The Third Victim (36 page)
Authors: Lisa Gardner
I could handle it, I reminded myself. I was tough. I’d gotten through my pregnancy alone, I’d given birth alone. I’d endured twenty-five long, lonely weeks at the live-in Police Academy, missing Sophie with every breath I took but determined not to quit because becoming a state police officer was the best shot I had to provide a future for my daughter. I’d been allowed to return home to Sophie every Friday night, but I also had to leave her crying with Mrs. Ennis every Monday morning. Week after week after week, until I thought I’d scream from the pressure. But I did it. Anything for Sophie. Always for Sophie.
Still, I started checking e-mail more often because if Brian was in port he’d send us a quick note, or attach a silly picture of a moose in the middle of some Alaskan main street. By the sixth week, I realized I was happier the days he e-mailed, tenser the days he didn’t. And Sophie was, too. We huddled together over the computer each night, two pretty girls waiting to hear from their man.
Then finally, the call. Brian’s ship had docked in Ferndale, Washington. He’d be discharged the day after tomorrow, and would be catching the red-eye back to Boston. Could he take us to dinner?
Sophie selected her favorite dark blue dress. I wore the orange sundress from the Fourth of the July cookout, topped with a sweater in deference to the November chill.
Sophie, keeping lookout from the front window, spotted him first. She squealed in delight and raced down the apartment steps so fast I thought she’d fall. Brian barely caught her at the end of the walk. He scooped her up, whirled her around. She laughed and laughed and laughed.
I approached more quietly, taking the time for a last minute tuck of my hair, buttoning my light sweater. I stepped through the front door of the apartment complex. Shut it firmly behind me.
Then I turned and studied him. Took him in from eight feet away. Drank him up.
Brian stopped twirling Sophie. Now he stood at the end of the walk, my child still in his arms, and he studied me, too.
We didn’t touch. We didn’t say a word. We didn’t have to.
Later, after dinner, after he brought us back to his place, after I tucked Sophie into the bed across the hall, I walked into his bedroom. I stood before him, and let him peel the sweater from my arms, the sundress from my body. I placed my hands against his bare chest. I tasted the salt on the column of his throat.
“Eight weeks was too long,” he muttered thickly. “I want you here, Tessa. Dammit, I want to know I’m coming home to you always.”
I placed his hands upon my breasts, arching into the feel of his fingers.
“Marry me,” he whispered. “I mean it, Tessa. I want you to be my wife. I want Sophie to be my daughter. You and her should be living here with me and Duke. We should be a family.”
I tasted his skin again. Slid my hands down his body, pressed the full length of my bare skin against his bare skin. Shivered at the contact. Except it wasn’t enough. The feel of him, the taste of him. I needed him against me, I needed him above me, I needed him inside me. I needed him everywhere, right now, this instant.
I dragged him down to the bed, wrapping my legs around his waist. Then he was sliding inside my body and I groaned, or maybe he groaned, but it didn’t really matter. He was where I needed him to be.
At the last moment, I caught his face between my hands so I could look into his eyes as the first wave crashed over us.
“Marry me,” he repeated. “I’ll be a good husband, Tessa. I’ll take care of you and Sophie.”
He moved inside of me and I sighed, and I said: “Yes.”
And as an extra-special bonus for eBook readers:
Turn the page for an exclusive sneak peek of the script from
AMC’s addictive new series,
The Killing
.
Premiering Sunday, April 3 at 9/8c . Only on AMC.
The Killing
“Pilot”
Teleplay by
Veena Sud
Based on the Danish Series “Forbrydelsen”
Developed by Veena Sud
Copyright © 2010 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation
All Rights Reserved.
“THE KILLING”
FADE IN:
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY
Near dawn, sky threatening rain. CAMERA TRACKS behind a lone WOMAN running along a wooded trail and over a bridge over railroad tracks. Breathing hard, pushing herself to the limit, sweatshirt soaked through. At first you wonder if she’s a young girl with her ponytail, small frame, and then you see her eyes – wounded, haunted – and realize she isn’t. Meet Homicide Detective SARAH LINDEN – 37, lone wolf type, solo distance runner, pretty without trying, her smiles rare, her intense eyes strange, unblinking.
SFX: Train HORN. SMASH CUT TO –
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - FIELD - NIGHT
A screaming young GIRL runs through the tall grass – away from someone – their flashlight cutting the darkness.
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY
Sarah continues to jog down the trail.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT
Tree limbs, like long fingers, reach down towards the young girl – 17, sweet-faced, child-woman’s body – running hard, clothing torn, hair soaked with sweat. With blood. This is ROSIE LARSEN and she is running for her life.
Crashing through the brush behind her, an UNSEEN ASSAILANT closes in, FLASHLIGHT cutting through the woods.
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY
Sarah continues jogging – intense, driven.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT
Rosie crouches down, pressing herself into the side of a tree, making herself as small as possible. Rosie’s terrified, bloodshot eyes, the bruises and cuts on her arms, legs, face.
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY
Sarah continues jogging the wooded trial.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT
Rosie’s face is suddenly flooded with light. The Assailant has doubled back and is now only a dozen yards away. Moving in with terrifying speed. With a scream, Rosie runs–
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT
Dawn. Sarah bursts into a clearing, down a small embankment, is an abandoned beach strewn with driftwood, fog.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT
Rosie tripping, scrambling on hands and knees down a small embankment. The flashlight behind her jaggedly cuts through the woods, nearing.
EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT
Sarah looks up, goes still. A FIGURE lies on the beach. A blanket of loopy seaweed covering it. Gnats and flies buzzing over it.
Sarah, transfixed, nears the still figure on the sand.
She reaches down, pulls off the blanket of seaweed.
It is a dead SEA LION – one blank eye staring up. Sarah takes it in. RAIN begins to fall.
Even here, on this beach, she is unable to escape these broken, sad bodies. The exhausting knowledge that life doesn’t care. It is indifferent.
Sarah’s CELL PHONE RINGS, startling her–
SARAH
(into phone)
Yeah, Linden here.
Off this–
CREDITS ROLL
END TEASER
ACT ONE
EXT. DOCKS - DAY (CHYRON: “DAY ONE”)
A CAR drives down the industrial docks of downtown Seattle. In the distance, through the now heavy rain, the Space Needle, the gray downtown skyline, the waters of Lake Union, all under a breathtaking, brooding sky. A city of contrasts, light and dark, sun and fog, where rain falls eight months of the year. A city surrounded on all sides by waterways, ocean, lakes. Stark beauty and dark underbelly.
The car pulls up to a crime scene. In her sweats and a raincoat, Sarah exits her car in the now intense DOWNPOUR, chomping NICACHEW. A UNIFORM guards the entrance of an abandoned factory, keeping a bunch of LOOKIE LOOS – sullen emo teens and a bug-eyed crackhead – at bay.
SARGEANT (O.S.)
Back behind the tape. Yeah, you heard me.
A Lookie Loo – male, pierced - catches Sarah’s eye. She holds his baleful stare.
Sarah ducks under the crime scene TAPE, met by a SARGEANT –40s, grizzled, ex-boxer’s battered face—
SARGEANT (CONT’D)
Sarah, sorry ‘bout this. Lieutenant said you were on call so–
SARAH
Where’s the body?
SARGEANT
Conveyor shed. Homeless guy found her coupla hours ago. Jane Doe… No ID, wallet. Coroner’s en route. You’re the first one here.
(beat)
You gotta go up the stairs, follow the ramp, you’ll find her. You want me to walk ya through?
SARAH
No. I’m good. Thanks.
They stop in front a steel door. Sargeant opens it revealing a dark hallway, stairs– He gives her BAGGIES and a FLASHLIGHT over–
SARGEANT
You’re outta here, what? Friday?
SARAH
Nope. Today.
With a smile, she enters…
INT. FACTORY - CONTINUOUS
… Heads up the stairs. Suddenly, the steel door slams shut, plunging her into darkness. It’d be easy to turn back but that’s not Sarah’s style. Instead, she turns on her flashlight – flickery, iffy.
Ahead of her, a ramp tilting up into blackness. Trash, graffiti everywhere. Rain pelts the tin roof, pigeons coo. She’s used to silent, secret places like this. Forges on.
Her light catches a dark SMEAR on one wall. Blood. Below it, a pile of trash. Baggie in hand, Sarah sifts through. Pulls out a sharp deboning KNIFE. Bags it.
Trains her flashlight on a faint trail of BLOOD. Leading to the top of the conveyor shaft, a room. Something in there…
INT. FACTORY - BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A large OBJECT, like a side of beef encased in plastic, hangs from a hook. Sarah slowly reaches up, rips it off–
LIGHTS snap on, revealing a group of middle-aged male DETECTIVES in PARTY HATS, clutching a CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE,
Laughing at what’s hanging on the hook: a BLOW UP DOLL. Red mouth around a fake SPLIFF, San Francisco baseball CAP on its head, written across its torso: “BON VOYAGE SARAH”.
OAKES
(singing)
Hey, hey… For she’s a jolly good fellow! For she’s a jolly good…
SINGING DETECTIVE
For she’s a jolly good fellow…!
They warble off key, the others clapping, hooting, blowing noise makers. They tease Sarah.
OAKES
Get her a glass…
Sarah laughing now, much loved, overwhelmed by it all…
EXT. ESTABLISHING AERIAL SHOT - CHINNTENDEN LOCKS - DAY
The waterway connecting Lake Union with the vast Puget Sound. Through the RAIN–
INT. SARAH’S CONDO - DAY
Sarah enters, BLOW UP DOLL under arm, rain coat sopping. Takes in the sterile, empty condo. Packing boxes everywhere.
SARAH
Rick? Are you still here…? Rick…?
As she moves through the barren rooms CAMERA FOLLOWS. Someone watching, closing in…
SARAH (CONT’D)
Rick…?
Suddenly, Sarah spins around–
SARAH (CONT’D)
Boo.
Getting the drop on RICK FELDER – salt-and-pepper sexy, established man’s confidence mixed with a former bad boy’s heat–
RICK
I so had you…
SARAH
Charlie Brown with the football–
RICK
I think Lucy needs a spanking.
He grabs at her. Laughing, screaming, she fends him off with the blow up doll. As they tussle–
RICK (CONT’D)
(re: doll)
I’m not even gonna ask.
He flings it to the side, grabs her, they kiss. Visceral, electric, heating up. Over–
SARAH
Where’s Jack?
RICK
Dropped him off at school…
SARAH
Was he mad?
RICK
He’s 13. It’s his job to hate us.
Sarah sighs, worried, rests her head on his shoulder.
RICK (CONT’D)
He’ll come around. Or I’ll make him.
(beat, then re: blow up doll)
What does Candy Cane feel about Sonoma?
SARAH
(smiles)
Pop that damn thing before Jack sees it.
RICK
Okay.
SARAH
What time’re the movers coming?
She goes to an open moving BOX, digs around. Pops a NICACHEW out of its box.
RICK
In an hour. Oh, Regi called, said she wanted to take Jack for a spin on the boat before you leave.
SARAH
Maybe she can give me away at the wedding. What’ll your parents think about that?
RICK
Who cares. What about you, you ready to do this?
SARAH
Do what?
He laughs. Kisses her.
RICK
Sell the condo, quit your job, move your kid away from his cool friends… Marry me.
She kisses him. Deep, passionate–
SARAH
You know I’m not one for words.
RICK
It’s a good thing you only need two of ‘em.
They kiss again, heating up. Their need for one another bottomless. BEEP BEEP–
RICK (CONT’D)
That’s me, ahhh–
Rick disengages and moves toward his bags.
SARAH
Why can’t you fly down with us tonight? Candy Cane wants to play, argg–
Sarah grabbing at him.
RICK
Yeah. Okay.
He laughs at her playfulness. Grabs his bags. Makes his way to the front door.
RICK (CONT’D)
Tickets on top of the fridge, flight’s at nine thirty.
SARAH
I do.
RICK
What?
SARAH
Want to marry you.
This moment honest. No jokes. No masks. They smile.
RICK
Tickets on the fridge, flights at nine thirty.
Rick exits. A beat as Sarah sits in this empty place, her smile fades. She spots the TICKETS on the fridge. As she takes them down, a PHOTO – pinned underneath – flutters to the ground. Sarah picks it up, smiles, tenderly kisses the photo. Pins it back on the fridge.
We see the PHOTO: Sarah and her 13-year-old son, JACK, smiling into camera. Mom and son against the world.
Only thing left in the empty kitchen. She carefully straightens it. Making it perfect.
EXT. SEATTLE PD - DAY
Sarah seen in her office window, cleaning up. A UNI walks past.
SARAH
… We’ll have a few hours before the airport, Regi… Yeah, it’d be great…
INT. SEATTLE PD - SARAH’S OFFICE - DAY
Musty and cramped, mismatched steel filing cabinets, Sarah, in sweater and jeans, tosses manila FOLDERS into cardboard boxes, chewing gum, mid-convo on her cell phone–
SARAH
…To take Jack out on the water–
Her office door bangs opens, revealing Det. STEPHEN HOLDER –30, ex-narc, dark circles under his eyes. Startled as she–
HOLDER
(overlapping)
Ahh, this is a bad door. Sorry, what… what are you doing here–
SARAH
(overlapping)
A who… Can I help you–?
HOLDER
Yeah, this is my office–
SARAH
Who are you–?
HOLDER
I’m Holder, from County. You Linden?
REGI (O.S.)
(from phone)
Sar? You there…?
SARAH
(into phone)
Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Regi.
Sarah hangs up, takes him in: cardboard BOX in his arms. Fish out of water in his Fubu and baggy jeans. Amused–
SARAH (CONT’D)
Yeah. I’m Linden.
HOLDER
I thought you’d be outta here by now. But if you need more time, I can wait outside.
SARAH
No, it’s okay. No, no, come on in. I’m almost done.
Not much room to navigate. He drops his box on the desk, knocking over her box, spilling files everywhere.
HOLDER
Damn it–
SARAH
It’s okay, I got it.
Holder tries to help, making more of a mess.
HOLDER
My bad, my bad.
Hold picks up the box, she takes it.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
Here.
He moves to the other side of the desk. Starts unpacking his own box.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
So, I hear you’re moving to LA.
SARAH
San Francisco area.
HOLDER
Oakland?
SARAH
Sonoma.
HOLDER
Sonoma. It’s nice.
SARAH
Yup.
Beat. She continues to clean up, not interested in engaging.
HOLDER
Nice weather. Ocean. The beaches… Hate that shit.
Holder shoots a ball into a hoop/trash can. Sarah smiles grudgingly.
SARAH
You must love this place then.
HOLDER
Ouch.
