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Have a seat.
I had an interesting conversation with your neighbor, Carol Sullivan.
She said you threatened her with a palette knife?
Oh my God.
No. I was washing my brushes. I forgot that I had it in my hand.
I thought she was harassing our handyman.
It was a miscommunication, and I apologized.
What is that? Why are you writing that down?
She also said she saw you talking to Chastity the day of the murder.
- I didn't know you knew her. - I didn't.
I'd only just met her the day before.
Carol said she saw
what she thought was a confrontation between you and Chasity.
Said you jumped out of your car,
left it running in the middle of the street,
kind of got in her face.
Jesus, what does that woman do? Just stare out her window all day?
What exactly were you and Chasity talking about?
She was throwing away some markers that I had given to Neil's daughter.
She said she didn't like the way they smelled.
Hmm.
This is insane. I wouldn't kill someone over markers.
What would you kill someone over?
Hello.
I'm gonna be taking your fingerprints today.
Are you familiar with how this works?
No.
Well, I am going to be placing your inked fingerprints
on this ten-print card.
I'm gonna have you give me your right hand,
and I'm gonna start with your right thumb.
Now we're not gonna be pushing your print straight down.
We're gonna be rolling it,
'cause if we pushed it, it would just smoosh it.
So we're gonna roll it very gently.
All right. Here we go.
Okay. No, just...
Ma'am, just let me gently roll it.
There you go.
I actually find it easier... ...to fingerprint people at autopsies,
because a lot of times living people try to help you out a little too much.
Gonna go to number six.
That's your left thumb.
How's your day going?
Fine.
All right. That's all I need.
Have a good night.
Is that it? Can I go?
Why flowers?
- Excuse me? - You paint flowers. How come?
Seriously? That's what you wanna talk about?
I saw the paintings in your house.
They're beautiful.
You're very talented.
Thank you.
You don't wanna tell me?
Fine. I didn't always paint flowers.
When I first started, I painted landscapes, sailboats,
you know, the stuff that tourists buy.
I was the starving artist, barely making ends meet.
My first brush with any kind of success was an accident, really.
I was bored one day, so I painted my dog as the Mona Lisa.
People loved it.
I started getting tons of orders.
I basically became a cottage industry
of putting people's dogs into masterpieces.
But I started getting burnt out
and had basically given up painting
until I was pregnant with Elizabeth.
I was showing signs of early labor,
and they put me on strict bed rest.
One day, the nurse brought in the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.
I stared at it, and I felt this passion
rising up inside of me that I'd never felt before,
and I knew I had to paint them.
My husband and our handyman, Buell,
custom-built me an easel so I could paint from my bed.
And I'd never felt so aligned with a subject.
Something about their fragile beauty,
so delicate yet brave enough to open themselves up
in a world that can be so harsh.
For the next three months in that bed, I did nothing but paint...
and it was the best work I'd ever produced...
until Elizabeth came.
Of course, I stopped painting when...
When Elizabeth passed. Mmm.
That must have been so hard for you, losing your daughter.
I would have been so... angry.
Nice try.
You think you're gonna trick me into saying I was so angry
that I murdered someone?
I don't wanna trick you at all, Anna.
But if you'd be more comfortable with a lawyer present...
I don't need a goddamn lawyer.
I have nothing to hide. I didn't do anything.
Is there a chance you did and just don't remember?
- What does that mean? - I want you to listen to something.
911. What's your emergency?
There's a murder. A woman has been murdered.
406 Canterbury Hill. Hurry!
Ma'am, slow down. Can you repeat the address?
406 Canterbury...
- No, wait. That's my address. 40... - Mmm.
407.407 Canter...
That doesn't sound like someone who's in their right mind.
This is insane. I would never hurt anyone!
I believe you believe that.
There was a case a few years ago up in Rockport.
A man killed his wife of 33 years.
He'd never said an unkind word to her.
Then one night out of nowhere,
he rolled over in bed, grabbed a lamp,
and hit her until her skull caved in.
He'd taken sleeping pills, mixed it with alcohol.
He woke up the next morning.
He had no idea he was the one who did it.
Detective Lane?
I'll be right back.
Miss Whitaker, can you stand up please?
Face the wall.
- What's going on? - Put your hands behind your back.
What's happening?
- Wh... - The prints were a match, Anna.
Anna Whitaker, you are under arrest for the murder of Chastity Linkous.
- No, I... - You have the right to remain silent.
Detective Lane.
Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
Put your clothes in the bag.
Put all your jewelry in here.
[keys jangling
Douglas?
Take my hand.
- What are you doing here? - Shh. It's okay. Come with me.
What's happening?
Just a little bit further.
A wedding?
A second chance at love.
Douglas, wait.
Wait. Wait.
I'm so happy to see you.
Thank you so much.
Aww.
Now just promise me that you won't go fleeing the country,
or I'll be out $500,000.
The only place I wanna flee is to my bed.
So did you do it?
Sloane! No. Jesus.
- You can tell me, Anna. - There's nothing to tell.
Well, you owe me some kind of explanation.
I had to take a fucking loan out against the gallery.
Well, I'd like an explanation too, 'cause none of this makes any sense.
Anna, you were obsessed with that family.
- You were obsessed with that woman. - So that means I killed her?
Your prints were all over the murder weapon.
Jesus, Sloane, you know me!
A lot has happened. You've been to a lot of dark places.
Well, I'm in a really fucking dark place right now and could really use a friend.
I'm your friend, Anna.
And the truth is, if you asked me to, I'll drive you to Mexico.
Right now.
I didn't do it, Sloane.
I have nothing to run from.
- Do you want me to stay with you tonight? - No. I'll be fine.
I don't believe you.
Yeah. No one does.
Oh my God.
Sloane, I'm fi... Neil.
I saw the police over here this morning looking through your house.
I talked to one of them.
- They said you were charged with murder? - I... I didn't do any...
I came over here 'cause I wanted to show you something.
If you come anywhere near Emma or me again,
I will use it.
Goddamn it.
What the fuck is up there?
- Hello. - I need to talk.
I'm sorry. I can't. I'm with a patient.
I think I killed someone. I... I'm being charged with murder,
and... ...there's blood in the attic.
- Just slow down. - No, don't tell me to slow down.
I... I lied to you.
I have been drinking and taking those pills you prescribed.
Maybe I did do it, and I just don't remember.
- You're not making any sense. - I mean, she... she had the life I wanted.
The life that I once had.
Who?
The woman in the house across the street!
Just breathe.
I think I killed her.
I mean, there's blood in the... the attic.
What if I killed lots of people?
Anna, I know you better than anyone.
You're not a killer, and I'm not just a psychiatrist.
I was your husband.
Well, I killed our daughter, didn't I?
What are you talking about?
You weren't gonna take her that day.
You didn't even know
it was Take Your Daughter to Work Day until I told you.
I'm the reason Elizabeth is dead.
Anna, stop it.
I'm the one that left her alone in that room.
If it's anyone's fault, it's mine.
You were just doing your job, Douglas.
Well, my number one job was protecting our daughter.
I failed.
It's not your fault.
Well, it sure as hell isn't your fault.
Maybe it's nobody's fault
but Massacre Mike's.
Maybe he's the one we should be hating...
...not ourselves.
Not each other.
I could never hate you, Anna.
Even though I'm the one who destroyed our marriage?
I shut you out.
You can't shut out someone whose door is already closed.
I didn't know how to love anymore.
For all my degrees, I didn't have a clue
how to handle any of it.
Anna, are you in the attic now?
No.
Okay. You're gonna go up there.
Okay.
Douglas, I'm scared.
There's no need to be scared. I'm right here.
The blood...
Whatever's up there, you can face it. I'm with you.
You can do it, Anna.
Okay.
Imagine I'm holding your hand.
Oh God.
Oh my God.
What? What is it?
It's paint.
It's just red paint.
See? You, uh... you didn't kill anyone.
Then why do I have this memory?
This... this memory of me stabbing her?
"Look at me. I'm so pretty."
Perfect face, perfect body,
perfect life.
I didn't stab her.
I stabbed a painting.
I didn't kill anybody.
Of course you didn't.
But they found my palette knife next to her body.
It has my fingerprints on it.
There's gotta be an explanation.
Someone could've taken the knife from the house.
Who?
Could anyone have gotten into the house without you knowing?
Oh my God!
Anna?
Buell has been living up here.
What?
I knew I had been hearing noises.
It was fucking Buell.
Good God.
Douglas,
is there anything about Buell that you didn't tell me
back when you hired him to fix our mailbox all those years ago?
- Like what? - Like about his past.
How did he become our handyman?
He was my patient.
- Your patient? - Yeah. My very first patient.
I, um, rehabilitated him and... and got him released early.
From where?
State hospital. He had been found criminally insane.
What did he do?
He killed his entire family with a claw hammer.
Why did you not tell me about this before?
Well, I didn't think you'd want him to work for us.
I wouldn't have!
But we needed someone to fix the mailbox.
It's still not fixed!
- What? - Buell did it.
He killed her.
He must have taken one of my palette knives,
but he was wearing gloves.
That's why my fingerprints are still on it.
Anna, where's Buell right now?
I don't know.
Listen to me. I want you to get out of there.
Anna, get the hell out of there!
Buell!
No!
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