Original subtitles

- You're trying to bond with me. - Isn't that what we both want?

We don't really know each other.

Maybe that's okay.

It's not okay with me, Pax.

A young woman, strangled, tattoo excised,

all signatures of the RRK.

That was Gretchen's code.

Shaman, as in medicine man. As in drug dealer.

I don't know what game you're playing, Leo.

But whatever it is, you be careful, because I'll beat you at it.

It's like you've got this monster inside.

So when you get angry, you let this monster out.

So you have to talk to him.

Don't you ever come into my house again.

- Do you understand me? Yeah? - Sure. Okay.

If the RRK did write this, then maybe he's telling us he didn't kill Gretchen.

Or he did kill Gretchen, and he's trying to throw us off.

How does that feel, Leo? Good?

Yeah, that sure is a sweet model there.

Folded barrel with the bedded blueprinted Mauser action.

Fully worked single stage trigger.

Not to mention the German quick-detachable mounts.

Another fine choice.

In fact, that one there is probably my favorite.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, thank you, John.

Oh, don't mention it. Just glad I could help out a friend.

- Uh-huh. - Listen, I don't mind driving the two of you up there.

Really, I don't. I can make that drive in my sleep.

Yeah, I know the way.

I could drop you off, spend the weekend with my cousin Mavis.

Swing by, pick you up Sunday night,

then, you know, drive the three of us home.

I appreciate that, but I'm sure you appreciate what I said before.

Pax and I need the time together.

- Father, son. - Right, of course.

- You did say that. - Yeah.

- Well, I do hope you kill something, Leo. - Yeah.

Population overgrowth, that's for damn sure.

Just too many damn deer.

Just ask my cousin Mavis, always eating her petunias.

- Thanks, John. Later! - Yeah.

Later, Leo.

I would explain it if I could.

Well, if you can't explain how your business card wound up in my hand

after I was nearly strangled to death,

I sure as hell hope you're not expecting me to.

We're looking for an explanation, believe me.

What about customers?

Broken heart, someone pissed off with a lap dance?

Anyone sketchy hanging around at the club?

Sketchy's sort of the clientele.

Although, funny. You kind of look familiar.

Uh, I-- I was on TV recently.

Um, look, I know you said you didn't see your attacker,

but I want you to think hard.

This is important.

Do you recognize any of these men?

No.

Did any of them ever come into the club?

No. No.

- What about him? - No.

Can you remember any details at all?

It could be anything. The feel of his skin, a certain smell...

- Alcohol. - On his breath?

Not that kind. Rubbing alcohol, sort of.

- But sweeter. - Chloroform.

How am I supposed to know what chloroform smells like?

It smells exactly as you're describing.

Good to know.

You check Mr. Business Card here for chloroform?

He has an alibi.

Look, if you remember a face, a name,

any detail, no matter how small,

I want you to give me a call, okay? Here's my, uh...

My card.

Rest up. We'll be in touch.

Thank you.

I saw that, Mike.

A heavy thumb on Arlen Doyle's photo. Really?

Chloroform, tattoo, lifestyle.

This guy isn't stopping with Gretchen.

Jesus, the son of a bitch goes from 0 to 60

like the last five years of dead silence never happened.

Yes, but he didn't kill her, he didn't cut off her tattoo

and he put your card in her hand.

- What are you saying, Ramos? - I'm saying he's sending a message.

"Back the hell off" my guess.

No shit! So what, am I supposed to do as I'm told?

I didn't say that. Talk to Sosa, inform Sheriff Waller.

And have my balls or what's ever left of them cut off?

Okay, let's just start with who you've given your card to.

Holy shit, you are on fire today.

I give my card to everyone.

I've gone through half a dozen boxes this year alone.

No, think.

This guy puts my card in that young woman's hand.

- We've established that already. - Why didn't he kill her?

Was he interrupted? Did he exhibit some rare moment of self-control?

Or is there something darker here? Hm?

Meant as part of the message.

Let's get the card to the lab, then start at the club.

Circle back to Sosa and Waller end of the day.

End of the day.

Where'd you learn how to do that?

Thought you said your stepfather wouldn't let you shoot his guns very often.

Yeah, he didn't.

I just knew where he kept the key. I used to take them out in the desert

- when he was away on business. - Huh.

- Until I got caught. - What'd he do when he caught you?

Uh, told me not to do it again.

Heh, heh. Jerry doesn't sound like that bad a guy.

No, Jerry's an asshole.

Shit!

That's just embarrassing. You got any pointers for me?

Uh, yeah.

Just aim better.

Huh. Now you're just showing off.

All right, what do you say we set things up before it gets dark?

Maybe start a campfire.

Do you know how to do that?

No, not really. We'll figure it out.

Well, we've talked about this before, Diane.

Your mother-- Well, no. She doesn't respect, ow, your boundaries

because she doesn't understand that you have them.

No, I think this weekend is a perfect opportunity

to let her know what they are.

Mom, is Dad coming home?

- When's Dad coming home? - Soon, honey. Soon.

- I don't believe you. - Diane, no, listen.

- We can discuss this in our next session. - Can I call him and ask him?

Because this is-- Damn it!

Ow!

Shit!

- Can I call Dad now? - What?

- Jake, he's on his way home. - How do you know?

Because I just know. Sam, I need...

- Shit! - What?

Are you okay? Show me. Show me.

Jake, show me.

Your card in a victim's hand. That isn't good, Mike.

Yeah, you think I'm happy about it?

But as Ramos pointed out, we can't be sure it's RRK.

I don't know what's worse.

That it's him or there's some other crazy explanation for it.

Look, we just wanted to fill you both in.

Now we'd like to get back to our job.

What about Arlen Doyle?

Well, frankly, I'm feeling muzzled.

Sorry.

Per your excellent advice, Randy, we're treading lightly,

checking into a few things before we interview him.

Hoping to obtain his hospital schedule during the times of our eight previous murders.

Also spoke to a few of his former colleagues, subordinates.

Let's put it this way. The guy doesn't have a lot of fans.

One fan, though.

The mayor. Golfing buddies.

Randy's right.

Keep that tread light, Mike.

Always.

[OPERATOR PLEASE'S "GET WHAT YOU WANT" PLAYING]

Hi.

Uh, I burned my finger.

Oh. Bummer.

- How'd you do that? - Mom's phone was hot.

And what are you asking me to do?

Kiss it and make it better?

No.

Good, because I'm not doing that.

Who knows where that finger's been.

I'm sorry about your finger. Breaking it.

Dude, that was, like, two weeks ago.

"Madden"? I'm Raiders.

You get the Flaming Hot Cheetos.

It's nice to have you home.

Thank you.

As I promised.

Uh, screens? Amanda, down.

Hey. Here.

So, how's progress on your college apps?

- Excruciating. - Why?

In fact, I'm thinking about taking a gap year.

- What? - Wait, wait.

You've discussed this?

No, this is the first I'm hearing of it.

- One of the Obama girls did. - One of the Obama girls?

Yes, but she got into Harvard first.

Yeah, well, I'm never gonna get into Harvard.

No, duh. You have, what, a B average?

Shut up. It's a B+.

You're not taking a gap year, Amanda. Period, paragraph.

- Hey, Dad. - Yes, kiddo?

Why are you never home?

What are you talking about? I'm home now, aren't I?

- Hey, Dad. - Yes, Jake?

Would you come home if I called 911?

911 is for emergencies only. You know that.

Hey, Dad.

Yes, Jake?

Last question, okay?

What's RRK?

- Where did you hear that? - I heard it from you.

What's RRK?

You're too young, Jake.

- What's RRK? - Stop asking, please.

It stands for Relative Radius Kilo.

It's kind of a math term.

Sounds boring.

Yes.

- I'll get it. - No, no, no. Wait.

- Are we expecting anyone? - No?

Eat.

- Hi. - Hi.

- What are you doing here? - I'm Paige.

- You must be Ramos. - Call me Cyd.

Cyd. Please, come in.

It's nice to finally meet you.

Thanks. Uh, you too.

Can I fix you a plate of food?

We are having pasta with spicy red sauce.

- I love pasta with spicy red sauce. - She's not staying.

- Uh, why couldn't you just call me? - I tried. I think your phone's off.

Sorry.

Um, we'll just be a second. Come.

Right.

- Wine? - Uh, yes, please.

Well?

Remember that drug dealer that Gretchen was with?

- The one that ended up dog chow? - Yeah, yeah.

Autopsy's in. Got a message from Cabrera.

Said the guy's time of death is in the same window as Gretchen's.

So?

Also, drugs were found in his system.

Heroin, marijuana, no surprise,

but not nearly enough to kill him.

Okay, so what are you thinking?

I'm thinking we need to follow up with Cabrera first thing in the morning.

Whoa, whoa.

- Where you going? - I'm hungry.

How about this fire?

- Not bad, huh? - Yeah, it's great.

I'm glad we're doing this.

Thanks for suggesting it.

I didn't suggest it.

Yeah, but I know you wanted to.

Go deer hunting?

- I never said I did. - I thought you did.

No, I said Jerry never took me.

He went all the time, but it was his thing.

Oh, okay.

I just-- I just assumed, um...

No, it's fine.

Yeah, I went hunting once.

A few years ago.

With this guy who lives across the street.

This is his property, in fact. His family owns it.

You mean that total weirdo?

John isn't weird. He's a little...

He's a little different, you know? But I don't wanna...

- Is that the friend you got the guns from? - Yeah.

How about we not talk about the weirdo neighbor?

So you do think he's weird.

Did you guys kill anything?

No. Heh.

Actually, we didn't see a single deer all weekend.

Great.

Two days in the woods shitting in a hole

and looking for something we're never gonna find? This trip is so stupid.

You know what? I'll tell you something.

How about this? How about we go home right now

if you tell me the truth?

- The truth about what? - Anything.

Fuck you, Dad!

I imagine you've been dying to say that for a long while, huh?

Tomorrow.

Deer hunting.

Bright and early.

...seven, eight. One, two, three, four, five, six...

Aren't we supposed to go to one of those, like, lookout places?

Blind?

That's no fun.

A blind is a modern-era abomination.

Popularized by fat cat hunting reserves where you basically shoot fish in a barrel.

It's target practice, not hunting.

I Googled it.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

You see that?

This way.

Nicks.

On his ribs here. See?

So this guy was murdered.

Yes. Stabbed, bled out, expired.

Don't jump to conclusions, Ramos.

Kind of my job.

So the stab wounds were destroyed by the dogs.

This guy was murdered within the same window as Gretchen.

That, with our other inconsistencies,

blade, incision, the fact that she was a high school student...

Could the same blade have been used to remove Gretchen McGrath's tattoo?

Indeterminate. We're still analyzing the patterns.

RRK never stabbed a victim.

- It isn't his MO. - Of which I'm well aware.

But maybe Zellman was a witness to Gretchen's murder

and needed to be silenced.

Think about it. I mean, the RRK's older now.

Mid 70s, maybe. Someone like Arlen Doyle.

- And strangling takes more effort. - Exactly. So let's keep an open mind.

I don't know, Mike.

Neither of us know anything for sure.

I gotta be honest.

It feels more like a drug deal gone bad, not RRK after all.

I'm sorry.

What do you think, Cabrera?

Whatever you think, Mike.

Good answer.

Dad, whatever you heard is long gone by now.

- Can we take a break? - Yeah, sure.

Damn it! I know we were close.

- Look, Pax... - I'm sorry about last night.

That I said, you know...

what I said.

Oh, no, buddy, it's... That's all right.

Pax?

I know we discussed this before,

but I still don't understand, and I really want to,

why you brought a gun to school.

I knew it. This is why you brought me out here.

No. No.

Yeah, you pretend like you wanna go deer hunting

but you wanna grill me about things I don't wanna talk about.

I'm not grilling you. I'm asking you.

Okay, trust me, it'd be a whole lot easier if I didn't give a shit.

Pax, just talk to me. I'm not gonna judge you.

Just stay off my goddamn computer.

- Buddy, I... - You don't understand anything.

I don't understand why you'd use a teenage girl's picture

to talk to some grown man online!

You don't know what kind of derelict this guy could be.

And, yeah, he might seem all nice and decent,

but I'm sorry, the world is full of all sorts of sick, twisted human beings

masquerading as nice and decent.

I worry about you, Pax.

Listen...

You're my son.

- I love you. - Since when?

Since two months ago when I came to live with you?

Well, guess what. It's too late.

This is impossible.

How am I supposed to know what kind of college is right for me?

It's like deciding who I wanna date for the next four years

without even knowing if the guy can kiss.

Oh, you'll figure it out.

I just really don't wanna make the wrong decision.

It's a lot of money and I'm feeling stressed

and that's why I'm thinking about the gap year.

Okay, so say we allowed you to take a gap year.

What would you do?

I'd figure something out.

Listen, when I was a freshman at Princeton--

I know. Everyone knows you went to Princeton.

I was remembering that

there are about 5,000 students there, and...

I sort of liked the anonymity.

I could be different people depending on the circumstances.

A lot like an anonymous photo

being passed around online.

- What are you talking about? - A provocative one.

- Of you. - Where did you get that?

That's hardly the point.

- Can you just delete it, please? - Why are you so embarrassed?

Maybe you should have considered that before you let someone take a photo like that.

Speaking of which, who did take it?

Did some boy?

Are you seeing someone your father and I don't know about?

- Don't you trust me? - Of course I trust you, but--

- Either you do or you don't. - You're 17.

- Eighteen in a few weeks. - Seventeen today.

Seventeen when that photo was taken.

And you may have just been having fun,

but a photo like that being passed around on the internet,

well, it's dangerous.

Don't you think you're being a tad dramatic?

- It's one stupid picture. - Stop it. Stop it!

- So there's only one? - Look, it was my idea, all right?

His name is Reuben.

And it isn't serious.

So he's the one who took this picture?

I told you it was my idea.

Your father, if he found out...

He won't unless you tell him.

Shouldn't trust be a two-way street?

Okay.

But this stays between you and me.

Pax! Pax, stop, please.

Come on.

Look, you're right.

I didn't call enough or have you visit enough.

- I wasn't there for you. - Yeah, ever.

- But I had my reasons. - Oh, which were?

Why didn't you want me to be your son?

I always wanted you to be my son.

I just...

I didn't deserve to...

Look, you gotta trust me on this.

Okay? And you have every right to be angry, to be mad,

have dark thoughts.

I'd understand that, Pax. I have my own sometimes.

- And maybe that's what this is about. - What?

The flirting with some guy online, pretending to be a girl.

That's my business, okay? The stuff on my computer is my business

- like your shed is your business. - My shed?

I'm not flirting with him. I'm screwing with him.

- For what reason? - To punish him.

- Why? - Because he's a creep and a child molester.

Because men like that deserve to pay for what they do.

Pax...

Pax, did somebody at your school, a teacher...

Did he force you to do something you didn't want to do?

- No. - Are you sure?

My God, no.

We were friends, but then he stopped being my friend.

He wouldn't tell me why or what I did.

- My God, you guys are all the same. - Oh, come on, Pax. Please.

- No, wait. Pax, come here. - Don't!

Paxton!

I'm not afraid of the dark.

I'm not afraid of the dark.

- What the hell are you doing? - What do you mean?

You have to actually squeeze for it to be a turn-on.

I gotta go.

I'm late for dinner.

I'm just afraid I'm gonna hurt you.

- Afraid I'm gonna hurt you? - No.

Hey.

You know how crazy I am about you?

Yeah. I do.

- Just don't you dare-- - Fall in love with you?

Not a chance.

When's Dad coming home?

We're meeting him at the restaurant. I told you.

I don't wanna go to the restaurant. I want Dad to come home.

I'm sorry about that, but this is the plan tonight.

We have a reservation. So go. Go get ready.

We're gonna have fun tonight.

Jake? Jake.

Please? Don't play with that.

Jake? Okay.

Please?

Jake! Damn it!

My God, I have had it with you!

Jake!

Hey. Jake, it's okay.

He's fine. Just let him cool off.

We're leaving in 15.

Jake, where are you? Jake?

Jake! Oh, my... Call 911!

Oh, my God! Jake!

- Oh, my God! Jake! - Mom! Mom! Mom!

No! Aah!

Mom, he's okay. He's okay.

It's okay. It's okay.

Here.

- It's cold. - Paige!

Paige.

Jesus Christ. Are you all right? Is everyone all right?

Everyone's fine.

What happened?

It was an accident.

I think.

Oh...

Hey. You all right, darling?

- Hey, Dad. - Hey, buddy.

You wanna tell me what happened, buddy?

Um, there...

There was an emergency.

And then we called 911.

And you came home.

And tonight, you shall have...

wing dreams.

Wing dreams?

Can fly any place you like.

Will that do, sir?

Yes, sir.

Good night, Jake.

Hey.

Hey.

I'm sorry that I yelled at you tonight.

I got upset.

And I know that you got upset too.

Do you remember that special school in Mendocino?

The one I showed you on video last week?

- Mm-hm. - Yeah?

How would you feel about that?

- Maybe. - Maybe?

Yeah.

Well, maybe's good.

And maybe we could visit it next weekend.

Yeah.

I love you.

I love you.

Good night.

Good night, buddy.

What the hell was that about? A special school?

We talked about it. You just didn't want to hear me.

So you show him a video of his new home?

Jesus, Paige.

Mike, what's the matter with Jake?

Hmm?

Why can't you answer that question?

Why can't you admit--?

Jake is fine. He's just different.

He's on the spectrum, Mike.

He's diagnosed ASD by one of the best doctors in San Francisco.

Also, he has intermittent explosive disorder.

Wasn't a shock to me. It shouldn't have been to you.

But still you think he's just different.

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

None of that means that he can't be helped.

That he can't get better.

We just have to do the right thing.

We are.

Wake up, Mike.

This is real life.

And this family can only take so much.

What are you doing here?

Define "evidence."

What?

Define "evidence" for me.

An available body of facts that prove something's truthfulness or validity.

What's up, Mike?

It's not him.

The RRK.

He didn't kill Gretchen.

I wanted it to be.

I still want it to be, but, um...

I don't have to tell you that the evidence indicates otherwise.

Gretchen, Phillip Zellman.

Two people closely linked.

Two murders within the same window.

That Gretchen's tattoo was removed

and all other similarities to the RRK,

is most likely someone trying to get us to look elsewhere.

A drug deal gone bad, maybe.

You know, there's one thing I've learned in this job over the years.

Everyone lies.

Husbands lie to their wives, wives lie to their children.

And those kids, they lie to their friends.

And everyone lies to the cops. Everyone.

But when somebody lies to themselves, that truth can be elusive.

It can be right in front of you.

Clear evidence.

Everything okay with the family?

Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine.

Now we've got something else to consider.

- As long as Sosa still thinks-- - Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Hold on.

Are you suggesting that we don't tell Sosa?

- Think about it, Ramos. - So now you want me to start lying?

Gretchen's case may be the last opportunity to catch the RRK.

Once the brass gets wind of the fact that we've eliminated him as a suspect...

That's a deliberate violation, and the IA would be up our ass.

I'm sorry, I thought you were in favor of breaking a few rules

as long as we trusted each other.

Now, I see it as a win-win.

We use Gretchen's case as a kind of Trojan horse to stay on the RRK.

We solve her murder and, if we're lucky, we finally catch this bastard.

But we can't do this once that's above board. It's not possible.

This has to stay between me and you.

Okay.

- Okay? - Okay.

Let's get to work.

Paxton!

Paxton!

Dad. I got her.

Paxton!

Paxton!

Paxton!

Paxton!

Hey.

It's okay, buddy. It's okay.

- Oh, hey. - Hi.

- Uh, thank you for the warmth. - Any time.

How are you?

How much time do you have?

- Cup of coffee? - Uh, I can't.

I got work I need to catch up on.

Well, hey. If you wanna share a cigarette later...

Or a whole pack?

- Well, thanks. I better... - Yeah.

Hey, that's some crazy story. I saw it on Facebook.

What?

The woman who was attacked and strangled.

She had Mike's business card in her hand.

- Paige, hi. Is everything okay? - Where is he?

When the hell were you planning to tell me?

- The kids all right? - When, Michael?

- What are you talking about? - Your business card. In a woman's hand.

Who was strangled and left by the Russian fucking River.

- Paige. Hey. Hey! - Stop it!

Whoever attacked these girls...

knows who you are.

Which means he knows who we are.

He's known who I am all along, probably from the beginning.

He hasn't been sending you personal messages from the beginning.

We haven't had two daughters reaching the victims' demographic from the beginning.

- Do you hear yourself, Mike? - Paige...

What happens when he finds out their names,

where they go to school, as if he hasn't already.

How the fuck do you keep something like this from me?

This is important, all right? It isn't easy.

I'm sorry that I got caught up--

But you're not really sorry, because you'd do it all again.

It's part of the job, right?

No, I didn't say that.

But we discussed this, Paige, you remember?

- Yeah. - You gave me your blessing.

You said, "Go out and catch the fucking bastard."

And that's exactly what I am trying to do.

Well, try harder!

I want a squad car patrolling our street 24/7.

It's already done.

- I took care of it immediately. - Good.

You're gonna catch him, Daddy.

I know you are.

Yes, I am.

Arlen Doyle?