All language subtitles for scarpetta.s01e01.french.720p.web.h264-ukdtv_Anglais (Full) SRT [English] (SUBRIP)

Scarpetta.

Sorry to wake, Doc.

There's been a murder.

At Daingerfield. On the train tracks.

Shit. Okay.

Okay. Got it.

You said call.

Yeah, I did. I did.

I certainly did. I'll be right there.

Good to have you back, Doc.

I guarantee you, not a thing's
been done right since you left.

Right this way.

Oh, uh, this here's Officer Fruge.

She was, uh, first on the scene.

- Dr. Kay Scarpetta.
- Oh.

I know who you are, Chief.

And I, for one, am glad you're back.

Not implying
that there are people who aren't.

Though I'm pretty sure you know there are.

Honest Abe over here.

All right, watch your step.

Jane Doe.

Dumped like trash.

Actually, my husband would say
he went to great pains

to present her to his audience.

Why do you think

he'd say that, um…

that the hands are, you know, gone?

Didn't want her ID'd
right off the bat, right?

Possibly.

Sexual assault?

The staging and clothing—
sexual components for sure.

Could you wait right there?

Sorry, Chief. Bosses say no one
on the scene without official cause.

Pete Marino, 12 o'clock.

Shit.

- No.
- Oh, Doc.

I haven't
even been sworn in yet.

You can't show up here
like you're still on the force.

Hey, listen, Lucy wants you

- to take her to Wellwood.
- No, you can't— Mm-mm.

- What?
- Lucy wants you to take her

- to Wellwood tomorrow.
- You came all this way—

- Well, it's her birthday tomorrow.
- I know

it's her birthday.
You came all this way to tell me that?

No, you can't do that.

- No. You need to go home.
- Okay, well, I might've heard something

- on the scanner about a…
- Go home. Oh.

- … dead body on the railroad tracks.
- You need to get rid of that thing.

This is bad.

This is— this is fucking bad.

- You want me to stay?
- No.

I want you to go.

Go. Now.

Scarpetta.

Pete Marino here.

We got us another one.

Okay. I'm-I'm-I'm on my way.

5602 Berkeley.

Berkeley Heights.

All right. I got it.

- Hurry.
- Yeah, I got it. I got it.

Sorry, baby.

Oh, Yaya. Thank you.

- I hope I didn't wake you.
- Oh.

I haven't slept a wink since '65.

I don't know if that's an age or a year.

And I'm a little afraid to ask.

There's been a fourth killing?

Um…

Yeah. Yeah.

- Will you lock the door after me?
- Of course.

Do not worry, sweet girl.

Even the Nazis couldn't get me.

- If her mother calls—
- Her mother will not call.

She's lucky to have her Auntie Kay.

Thank you.

♪ There is ♪

♪ a house in New Orleans ♪

♪ they call the Rising Sun…

Out there…

… somewhere…

… is a man.

- ♪ And, God ♪
- What the fuck?

♪ I know I'm one ♪

Get a grip.

♪ My mother was a tailor ♪

♪ She sewed ♪

♪ my new blue jeans ♪

♪ My father was ♪

♪ a gambling man…

Excuse me.

Uh, Dr. Kay Scarpetta,
chief medical examiner.

You are?

Officer August Ryan, Doctor—

- Chief.
- Right. There should be gloves here,

Officer Ryan. Some kind of PPE.

You can't contaminate the crime scene.

I was never first
on the scene before of a…

… grisly murder, and, um…

First time at a violent scene…

… I definitely vomited in private.

Now, don't go sharing that.

I'll do better next time for sure.

Hey, Doc.

This here's the husband.

Matt Petersen. Mr. Petersen,

our chief M.E., Dr. Scarpetta.

Detective Marino.

I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Petersen.

Uh, she was a doctor, your wife?

Surgical resident

at the, um, Virginia Medical Center.

She worked in the E.R.

She, um, was usually back by 12:30.

And-and you were out

- or…?
- Matt was just telling me

about play rehearsal.

He's an actor.

I got in late.

After 2:00.

It was dark,

so I just assumed
that she was asleep and…

When I went up into our bedroom,

there was this…

… smell.

Uh, uh, what kind of smell?

I don't know.

Like maple?

But…

sour.

Rank.

Terrible.

Trussed.

Same as the others.

She straightens her leg
and the ligature tightens like a noose.

Sick S.O.B. makes 'em
suffocate themselves.

Water in the tub.

Must be where he grabbed her.

So he put the nightgown on her…

… just to cut it off.

Screen on the bathroom window's
popped out.

Maybe how he got in?

All the other victims were single.

DNA from the husband would be helpful.

Our doer's a non-secreter,

so that would rule him out.

Doc.

Mm.

Is that the husband's?

I'll make sure and ask.

Dr. Scarpetta! Dr. Scarpetta!

You're not authorized here.

Chief!

- Dr. Scarpetta!
- Dr. Scarpetta!

Dr. Scarpetta, when are you
gonna release the autopsy reports

from the first three victims?

And why did he only wait a week
this time between killings?

If I didn't tell you yesterday,
Abby, when you beat my staff

with the Freedom of Information Act,

I'm sure as shit not telling you now.

Did you call the attorney
of the Commonwealth?

Dr. Scarpetta!

Oh, yeah.

And my boss, too.

Love to have as many heads up my ass
at once as possible.

That sarcasm gives me
a lot of hope for the future, Doc.

Dr. Scarpetta.

Mr. Boltz.

Want to walk me through this here, Pete?

It's the job of public servants
to bring truth to the people!

Is this sort of evasion what you envision

for the new Scarpetta regime?

Doctor!

Tragic news this morning

as a local woman was found
brutally murdered in her home.

Police have not released
the identity of the victim,

but it is widely presumed
that this marks the fourth killing in a—

I do solemnly swear…

I do solemnly swear…

… that I will support
the Constitution of the Commonwealth

of Virginia.

… that I will support
the Constitution of the Commonwealth

- of Virginia.
- I will faithfully and impartially…

I will faithfully and impartially…

… discharge all of the duties
incumbent upon me…

… discharge all of the duties
incumbent upon me…

- … as chief medical examiner…
- … as chief medical examiner…

- … to the best of my ability.
- … to the best of my ability.

- So help me God.
- So help me God.

Great. Second time's the charm.

Good luck, Dr. Scarpetta.

Oh. Did we miss it?

Oh, damn.

Congratulations,

- Dr. Scarpetta.
- And a hearty

- welcome back.
- Wow.

I didn't expect to see you both here.

Uh, Dr. Reddy,

- Maggie.
- Well,

it's wonderful to see you again.

Uh, congratulations, Dr. Reddy,
on being appointed health commissioner.

I got to be honest—
even I didn't see it coming.

- Oh.
- I don't think anyone saw it coming.

I mean, you were so excited
about retiring when we spoke.

What was it, the lake house, the rowboat,

the King Sling knot?

And now here you are.

Well, let's just say the governor
made me an offer and I couldn't say no.

So I brought you something.

Brought me a person?

Dr. Scarpetta, I'd like to work for you.

What?

To ease the transition forward.

No one in the Commonwealth
knows my office—

yours now— better than Maggie.

She'd be eyes and ears to you.

Full support.

And a direct line
to the health commissioner himself.

I can't take you from Dr. Reddy.

I mean, don't you…

don't you need her?

Oh, he'll be just fine.

I mean, you, you've been here,
what, a month?

So much has changed
since your last tenure.

Think of me as a welcome gift of sorts.

Just like the old days.

Come on, Maggie,
you really want to work for me again?

Dr. Scarpetta,
I gave my life to this office.

And it gave life to me.

Great.

- Okay.
- Okay then.

Fabian called.
Jane Doe is waiting for you in Autopsy.

- He called you?
- Me.

- Yeah.
- As he does.

To pass on the word.

Eyes and ears.

What'd I tell you?

Great. Eyes and ears.

So why
don't you tell me about your wife, man.

We met at Harvard.

She, um…

Just had this way about her.

Like, so much on her mind.

Did you two meet in a class
or some kind of extracurricular club?

You ask about his christening, too?

I mean, you had to see the guy, Doc.

I mean, it was a total,
almost lighthearted demeanor shift,

not the broken-up softy that you saw.

We met at a party.

Lori was always sort of a loner

but with this intense, like…

purpose.

What kind of party was it?

Casual. College.

I was leaving when she was coming in.

Her voice.

It just…

It stopped me in my tracks.

Contralto.

Beautiful.

You notice a thing like that, huh?

Its actual tone was perfection.

And, uh, was it ever

in Lori's habit to be, um…

friendly to strangers?

If someone were to come by the house,

um, say a delivery man,

- would she ask him in?
- No.

Lori understood the dangers
of living in the city.

She worked in the E.R.

In light of which,
I'd think she'd be careful about, uh,

keeping the windows locked.

She probably thought it was locked.

Right. Because you accidentally left
the window unlocked last weekend

when you came and replaced the screen.

She hated it when I left.

Something make you want
to be an actor, Matt?

I studied drama to get in touch
with human emotions.

Needs, impulses.

The good and the bad.

Had to study drama to do that?

"You two
had something that had to be kept on ice,

yes,

incorruptible, yes…

… and death was the only icebox
where you could keep it."

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

By Tennessee Williams.

Wasn't he a fag?

The guy is off.

You don't start doing speeches from plays
after seeing your wife butchered

unless you're a sociopath.

And I did look it up—

Tennessee Williams was a fag.

Please don't use that word
in my presence. Ever.

- What's wrong with "fag"?
- I'm serious.

I will not have it.

He forced her to choke herself.

Over and over.

How can you connect a husband killing
his wife to the first three murders?

Who knows?

Maybe she was the goddamn point all along.

And those killings were, what,
just to throw us off track?

Look, Petersen gives me the willies, okay?

I took him in.

- I got a whole suspect kit—
- Look, we're looking for a killer

who gets off on the killing,
not a man trying to get rid of his wife.

Then I guess
I'll just take the fingerprints

down to Nelly Cho's office myself.

Yeah, you do that.

Manner of death's homicide.

Mechanism is exsanguination, period.

Cause of death is
sharp force injury to the neck,

period.

The head wound, though significant,
was not the cause.

Perhaps to incapacitate her,

period.

The contused and lacerated area
of her scalp

is approximately four inches in diameter,

period.

The weapon would have
to be hard and smooth,

flat-bottomed,
with a broad roundish surface, period.

Dr. Scarpetta?

Yes?

Marvelous how you've kept your figure
all these years.

What do you need, Maggie?

Uh, Officer Ryan just called.

There's a situation
that requires your assistance.

Is it about the Jane Doe
at the railroad tracks?

I've left the address right there.

Is it about Jane Doe?

What a terrible thing
to be called "Jane Doe."

All my years here, they always
struck me as the saddest of them all.

Maggie, is it about the Jane Doe?

Oh, yes.

Marvelous.

It's weird, talking to you here.

Where you don't talk back.

This was your idea, Kay.

She asked me to take her.
She didn't ask me to sit there

and hold her hand.

Though I can hear you saying…

"Is it weird or is it nice?"

Well, why? Why not?

Kay, it's a cemetery.

There are mourners everywhere, look.

- They're over there.
- Dorothy, look at me.

They're— oh, look how sad
those people are.

… someone who can grasp the appropriate
societal emotional boundaries.

Yeah, but that's not Lucy.

- You. It's not you.
- Right.

Because Lucy's just like me
because she's my daughter.

Right?

♪ And they called me Wild Child ♪

- Shh! Wild…?
- What?

- It was "Wild Child."
- Are you…?

No, that's not the words.

- They're the words. Okay.
- "Ran calling Wildfire."

- It's about a dead horse.
- ♪ And they call me Wild ♪

- No, not "Wild Child."
- "Wild Child."

"Yellow mountain,
cold Nebraska night and a…"

- "And a pony called Wildfire."
- "Wild Child."

Oh…

God, I can't believe that we're—
We will literally fight about anything.

Anything.

- A song from our childhood?
- Right.

Because fighting is the "idioma"—
the language— of siblings.

We could try and not be so threatened
by each other.

I am not threatened by you.

I am not threatened by you.

- Forget it.
- No, listen.

I couldn't do your day, not one day.

Not one day.

No, no, no, you win.

Just the thought of being
in proximity of a dead body,

it just, it would destroy my brain space
with dread.

Maybe if I hadn't seen death
at such a young age,

I would have had some broader
career choices.

Just maybe.

He was my father too, Kay.

Oh, fuck off.

You just like being weird.

- I'm not the weirdo.
- You're the weirdo.

No, I'm not.
And you're not the normal one.

- Oh, well, between the two of us…
- Just because you have a lot of money…

- … I am the normal one.
- … it does not make you normal.

Oh, actually, first of all, yes, it does.

- And second…
- What did you say?

… it really bugs you that I have money.

It really bugs you.
You resent me for it.

- I do not.
- You do!

- What the fuck? I do not.
- You do! And you always have!

Shut up!

Just shut up, okay?

Now look what you've done.

That was your fault.

Give her a moment.
Walk away.

Go fuck yourself.

Get in the car.

Excuse me, are you, uh…

Are you Dr. Scarpetta?

Uh, yeah, yeah. Dr. Kay Scarpetta.

Agent Benton Wesley, nice to meet you.

Oh, yes, Agent Besant Wesley.

- Benton. Benton Wesley. Yeah.
- Benton. Wesley.

From the FBI. Did Detective Marino
not tell you I was coming?

Tell— he told me.
Yes, you are Agent Wesley, hi.

Um, I will meet you in my office,
it's right down there.

- All right, I'll meet you over there.
- I will just go put myself

through a car wash or something, probably.

I-I'll go find Pete.

Okay. Great. I will meet you down there.

Yeah. Okay. Bye.

Husband's a squirrel, probably
close to earning himself a poly.

I know folks are scared.

Time is of the essence— yes, sir.

Yeah, any more platitudes
you want to share?

City Attorney Boltz not altogether pleased
with our progress?

Never trust pretty men.
That goes for Petersen and Boltz.

Anyways, as I was saying,
no way our guy's Black.

I agree. Interracial mix
in victim selection is unusual.

It don't happen, period.

Unless the killer
is rapidly decompensating.

- Whatever the fuck that means.
- It means he's losing his mind.

You guys always fight like this?

- No.
- Yes.

VICAP yokes a Bureau profiler
with a Homicide detective.

Yeah, so we can learn about serial killers
and psycho-twaddle

and they can get tougher,
funnier and handsomer.

How does Lori Petersen
affect your profile?

This guy…

he's someone you might not look at twice.

Well-functioning,
probably has some type of menial job.

A construction worker…

- Like an all-average, all-American joe?
- Labor-related occupation,

I suppose.
But above average in intelligence.

- How shocking.
- No, the best part

for him is the antecedent phase,

the fantasy plan—
right after he becomes aware of her.

When he's fueled by obsession.

Yeah, my sense is he's a sadist.

You don't break
a surgeon's fingers by accident.

Or a violinist's.

I'm sure he entertained
violent sexual fantasies

long before he made them reality.

It started, him just looking in windows…

Seeing the women. Watching them.

Wanting to see them hurt.

Next he rapes.
Each rape gets more violent.

Maybe needing more violence
each time just to get him off.

Or rape is no longer the motive.
Murder is.

And when murder no longer satisfies?

He gets more sadistic.

- A taste for torture.
- How does he find them?

Why them?

Not for nothing, but Matt Petersen,
our PhD candidate

who's too brilliant to be our killer?

He's a non-secreter— yeah,
no blood type in his jizz either.

This is the husband
of the most recent victim?

Mm-hmm.

You can't hold back information,
Pete, it's not playing fair.

Well, he wasn't a plumber,
so I didn't want to push.

Well, Ted Bundy happened to study law.

Who's to say our killer isn't a student,
or dare I say, an educated actor—

Christ, if that's not oxymoronic,
I don't know what the fuck is.

You'll get to understand him.

Yeah, well, sometimes it gets exhausting.

Understanding men.

Yeah, I mean, look, we screw up here,

next Friday another woman could die.

And I can't have him
jumping to conclusions.

Matt Petersen worries me
if I'm being honest, Dr. Scarpetta.

Okay.

You can call me Kay.

Okay. Okay, Kay.

Okay.

Do I want to know what that's for?

Uh, no. No, you don't.

Cho found partials
on the wife's body that match Petersen.

Same glitter slime on her
as the rest of the vics.

Looks like our very own Ted Bundy
just bought himself a polygraph.

She's not been off that computer once.

- Doing a lot of yelling.
- Did you, um…

- Hide the newspaper, yes.
- Yeah.

And wish I didn't look myself.
Bozhe moi.

Yeah, well, just, you know, be careful
and smart, like you always are.

Ah, this is the great thing
about age, yeah?

For yourself, you don't worry so much.

- Good night, Dr. Kay.
- Good night.

Hey, Yaya. Thank you.

Of course.

Good night, Lucy.

How come you're spying on me?

- I'm not spying.
- I can see you, you know.

That's 'cause you're such a clever girl.

I'm-I'm sorry we had to cancel Monticello.

It's fine. I like the computer
better anyway.

Ouch.

When you say things like that,
do you mean to hurt my feelings?

I don't like it more than you,
there was just loads to do.

- What, on the computer?
- Yeah.

Your database needed so much cleaning.

You haven't initialized it in over a year.

I hadn't? What does that mean?

Don't worry. I fixed it all up.

You-you fixed it?
Lucy, what the fuck

did you do to the— Sorry.

I did it just how the book said—
any dickhead could figure it out.

- Don't say "dickhead."
- You say "fuck."

Lucy, is this like the time that you
formatted your mommy's diskettes

- and then she lost a whole book?
- No, don't worry, Auntie Kay.

I extorted all your data first.

- You exported it?
- That's what I said!

- Where? Where did you export it to?
- To a disk!

To these disks?

Lucy, what did you do with the comput—

The lady that died in the paper?

She was a doctor. Like you.

Lucy, honey…

I don't want you to die, Auntie Kay.

Uh, yeah, I…

I know, I know.
I-I'm not gonna die.

My daddy did.

Hey, come here.

You can't die, Auntie Kay.
You just can't.

I know.

I'm not going anywhere.

Nothing's gonna happen to me.

Promise.

Anybody home?

Hey! In here.

- Ta-da!
- Whoo!

Isn't it fun?

Well, you are a party in a bag,
aren't you?

Hey, it's all over the news.

"Our Lady of the Train Tracks,"
that's what they're calling her.

- Is that where you were?
- Um…

Where is Lucy?

Are you dressed like that
for the birthday party,

or are you having
a not-so-subtle mental event?

- Actually, at my age, you know…
- This is nice.

… themed dressing
and makeup is my new thing.

It's all about communication,
about being open,

and saying to the world,
"Hey, hi, it's me, Dottie."

Wow, look at those fucking boots.

- Aren't they fun?
- So what you're saying

is that being a lifelong extrovert
has just been a cover, has it?

For your inner shyness?

Yes, I know.

Hi. Ooh.

- What?
- You stink.

And not in your normal morgue-y way.

- What is it? Let me smell.
- Okay.

- Stop it.
- No. Let me smell.

- Just stop it.
- Oh.

Cigarettes. Bad girl.

Want some wine?

No, I don't want any wine.

Have you checked in on Lucy?

- She's not five.
- It's her birthday.

I mean, she's had the worst year
imaginable.

Oh, don't be so dramatic, Kay.

Dramatic? She lost her wife.

- I know. So sad.
- Have you seen her?

Where is she?

Talking to her dead wife.

Where do you think?

Oh, you are drinking.

Okay. Clink.

- Yay!
- Yay.

Happy birthday, babe.

- Thanks.
- Did you make a wish?

I did not.

Okay.

You should probably be getting
over to your celebration.

Oh, yeah, well, Kay is late.

And I'm not going over there
if it's just my mother.

Okay, then, time for…

presents!

Happy birthday.

Bye, my love.

Are you spying on me, Aunt Kay?

How's Janet?

Don't act like
I'm doing something weird, okay?

I'm not. I'm just asking.
Sorry that I'm late.

Look, I hate my birthday. I always have.

- And I'd just as soon skip it altogether.
- Mm-hmm.

Yeah, I know, Luce.

- I know.
- I'm fine.

Well, I got you something.

It's a dinosaur bone
and it has meteorite detritus,

it's in the shape of an infinity symbol.

Because I know my audience.

"Who we are endures forever."

Do you really believe that?
After all you've seen?

Oh, yeah.

Your very existence proves it.

Let's go eat some cake, hmm?

You should see
what your mother is wearing.

- Oh, no.
- Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

Merlin can have some cake.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

What kind of cake?

Come here.

Oh, yeah.

Okay, here she is.

- Hello.
- Yay!

- Happy birthday, Lulu.
- Thanks. Thank you.

I never thought we'd get you
out of that cabin.

- Well, you didn't.
- Okay, let's do a toast, shall we?

Yes, but-but wait.

Where have our husbands gone off to?

- Oh…
- ♪ Tanti auguri a te! ♪

- Oh, my God.
- ♪ Tanti auguri a te! ♪

♪ Tanti auguri a Lucy ♪

Benton just got here in time.

♪ Tanti auguri a te! ♪

Happy birthday!

- Happy birthday.
- Make a wish.

- There it is.
- Yeah.

- Happy birthday.
- Happy birthday.

Thanks. Thanks, guys.
This is so, so nice.

- Thank you.
- Happy birthday, Lulu.

Come here.

- Give your mom a hug.
- That looks good.

- How was your day? Mm?
- Mm.

Mm. You smell good.

I don't. Dorothy said I stink.

How was the meeting?

Well, sort of like a surprise
"welcome back to the FBI…

Mm-hmm.

… stale bagel, fruit cup" kind of deal.

How'd that feel?

As you'd expect, I guess.

Did you remember to bring my purse
downstairs?

Yeah, I put it right there.

But did you remember to
put my Chanel lip gloss in it?

I don't know what that is.

This is what it is.

Okay. Okay, honey.

- Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.
- Oh.

He doesn't like PDA.

Oh, my God, Mom,
can you just give it a rest?

- Jesus.
- Give what a rest?

Lucy, why are you such a prude?

I mean, you're gay.

I'm gay, guys. I'm gay.

You know what?
If you don't look out,

- you're gonna end up like one of those…
- Thank you.

…Grey Gardens recluses living here…

… with your auntie in this big house

until the end of time.

You really need
to get a handle on yourself.

Mm, get a handle on myself how?

- Move out, Lucy.
- Oh, God.

- Move out. What?
- Dorothy. Come on.

And get a place of your own.

Uh, uh, you had talked about wanting
to do a P.I. business with my Peter here.

Hey-o.

- Yeah, we talked about it. Uh-huh.
- Right?

Or, I mean, you could always
go back to the FBI.

- They seem to always be hiring.
- Okay.

Well, we'd be glad to have you, Lucy.

Thanks, B. Look, there's nothing wrong
with me living here.

- I'm not—
- And by the way, I made enough money

by the time I was 13 to never work again.

So if I'm living here,
it's because I want to.

I'm not saying there's
anything wrong with it,

I just think that it might be serving
as a reminder

of the very thing you need to get over.

- You mean Janet? My wife?
- No.

- Grief, baby.
- Okay, Dorothy…

- That's what you need to get over.
- Well, good luck to me

being the first to ever recover from it.

Dorothy, can I see you
in the kitchen, please?

- All right?
- Sweetheart, cynicism

will only get you so far.

- Can I see you?
- Yeah, well, I'd say the same thing

about bullshit, but you are clearly
living proof that that is not the case.

- Oh, tough talk, daughter o'mine.
- Dorothy. I need to speak to you

- in the kitchen.
- I'll be right there.

Watch it.

- Now!
- I'm coming.

I'm coming.

- God. What?
- What are you doing?

- What?
- What in the fucking hell are you—

Turn those earrings off.

- What?
- Why are you picking at her?

Hmm? Why?

Why? I mean, if she's happy here,

- why do you want to take—
- Oh, does she look happy to you?

Anyone who has lost their wife
in the last year isn't happy.

Okay, but how many of them
are still talking to their dead spouses

- all day long as if they were alive?
- Right, and that's my fault?

Is that what you're saying? Okay,
so you're blaming me for that, are you?

- Yes! Yes!
- No.

- Sei troppo indulgente con lei.
- Stop it.

- You are so easy on her.
- I am not easy on her.

- You are!
- No, I'm not.

You-you can't say no to her.

So that's a bad thing,
is that what you're saying?

- Yes.
- Why?

- If we're speaking honestly…
- Honestly?

- Yes. I think she was better off…
- Hon— Okay, what? What?

- No.
- What? What?

- Mm-mm. Mm-mm. Mm.
- What? What?

What? Say it. Say it. What?

- What?
- I think she was better off

before you came back.

- How fucking dare you. How dare you.
- Oh, what fucking dare I, what?

- Care about my daughter?
- How dare you. Your daughter?

- Yeah, she's my daughter, Kay. Not yours.
- Oh, yeah. You didn't raise her.

- You didn't pay attention to her.
- Oh, I know. Okay.

You only bothered with her
when it suited you.

Listen, I'm here now in her
greatest moment of need.

You're here. And as soon as
you don't feel like being here,

you will be gone.
You'll be gone.

And that's why I'm here.

Because I have to pick up the pieces…

- Oh, right, 'cause you're a saint.
- … like I've always done.

- You're Saint Kay. You're a fucking hero!
- Because that's what I have to do.

- I'm not doing this. I'm not doing this.
- Oh, I know you sacrificed your work

and your-your life
for your sister's only child.

And you are a vain, shallow,
male-addicted narcissist

who's never seen a cock
or a mirror that you didn't like.

Shit.

- Shit. Shit.
- Well,

- I would rather be me, cock and all…
- Shit.

… than some joyless,
cold-hearted scientific cunt like you!

- I will fucking deck you!
- Stop!

- You're blowing up.
- Come on. Come on.

Kay.

- Okay.
- Right.

Okay. All right.

Here.

Tell Lucy, tell Lucy I'm sorry.

- Of course. Sure.
- I did not want to do that to her today.

- It's okay.
- I just…

All right. This is a shit show.

- Yeah.
- This is a shit show.

Let me tell you, it's a shit show…

- Okay…
- … in the making.

I'm taking you.

What? You're not gonna stay here
with your lovely wife?

Shh, shh, shh. You got, you know,
rain in the forecast,

bad treads, you drive an antique car.
Just— I'm gonna take you.

I'm taking you.

So I'm stuck here with his lovely wife?

I'm so sorry.

So sorry.

Hey. Hey!

- Shh!
- No, you shush!

All right.
Colonial Landing Condos.

Yep, you told me.

Am I bad for Lucy?

- No, I mean…
- No, tell me, honestly.

Do you think I'm bad for her?

I think that Lucy is who
she is because of you.

No, that doesn't help me.

Do you think, do you think
she shouldn't be living with me?

Oh, come on, I don't think it matters
where the fuck she lives

as long as she's talking to AI Janet
all day long.

Yeah, but if you tell her not
to do it, she just wants to do it more.

She's been like that since she was a baby.

Yeah, but you've also never
been able to say no to her.

- I will ignore that.
- What do you want me to do, sit here

- and not tell you the truth?
- Okay. Okay, okay. I just—

I'm so fucked.

I'm telling you.
Reddy installed Maggie in my office today.

- And it's…
- What? What do you mean,

"installed Maggie"?
Like, you— Why would he—

You think he's gunning for you?

I mean, look,

you did humiliate the guy
on the daily for ten years.

I would never have come back
after he forced me out.

Ever. If I'd known
he was gonna be my boss, no.

Yeah, well, you would've come back
'cause you did come back for her.

Right? You came back
to give Lucy a family.

All of us, and that was
a good impulse, so…

And maybe I didn't like the way
I left things last time around.

I need you.

Well, I'm right here.

I need someone I can trust.

I'm all in, Doc.

Nope. It needs to be official.
Put your hand on your heart.

- What?
- Yeah.

You need a real position, you need a job.

Actually, I don't need a job
for the first time in my life.

- I'm a kept man, in case you didn't know.
- It needs to be official

so I can protect you, so you don't get
kicked out of crime scenes

and the morgue and so— anyway,

it needs to be legit.

How does
"Forensic Operations Specialist" sound?

- Forensic Operations Specialist?
- You like that, right?

Yeah, that sounds educated.

I need you to repeat after me.

- I, Pete Marino…
- I, Pete Marino…

… am officially deputized as
Forensic Operations Specialist.

… am officially deputized as
Forensics Operations Specialist.

And Kay Scarpetta
is going to decide my work.

And is gonna decide my work.
What is this?

And she's gonna make my pay…

- … as little as humanly possible.
- … as little as humanly possible.

- Do you accept that?
- Absolutely.

- Hey, Doc.
- Hey.

Sorry to call so much. Uh, Doc?

I, uh, just deputized him
as my forensic ops guy, officially.

He's on the payroll, everything.

Uh, you just did that in the car?

- Yeah.
- Forensic ops in the house.

- Who lives here?
- Gwen Hainey, 33.

Biomedical engineer at Thor Labs,
that tech company off I-95

that made the news
for 3D printing human organs?

Her boss called it in when
she was a no-show at the office.

Officer Fruge,
you're first on the scene again.

- That, she was.
- Likes to be everywhere at once,

this one— gets it from me.

I didn't know you were so close.
Didn't even know you knew each other.

Yeah, well, I think they call that
the mentor/mentee relationship.

Anybody get any of the security footage
from those two cameras on the gate?

Maybe check that out, they're operational.

- Yeah, I'm on it.
- Yeah.

Why do you think this missing Gwen Hainey
is a Jane Doe?

Because I think we may
have found the murder weapon.

We took prints on arrival.

- Where'd you find it?
- It was propping open the door

in the living room.

It's the right size, right shape.

There's no blood on the ball,
but there was only one blow.

Oh. This is the lab.

Officer Ryan.

How bad was the hit?

Mm, punched out the bone.
Traumatic brain injury.

You think it killed her?

It would have eventually,
but he took her

to Daingerfield Island, slit her throat
and she bled out.

That could have caused
the brain injury, yeah?

Yes.

Prints on the kettlebell
came back with a name.

- And?
- Who is it?

Ryan?

Who is it?

It's Matt Petersen.

Matt…

Matt Petersen, the…

the husband of the murdered Lori Petersen?

No, that can't be right.

They're his prints.

If that's true, then 20 years ago…

We got the wrong guy.

♪ There is a house ♪

♪ in New Orleans ♪

♪ they call the Rising Sun ♪

♪ And it's been the ruin ♪

♪ of manys a poor boy ♪

♪ And God ♪

♪ I know I'm one ♪

♪ My mother was ♪

♪ a tailor ♪

♪ She sewed my new ♪

♪ blue jeans ♪

♪ And my father was ♪

♪ a gambling man ♪

♪ down in New Orleans ♪

This case.

It's the one I built my whole career on.

My reputation, everything.

I can't be wrong.

We have a possible murder suspect
who has gone off the grid.

Matt Petersen.

You can find anyone
with the right equipment.

I could run facial recognition
on the public cameras.

I did think
it was him back then.

But you proved me wrong.

- Right?
- If he had something to do with this,

then Gwen's death is on me.

A bit of tarnish

on your otherwise flawless reputation.

Death stare.

What is your obsession

with this case?
This is not like you.

You don't know, do you?

Stop being cryptic.

I-I know my wife.

I think you know the parts
of her that she wants you to know.

The killer's fourth victim.

Head wounds just like Gwen Hainey?

Doc, what we're looking for here
is a serial killer.

I think we're the only ones
looking for him.

Trust no one.

Even people that you think you know.

No secrets between us.

Not any.

I want to know
what you said to my husband.

You put yourself

in the middle of my marriage,
now that's too far.

Death is all I've thought about
since I was 11.

No!

Once you've experienced it…

… you're really never the same.

♪ I got one ♪

♪ foot on the platform ♪

♪ And another one ♪

♪ on the train ♪

♪ I'm going home ♪

♪ to New Orleans ♪

♪ to wear that ball ♪

♪ and chain ♪

♪ There is a house ♪

♪ in New Orleans ♪

♪ they call the Rising Sun ♪

♪ And it's been the ruin ♪

♪ of manys a poor boy ♪

♪ And God ♪

♪ I know ♪

♪ I'm one ♪

♪ Poor, poor boy ♪

♪ Poor, poor boy ♪

♪ Poor, poor boy ♪

♪ Poor, poor boy ♪♪