All language subtitles for NCIS New Orleans - 2x05 - Foreign Affairs.HDTV.LOL.en

♪ ♪

Sure this is a good idea?
Totally.

Got them from Froomie,
who said they're safe.

You trust a guy named Froomie?

What was that?

Probably nothing.

Nothing?

Did we do that?

You're an idiot.
So is Froomie.

Holy crap.

I'll get a hose.
Aah!

Come on, come on, hurry!

Chas, there's someone in there!

Go inside, get him out!

Go! What you are waiting for?

It's no use. The guy, he...

he's dead.

What?

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 2x05 ♪
Foreign Affairs
Original Air Date on October 20, 2015

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Ready, music major?

Totally.

♪ I wonder where
my friend has gone... ♪

Is ts the...

Old Trutone.

Where Grandma
used to sing?

Used to sneak in.

Tuck into this corner
right here.

Man, your grandma had soul.

Gave Billie Holiday
a run for her money.

Oh...

Still kind of

a work in progress.

No, it's amazing.
It'll be more amazing

when you and I

can jam in here together.

So, you tell Mom
about this place?

Mentioned it.

And did she mention Carl?

Guy who's taking her
to the Bahamas?

Carl Walsh?

Investment banker?

Works for Loeb and Wexler?

No priors?

Minimum parking violations?
That Carl?

Of course,
you ran his background.

Wanted to make sure
she'd be safe.

Is that all you were doing?

Done in by the dead.

Let's go.

Oh, is it okay if I hang out?

Soak it all in?

Lock up
when you go.

♪ Better off if ♪

♪ He was coming home ♪

♪ Better off if
he was coming home. ♪

Victim was found
in the burning trailer.

Trailer belongs to...?

It's a navy rental.

Called the housing office.

Waiting to hear back.

Kids found the body.

Called the cops
in a panic,

thinking they had
caused the fire.

Did they?
Negatory!

Fire marshals
found this.

Some type of
incendiary device.

Room was soaked
with kerosene.

Arson.

When Percy gets here,

I'll have her canvass
for witnesses.

Uh, no Percy. She's got a week
of counterintelligence training.

She's gone?
Yep.

I, uh, pulled the screws
out of her chair

so she'd fall down
when she sits in it.

And I swapped all her pens
with disappearing ink.

Brody, let the kids off
with a warning.

Chris, you're with me.

Morning, Loretta.

What we got?
Caucasian male, late 20s.

Remnants of a wallet.

Rear pocket.

Burned to a crisp.

But I've got something
that might interest you.

Looks like a crown, yeah?

That's Royal Australian Navy.

Guy seems lost
by about 9,000 miles.

Our victim is
Lieutenant Lachlan Colston

of Melbourne, here as a part

of the Navy's
Personnel Exchange Program.

Allied sailors from around
the globe switch places with

an American counterpart
of similar rank

for one year.

In this case,
Colston life-swapped

with a Lieutenant
Brad Ryder.

Both men worked logistics.

And the trailer
Colston was living in

belonged to
Ryder as well.

We know what Colston
was working on specifically?

Details are
compartmented.

Information is being controlled
by the Royal Australian Navy.

We're trying to get read in,
but the Aussies aren't talking.

And cue my entrance.

Naomi Parsons, Australia Defense
Force Investigative Services.

Australia?
Yeah.

Got here fast.
I was on assignment in your capital.

I just hopped on
the early flight.

Oh, that will be
your director, Agent Pride,

confirming my
participation.

Pride here.

So... I am...

Special Agent
Christopher Lasalle?

Spent seven years
at NOPD Vice.

And also you have received

multiple commendations
for your work at the New Orleans

Children's Hospital. You
must be Agent Merideth Brody,

youngest special agent in the
history of the Midwest Office

of NCIS.

I just like to be thorough.

Appears you are
who you say you are.

Well, that's a relief.

So let's get started.

Lieutenant Colston
was part of a team conducting

high-level negotiations
between our countries.

Negotiations that would allow
U.S. Minuteman missiles

in the Cocos Islands.

- Nuclear warheads?
- Tactical response

to a potential
Chinese air strike.

Colston's plan was
the linchpin of

any agreement between our
countries, and without him...

Talks stall.
More than stall. They fall apart.

Now, my thesis is that

he was murdered
to scuttle a treaty

between our two countries.

We'll need to compile a list

of any groups or countries

that would have a reason
to not want the U.S.

to be in the Cocos Islands.

And also, love it

if we could contact
your State Department

to get an update
on the status of those talks.

Okay, Investigator Parsons, I feel...
You know, I would

also seriously love
a cappuccino.

Is that your kitchen?

I'm gonna help myself.

What the hell
was that?

That was what my mother.

a tornado riding
on the back of a hurricane.

Agent Lasalle talked
to the State Department.

Cocos Island negotiations...

Are highly secretive with a
small delegation of diplomats.

Chinese are
the obvious suspects.

Of course,
Pakistan, Indonesia.

Frankly half
the developed world...

Has a stake
in these talks.

Oh, I cut you off, didn't I?

Couple of times there.

I do that sometimes. Sorry.

Appreciate that you're aware.

There's that Southern politeness
you're famous for, Agent Pride.

Am I famous?

Second highest arrest record
in Jefferson Parish history.

Top marks
from NCIS Headquarters.

You're from Sydney, right?

Mm-hmm.
My Aunt Effie went

to Sydney once.

Said the people were real nice.

Was big on etiquette, Effie.

When she came to visit,
she brought pastry.

Took her shoes off at the door,
helped out with the chores.

You saying you want me
to be a good guest, Agent Pride?

Please and thank you.

Our local
medical examiner.

She's finished the autopsy.

If I promise to be like
Aunt Effie, can I tag along?

Please and thank you?

As you can see,
the body's very badly burned.

We still looking
at smoke inhalation?

Well, that would require

functioning lungs,

which I no longer think
Lieutenant Colston had.

Could find no evidence
of swelling

or damage
to the respiratory tract.

I did, however,
discover this

perforation in the anterior and
posterior wall of what remains

of the left heart ventricle.

Murder weapon?

Judging by the
depth and length

of penetration,
I'd wager a knife

at least six inches in length,
sawback edge.

So, someone stabs Colston,

douses his body in kerosene,

leaves an incendiary device
behind...

To cover his tracks.

Missed one step,

which I almost did because

the distal phalanges

of both his hands
and feet had almost

turned to ash, but I believe

Lieutenant Colston had
his right index finger cut off

by the weapon
that stabbed him.

Murderer took a trophy.

Yeah, and it's happened
before.

Oh, this is
Sebastian Lund...

Lund, forensic scientist,
undergrad at Penn.

Graduate Degree from MIT,
and you also have

a pretty tricked-out Web site
on the Illuminati.

- Um...
- Investigator

Naomi Parsons
from the R.A.N.

Oh.
She likes

to be thorough.

Two men enter,

one man leaves.

- Thunderdome?
- Sebastian,

you were saying?
I was saying.

Thank you. Yes. I've found

two cases in the
last three years,

both with the same
modus operandi.

Stab, burn the evidence,

remove the index finger
with a six-inch sawback blade.

Your killer
has done this before.

Shirley Pappas was due
to testify

against her employer
Lou Sussman in 2013.

Sussman was a physician accused
of bogus billing practices.

Shirley's testimony
would have put him away,

but she was murdered before
trial, and Sussman walked.

In 2014,

Fred Brower was killed

two weeks
after his estranged wife

took out a $1 million
life insurance policy on him.

There's no apparent link
between either of the victims.

And no links to Colston?

NOPD suspects they both were
murder-for-hire jobs,

but can't prove it.

Okay, where does one hire
a hit man in New Orleans?

Let Triple P paint you
a picture.

See, the Dark Web is a cesspool
of sin and temptation,

beyond the reach
of the ordinary Dick and Jane.

How do you
get access?

Well, in layman terms,

you need special software
and password.

Dude or dudettes in the know--

they can shop for guns, drugs,
and all kind of icky sex.

Hit men.

Oh, yeah, baby.

Tons of advertising
for dirty deeds done dirt cheap.

I did some pokey-poke around--
look what I found.

"Hit man for hire.

St. Mary to St. Bernard"?

Parishes in Southern Louisiana.

Our version of a county.

Check out the knife.

Sawback edge.

So, how do we get to him?
We order up a hit.

Give me a couple of hours.

I'm taking this B.B. King.

You're leaving
the B.B. King.

"Sweet Little Angel"?

You used to sing
that to me every night.

Which is why it's staying mine.

Your mother?
Yep.

She having fun?

She's going scuba diving.
Oh.

Tell her not to feed any sharks.

So, you're
really okay with this?

Mom and a guy

named Carl?

Just want her to be happy.

Well, I want you
both to be happy.

I'm happy. Got you.

Bar.

Work.

Work is work.

Bar is just more work.

When do you have time for...

something else?

I'm the father.

You're the daughter.

My job to worry about you.

Daughters are allowed
to worry, too.

Thank you.
You're welcome.

See, somebody else gets it.

Update on our hit men.

Mr. P set a drop
for 9:00 a.m. tomorrow--

$10,000 cash, Armstrong Park.

It's Triple P.

And you need me
to authorize the money.

I was just trying
to be efficient.

Leave the B.B. King, daughter.

♪ ♪

Comm check.

Loud and clear.

- Lima, Charlie.
- Good and good.

Thank you.
Leave 'em open.

Now we wait.

We could
pass the time

with another
folksy allegory.

Well, try this one on for size,

Naomi Adele Parsons.

Born in Brisbane.

Graduated top of her class,
Melbourne Law.

Six years at a prestigious
trust and wills firm...

before quitting
to enlist in the Navy.

Yeah, that sounds vaguely familiar.
Mm-hmm.

I can be thorough, too.

Follow up?

If you must.

Why would someone
leave a six-figure gig

less than one year
before making partner?

I didn't see myself
that way anymore.

How do you
see yourself, exactly?

Got a Dumpster diver.

Movement at the drop.

African-American
male, hoodie,

five-seven.
Suspect has the envelope.

I've lost
visual contact.

No worries. We got Agent Lasalle
and Brody on the backside.

I'm losing him.
Damn it. Move now!

Everyone, move now!

Stop!

Aah!

Don't move a muscle!

Go easy, babe.

Palms up!
They up.

Ross P.?

Lasalle?

Man, get
Crocodile Dandee up off me.

I-I give.

Go easy on him,
Parsons. We know him.

This could be our hit man.
Highly unlikely.

More likely that
was our hit man. And you just

scared him off.

What's going on, Ross P.?

Like I told you before--

I got sprung a few weeks ago.

My P.O. said I need a job.

Pope was taken,
so I applied for GopherU.

What the hell's GopherU?

People, they pay you
for all kind of odd jobs.

You know? Pick up
prescriptions,

drop off their laundry.

Grab envelopes
out of trash cans?

I mean, I ain't picky.

The client.

Who was it?

No clue.

I know his handle,
though, is, uh...

Hunter28.

All right. Where were you
supposed to deliver the package?

Another trash can,
just a few blocks away.

Come on, Ross P.

Nothing good was ever delivered

from one trash can to another.

Come on, man. Of course
I knew it was shady,

but, if you hadn't noticed,
my considerable

skill set
doesn't exactly translate

to the legit job market.

Maybe with your help,
you know...

Well, the last time I helped,

you sold drugs behind my back.

Don't be like that, Lasalle.
Look, I'm really trying

to walk on the straight side
of the street here.

I mean, a leopard
can change his stripes, huh?

Only problem with that...

is leopards have spots.

Change those, too.

You jumped the gun back there.

May have lost us the
trail of our killer.

Now, I'm sure you're under
all kinds of pressure

from the R.A.N.

You want to know
what my pressure is?

Colston's wife

and his two little girls,
Susie and Maureen.

Six and eight years of age.

They deserve to know
what happened to their dad.

Trust me, we got
the same priorities

on this side of the Pacific.

But moving forward,

you need to take it down
a notch.

You need to work
on my terms.

And you need to work unarmed.

Give it up.

Keep it coming.

How about what's in the boot?

That's all of it.

Pleasure doing business
with you.

Good news or bad?
Get the bad out of the way.

GopherU's not cooperating.
Citing privacy issues. We're

gonna have to play the whole
warrant dance to get anywhere.

And the good?

SUV speeding from the park--

got the license plate
from a traffic cam.

Registered to Phil Kasey,

lives in Algiers.
Long list of felonies.

Possession of explosives
and assault with a knife.

Just like our hit man.
Let's go pay Mr. Kasey a visit.

NCIS!

Brody.

I got something.

Explosives.

Could be what was used

to start the fire
at Colston's trailer.

Could be.
Look.

Info on our other
murder victims.

Fred Brower.

Shirley Pappas.

Here's a picture
of Colston.

Wait a second.

Ryder.

Ryder is the Navy officer

who traded places
with Colston.

Ryder lived in the same trailer,
worked at the same office.

Is it possible that our hit man
was hired to kill Ryder...

But killed
Colston instead?

Owner of the house
is Phil Kasey,

former longshoreman
now on disability.

Seem to moonlight
as a hit man on the Dark Web.

Appears to be responsible
for at least three murders,

including Lieutenant Colston.

Yeah, we're thinking Colston
was not Kasey's target.

Every piece of information
in the hit file

corresponds to
Lieutenant Ryder.

The American.
We found explosive material

at Kasey's home,
sent 'em over to Sebastian.

Also found a laptop
that's been wiped clean.

Patton's examining.

We need to talk
to Lieutenant Ryder.

Australian Central Command's
got him ready.

I wanted to wait for you,

this being your turf.

Let's go get him up on SCIF.

What is this, some kind of joke?

Did Commander Wallace
put you up to this?

No joke, Lieutenant.
You're saying

the guy who I traded jobs with
was murdered?

We're saying Lieutenant Colston
might have taken a knife

because someone
thought he was you.

There anyone in New Orleans

who has issues with you,
Lieutenant Ryder?

No, sir.
I pay my bills on time,

open doors for strangers,
I mind my Ps and Qs.

Besides, I was only
stationed there

for 11 months
before my PEP transfer.

I usually find 11 months
plenty of time to make enemies.

Let us ask you this:

we found a notebook
in the hit man's house.

Three addresses
next to your name.

Your trailer.

Navy logistics office
on Dauphine Street.

And an address
on Rampart Street.

The Black Penny?
That's it.

It's a music joint.
My... my girlfriend Cheryl--

she gigs there
three nights a week.

Is she in some kind of danger?

♪ And now I'll never be ♪

♪ The same ♪

♪ Can't help but feeling ♪

♪ Like I've gone ♪

♪ To Heaven ♪

♪ And all this started ♪

♪ When you said ♪

♪ You loved me. ♪

Brad's not hurt, is he?

Lieutenant Ryder's fine.

This man-- Lieutenant Colston--

not so lucky.
Current theory is,

someone put a hit out on him.

We think the
killer may have

mistaken him for Ryder.

That's... awful.

Everything okay?

Yeah.
Luke Elliott, piano player.

Should we be worried?
We don't think

there's a current threat to you,

but the address to the bar
was on the hit man's list.

Brad practically lived here
when he was in New Orleans.

He came every time we played
and stayed through all our sets.

Our most loyal fan.

Are you two still together?

Yeah, but, you know,
long distance,

time difference. Tough.

Did anything out of the ordinary
happen in the past few weeks?

Someone hanging around
that shouldn't be here?

There was a guy
the other night-- he came in,

sat at the bar,
stared at me.

At the end of the show,
he came asking about Brad.

What did he want?

I don't know.

But he said if I saw Brad,

that he'd better contact
a guy named...

"Sug... Sugar Wells?"

Describe this Sugar fella.

Um, African-American.

Had tattoos
down his neck.

Mohawk.
And, um...

He had a gold grill
on his bottom teeth.

Guy was scary as hell.

So you're Sugar Wells.
In the flesh and bone.

We hear you're the biggest

online bookmaker
on the East Bank.

I'm glad to see my reputation's

still intact.

Brad Ryder--

he's a client of yours?
I have lots of clients.

Yeah, well, this one
wears a Navy uniform--

Lieutenant Brad Ryder.

You can shove that picture
in my face all you want.

I don't know faces.

It's online bets
and online payments.

Well, what about this?
Maybe this jogs your memory?

That's just nasty.
That's what it looks like

when a man don't pay his debts.

Care to put the phone away?

It's football season,

my busy time.

Yup.
Hey, man.

Back to Ryder.

Look, far as I know

about his accounts,
the dude was like

a hundred grand
in the hole.

And he maxed out all
his credit cards.

Ryder set up, "Pay My
Bills," not so much.

After those cards
were maxed out,

you went and threatened
his girlfriend.

When you couldn't find him,

you hired somebody
to take him out.

Look, dead men don't pay.

I took a loss with Ryder.

Had to close all his accounts
when I heard he got killed.

You heard he was killed?
Rumor had it he was deep-fried.

So I went by the
house, saw the char,

which I had nothing to do with.

Now could I get
that phone back?

Okay, Chris.

Keep looking.

So far, no connects between
Sugar Wells and our hit man.

Still looking.

Sounds like squeaky
clean Lieutenant Ryder

lied to us about
a couple of things.

The question is,
what else is he hiding?

Well, I don't
know about Ryder,

but your hit man
had massive quantities

of ammonium nitrate,
nitrobenzene,

baker's sugar and
aluminum powder in his house.

Or aluminium powder
in your native tongue.

Got some of it from
Kasey's hidden workshop,

the rest from the Dumpster
outside of his house.

You know,
people throw away a lot

of really useful
stuff these days.

I actually toyed with being
a freegan in college,

but it turns out that female
anarchists rarely shower.

So, are these

the items
that made the explosive

that destroyed
Colston's trailer?

Yeah, but, uh, given the amount
of scrap metal I found,

I think it's safe to say

that Kasey had made
multiple devices.

Could be more than one bomb?

Exactly, which is why

I wanted
to show you this receipt.

What's on it?

Oh, uh, pizza grease, stale
beer, some kind of bodily fluid?

You mean what's on it on it.

It's a shipping receipt.
Package mailed yesterday

to New South Wales, Australia.

Where Ryder is stationed.

What if Kasey realized

that he killed the wrong man

and wanted to make good
on the contract?

By sending a mail bomb.

We need to find that package.

According to the clerk,

truck has one more stop
before heading to the airport.

Yeah, according to the tracker, I think
you want to take a left up ahead.

Left. Left's gonna be
a little bit of a problem.

Hang on.

Federal agents.
Step out of the truck.

It's clean.
No explosive materials.

Safe?

Can't guarantee safe,
just that it won't blow up.

Thank you.

Oh, no.

Got to be Colston's.

On its way to Ryder?

Proof of death.

Ryder's deep in debts
that he can't pay.

Suddenly, there's Colston living
in his trailer, living his life.

And then Colston
ends up dead.

But everyone thinks it's Ryder.

Specifically, Sugar Wells,

the guy he owed money to.

It's convenient.
Or the point of it all.

Your guy kills my guy, and
then all his problems go away.

Loretta confirms the finger
belonged to Colston.

Package was on its way
to Ryder in Australia.

If Naomi is right, Ryder
put the hit out on Colston

to get out from under
gambling debts.

Big if. Still got to get our
hands on the hit man Kasey.

Get a BOLO out.

We need to get back
in the room with Ryder, too.

Australian Central Command's
giving us the runaround.

Access to Ryder
has been denied.

What do you mean denied?
He's been detained

for questioning in the murder
of Lachlan Colston.

Give us a minute.

You hijack my investigation,
you better have a good reason.

My people have jurisdiction
over U.S. forces with respect

to offenses committed
whilst inside Australia.

I know the damn treaty.

One of my countrymen
is being shipped home

in a flag-draped box.

And we're doing everything
we can to find out why.

But this case is a joint task force.
Not anymore.

If Lieutenant Ryder arranged
a murder-for-hire plot

while serving under the
R.A.N., my turf now.

You want to withhold
access to Ryder.

You want to make it

your guy versus my guy.

Then I got to question
your priorities.

You do what you're gonna do,

but as far as I'm concerned,
you're off this case.

Someone's mad.

Is it 'cause of
the pretty redhead?

Yeah, she's pretty... something.

Sounds like a certain brunette
I share a gene pool with.

Huh.

No, not even
in the same area code.

Look, your mother...

One of a kind.

But she's moved on,
and I'm okay with that.

I'm also okay

not rushing to replace her.

I'm not asking you
to rush or replace.

I just want to make sure
you're not using your work

and the bar to... hide.

I want to acknowledge
that daughters can worry,

but they don't have to.

I'm gonna be fine, promise.

Anything useful
on the hit man's laptop?

Yeah.

So, I found an
e-mail from whoever

ordered the hit on Colston.
It was placed

in the draft folder two days
after Colston was killed.

"Final payment. Drop
off tomorrow same place

as last time." Where's last time?
I don't have that.

Break in the case?

- No, more like a pain in my ass.
- Ugh.

Find our where
"last time" was.

Man, I don't do miracles, man.

Took you long enough.

Now can you please tell
this fine officer

that we know each other?

Maybe ditch these bracelets?

Breaking and entering?

Let me explain.

This is not change, Ross P.

It's a misunderstanding.

Look, it's the same old crap.

You messing up,
doing something stupid.

Then you call me
to bail your tail out.

You finished?

Nope, but you are.

Soon as I get your
parole officer on the phone.

Whatever it is you stole,
I hope it was worth it.

Why don't you
take a look?

What'd he grab?

You broke in
to GopherU's offices?

You said I needed
to do you a solid.

Stealing files...

files that can't be used
in court--

it's not a solid.

I want to help you
catch a hit man.

Look, man, I'm
not just a leopard

changing his
spots, all right?

I'm talking full-blown
evolution here.

Uh, wings, a beak.

Before you know it, I'm
gonna be a whole eagle.

You're damn straight, eagle man.

Based on these files,

our hit man had GopherU pick
up a package for him here.

I guess this is
the drop site.

Means it's probably
where he was coming today

for his final payment.

Looks like

he got his final payment,
all right.

Thank you.
A single gunshot

to the chest, small caliber.
Victim died instantly.

How long has he been here?
Judging by lividity,

three hours, maybe less.

We're right on the
killer's tail.

Mm-hmm. Cell phone
ended up in the pool.

I'm sure Sebastian

will squeeze
something out of it.

How's Investigator Parsons?

Benched. Unnecessary roughness.

Ooh! Takes talent to get
under Dwayne Pride's skin.

It seems our agent from down
under is quite a natural.

Headed home?

I believe
that's where we left it.

Found the hit man.

Dead. Recent.

We believe he was killed
by whomever hired him.

And Ryder was still
in Australia.

Yeah.

Also, Ryder's credit cards

appear to have been compromised.

Someone else seems
to have gotten ahold

of all of
the cards' numbers

and made the bets
with Sugar Wells.

So, again, not Ryder.

Think he was just
an innocent victim.

Like Colston.

Wanted you to be able to update

Colston's wife and his girls.

Hey... I've got
a folksy story for you.

There was this lawyer.

Uh, expensive suits,

fancy apartment
overlooking the Harbor.

Her clients were all
one-percenters,

before they even
called them that.

And every time

one of them would die,

the vultures would come out
of the woodwork.

Wives, exes,

sons, daughters...

just clamoring

for their share of the stuff.

Imagine that...
wore the lawyer out.

So much so
that she began to drink.

A lot more
than her five-foot-four,

110-pound body could handle.

And then, one day,

she wakes up
behind the wheel of a car...

just as she's about to run
over a seven-year-old girl.

She missed.

Lucky.
Yeah.

And the very next day,

she quit her job,
joined the Navy.

Now, she's still hard-charging--

maybe even more so--

but when people's
loved ones die...

she's there
to provide answers.

And comfort and closure.

I know that racket.

Sebastian.

Mr. Thunderdome?

He's been working on
the hit man's phone.

Thinks he's got
something.

You should go.

You should come with.

Closure...

it beckons.

Did everything I could

to resuscitate the phone.

Started simple: paper towels,

followed by the, uh,
bag of rice trick.

Then, I had to operate.

Opened up the casing,

gave the internal mechanisms
a thorough vacuuming...

But I'm afraid
it was no use.

Phone died on
the operating table

at 4:03 this afternoon.

Then what are we doing here?

'Cause I was able
to save the memory card.

And?

Photos... of Colston.

So hit man Kasey
was tracking Colston.

For days. There's dozens
of photos like this.

Hang on, is that...

Cheryl Eastman.

Ryder's girlfriend.

Yeah, there are a ton
with Colston and this girl.

She lied to us.
Yeah.

Question is why?

And what does she have to
do with Colston's murder?

You acted as if

you didn't know Colston, Cheryl.

Photos tell a different story.

After Brad left,
we left it up in the air.

But I got worried
things were going to end

and I was lonely.

Lachlan was
new in town,

lonely, too,
so we started hanging out.

Friends, but...
yeah, things got intense.

It was a mistake.

Which part?

Scam on Ryder,
the seduction of Colston?

The hit man?
Okay, I swear...

I got no clue

what you're talking about.
Really?

Yeah.

No clue?

Well, a woman with no clue

would have no problem
coming clean.

Well, I didn't want
Brad to know.

Burned up body in a trailer

trumps an "up in the air"
relationship.

In my opinion.

Mine as well.

So I...

I think you have a clue.

Little voice
in your head.

Little voice saying something
you may not want to listen to.

What's it saying to you, Cheryl?

I don't understand.

Why does this always happen?

Why does what happen?

Luke...

says I'm cursed.

Any time I get
close to someone--

like, really start to care--

something ruins it.

Mike from, um...

Nashville, he, uh,
got in a... car accident.

And then Justin

from Galveston...

God, things are going great,
and then...

all of a sudden just...
stops calling me.

Freezes me out.

Changed his number,
his e-mail.

And now this.

With Lachlan.

And Brad.

It sounds like you are awfully
unlucky in relationships.

None of them stick.

Except for one.

Where were you?

I was trying to call.

Oh, NCIS,
they called me in.

They had all sorts
of questions.

Why? What'd you say?

Oh, nothing.

I just stopped talking.
They assigned me a lawyer.

Let's get out of here.

You know?

Go on the road, head to Florida,
pick up some gigs.

Yeah. I, um...

I want to go to Australia.

See Brad.
Brad?

Yeah.
After he left you?

He didn't leave me,

he just got assigned.

He left, Cheryl.

And the Lachlan guy?

What kind of man screws
another man's girlfriend?

Luke, that...
I-I just don't get it.

These guys,
they're all the same.

They get what
they want from you

and then they're gone.

Over and over again.

And who's left?
Me. Always me.

I'm the one
who takes care of you,

but no matter how good I am,

you-you don't see me
like you see them.

What did you do, Luke?

Nothing.

You killed Lachlan.

You set up Brad.

You drove away every man
that has ever cared about me.

To protect you.

Oh, my God...
Those guys...

they... they didn't care
about you.

Not like I do.

You're sick.

Get away from me!
No, no, look...

Let go of me! Let me go!
Listen to me.

Get away from me!
Just let me explain.

Federal agents!

Get your hands in the air!
Get 'em up!

Hands on the roof.
On the roof!

Got a gun.

Got him
covered.

- Where'd you get the weapon?
- You disarmed me.

I had to rearm.

I'm thorough, remember?

You're one for the books, lady.

Think we have enough on
the wire for a confession?

If not, I'll bet you
dollars to donuts

the ballistics
from this gun

will match the slug
taken out of the hit man.

I'll do
the honors.

Back at the office.
Got it, King.

Hey, uh, I'm just gonna
step away and make a call.

Sun's just coming up at home.

Family should know.

Closure.

You got it?

Hold your damn horses.

There you go.

All right.

Coax was bad,

so I took the liberty
of rerouting the audio

through the digital
optical port.

I mean, know my tunes, man.

That's more than I can say
for your cop work.

Yeah.

I learned my lesson
on that front.

Guess I just have
to stick to being

the handsomest handyman

in the hippest bar
that ain't even open yet.

A bar that's owned
by my best friend

and my boss,

which you got 'cause
I vouched for you.

All right?

So if you devolve from
an eagle into a rat...

you gotta deal with me.

Thought I was a leopard
or some damn thing.

Wasn't I a leopard?

Just turn it up,
Ross P.

Come on, turn it up!
Yeah!

♪ Now wait just a second ♪

♪ I want to state
for the record... ♪

Airport already?

Probably be thrilled
to get rid of me.

Oh, no,

I wouldn't say that.

Dwayne Pride.

Former Jefferson Parish
Deputy Sheriff.

Recently divorced,
with one child, Laurel,

who suggested
that I mention...

that I'm gonna be back in
the city in a couple of months.

Is that what she suggested?

Mmm. She's sharp, that one.

Sharp... and insistent.

Yep.

Well... good.

Good, 'cause I'm kind of
in the middle

of a transition now, so...

I know that racket.

Well, I'm quite
sure you do.

Well, you know, just...

take your time.

Pleasure doing business
with you, Parsons.

The pleasure was mine...

Agent Pride.

Safe travels.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man