Original subtitles

Hey, hold the elevator.

Oh, no, no, no.

Morning to you, too, Woody.

I'll take the next car.

Don't be ridiculous.

I refuse to be an accessory, Jordan.

Look, I won't do it, okay?

You do it every time we ride in an elevator together.

Not every time.

But you know, a nice, warm caffeinated beverage

might actually talk me out of it.

It's a double caramel latte with extra caramel.

Blood was coming from everywhere, man, I swear.

It was spurting out of this guy.

Out of his ears, his mouth, his eyes.

His clothes were drenched too, man.

The floor, I swear, it was like the Red Sea.

You're not gonna believe this...

Excuse me, sir, hi, this is your floor.

Oh, yes, so it seems.

So what actually happened was he cut...

whoo...

I gave you my coffee, Jordan.

I told you it might talk me out of it.

I'm telling you, it never gets old.

Speak for yourself.

Lily, what's up?

You get demoted?

Hanging up your Grief Counselor stripes?

Emmy's out sick,

so Garret asked me to come in.

Wow, you're a bigger person than I giving up your day off.

No, it just means I have no life.

Something came in for you.

Excuse me.

Hi, I'm Claudia Simpson.

I... was asked to come down and identify a body?

Oh, she can actually help you.

Hi, I'm Lily.

What was the name of the decedent?

Honestly, I don't know.

Okay, why don't you fill this out.

Claudia?

Yes?

I knew you'd come.

Are you alright?

Lily? Lily? Are you alright?

Jordan, what the...

He went out the emergency exit.

- Are you... - Yes, yes, go!

Oh, my God,

oh my God,

oh my God!

Oh my God, Oh my God.

Crossing Jordan 4x11. Murder in the Rue Morgue

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ORIGINAL AIR DATE ON NBC: 2005/01/09

Yes, Mr. Mayor, at this point it seems to be an isolated incident.

I lost him in the garage.

If he parked there maybe we can get a hit on his car.

I've already got security pulling the surveillance videos.

Jordan,

did you get a good look at him?

Yeah, he was about eight inches long and made of steel.

How about you, Lily?

Lily...

Lily?

Uh, no, he was behind me.

According to her card...

Claudia Simpson was a travel agent.

Did she say who she was here to see?

It was weird.

Uh, she didn't really seem to know.

I, uh, dug this out of the wall.

It's a nine-millimeter lead alloy.

It looked like a Beretta, but you know what, it happened so fast.

Well, I'll need to open this, if that's okay.

Yeah, sure, it's just a birthday gift from my dad.

Oh my God, I was holding that.

You're a lucky lady.

All transports are being rerouted to the nearest hospital

until we have this under control.

I'll go find out what I can about this Claudia Simpson.

Listen, Nigel, Bug,

let's pull the intake files for the last 24 hours.

If we can figure out who our victim was here to see,

it may tell us why she was killed.

Okay.

Jordan, maybe you should...

Yeah.

Come on, let's go get some scrubs, huh.

Jordan?

Yeah?

Did you think we were gonna die?

Not a chance.

I kept thinking that if...

I had been a few inches to my left or...

if his aim was off.

Lily,

look, you're fine.

We both are.

Hey, Nige, where we at?

Thirty-five corpses have come in within the last twenty-four hours.

None with the last name of "Simpson".

All but thirteen have been identified by family members or friends...

- give us a hand with this, will you? - Yeah.

So, we're going over each, one by one,

just to see if there's anything that connects back to our victim.

It's like finding a needle in a haystack.

You got a better idea?

Is there a method to this madness?

Think of it as triage.

We've prioritized the bodies, starting with the most suspicious deaths.

This girl is next.

Anonymous 911 caller saw her body dumped near the Lowell Street on-ramp.

Could be Claudia Simpson is her mother.

Hey, Garret, what have you got?

Thrity-something John Doe found in an alley,

two gunshot wounds to the chest.

Wallet missing.

Probable robbery.

Okay, rigor hasn't set in.

She's only been dead a few hours.

Petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes.

And there's bruising around the mouth.

Looks like asphyxiation.

Bug, do you smell that?

Like strawberries.

Maybe lip gloss.

Nigel, run this through ballistics data base, will you?

Oh, I put that gift for your Dad back in your office.

Afraid that sweater didn't survive the shooting.

Doesn't matter, I don't know where to send it anyway.

If you want to find Max, I know an ace P.I.

You know what, he wants his space, who am I to force the issue?

Wow, whatever this stuff is, it sure leaves a good print.

Whoa, Nelly.

What is it?

The bullet that killed John Doe came from

the same gun that killed Claudia Simpson.

Looks like we found our needle.

So you think this was the guy Claudia Simpson came to I.D.?

Let's I.D. him and find out.

Simpson Travel Agency

Has anyone died recently?

Any friends? Any relative?

No. No.

Tell me, do you recognize this guy?

Who is he?

We're still working on that one.

Did your sister have any enemies to speak of?

Any business dealings that went sour?

Not that I can think of.

Now,

I'm about to show you a picture...

Does he look familiar?

No.

Who's he?

Still working on that one, too.

He was shot and killed by the same gun that killed your sister.

The only thing I can think of...

is maybe, she got involved with the wrong guy.

I mean, I loved Claudia, but she had terrible judgment when it came to men.

Was she seeing someone new?

We didn't talk about her love life because she knew I didn't approve.

Thank you very much, Mr. Simpson.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

Detective...

Somebody's a little jumpy.

Yeah, well, it's been a rough day.

So I heard.

You okay?

If I don't find some aspirin soon, my head is gonna explode.

Oh...

Ah, we wouldn't want that.

What are you...

Acupressure.

It works like a charm.

Close your eyes.

Are you here about the shooting?

High profile homicide right under my nose

and they've got me transferring evidence from some lame arson case.

How's that feel?

You've got a nice touch.

Now if you're free later tonight,

I *came promise more where this came from.

You know, Detective,

every time I think there's something going on under that jerky veneer of yours,

you go and do something totally insensitive.

That was insensitive?

Dr. Macy,

I've got good news, bad news, and really bad news.

Okay, hit me with the good.

Well, we I.D'd our John Doe.

His name is David Royter.

Age thirty-five. Lived in Malden.

What's the bad news?

He was a registered sex offender.

What was he convicted of?

Assaulting a ten year old girl.

Which leads me to the really bad news.

When I took Royter's prints I found a greasy substance on his hands.

Had a fruity smell.

Like strawberries.

This girl wasn't just suffocated. She was raped.

I think our John Doe here was the culprit.

She wasn't his first victim, either.

The bastard's lucky he's already dead.

Okay, let's try to make sense of this.

David Royter, here, rapes and kills this little girl.

Our Mystery Shooter kills Royter,

then comes to the morgue and kills Claudia Simpson.

Why?

Maybe he knew what Royter had done to the girl.

Maybe that's why he killed him.

Okay, where... does Claudia Simpson fit in? I don't know.

So our Shooter thought she was involved in the girl's death?

Maybe. Look, think about it, Garret,

what kind of person becomes so enraged by a child's murder

that they become a murderer themselves?

I don't know. Someone close to the child.

A family member.

A father?

We figure out who you are,

bet we find our shooter.

She's approximately twelve years old, four-foot-six, seventy pounds.

Blonde hair, green eyes.

No thanks, I appreciate it.

I struck out in Essex...

It's not the girl from Cape Cod.

Why the hell isn't there one unified missing children's data base?

Hey, preaching to the choir, luv.

It's like living in the stone age.

Bigger question is, why are there so many missing kids?

Okay, thanks.

We may have to broaden our search outside the state.

If you can e-mail it to me.

Thank you...

Bug, Quincy P.D. is going to be sending you a photo.

Girl disappeared eighteen months ago.

Dad, supposedly, is a real hothead.

Went ballistic when his daughter disappeared.

Bingo.

Sally Yates.

Lived at 452 Morningview Terrace.

Parents are Carl and Debby.

Can you pull up the Dad's photo on the RMV data base?

Try Boston P.D.

No. Nothing.

I can't sit on this. Keep looking.

I'm going to see what Carl Yates has to say for himself.

Woody, wait.

If we're wrong and he's not the shooter,

his daughter's still been murdered.

I should go with you, make the notification.

You know what, Garret, let me.

If he is the shooter, I want to give him my regards.

Boston P.D.

Put down the axe.

Put down the axe, now!

Carl Yates?

Yeah.

Get on your knees.

Hands behind your head.

Now turn around, oh, so slowly.

Woody... It's not him.

A gun to my head in my own backyard?

Like we haven't been through enough?

Yes, Mr. Yates.

We're very sorry about that, but...

the man we're looking for is armed and dangerous

and we could not take any chances.

And the monster who did this to Sally, you say he's dead?

Yes.

Well, that's something.

Where did you find her?

Near an on-ramp,

off the highway, just outside of downtown.

She was buried?

No sir, she had been dumped there.

You kidding me?

Our little girl was lying there for 18 months and nobody noticed?

Mr. Yates, Mrs. Yates, from what I can tell,

your daughter died yesterday.

Yesterday?

No, no, that's not possible.

Carl...

Our Sally's been dead for a year and a half,

since a month after she was abducted.

What made you think your daughter was dead?

About a month after Sally went missing,

I got this in the mail.

I gave it to the police.

They couldn't trace where it came from.

They said there was nothing more they could do.

Look, I examined your daughter's body.

There were no gunshot wounds, no scars.

I'm so sorry to tell you folks this, but...

we believe this photo was staged.

I don't understand.

It looks like...

someone wanted you to believe your daughter was dead,

so you'd stop looking for her.

Our Sally's been alive all this time?

Oh my God.

Oh my God, no.

Jeez, what is this?

It's the number of that P.I. I mentioned.

If you're nice, I might be able to score you a discount...

- Yeah... - Nice to me, not to him.

Max will come home when he's good and ready.

And what if you're ready for him to come home?

I guess that's my problem.

You know, Jordan, I spent most of my life hating my father.

But now that we're on speaking terms again,

I would give anything to get those last years back.

So look,

in case you change your mind.

Besides, Sherlock could really use the work.

Sherlock?

Jordan, any surprises with the Sally Yates autopsy?

Confirmed cause of death was suffocation.

Happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Well, here's a surprise.

Sally's rape kit results.

There's physical evidence of at least five different sexual partners.

Oh my God...

Yeah, I know.

Look, Jordan, we need to focus here.

The morgue shooter could be one of these pedophiles.

And I was giving him points just for taking out one of the bad guys.

Well, he's a murderer,

so no matter what, that makes him a bad guy, too.

Have these been cleared?

Yes, ma'am.

Uh, excuse me.

I'm sorry, the morgue is closed to the public today.

My sister is Claudia Simpson.

She's the one who...

Oh my God.

I'm Lily Lebowski.

I... cannot tell you how very, very sorry I am.

I was actually the last person to speak with your sister before she...

I'm here to pick up her personal effects.

Of course.

Oh, I'm sorry,

the police need to keep her things while they do their investigation.

I understand.

It's just that, I, uh,

I can't find my keys to Claudia's house.

And I just wanted to...

to go get her things in order.

Let me see what I can do.

How can this be evidence? I can't even tell what it is.

What are you doing?

The brother of the woman who was shot, he needs her keys.

Lily, that's an open murder investigation.

Anything found on the victim is evidence.

Well, can't you authorize it?

Sorry, ain't gonna happen.

And it's not because I'm insensitive.

Because it's against regulations.

I just got the spotlight off my ass.

Well, last time I checked, Detective,

the world didn't revolve around your ass.

So, remember how you asked me to look at the surveillance footage

and see if I could identify the shooter's car?

Well, I'm years ahead of you.

Security already showed me the video, I ran the plates.

They're stolen.

Well, I'm light years ahead of you.

See, I happened to notice that

the shooter made a left turn out of the garage at 7:12 AM,

and then again at 7:13 at the corner of Southampton and Massachusetts,

and then at 7:17,

7:21,

7:22,

and finally 7:24...

He parks outside of the...

Bayside Motel.

What'd he do?

So far he's murdered two people.

Cool.

No, not cool.

Do you recognize him or not?

That's Frank D.

What, Dee, like Sandra?

Dee like the letter.

You no, D period.

Oh, right, like Kenny G?

What room is he in?

He was in two-oh-seven, but he checked out this morning.

Damn it.

Did he pay with a credit card?

Who said we take credit cards?

Well, has the maid cleaned the room yet?

Who said we have maids?

Alright, we're gonna need to see that room. Now.

Excuse me.

This is Hoyt.

Yeah.

Yeah. I got it.

There's been another shooting at the Viceroy Hotel.

The guy fleeing the scene fits the description of our shooter.

Alright, I'm gonna stay here, check out the room,

see if he left anything behind incriminating.

Okay?

Jordan...

Our intended victim, Samuel Page, Vice President, Taft Federal.

If he's our victim, what am I doing here?

For the innocent bystander.

At least five people saw our shooter in the lobby, Jordan.

It's our guy.

Wonder what she did to deserve this?

It's called wrong place, wrong time.

Seems like Page was having a little afternoon delight

when the shooter made his way in.

Coitus interruptus.

Wonder where his partner is?

Well, she either fled or was already gone by the time the shooter arrived.

Woody...

Not without her clothes.

You can come out now.

It's safe.

I'm Detective Woody Hoyt, Boston P.D.

Hey...

there's nothing to be afraid of.

I just want to help.

Woody, let me.

She's just a kid.

Hi,

my name is Jordan.

What's yours?

Look, I really am here to help.

Flora.

Flora?

(Spanish) Que nombre bonito.

Tell me, Flora, are you hurt?

I'll be, uh...

Yeah, okay.

Uh,

look I just want to make sure the man

with the gun didn't hurt you, okay.

He wasn't like the others.

The others?

The men they made me have sex with.

Who makes you?

I can't tell.

Why not?

They'll kill me.

Flora, that guy waiting outside, he's a police officer.

He'll protect you.

No, the policia, they're just like the others.

No, not this guy, I promise you.

Please, Flora,

you've got to tell me.

It's the only way I can help you.

I don't know her name.

We call her "Mother".

We?

Are there other girls?

There is nine of us.

Mother keeps us locked in the basement until it's time to go to work.

Did you mean it?

Will you help me?

Yes, Flora.

You can count on it.

Child prostitutes?

Sex slaves, Woody.

Held against their will, forced to do God knows what.

These are the days I hate my job.

Does she know where this basement is?

No clue.

There are no windows.

And when they go out,

Mother makes them ride in the back of a cargo van.

We will find this basement, Jordan, we will.

But first I've got to talk to Flora about the shooting,

No, Woody, no.

She's been through enough already.

And remember, she's the victim here.

We still have the shooter out there, remember.

Probably scoping out his next victim as we speak.

As far as I'm concerned he's doing the world a favor.

Let him take out as many perverts as he can.

We didn't find any injuries, but

she should get a full checkup as soon as possible.

Rape kit, testing for HIV, STDs.

Okay, thanks.

Hey, how're you feeling?

Flora,

can you do something for me?

Do I have to take my clothes off?

No,

Flora, Woody's not like those other men.

I swear to you, he doesn't want to hurt you.

He just wants to find that man with the gun.

Now if there's anything you can remember about what he said or did...

I heard him say, this is for my daughter.

Leann.

Leann Dawber, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Sixteen years old. Went missing two months ago.

Flora confirmed she is one of the girls being held captive.

What about her father?

Frank Dawber, age forty-six, divorced.

He's a welder at a railroad car factory.

Guy is squeaky clean.

Belongs to the Loyal Order of Moose,

goes to church every Sunday and

that's why he didn't pop up in our system.

Jordan I.D.ed him?

Yeah, it's our guy.

I had Pittsburgh P.D. pay him a visit.

No one's seen him for three days.

If you think your daughter's alive,

you don't kill the very people who can tell you where she is.

But, if someone sends you a grisly photo showing you that she's dead...

Then you turn into a vigilante father looking for blood.

I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing.

Well, our lucky to be alive...

hotel victim should be getting out of surgery soon.

If he can tell us how Frank Dawber found him,

maybe we can find Frank Dawber.

Hey...

Flora and I both have flowery names.

That's cool, huh?

Very cool.

I guess I'm the odd girl out.

Look, I need to take a couple of samples from you.

A hair strand and a mouth swab.

Is that okay with you, Flora?

This will not hurt a bit.

Here, just open your mouth.

Have you been sick recently?

My food won't always stay down.

Cutaneous ulcers in the mouth.

Have Bug run this for parasites.

Daisy.

What's that?

That could be your flower name.

Daisy...

Daisy Cavanaugh.

Well, I like it. Thank you.

Hey, Flora,

do you know what pine needles smell like?

Like Christmas trees?

You ever smell that from the basement?

Okay.

Oh, boy, you have such beautiful hair.

Do you ever braid it?

The other girls sometimes do it for me, like Mama used to.

Flora, I'm still trying to find your family in Mexico.

I checked with the authorities in Juarez.

They think your parents went south for work.

They don't want me anymore.

I'm sure that's not true.

They sold me for five hundred dollars.

Lily, why don't you take Flora to the break room

and get her something to eat before the sketch artist comes.

Are you mad at me?

No.

No, Flora.

Look, I could never be mad at you.

Okay, you have done nothing wrong, you hear me?

I'm just...

very mad at the people who hurt you.

And I want to keep them from hurting anybody else.

Me too.

The ulcers in Flora's mouth are caused by Cryptosporidiosis,

a gastrointestinal disease more commonly known as Crypto...

Transmitted by microscopic parasites found in water.

Yeah, I actually went to medical school.

About a year ago, DWP discovered Crypto

in parts of the city's sewage systems.

These are the eighteen areas that still need to get their pipes cleaned.

Eighteen?

Might as well be eighteen-hundred.

Wait, there's... there's more, uh...

Nigel's Tree Hugger's Guide To New England.

Made from recycled paper, naturally.

The pine needle that was found on Flora's shoe was...

was a Pinus Banksiana...

Jack Pine.

It's not indigenous to Boston, but it is heavily planted for community

planning, beautification, wind breaks...

And as you can see from my lovely Venn diagrams...

A lovely Venn diagram...

That actually brings us down to seven neighborhoods.

Still not good enough, guys.

Chances are those girls are being raped again as we speak.

I want that number down to one.

Ah-ha, seems they put Humpty-Dumpty back together again.

Samuel Page, forty-five, bank VP making seven figures a year.

Wife, two girls, nineteen and twenty-two.

What happened, your daughters get too old for you?

Excuse me.

Now, is this the man who shot you?

Yeah. You catch him?

Not just yet.

He's out there somewhere, reloading.

Now, what about this guy? You know him?

- No. - Really?

He's a fellow pervert.

I would have thought you guys ran in the same circles.

Last photo, Claudia Simpson.

Do you know her?

No.

A little fast, goat-brain.

Why are you showing me these?

Because the man who shot you shot these people as well.

Now, last chance.

Claudia Simpson.

What's the matter?

What's the matter?

Oh, I'm sorry.

Is that your abdomen wound I'm leaning on?

I thought it was a pillow. My bad...

Claudia Simpson...

Nurse.

Nurse.

She's a nurse? I don't think so.

This got to be hurting.

This got to be hurting real bad.

What's the problem? You're a sadist but not a masochist?

Last chance, pervert.

She's who you call.

She delivers the prostitutes.

So she's Mother.

What about her brother? Paul Simpson. You know him?

- No. - You swear?

- I swear. - Swear?

I swear it.

News flash, pervert.

Forcing an underage girl to have sex does not make her a prostitute.

It makes her a rape victim.

Which makes you a rapist.

Pervert.

You're a pervert rapist.

Now since our shooter's still at large,

I'm gonna leave a cop by the door.

Not that I really care if you die or not.

I don't.

I just want you to be around for the perp walk.

It is oh so humiliating for a pillar of the community such as yourself.

Feel better.

Jordan...

the sketch artist drew up Flora's description of Mother.

Claudia Simpson.

Makes me sick to my stomach all over again.

Yeah, but for different reasons.

Hey, excuse me, ladies.

I understand someone's been looking for the Martinez parents?

Yeah, I have.

Well, look no further.

They're down in Monterrey.

Turns out they've been looking for Flora for months.

That's a description of their search, the missing persons report.

They even put up a small reward.

Whatever they could afford.

So they didn't sell her?

Nope.

Big fat lie.

Yeah, I wonder who told it.

Oh, what a relief.

Lily, you know what, get her parents on the next plane out.

Tickets are on me.

You know what? I got it.

What is with the Mr. Do-Gooder routine?

Flora?

Flora, what's wrong?

I had a dream.

These kids were teasing me.

They said I was dirty.

Hey, what kids?

The ones we hear outside.

You hear them from the basement?

A lot of them?

Does it sound like a school or a park?

A school.

They said I was dirty.

No, no sweetheart.

No, you're not.

No, you are not.

Okay, we overlap the DWP map and Jack Pine foliage

with all outdoor school playgrounds.

Then taking into account the auditory range of kids at play,

we can eliminate most houses outside, let's say, uh,

quarter-mile radius.

Which leaves two neighborhoods.

Still a fifty-fifty split.

Yeah.

I think I might have the tiebreaker.

Flora's hair shows high traces of lead-tin oxide.

Isn't that the lead in old paint?

Specifically paint made before 1955.

So that narrows the search down to houses

built at or before that time period.

Okay, I'm gonna access the, uh, County Assessor's Office.

You can do that?

Southeast corner of Somerville. I'll tell Jordan.

You guys rock.

Yeah.

Mr. Simpson?

Mr. Simpson?

Get out of here.

I've got no beef with you.

I've got a beef with you, Mr. Dawber.

Alright?

I'm Detective Woody Hoyt,

Boston Police Department.

I don't care who you are.

That son-of-a-bitch Simpson's gonna pay.

Okay,

but there's a right way to go about this and a wrong way.

You killed my daughter. See that?

- He's getting away! - Shut up!

- He's getting away! - I said, shut up.

He's getting away.

Stay!

Get him!

Get him!

You better freeze.

You better freeze.

Police!

Simpson, you're only making things worse.

Leann called me ten days ago, hysterical.

She said she and these other girls were being forced to have sex.

Then the line went dead.

Imagine hearing your only child,

your sweet little girl telling you such a thing.

You traced the call back to Boston?

To some crummy southside motel.

Someone had to pay.

So I pretended to be a John...

with a thing for little girls.

That's how I met that sicko Royter.

You took justice into your own hands.

He got what he deserved.

So did Page.

I wasn't about to let those sick bastards hurt anyone else.

What about Claudia Simpson?

I knew she was the Madam,

but I couldn't get to her.

Then I found her number in Royter's wallet.

Made a bogus call to get her down to the morgue.

Then I heard her last name.

Dug deeper.

Found out that her brother's the real mastermind.

Mr. Dawber.

They did that to my little girl.

Mr. Dawber, when you take a photo of a dead person

they can't get red eye.

Something to do with the corneas clouding over.

Your daughter has red eye in this photo.

She was alive when it was taken.

I spoke to a girl who said, as of yesterday,

your daughter is alive.

What?

Your daughter is alive.

She's alive?

Oh, God...

They say the elementary school is a half block that way.

Flags waving, white picket fences.

You never know what's going on behind the curtains.

Didn't Flora say something about a cargo van?

Yeah.

Jordan.

Jordan!

Wait, Jordan. Shouldn't we...

call for backup?

What are those?

Claudia Simpson's keys.

Or should I say, Mother's.

Sometimes God is on our side.

Hey, Woody, we found the house.

You did? Where?

It's in Somerville.

Fourteen- fifty-three Griffith Drive.

Alright, Jordan, I'm calling for backup.

Do not, I repeat, do not go inside.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Damn it, Jordan.

I'll see you when you get here.

We found the house.

Now, we wait for backup.

We're looking for a basement door.

Hello?

Anybody here?

Look,

it's okay. I'm here to help.

Are you our new Mother?

No.

No, I'm getting you out of here.

Nigel.

Nigel.

Yeah, that hurt.

You're gonna pay for that.

The cops are right behind us, so if I were you...

Well, you're not me!

But how about...

when they get here they find your body first?

Ow!

Nigel,

get the girls upstairs.

Come on,

everybody up.

Look, you bitch...

No, you look.

No witnesses.

I pull this trigger and I will get off of self-defense,

while you, you low-life piece of garbage,

will take your reserved seat in hell.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Oh, yeah?

Well, you're not me.

Where's Jordan?

She's downstairs.

Jordan?

I thought I saw a rat.

Come here.

Dirtbag.

My knife.

Book him, pronto.

Leann!

Leann!

Daddy!

- Leann! - Daddy!

- Daddy! - Leann!

- Daddy! Daddy! - Leann!

Daddy!

- Daddy! - Leann.

Daddy.

Uncuff him, Woody.

- Jordan? - Oh, come on, look around,

there are at least a dozen cops here.

He's not going anywhere.

Paul Simpson and his sister used the travel agency

as a front to kidnap and transport girls.

They had stash houses in New York, Baltimore, Atlanta...

You know, unfortunately it's about supply and demand.

If there weren't so many sick bastards out there

in the market for this sort of thing.

Well, the good news is Woody found Simpson's little black book.

It's a regular who's who of vice.

It should keep him in prison for a very long time.

What about the girls?

They're being checked our right now.

Families contacted.

It's gonna be a long road for most of them.

Yeah. That's an understatement.

Oh... Hey, where's Flora?

In the locker room.

I bought her some new clothes.

Her parents are due in a half an hour.

I should really go...

I'll get her.

Hey,

so do I get two points for finding the girl's parents?

Yes, two points for you, Detective.

How about another two for not giving you those personal effects?

How about another two if you drive Flora and me to the airport?

Wow, six points.

Does that earn me a date?

After the last twenty-four hours I could use a cup of coffee.

Maybe someone to talk to.

Hmmm.

I'll buy you the cup of coffee.

Oh, my God.

Why, you look beautiful.

Blue is my Mama's favorite color.

You ready to go?

What do I tell them?

Just tell them that you love them.

That's all that really matters, right?

- Bye. - Bye.

? Come down off your throne

? and leave your body alone...

? Somebody must change...

? You are the reason I've been ? waiting all these years.

? Somebody holds the key.

? When I'm near the end...

Hello. Hi, my name is Jordan Cavanaugh.

I'm hoping that maybe you can help me find my father.

? And I'm wasted and

? I can't find my way home.

? No, I can't find my way home.

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