, classic Piaget attachment theory.

So just feel free to tell me
if I push too hard.

Fair enough.

So what opinion have you formed,
exactly, about me?

Too pushy?

Yeah.