All language subtitles for scarpetta.s01e02.french.720p.web.h264-ukdtv_Anglais (Full) SRT [English] (SUBRIP)

Scarpetta.

We got us
another one.

I'm on my way.

This here's the husband, Matt Petersen.

Mr. Petersen, our chief M.E.,
Dr. Scarpetta.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

Excuse me.

Agent Benton Wesley. Nice to meet you.

Oh.

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

Or a violinist's.

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

How can you connect
a husband killing his wife

to the first three murders?

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

Dr. Kay Scarpetta.

Oh, I know who you are, Chief.

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

Why do you think he'd say

that the hands are, you know, gone?

Congratulations, Dr. Scarpetta.

- Dr. Reddy, Maggie.
- I brought you something.

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

- What?
- She'd be eyes and ears to you.

Have you checked in on Lucy?

She's had a terrible year.

- Oh, don't be so dramatic, Kay.
- Anyone who has lost their wife

in the last year isn't happy.
Do you think she shouldn't

- be living with me?
- I don't think it matters

where the fuck she lives as long as she's

talking to AI Janet all day long.

Move out, Lucy.

You had talked about
wanting to do a P.I. business

- with my Peter here.
- Hey-o.

How was the meeting?

Well, sort of like a…

surprise "welcome back to the FBI."

I need you. How does
"Forensic Operations Specialist" sound?

I'm all in, Doc.

Who lives here?

Gwen Hainey, 33.

- Biomedical engineer at Thor Labs.
- Prints on the kettlebell

- came back with a name.
- And?

It's Matt Petersen.

We got the wrong guy.

Here she is,
my bellissima little Kay.

Say hello to Signora Milazzo.

- Hello, Mrs. Milazzo.
- Aw.

Sì. She says you are beautiful,
and she is right.

Grazie. Thank you.

Ciao bella.

I've come to do the inventory,

Daddy.

Your homework is done?

Of course.

To have a daughter
smarter than a man…

… there is no greater gift
God could give me.

- Get the register open.
- Give us the fucking money!

- Hurry up, get the fucking money!
- Get up!

Get the fucking money out.
Let's go!

- Up! Right now.
- Quit fucking around!

I'm not playing games, man.
Get up right now.

Come on, stand the fuck up!
Get the money out!

- Right now!
- Please.

- Get up! Let's go!
- Please, no.

- Please.
- Grab the fucking money!

- What are you waiting for?
- Let's go!

Come on!

Hey!

- Run! Hurry up!
- Come on, come on!

We got to go!

Go!

Daddy, please!

No!

Please, no! Dad!

No, please! No!

You never went home?

No.

Good morning, Maggie.

Good morning. A message from Fabian.
No prints

or DNA on the penny
you found at the train track.

Exact date is occluded,
but he's working on digging that out.

Okay.

You're… you're cutting in the cooler?

Mm-hmm. This looks like a skin graft.

I didn't notice it
during the autopsy because…

the color matched perfectly.

But now she's decomposing.

That's right.

The rest of her faster
than this little square, so…

… makes the difference more appreciable.

A chief who works all night
and notates her own errors?

I mean, it's not something
I thought I'd see in my lifetime.

Can you run this for rapid DNA testing?

Won't it be her DNA?

Probably.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

W-We got to stay here another month?

I know. I know. Shh, shh.

The contractor says the house
will be finished in a month.

- I know, it's a pain.
- I…

I told you we should've moved out
when they came back.

Now we got to look into "Airbb"
or something until the house is ready.

But this place is huge. And it's free.

But I just saw Benton naked.
And he looked good.

Look, we got to get out of here.

- I need my privacy.
- Sweetheart,

we have, like, an entire wing
in this crazy-ass mansion

- to ourselves.
- You know what, you need to stop

- calling it a mansion.
- Why?

B-Because I see Benton,
he gets, like, a hurt look on his face

whenever you say that, all right?

He grew up in this place.
Probably doesn't even know it's a mansion.

- Little Lord Fauntleroy. Ugh.
- Listen to me.

- Look…
- "I feel bad."

I'm not at ease with the close proximity.
All right?

And between you, me
and the-the fence post here,

- I'm getting a little backed up.
- I like that fence post.

I'm getting bangry,
like the kids like to say.

Yeah? I'm a little bangry.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

- Hey, you know what would be good?
- I'll tell you what, Peter.

- Get…
- All right.

- First of all,
- Wait.

we are consenting adults,

- and we are married.
- I know.

So we can have sex whenever we want.

I know.

- But here's the thing.
- What?

- And don't take this the wrong way.
- Mm-hmm?

Okay? But when it comes to pleasuring,

you can be boisterous, by which I mean

fucking loud.

- Okay? Which I normally love.
- Which you love.

- You fucking love it.
- I love it, but within the confines

- of our own four walls.
- You love it.

- Not…
- Oh, come on.

Listen to me. I promise you,

I will be silent like the grave.

You'll never hear a word.

Oh, that's hot.

You sleep okay, babe?

Uh, yeah. You know me, just…

alternating cycles of decrepitude.

- Great attitude.
- Mm.

Are you white-knuckling,
ice-water-in-your-veins'ing

or just thought-chasing?

Mm, mostly thought-chasing.

So, no code red for the moment.

And by the way, you do sleep.

I've seen it. Even heard it on occasion.

I don't snore.

You do.

Uh, never.

Except you do.

I'll tell you what, if it happens again,
I'll record you.

But then
you wouldn't sleep.

This is really bad.

I'm gonna go get
some of Kay's good stuff, huh?

It's nasty.

Take me with you?

Always.

See?

- With your eyes, not with your hands.
- Ooh.

Sorry about earlier.

- Oh, it's-it's—
- Catching you undraped like that.

Yeah, I know what you're…
I get the reference.

- It's—
- In the nude.

In flagrante.

Saw your penis. Fuck.

Look, I've never even seen you
work out before.

Anyway, Dorothy and I, we're…

gonna look into some kind
of short-term rental after Thanksgiving.

Well, you don't have to do that
on my account.

No, no, no, no, come on.
We're all big boys and girls here.

Speaking of big boys, I just did some work
with the wifey up in the bedroom,

in case you, you know, heard something
questionable, sounded like whimpering.

Uh, point is…

… we all need space, right?

We need our space.

Especially now that we're working
with the doc again.

- What?
- You're working with Kay?

Yeah, I… it's not a big deal,
it's just, you know, like, temporary

so that I can be legal at the crime scenes

and, you know, postmortems and like that.

In what fucking capacity?

Well, I-I think she's defining it as, uh,

Forensic Ops Specialist?

- Mic drop.
- So y-you're a specialist, Peter?

You-You're a retired detective.

What… Can you believe this?

- No.
- Did you know?

- I cannot.
- Morning.

You gave my husband a job?

Yeah.

Why would you do that, Kay?

- Because I needed… help.
- Hey.

But why him?

'Cause I'm surrounded by vipers
in that office,

and I need someone I can trust.

Yeah.

C-Can we all remember, please,
that this was once

my former—
what do you call it— vocation?

What about the private P.I. business

that you were gonna start
with Lucy, Peter?

Uh, how are you gonna start that up

now that you are, what,
former-vocating with her?

And-and do I have to remind you,

we are here for Lucy's sake!

Oh, fuck, Dorothy.

I have been up all night.

I need coffee,
and then I can come back in there

and argue about
"Who's here more for Lucy?"

- Hey, hey, hey. Where you going?
- Can no one make an espresso here?

Whatever.

Can't fucking take it.

God, there is a lot of people
living in this house.

Mm-hmm.

Well, Pete just confided they're gonna
look for a rental after Thanksgiving.

Halle… hallelujah.

Yes. Yes.

Was it a good idea, Kay,

to have Marino
start working with you again?

Uh, well,

by the straw poll in this house,
apparently not.

Mm.

But you got a big day.

- Big day today, hmm?
- Mm-hmm.

I wish I could be there for you.

Oh, it's just another oath.

Back to the Feds.

Yeah, but it's a new unit.

Yeah, no more serial killers
for this guy in Cybercrime.

Were we happier in Boston?

- For sure.
- Oh.

So I shouldn't have taken this job
so you didn't have to take your job?

Of course not.

Such a liar.

So, the, um, Jane Doe

who was on the train tracks
was actually a biomedical engineer

working at Thor Labs.

- Gwen Hainey.
- Not your average Jane Doe.

Marino says you think
Matt Petersen might be involved.

Only to the extent that his, uh, prints

were on the murder weapon.

I know it's that, like, third,
third line of code.

I told you,
you have to reset it differently.

Oh, hey, hey, hey, hey.
No, no, no, no.

- It's all right. I know, I know. No, I—
- Mine. No, no. No. Mine.

- Thank you. Thank you for making this.
- Mine. Mine.

- Thank you so much.
- Uh, hey.

Hey. Yeah, uh-huh.
You wanted to know what?

- You are rude. You are very rude.
- I love you so much.

And now I have to make another one.

Perhaps you should try to get some sleep.

- I can't. I can't.
- You've been up a long time.

All right.

My first big case, the one that I built
my whole career on, my reputation,

everything.
You know as well as I do

- I can't be wrong.
- Yeah, know what?

It's gonna be okay.

Okay?

- If you say so.
- You got the right guy.

- Yeah.
- Okay?

- Ow. Shit.
- Was that Lucy?

- Yeah.
- Was that Lucy?

Yeah. She came,

she took my coffee, and she fled.

Kay, I'm worried about her.

Do you know who she's talking to? Janet.

- Kay.
- Oh, I know. I know.

It's every day now, 24/7.

- Why can't you just let her grieve?
- Seriously, that thing in her ear?

- Let her grieve the way…
- In that ear thing,

- she's in a free-fall backslide.
- … she wants to grieve.

Not if it's hurting her.

- Mm-hmm.
- Look,

I'm not so desperate for her love
that I will condone unhealthy

- and dangerous behavior.
- What? I'm not condoning it.

- How am I con…?
- You know what?

I'm not… No, I'm not doing this now.

Yes, that's what you're doing.

It is the classic definition
of codependency.

- I'm sorry I yelled.
- Duty calls.

There's something wrong.
She's talking to a freakin' ghost.

- Don't go. I just fini—
- Oh, I'm gonna go.

Try to stop me at your own peril.

Come on.

We're having a conversation!

- Oh, your wife.
- I know.

She has to control everything,
everyone, everything

- all the time. I can't take it.
- You know, it is possible that we did…

well, that I got a little caught up
last night in our conversation

and completely forgot
that I'm starting this P.I. business

- with Lucy.
- Pete, come on. Come on.

- I'm just saying, she could have a point.
- If we don't figure out

what happened to Gwen Hainey,
and if Matt Petersen is involved

- in any of this, any of it…
- I know, I know.

- … then we're unearthing—
- I know.

Yeah.

There is a lot of blood under that bridge.

A lot.

- Slippery fucking slope.
- Yeah.

Slippery slope and a lot of land mines.

A lot.

- Come on.
- Come on. You know I'm trying not to.

Just, just, here, here.

I knew I should never
have come back here. Never.

If I'd known Reddy wasn't retiring,
I would've bailed.

I really would have.

Well, you know, second chances at our age

can be hard to resist, right?

Is it a second chance,

or am I just looking
to fuck myself up again?

Good morning. I'm Dr. Scarpetta.

Morning. I suppose
we haven't officially met yet.

Call me Wingo.

I'm seeing a lot of purple, Wingo.

Yes, Chief.

Positive for semen.

Most of the fluids found outside
of the body.

- Bed-clothes, back of the thighs.
- Right.

Anal and oral slides, all positive.

Same as Brenda

and Patty and Cecile.

That's funny. We don't know them.

Oh, but, yes, we do.

Cops driving the DNA to New York?

Uh-huh.

Not long from now,
we'll store DNA in a database,

and no one will have to drive or wait.

Not if the ACLU has anything
to say about it.

Is this from the hunting knife
Detective Marino found?

Yes.

The fibers are consistent
with the victim's nightgown.

So her gown was cut from her body
with her husband's knife.

A knife?

Yeah, a hunting type.

Whetstone in the sheath,
compass in the handle.

Oh, yeah.

I got it mail order.

Where'd you see it last?

- It was on the dresser, I think.
- Give me your left arm.

I, um, remember
Lori used it as a letter opener.

Okay, so, you saw
the knife on the dresser,

maybe Saturday or Sunday previous,

same time as when you replaced
the broken screen in the bathroom?

Why not just wait till I'm hooked up

- to the machine to ask?
- Put your arm up on the desk.

I only ask because
we found your knife in a drawer,

tucked away
with some sweaters and condoms.

I was wondering…

why the condoms?

When your wife had oral contraceptives?

Hey, uh,

- did you try the—
- The laser?

I prefer this method
with the Gorilla Glue.

Did you know it's a strain of weed?

Weed. Uh, no,
I don't think I did kn-know that.

Popular for hybrids.

Anyway, the glue will give us hard,
white, permanent ridge detail.

And I like me some hard ridge detail.

Yeah. Don't we all?

Marino's called twice already
about these prints.

Has he?

Why the fucking condoms?

They're good to have around.

You know, you and me getting along
all hunky-dory

is entirely dependent on me

ignoring the sometimes
very stupid shit that you say.

Why?

Why is Abby Turnbull

always nipping at our heels?

She's a pest, Mr. City Attorney,
that's just a fact.

Yeah, well,
it's hard to try a murder case

when the husband's already
been convicted in the papers.

We're hoping
this polygraph will rule him out.

Turnbull's scaring people
that are already terrified.

This guy passes,
we need to get off him real fast.

Please remain still.

The computerized polygraph
is now recording

your body's physiological activities.

Did you go to Harvard?

Yes.

Are you doing anything
to defeat or distort this test?

No.

Do you own a hunting knife?

Yes.

Did you kill your wife?

No.

My eagle eyes tell me
we have a match.

It was his knife.
His prints would likely be on it.

No other partials.

Which in itself is strange
if the wife did use it.

I'll run them through IAFIS.

Am I, uh, am I interrupting, boss?

How about we go with "Chief"?

Got it. Uh, Chief Scarpetta—

How can I help you, Dr. Reddy?

Uh, it's nothing really, only, uh,

I've been left off some paperwork

I'd been previously receiving

- as the, uh—
- As interim chief, you mean?

Well, that certainly does describe

the role I delighted in taking on, yes.

And now maybe it's difficult
for you to stand back,

even just a little, to allow others

to establish footing?

I know you wanted this job, Dr. Reddy.

So you and I are gonna have
to find a way to live together.

Yo, Doc.

If you'll excuse me, Dr. Reddy?

Yes, and, uh,

appreciate your plain sp…
plain speaking, Chief.

"Appreciate your plain speaking"?

- Stupid.
- Excuse me. I believe I'm lost.

Could you point me
towards Human Resources?

Ah, let me guess.
Secretarial pool sent you over here

and, uh, gave you wrong directions?

Seems like it.

Oh. Wait a minute.

Is that their idea
of some kind of rite of passage?

- It's for the new civvies.
- Hmm.

Most don't make it past the elevator.

The smell.

Polyps. Can't smell a thing.

Looks like you've got yourself
a superpower, young lady.

Maggie Cutbush.

- Pleased to meet you, Doctor…?
- Reddy.

Dr. Elvin Reddy.

And, uh, may I ask
whose desk you are soon to improve?

Dr. Kay Scarpetta. The new chief?

Ah. Great.

This is where Patty Lewis lived.

Oh, victim number two.

What did Patty do?

Freelance writer.

Mostly Harper's stories.

Had a novel due out in the fall.

He came in through the window.

Place has ceiling fans, but no AC.

Okay, so she slept with the window open.

Yeah. Choosing comfort over safety,
more often than not,

is how a lot of women get hurt.

Violent men, more often than anything,

are how women get killed.

What would you have done, Pete?

If it were you?

I'm coming to her house
to sell something.

Deliver flowers, kill fucking roaches.

I walk up to the door.

I see you.

And then I hear it, the voice in my head

"This is her, this is her."

I unload my groceries,
prepare a simple dinner.

I study your habits and learn.

I go about my routine,
blissfully unaware

of your eyes on me.

Why her?

Of all the women in the world,

why her?

Maybe she disrespected me,

like I'm not good enough for her
or something.

Maybe they all disrespected me

and now I'm gonna fix them,
show them who's really got the power.

I go to bed early.

I leave my car at the Exxon
by the grocery store,

go the rest of the way on foot.

Her car's out front.
My heart skips a beat.

She's home.

Lights out except the porch.

She's asleep.

I take my time.

I assess.

I go in.

Scream, I'll kill you.

If you scream, I'll kill you.

What else?

What else do you say to her?

Nothin'.

I mean, nothing.

What about the ski mask?

If she isn't gonna live to identify you?

Hairs, sweat. I ain't stupid.

Maybe I'm wearing a whole jumpsuit
over my clothes.

I mean, I probably read forensic books
just for jollies.

You do leave semen.

Maybe you know you don't secrete.

Certainly ain't wearing a rubber.

Yeah, hairs are more… personal.

Maybe I don't want you
to see what color I am.

On the day she was found,
Cecile Tyler,

our third and only Black victim,

was supposed to go shopping
with her pal Bobbi.

Bobbi finds Cecile's car in the driveway,

but she didn't answer
when she rang the bell or phoned.

So, Bobbi, worried,
goes to the nearest window.

Cecile?

Peers
through the slightly parted curtains.

Finds Cecile.

Bobbi—

- she's white, you know.
- Cecile's friend?

Yeah, the rich bitch with the red Corvette
that found her body.

Could you not refer to women as bitches?

Anyway, uh,
the two were kinda inseparable.

- Mm.
- I mean, Bobbi's blonde,

works as a model or something.

She's at Cecile's crib all the time.

Sometimes even overnight.

Implying?

That maybe they were sweet on each other,

if you're getting my drift.

Well, it's subtle,

but I'm getting a hint of something—

Okay, how am I supposed to know

how open you are to this and that?

Okay, I, big stupid lug that I am,

just kind of found it hard to figure.

I mean, they're both
pop-your-eyes-out gorgeous.

You'd think they'd have no problem
getting guys, but my point is,

maybe the killer is cruising
the neighborhood

and he sees Bobbi
get into her red Corvette

late one night or early morning.

And he thinks that Bobbi lives there?

Solving the race conundrum.

And then he just murders Cecile anyway?

Bobbi's white.
All the other vics are white.

Brenda, Patty, Cecile and Lori.

Brenda, Patty, Cecile and Lori.

Lori didn't live alone.
Lori wasn't single.

What else is different?

Phone cords.

All the other victims were tied up with
electrical cords from the lamps, right?

- Yeah.
- So why did he use phone cords

on Lori?

Matt Petersen must have changed his name,
because my rudimentary searches

have turned up nothing so far.

And there's no one in the department
you can ask?

Not without raising eyebrows.

Gwen Hainey had a skin graft on her leg.

I mean, it was probably from a wound

or a-a burn, but I don't know.

Didn't seem like the skin was real,
so I sent for rapid DNA.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean,
you don't know if her skin was real?

Well, she didn't have any scars
on her body

where they would have had
to taken the tissue for the graft, so…

- So what-what? Where did it come from?
- So it was probably from a cadaver

- or it was… or it was 3D-printed.
- Cadaver?

What? That's some Frankenstein shit.

3D printing?

- Yes.
- You're fucking bullshitting me.

- They're doing it everywhere.
- Come on. What are you, fucking high?

I mean, if it's from a cadaver,
then it'll be like a normal skin graft

and it's not gonna match Gwen's DNA.

But if it's 3D-printed,
then they would have had to use her cells

for the bio-ink, and that means
that it will match Gwen's DNA.

You're out of your mind.

- Thank you.
- I didn't mean it like—

Shit, it's Lucy.

Hi, Luce, hi. I've got you on speaker.

My mom just told me
you took a job with my aunt.

We're supposed
to be starting a business, Pete.

- I know.
- Hey, it's your aunt here.

Um, look, sorry.
Sorry, Luce, about all of that.

I mean, it's-it's blowin' up
out of control.

Oh, your mother's calling.

Hey, we'll call you back.

- Hi, honey. Wow, you look beautiful.
- Hi. Hi. Is my sister there?

- Ignore me. Yeah, she's right here.
- Yeah. Yeah.

- I'm here. Hi.
- Guess what. Lucy knows.

She knows and she's not happy.

- We heard.
- Oh, you heard.

Oh, right. Well, you couldn't have picked

a worse time to go fuck off
and relive your salad days.

- We're losing you. Sorry. Goodbye.
- Don't do that. Honey?

- What are you doing?
- Goodbye.

- She's not gonna be happy.
- Tell her we got cut off.

She-she knows we didn't get cut off.

- Your face got big when you leaned in.
- Yeah, well,

- I don't care.
- Okay, there she is again.

- Yeah. No, no, no.
- Come on.

I can't handle her now.
Would you call Lucy back?

- Don't touch the phone.
- We have to… I'm not.

Hey, Luce. It's us again.

- Okay.
- We need your help. It's very important.

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

- Can you help us out?
- Why can't you find him?

Well, because I'm not a cop anymore.

We need you.

And we love you.

- And you'd really be—
- Too much.

Please?

Fine. I'll help.

Give me his name.

- Matt Petersen.
- Matt Petersen.

- I, Benton Wesley…
- I, Benton Wesley…

- … do solemnly swear…
- … do solemnly swear…

… to support and defend the Constitution
of the United States…

… to support and defend
the Constitution of the United States

against all enemies, foreign and domestic,

that I will obey the orders
of the President of the United States,

that I take this obligation freely,

without any mental reservation,

and that I will well and faithfully

discharge the duties of this office

that I'm about to enter. So help me God.

"So help me God" is right.

- Congratulations.
- Thank you.

What the hell, Benton?

I never thought
I'd see you back in the building.

That hard to believe?

Well, I think maybe if the choices were
to be a househusband

while your missus returns to former glory

or have a place to go to every day
where you're somewhat respected…

you might've chose the latter.

Hmm.

- Yes, ma'am.
- Is he sworn in yet?

'Cause I need to speak to you.

I take it you've met your partner
Sierra Patron?

Mm-hmm. We met briefly at orientation. Hi.

The woman we've been tracking
from Thor Labs has officially been ID'd

as the Jane Doe from the train.

- Ah.
- By his wife, actually.

Dr. Scarpetta.

And Dr. Scarpetta, I'm sure,
has informed the police?

Oh, yeah. So now they're all gonna
start looking into our Gwen Hainey.

All right, well,
get him up to speed on Gwen.

Okay.

My theory is,
he knocked Gwen unconscious,

then he pulls the car in.

She would have bled heavily.
The kettlebell split

her scalp, but it didn't kill her.

He wrapped her, carried her.
He had to be strong.

Carried her down here,

where the trunk would have been.

Did she have a car?

Nope. She got rides.

Taxis. No record of any Ubers.

No credit cards,

no social media, no online presence.

And we still haven't found her phone.

Hmm.

Gwen Hainey.

She was deeply involved
in the Thor Orbiter Project.

3D-printing human organs in space?

Amongst other things.
We were put on her about a year ago.

For sure, we knew
espionage was on the table,

industrial spying if nothing else.

She did highly sensitive work
for many companies

and various governments,
including our own.

So she knew plenty of secrets.

Well, looks like

she never even furnished this place.

It doesn't even look like she moved in.

And you say she paid three months
in advance, all cash?

Didn't strike you as odd, huh?

No, it struck me as being fortuitous.

I mean, the place wasn't even
fully done yet.

Right, and, uh,
and nobody else has an extra key but you?

Well, yeah, on the account
that I'm the manager.

- Yeah, right.
- Wait.

- I mean, you don't—
- No, no, slow down, Cliff. It's okay.

You seem like an upstanding guy, right?

I just, I'm bumping a little bit
on the fact

that you're the only other person
with a key,

and you happen to know
her whole jogging routine.

No, no, no, no, no, I-I just said
I just saw her one morning.

Right, still it compels me
to have to go to Officer Fruge

and have her just bring you in
for a little more questioning,

maybe even a poly.

A poly? Hey, listen, I'm just the manager.

- Uh-huh.
- Look, there might have been somebody else

that had access to a key on the down-low.

Oh, yeah?

And who might that be?

There was a boyfriend.

The boyfriend, this Jinx Slater,

does he have a history of violence?

According to a neighbor,
sometimes when they'd break up,

he'd act out in ways
that were… disturbing.

- Such as?
- Constant calling.

Left a strangled teddy bear
by her front door once.

- Stalking behavior.
- She ever report it to the police?

No, she didn't.
Maybe some of it wasn't true. Who knows?

Well, maybe it was.

Listen, I don't know how to say this
without just saying it.

Well, then just say it.

You know you can't tell your wife
any of this, right?

You mean my wife,

the chief medical examiner
in charge of the case?

My gut says
she was up to something.

She had access to all that tech,
all those secrets.

I mean, she must have been… selling
whatever she could get her hands on.

Hmm.

She had no stuff, no furniture,
no personal stuff, no things.

No, she didn't live here.

Well, bundle of money
to pay for it up front.

Again, what was she selling?

You think all that got her killed?

My gut's still on the fence
about that.

When you had your hand on the Bible,

that was part
of what you were swearing to.

Yeah, I-I know what I swore to.

But you're saying I… I can't tell

my wife I'm holding
the cell phone in my hands

that she's gonna spend her day
looking for?

No.

Well, fuck.

Pardon me.
I don't know that this is gonna work.

You don't know if this is gonna work
because you can't go home

and talk to your wife about it
over dinner?

- Agent Wesley.
- Yo, Fibi.

Sorry to call you back here, but
I think I've found something interesting.

Okay.

Right before she died,

Brenda Steppe was sideswiped
backing out of her driveway

and she was treated in the ER.

At VMC?

Was Lori Petersen working that night?

She was indeed.

- They might have met?
- They very well might have.

Wow. Uh, there's got
to be a connection among the women.

- That is the key.
- Um, Dr. Scarpetta?

- Uh-huh.
- Uh, may I see you?

Uh, why? Why? Who are you?

Oh, I'm Maggie Cutbush,
your new secretary?

I'm afraid there's an urgent matter.

Uh… yeah, okay, sure.

The, uh, computer lady asked
if you'd dialed in over the weekend

because someone did,
and she's fairly sure it wasn't you.

I didn't. No. What does that mean?

Oh, uh, then someone tried
to remotely break into your computer

and look up the Petersen case.

What? I've been hacked?

Yes. That's the word. "Hacked."

Fuck. Uh… did she say who it was?

She didn't know. And also…

didn't know if it was the first time?

What are you doing?

I'm sorry I'm late and I missed dinner.

There was an emergency
in my office with the computer.

And I think I'm in…

… uh… big trouble,

like real trouble.

Why?

Because my office data is very sensitive,

and if anyone—

say, someone from the newspaper—

got hold of it—

It wasn't me.

I'm not saying that it was.

Well, it wasn't.

I swear it wasn't me.
It wasn't fucking me!

Fuck.

Hey, Luce?

Luce?

Hey.

Are you okay?

Mom called to say she went to Hawaii

and married the man
who draws the pictures in her books.

- She did what?
- She married the man

who draws her pictures in Waikiki.

Oh, God. Oh, Luce, um…

I'm so sorry.

It's okay. Don't even care.

Hmm.

You're good.

Huh.

Got you, motherfucker.

Yes.

Hey, you've been busy, huh?

Yeah, it's just something for Pete.
I got to go show him.

- Hey.
- Huh?

Hey.

There's my girl.

Aw.

Stop it.

I'll be back.

Spicy. I like it.

Mmm. This is good.

- Here, sweetheart.
- Thank you, babe.

Where is Gwen's cell phone?

Well, the murderer probably took it.

Ugh! Boring. Can we please talk
about anything but that?

Got a fucking point.

- Hey.
- Sorry.

- Mm-hmm.
- Uh…

How's the gravy?

Got to be fucking kidding me.
I'll be right back.

That's good.

- Hey.
- No, no… it's good.

It's good. It's good. It's good.

I have told you repeatedly

not to subject me
to this type of communication.

It is the job of a mentee
to drag their mentors

kicking and screaming
into the current century.

And we haven't even gotten started

on music yet.

I can see you.

Well, I can't get away from this thing.

Hey. Hey. Pretty crappy luck.

To which opportunity for schadenfreude

do you refer?

Oh, don't try to out-word me, sister.

I'm a published author.

Oh, right. Of children's books.

I was referring to your first case

from back in the day

that seems to be
coming back into question.

That's a barrel of monkeys
I would not want popping open.

A bit of tarnish on your otherwise

flawless reputation.

Ooh. The death stare.

Lighten up, Kay.

All right, listen to me.
This boyfriend Jinx Slater?

He's a hacker, off the grid
that goes through proper police channels

by which I am currently restricted,
if you catch my drift.

Wait. Are you saying you need somebody

outside of police protocol
to help you find him?

I'm not not saying that.

Hey.

You all right?

Bad day?

Just tired.

Well, you didn't sleep, Kay.
You got to take care of yourself.

You make me feel safe.

- You know how you make me feel.
- Seen.

I was gonna say "normal."

- We're normal together.
- Yeah.

It's okay. Hey, hey.

Hey, it's okay. It's okay.

The sauce smells real good.

You're never gonna call it gravy?

Never.

- It's okay. It's okay. I got it.
- You're gonna drop it.

What the fuck, babe?

My God.

Sorry!

- We're okay. We got this, okay?
- Sorry!

Love you.

Hungry.

- Yeah, smells great.
- Here it is.

- Excuse me, there.
- Delicious.

- Yes. Oh, yeah.
- Thank you.

- That was good.
- Beautiful. Thank you.

- I don't use those or that.
- Thank you.

"Yama Matthew Peter"?

That's Matt Petersen's new name.

That guy you wanted me to find.

The fuck is a Yama?

The Yama is the, uh,

Hindu god of resurrection.

♪ Yama, Yama ♪

- ♪ Yama, Yama ♪♪
- Yama who?

Matt Petersen.

Lucy found him.

Yeah, well,
he's running some, like, pseudo

spiritual grief cult out of a veggie farm.

That sounds about right.

Yeah, good job.

Wasn't that hard.
You can find anyone

with the right equipment.

No, NASA doesn't have
your equipment, honey.

Why do you have to make
everything sound so dirty?

Hey, uh, Lu, I'm gonna need you to

find somebody else
when you have the time. Okay?

Now, this guy's a professional hacker, so
it's gonna be a little more challenging.

Hmm. I do doubt that.

Okay, well, name is Jinx Slater.

Longtime boyfriend of this Gwen Hainey
we found murdered

on the railroad tracks.

Anyway, really is gonna help out
this Officer Fruge.

But, you know, after you eat.

World-class gravy once again, Doc.

♪ Oh, Bela ♪

♪ Bela's undead ♪

♪ Bela's undead ♪

♪ Oh, Bela ♪

♪ Bela's undead ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ Bela ♪

♪ Undead ♪♪