05x07 - Road k*ll

[bunniefuu]

"God's Comic" by Elvis Costello
♪ I wish you'd known me
when I was alive,

♪ I was a funny feller

♪ The crowd would hoot
and holler for more

♪ Now I'm dead, now I'm dead,
now I'm dead, now I'm dead,

♪ And I'm going on
to meet my reward
♪ I was scared, I was scared,
I was scared, I was scared,

♪ God's Comic

An overzealous Scottish
terrior found him.

Carotid artery is completely severed.

He proabably bled out
in a matter of minutes.

Dr. M., what are you doing here?

Visiting an old crime scene.
Check his tongue.

It's gone.

- Exactly.
- What's going on?

White male, throat slashed,
tongue detached.

It's a signature of
the Mass Pike k*ller.

Ryan Kessler, m*rder*d
five men in the fall of ' ?

Dumped their bodies in the woods
off the Mass Pike?

This is the same spot where
the first victim was found.

Isn't Kessler serving
four consecutive life sentences?

It's obviously not Kessler.

Then who did this?

I'm gonna need the locations
of those other dump sites.

There may be four more
bodies out there.

Uneven tearing.

Look like our k*ller
used a serrated blade.

Based on the rate of decomp,

they were all k*lled
within the last three weeks.

And time of deaths
get closer together.

One week between
victims one and two,

six days between two and three.

So not only do we have a copycat

using the same dump sites
and type of m*rder w*apon...

They're also following
Kessler's timeline.

Tox screen on the first victim.
He was drugged.

With Fentanyl, . milligrams,
to be exact.

Same drug that Kessler used.

Except that detail was
never released to the press.

Obviously our copycat has
intimate knowledge of the crimes.

Could be Kessler's accomplice or...

a cop who worked the case.

Maybe Kessler found a pen pal
while behind bars.

I say we go straight
to the source.

Uh, Ms. Kessler.

I'm Detective Woody Hoyt.

This is Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh
from the Medical Examiner's office.

We are here because someone
is duplicating your murders.

You don't seem surprised.

I get lots of fan mail.

People who dream of
doing what I did.

Fellow psychopaths.

This k*ller knows things
only you could know.

Same victim profile, same drug,
same type of Kn*fe.

Even dumps his bodies
at your old dump sites.

You are pulling the strings.

Getting someone to
duplicate your crimes.

I worked alone, Detective.

Guaranteed, no mistakes.

Judging by the stylish
jumpsuit you're wearing,

I'd say you made at least one.

I was a little sloppy at first.

I got better.

You say I'm pulling the strings.

How?

I have no access
to the general population.

No use of the Internet.

All of my calls and letters
are monitored.

Then how does the k*ller know
so much about your crimes?

You asking me
to do your job, Detective?

You know what? Why don't you
go back to rotting in your hell?

Make me a deal.

I'll help you catch your k*ller.

How?

I'll tell you where
my dump sites are.

If the copycat is
following my pattern,

you might catch him in the act.

We've already been to
all your dump sites.

Not all of them.

You see,
I didn't k*ll five people.

I k*lled nine.

If you k*lled nine people,
where are the other four bodies?

First, let's talk about my deal.

No deal until we know
you're telling the truth.

I'm ready to go back now.

You know what I think?

I think you're full of crap.

And what if you're wrong?

Are you willing to risk
the lives of four more men?

Give us one body as proof.

You do that, we'll give
you something you want.

Jordan.

I hear the new prison
in Chicopee is pretty swank.

I could talk to the D.A.
about getting her transferred.

You two are more than
coleagues, aren't you?

It's your turn.

Head south off of exit .

Two miles in, take a left
at the Byerman Lodge.

At the end of the road,

you'll find both bodies
buried at the edge of a clearing.

Both bodies?

If the copycat is
following my pattern,

the sixth victim
was k*lled last night.

He was k*lled
less than hours ago.

Kessler called it.

Like hell they're
not communicating.

I found Kessler's sixth victim.

You wanna wrangle him
or shall I?

Pollack, hey,
what are you doing here?

Heard there's a Ryan Kessler
copycat on the loose.

Is it true?

- No comment.
- Oh, come on, baby,

Ryan Kessler's story
is like front page gold.

Yeah, look, we don't really know
what we're dealing with here.

So any press at this time
could put lives at risk.

If there's a serial k*ller
on the loose,

the public has a right to know.

Yeah, and the public also has a right
to proper analysis of the facts

before somebody involved in the case
goes sh**ting her mouth off.

Come on, Cavanaugh.

It's me you're talking to.

Look, we both have
jobs to do, okay?

How about you do yours,
I'll do mine.

Fine.

Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh of the Medical
Examiner's office refused to comment.

Thanks for your time, Doctor.

Your transfer order,
signed by the D.A.

Where's your colleague?

You're stuck with me.

Now, why don't you show me

where you dumped
those other bodies.

Mmm, I'd like to.

My memory's fuzzy.

It wasn't fuzzy this morning.

The clearing was easy.
The rest of the locations...

They're a blur.

Listen up, psycho bitch.

You think life is
tough in here now?

One call to your warden,

it's gonna get a hell
of a lot worse!

Better watch
your tongue, Detective.

Is that a thr*at?
Are you threatening me?

Come on.

You got your transfer order.

What else do you want?

Take me with you.

If I can retrace my steps,
it should all come back to me.

Okay, that's not gonna happen.

And I'd like some
decent clothes to wear.

Something pretty.

And no handcuffs or shackles.

I'd k*ll for a cigaret.

What kind of fantasy world
do you live in?

And we'll work on my timetable.

I'll tell you what you need to know
when you need to know it.

What makes you think that
you're calling the sh*ts here?

The copycat is picking
their next victim.

By nightfall, they'll be
dead and buried.

You need my help.

I'll call the D.A.

And there's one more thing.

She wants me to go?

Seems our serial k*ller's
taken a real shine to you.

What a surprise.

If she likes you, she might open up,
reveal her pattern.

If could put us one step
ahead of our copycat.

Bonding with a serial k*ller.
Every girl's dream.

I don't love the idea either.

But since we need an M.E. to
oversee body recovery in the field...

Might as well be me, huh?

We keep giving her
what she wants,

it'll give her a false sense
of control, keep her cooperating.

What kind of security
are we talking?

Three vans, a dozen SWAT.

Plainclothes cops,
two prison guards, and myself.

Process the bodies
as best you can.

We'll take it from there.

Trace is still our best bet
to catch the k*ller.

Next victim's probably already dead.

Let's make sure it's the last.

It is a beautiful day
for a drive, isn't it?

How's that tracking device fit?

Little tight, I hope.

Papa's Roaster Cafe off exit
makes a k*ller cappuccino.

I wanns stop there first.

You're not getting anything

till you lead us
to some of those dump sites.

You might wanna be a little nicer

if you expect me to cooperate.

There are nine men
and wives and children

who are no longer
walking this earth,

while you get to wear nice clothes
and feel the sun on your face.

You ask me, you're getting
way more than you deserve.

Jordan, it's nice
to see you again.

I'm not here
because of your invite.

I've got a job to do.

Get in the van.

Oh, no.

- Jordan...
- I didn't call him.

I... wait.

Cavanaugh!

What are you, stalking me?

Still chasing down
the Kessler story.

Oh.

This is where
she's imprisoned, you know.

No, I didn't.

Huh?
And you...

if I'm allowed to ask.

Dead inmate.

Oh, not Kessler, I hope.

No, no.
No such luck.

Uh, look, I actually have
to work late tonight.

So I don't think
we're gonna be able to...

Mmm, me too.

No worries.

Okay, uh...

Well, you know,
good luck with your story.

Well, thank you.

And, uh, I will
see you later, okay?

I guess I was wrong
about the two of you.

Do you mind?

Some of us are trying
to breathe here.

It's been seven long years that
I've waited for one of these.

Going without something
for so long,

you'd think you'd lose
your taste for it.

Oh, no, I don't smoke.

But you used to.

Nothing like
cutting someone open

and seeing the green
tobacco stains on their lungs

to help you kick the habit.

You two been together long?

The hunk you were kissing
in the parking lot.

None of your business.

They make an attractive couple,
don't you think, Detective?

Jordan has great taste in men.

How much further
to the dump site?

I bet he's really good in bed.

That's all men are really
good for, isn't it?

Well, that and playing out
your sadistic fantasies.

You make me sound like
some kind of monster.

Those men deserved it.

How do you figure that?

I'd be sitting in a bar
and minding my own business.

And one of them would
eventually sidle up next to me,

offer to buy me a drink,

with their wedding ring
in plain sight.

Made me sick.

And for that
they deserved to die?

I did the world a favor.

Take the next exit.

Take the next exit.

Prison sent over copies
of Kessler's outgoing mail.

Not a single mention
of her crime.

Maybe she wrote in code.

Nah, already ran it through every
encryption program known to man.

Nada.

Got a hair underneath the tissue.
I bet it belong to the k*ller.

No root, so no DNA.

But at least it can give us
hair color and ethnicity.

Victim number six is
Joseph Fedorko.

I just spoke to his sister.

He is a father of three from
Beekmantown, New York.

In Boston on business.

Hmm, when the cat's away...

Actually, he wasn't
a cheating spouse at all.

His wife left him a month ago.

He was devastated.

Couldn't bear to
take the ring off.

Well, that's horrible.

But if he was cheating,
it's less horrible?

No, I just...

I just appreciate a k*ller
with a clear rationale. What?

Okay, our k*ller's Caucasian,
auburn or brown hair...

and it's a man.

Yeah.

Okay, Garret, thanks.

Looks like our copycat's a man.

That's kind of ironic.

Are we getting close
to this dump site?

You're standing on it.

This ground isn't disturbed.

We b*at him here.

Okay, let's get Kessler
out of here right now.

Move those vans out of sight!

We're gonna start positioning
around the perimeter.

Okay, people, come on.
Let's go, let's go!

We're gonna catch this guy
tonigh, Jordan.

Position is clear.

Position clear.

Position clear.

Everybody hold your positions
and stay alert.

Copy that, Detective.

He show up?

Not yet.

I got a little bored out there
crouched under a bush.

You're not gonna catch him.

Not tonight, anyway.

It's a k*ll night.

His senses are too sharp.

Like a razor.

He's not gonna make a mistake.

Buy a girl a drink?

Come on, I did my part today.

I prefer vodka.

Sentimental reasons.

My dad was a traveling salesman
for a liquor distributor.

He'd be gone
for weeks at a time.

And when he'd
finally come home,

he'd give my mom a bottle
of her favorite vodka.

She thought it was so sweet.

Till she found out what
he was really doing on the road.

A woman in every town.

Your dad cheated?

So all men are evil,
men must die?

Isn't that kind of a cliche?

My mother blew her brains out.
I was .

A lot of people lose a parent.

Doesn't give you
a right to play God.

Way I see it, I'm just human.

Haven't you ever hated someone
enough to want to k*ll them?

I suppose so.

It just never really occured
to me to, uh, act on it.

Why not?

Oh, I don't know.

Fear of eternal damnation, hellfire.

Under the right circumstances,
everyone's capable of m*rder, Jordan.

Even you.

And what were your circumstances?

Your mom d*ed
when you were .

All those years later,
what finally set you off?

Your boyfriend cheat on you?

Let you down like your dad did?

You weren't gonna
become like your mom.

You were gonna destroy every
lying, cheating bastard

before he could destroy you.

My mother was weak.

I'm not.

Well, some people consider
addiction a sign of weakness.

I can quit anytime I want.

Take them.

Hey.

Hey, babe, where are you at?

Uh, still at work.

Right.

I could meet you
back at your place later.

Yeah, how about another night?

I can't really talk right now.

Could I call you later?

Yeah, sure.

Frank, you still there?

Could you trace that?

Lying to your boyfriend?

I'm not the only one
who doesn't trust men.

Don't pretend like
you know me.

You've had a lot of men
in your life,

but you keep things casual.

You have sex,
let them sleep over,

but it's a false sense of intimacy.

You never really let anyone in.

Buy you're right.

I don't really know you.

That's our man.
Hit the lights!

Hit the lights!

On your knees, now!

On your knees!
On your knees!

I didn't do nothing!

Right now!

I didn't do nothing!

Come here.

You call that nothing?

Where... where did he come from?

You tell us!

I... I don't know.

I swear.

Some guy, he gave me bucks
to drag this through the woods!

I didn't even know
what was in there, I...

You sure he's drunk?

Give him a breathalyzer.
BAC was . .

He's not our copycat, Woody.

What makes so sure?

Our guy wouldn't get drunk,
not tonight.

He needs to stay sharp.

Like a razor.

Only one way to find out.

Ow!

Rachel.

Scan this.

Send it over to the morgue.

Have them test it
against the copycat's hair.

Thank you.

The drunk is telling the truth.

His hair, it doesn't match.

Could he give a description of the guy
who paid him to dump the body?

Yeah, a man with a mask.

Is it just me,
or if a masked man asks you

to deliver a -pound duffle bag
to the woods,

wouldn't you at least
ask a few questions?

The guy's desperate for a drink.

What do you have?

Oh, I found an organic substance
on the fifth and sixth victims.

It's cacao.

What, chocolate?

The chocolate of all chocolates.

Literally the food of the gods.

In this case, a rare cacao bean
known as Criollo,

which, lucky for us,

is only used in % of
American chocolate making.

So the k*ller works
in a chocolate factory?

Great, we're looking
for Willy Wonka.

Hey, Jordan, g*ng's all here.

Glad to see I'm not
the only one logging overtime.

Well, at least
you're out of the office.

Yeah, well, next time you try
spending hours with a psycho.

Uh, not exactly a vacation.

I'm telling you, this woman
is a real head case.

She thinks that a lying father
is somehow justification for m*rder.

Imagine if I took
that point of view.

Well, you're not a psycho, Jordan.

Well, maybe not in that way.

Hillcrest Confectionary.

Oh, you guys have candy?
I want some.

Three millimeter droplet.

Medium velocity.

-degree sweat spatter.

That's the k*ller's DNA.

Yeah, which brings us back
to Hillcrest Confectionary.

We found trace amounts
of rare chocolate

on victims five and six.

Turns out there's only
one factory in New England

that uses the Criollo bean
in their manufaturing,

and that's Hillcrest Confectionary
out in East Boston, by the airport.

Blood type A-positive.

Then we just need someone
to match it against.

Let's pull an employer list.

We'll do it.

Let's find out
who this belongs to.

What's that?

Calcified brain matter.

I'm sending it to the morgue
to have it analyzed.

I though Dr. Macy only cared
about trace from the copycat's victims.

If I can get inside
Kessler's head,

it'll help us
understand the k*ller.

See these Kn*fe marks?

Kessler cut right through
to the spinal cord.

That's some serious rage.

She's one bitter gal, all right.

Come on, it's late.

Let me drive you back
to the motel.

If it wasn't :
in the morning,

I'd say let's just
stop for a beer.

Yeah. That's what
mini bars are for.

Come on. It's late.

Go ahead, I'll...

No, that's okay.

So, uh, you and Pollack.

How's that going?

Oh, it's going.

Good.

But like you said, uh...

it's getting late.

Shh.

We're the same, you and I.

You understand me.

I am nothing like you.

I see it in your eyes, Jordan.

The darkness.

You try to hide it,
push it way down deep,

but we both know it's there.

Embrace it.

Help me!

Jordan, it's me!

What's going on?

The k*ller.
He was here.

How could this guy
just disappear?

Must have planned
an escape route.

How the hell did he get in here
in the first place?

I had half a dozen cops
feet away.

Exactly.
No one was guarding me.

ABO blood group matches

victim number seven.

We got our m*rder w*apon.

If I hadn't shown up
when I did...

Yeah, about that.
How did you find me?

I'm a reporter.

You don't think
I can get a call traced?

Oh, nice.
So this was all about the story.

Oh, don't play
holier-than-thou with me.

I was standing in your office when
you were supposedly working late.

I lied to you because I wasn't
sure I could trust you.

And obviously I was right.

Come on, Jordan,
I'm taking you home.

No, I'm not leaving.

If we don't catch this guy
within hours,

two more guys are
gonna end up dead.

Better them than you!

A little help here, mate?

She's your girlfriend, "mate."

Fine, you're not leaving?
Neither am I.

Think again.
Hey...

Grab his cell phone,
grab his wallet,

drive three hours out,
and drop him off.

Hold on, you got
no bloody right to...

You print a word of this,
we're gonna have

every looky-loo from here
to Kalamazoo tailing us.

Jordan...

I'm sorry.
He's right.

Yeah, yeah.

All right, the Kn*fe I get.

He's messing with us.

Why take Kessler's cigarettes?

Is Jordan okay?

What was in those cigarettes?

What?
What are you talking about?

You put something
in that pack of cigarettes,

some kind of message.

There's no way
I could have done...

Where's that eighth dump site?
Now.

I told you, on my time...

No, no, no, no, no.

We're playing by my rules.

Where is it?

One mile off
of the Westfiled exit.

Okay.

We're hitting the road.

Get changed.

Jordan, if cops
can't protect you,

maybe you shouldn't
be out there.

All right.

All right, just...

just be careful.

Dr. Macy, you speak to Jordan?

- She okay?
- Yeah, luckily.

Victim number seven arrive yet?

Yeah, already finished
trace, tox, and autopsy.

Just waiting on stomach contents.

How's the suspect list coming?

Nigel's working on it now.

All right, keep me posted.

Hillcrest Confectionary
has male employees.

I contacted the three
hospitals in the area,

and nearly half the rist
has received medical care.

So I ruled out all those who
don't have A-positive blood.

Which leave us with
possible suspects.

Forty-six court orders
to collect DNA.

That'd take weeks.

Yeah, well,
you got a better idea?

Yeah, how about this?

Stomach contents of
the last two victims match.

Cactus, excess of sodium?

Margaritas?

Yeah, that's what
I'm thinking.

What, served on every bar
in every corner.

Yeah, but I also found
wasabi peas,

peanuts, and sesame seeds.

Japanese trail mix.

Now we're talking.

We find any bars near
Hillcrest Confectionary

that serve up
that kind of snack mix,

we'll know where
he's hunting for his victims.

Yeah, and hopefully stop him
before he kills again.

If we're lucky,

we've got till happy hour.

He shouldn't have
come into your room.

That was stupid.

What's the matter?

Your little protege not living
up to your expectations?

He's sadistic.

Driven by ego.

And you're not?

I told you...

my killings were justified.

I'm not a monster.

I did a tox screen
on your seventh victim.

If you're not a monster,

why did you switch from
fentanyl to pancuronium?

What is that?

It's a paralyzing drug.

I guess k*lling them while
they were still unconscious

wasn't good enough
for you anymore.

You wanted them to know that
you had complete power over them.

That's not true.

They couldn't move a muscle.

But they knew everything
that you were doing to them.

You cut out their tongues
while they were still alive

so they could feel the pain.

You loved the look of fear
in their eyes.

You got off on it.

You like to think
you're in control?

But the urge to k*ll,
that's what controls you.

Eliminating employees on vacation
or on shift at time of deaths,

our list is now down
to suspects.

I spoke to his wife in Toledo.

She was expecting him
home this morning.

Thought it was odd
he didn't call last night,

since he always calls.

It's the bar at Logan Airport.

They serve margaritas
and Japanese trail mix,

and it is located within
a mile of Hilcrest Confectionary.

k*ller's smart.
Airport bar, everyone's a stranger.

People either from out of town,

or heading out
so no one misses them.

Yeah, but he's not smart
enough to realize that

the airport has the most
high-tech video surveillance in town.

All right, where to now?

Good question.

What do you mean?

This is the wrong place.

You said take the Westfield exit,
make a right.

Did I say Westfield?

I meant West Farms.

All right, come on,
everybody back in the van.

Let's go, come on.

Who's in control now?

There.

Stop it right there.

It's victim number seven.

Looks like he struck out.

Wait, who's this guy?

I'll run him against the photos
of the other employees.

See, while the face can be
altered cosmetically,

the iris, mouth center,
filtrum center and tragus cannot.

So this software measures
the distances between those points

in order to get a match.

- Nigel.
- Hmm?

I know.

Sorry.

Wait, he just slipped
something in his drink.

That's gotta be him.

Martin Cooper.

"Quality Inspector."

Lives at Wilton Place,
Apartment .

All clear!

So where is he?

If you're messing
with us again...

It's just up ahead.

Damn it.

We're too late.

We got a victim.

- He's still alive!
- What?

His carotid's been nicked,

couldn't have been more than
two, three minutes ago.

Okay. Get Kessler back
to the van, right now.

You guys stay with the victim.

Everyone else fan out
through the woods.

Just fan out.

I can't stop the bleeding.

We need to get him
to a hospital!

We need an ambulance
up here ASAP.

Come on, guys,

he can't be too far.

Keep this here.
Hold him steady.

I'm gonna go get
my first-aid kit.

Where is that ambulance?

Two minutes.

Kessler's tracking device.

One of my guys found it
on the side of the road.

Okay.

Okay.

Kessler and the copycat
ditched the van.

They must have switched vehicles.

Great, they could be
anywhere by now.

Found something.

So did I.

Is that what I think it is?

Now we know what he did
with the tongues.

Ah.

Check this out.

So Kessler was
corresponding with him.

Yeah, with secret messages
on the back of her letters.

Not something I could see
on the copies.

But...

Invisible ink.

It's an old parlor trick.

You write a letter in milk,
lemon juice, any kind of acid,

and it dries invisible.

Acid changes color under heat.

So Cooper holds it
under a heat lamp,

and the secret messages
reveal themselves

on the reverse side.

Presto chango.

Fan letter becomes a serial k*ller's
instructions manual.

They're probably on a plane
to Fiji by now.

I don't think so.

Kessler wanted Cooper to k*ll
those men the way she did.

I'd say they're going
after victim number nine.

There's gotta be a pattern
to these dump sites.

If they're gonna k*ll again,
we have to find out where.

I ran those locations
forward and backward.

They're all off the Mass Pike,
but at totally random intervals.

Did you get anything
off that letter?

Well, the ink is
prison-issue ballpoint.

The, uh, text innocuous.

What's odd is how she wrote
the hidden message.

She used alcohol.

What, they have bars
behind bars?

Liquor isn't hard to come by
in the prison black market.

What I meant was the fact
she used liquor at all.

I mean, she could have
used water or milk.

It would have served
the same purpose.

So why vodka?

Especially if
it's a scarce resource.

For sentimental reasons.

Reminded her of her father.

Who was a liquor salesman.

Traveling salesman.

Okay.

All right, thank you very much.

Kessler's dad worked for
Bearing Liquor Distributors.

His territory ran along
the Mass Pike.

Sold to bars
up and down the state.

Reps usually stayed overnight,

wining and dining the bar owners
plying them with free booze.

Picking up women.

They just emailed over his routes.

Okay, I'll overlay his accounts
onto the map of the dump sites.

That's it.

The dump sites are all half
a mile due north of the bars.

Grandtree Tavern.

There's no body near
the Grandtree Tavern.

We're too late!

Damn it.

It's Martin Cooper.

Kessler's cigarettes.

She was using him
the whole time.

He helped her escape,
and then she got rid of him.

She really did a number on him.

All those years without k*lling,
guess she worked up a thirst.

Hey...

I got every airport, car rental,
and train station on alert.

Kessler, being
as recognizable as she is,

is not gonna get very far.

I'll get him back to the morgue,
see if there's any trace.

No, I'll do it.
You've had a long couple days.

Go home and get some shuteye.

Hey, Pollack.

Hey, it's me. Um...

Look, I just cracked open
this great bottle of wine.

I thought maybe you cuold come over
and help me polish it off.

It's, uh, your favorite.
It's Australian.

And maybe we could talk.

So, uh, call me,
or just come over, whatever.

Okay, bye.

Well, I thought you'd be
long gone by now.

Me too.

For seven long years
I've dreamt of being free.

Planning the perfect escape.

Starting a new life somewhere.

But I can't.

Martin proved it to me.

How?

'Cause he wasn't like
any other man in my life.

He never did anything
to hurt me.

And I didn't want to k*ll him.

I just...

You couldn't help yourself?

I slit his throat!

And the look in his eyes...

You were right.

I am a monster.

And I'm never gonna stop.

So you're gonna k*ll me
just to prove that you can't?

No.

I want you to k*ll me.

What?

I don't wanna live like this.

You already have the g*n, okay?

You do it yourself.

You understand me.

Consider it poetic justice.

Pick up the g*n.

No.

You wanna die, that's one thing.

But I'm not a m*rder*r.

I told you, Jordan.

Anyone can be.

Under the right circumstances.

He came by looking for you.

Let him go.

This is between you and me.

Pick up the g*n.

Either you k*ll me...

or I k*ll him.

You don't have to do this.

Pick up the g*n now.

Now aim it at my head.

Pull the trigger.

Do it!

Pollack gonna be okay?

Yeah, I think so.

Good.

You took a big risk driving
out of the way like that.

I wasn't sure if
you were gonna fire.

What'd you think, I was just gonna
let her sh**t you in the head?

I guess you're not
the only one with trust issues.

Look, I'll see you at the hospital.

You missed.

No, I didn't.

Like I told you,
I'm not like you.

I'm gonna go with Kessler.

I'm not letting that animal
out of my sight

until she's back in her cage.