The Detective D. D. Warren Series 5-Book Bundle

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The Detective D. D. Warren Series 5-Book Bundle Page 176

by Lisa Gardner


  EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY

  Sarah continues jogging — intense, driven.

  EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT

  Rosie crouches down, pressing herself into the side of a tree, making herself as small as possible. Rosie’s terrified, bloodshot eyes, the bruises and cuts on her arms, legs, face.

  EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY

  Sarah continues jogging the wooded trial.

  EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT

  Rosie’s face is suddenly flooded with light. The Assailant has doubled back and is now only a dozen yards away. Moving in with terrifying speed. With a scream, Rosie runs—

  EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT

  Dawn. Sarah bursts into a clearing, down a small embankment, is an abandoned beach strewn with driftwood, fog.

  EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT

  Rosie tripping, scrambling on hands and knees down a small embankment. The flashlight behind her jaggedly cuts through the woods, nearing.

  EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT

  Sarah looks up, goes still. A FIGURE lies on the beach. A blanket of loopy seaweed covering it. Gnats and flies buzzing over it.

  Sarah, transfixed, nears the still figure on the sand.

  She reaches down, pulls off the blanket of seaweed.

  It is a dead SEA LION — one blank eye staring up. Sarah takes it in. RAIN begins to fall.

  Even here, on this beach, she is unable to escape these broken, sad bodies. The exhausting knowledge that life doesn’t care. It is indifferent.

  Sarah’s CELL PHONE RINGS, startling her—

  SARAH

  (into phone)

  Yeah, Linden here.

  Off this—

  CREDITS ROLL

  END TEASER

  ACT ONE

  EXT. DOCKS - DAY (CHYRON: “DAY ONE”)

  A CAR drives down the industrial docks of downtown Seattle. In the distance, through the now heavy rain, the Space Needle, the gray downtown skyline, the waters of Lake Union, all under a breathtaking, brooding sky. A city of contrasts, light and dark, sun and fog, where rain falls eight months of the year. A city surrounded on all sides by waterways, ocean, lakes. Stark beauty and dark underbelly.

  The car pulls up to a crime scene. In her sweats and a raincoat, Sarah exits her car in the now intense DOWNPOUR, chomping NICACHEW. A UNIFORM guards the entrance of an abandoned factory, keeping a bunch of LOOKIE LOOS — sullen emo teens and a bug-eyed crackhead — at bay.

  SARGEANT (O.S.)

  Back behind the tape. Yeah, you heard me.

  A Lookie Loo — male, pierced - catches Sarah’s eye. She holds his baleful stare.

  Sarah ducks under the crime scene TAPE, met by a SARGEANT — 40s, grizzled, ex-boxer’s battered face—

  SARGEANT (CONT’D)

  Sarah, sorry ’bout this. Lieutenant said you were on call so—

  SARAH

  Where’s the body?

  SARGEANT

  Conveyor shed. Homeless guy found her coupla hours ago. Jane Doe … No ID, wallet. Coroner’s en route. You’re the first one here.

  (beat)

  You gotta go up the stairs, follow the ramp, you’ll find her. You want me to walk ya through?

  SARAH

  No. I’m good. Thanks.

  They stop in front a steel door. Sargeant opens it revealing a dark hallway, stairs — He gives her BAGGIES and a FLASHLIGHT over—

  SARGEANT

  You’re outta here, what? Friday?

  SARAH

  Nope. Today.

  With a smile, she enters …

  INT. FACTORY - CONTINUOUS

  … Heads up the stairs. Suddenly, the steel door slams shut, plunging her into darkness. It’d be easy to turn back but that’s not Sarah’s style. Instead, she turns on her flashlight — flickery, iffy.

  Ahead of her, a ramp tilting up into blackness. Trash, graffiti everywhere. Rain pelts the tin roof, pigeons coo. She’s used to silent, secret places like this. Forges on.

  Her light catches a dark SMEAR on one wall. Blood. Below it, a pile of trash. Baggie in hand, Sarah sifts through. Pulls out a sharp deboning KNIFE. Bags it.

  Trains her flashlight on a faint trail of BLOOD. Leading to the top of the conveyor shaft, a room. Something in there …

  INT. FACTORY - BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS

  A large OBJECT, like a side of beef encased in plastic, hangs from a hook. Sarah slowly reaches up, rips it off—LIGHTS snap on, revealing a group of middle-aged male DETECTIVES in PARTY HATS, clutching a CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE,

  Laughing at what’s hanging on the hook: a BLOW UP DOLL. Red mouth around a fake SPLIFF, San Francisco baseball CAP on its head, written across its torso: “BON VOYAGE SARAH”.

  OAKES

  (singing)

  Hey, hey … For she’s a jolly good

  fellow! For she’s a jolly good …

  SINGING DETECTIVE

  For she’s a jolly good fellow …!

  They warble off key, the others clapping, hooting, blowing noise makers. They tease Sarah.

  OAKES

  Get her a glass …

  Sarah laughing now, much loved, overwhelmed by it all …

  EXT. ESTABLISHING AERIAL SHOT - CHINNTENDEN LOCKS - DAY

  The waterway connecting Lake Union with the vast Puget Sound. Through the RAIN—

  INT. SARAH’S CONDO - DAY

  Sarah enters, BLOW UP DOLL under arm, rain coat sopping. Takes in the sterile, empty condo. Packing boxes everywhere.

  SARAH

  Rick? Are you still here …?

  Rick …?

  As she moves through the barren rooms CAMERA FOLLOWS. Someone watching, closing in …

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Rick …?

  Suddenly, Sarah spins around—

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Boo.

  Getting the drop on RICK FELDER — salt-and-pepper sexy, established man’s confidence mixed with a former bad boy’s heat—

  RICK

  I so had you …

  SARAH

  Charlie Brown with the football—

  RICK

  I think Lucy needs a spanking.

  He grabs at her. Laughing, screaming, she fends him off with the blow up doll. As they tussle—

  RICK (CONT’D)

  (re: doll)

  I’m not even gonna ask.

  He flings it to the side, grabs her, they kiss. Visceral, electric, heating up. Over—

  SARAH

  Where’s Jack?

  RICK

  Dropped him off at school…

  SARAH

  Was he mad?

  RICK

  He’s 13. It’s his job to hate us.

  Sarah sighs, worried, rests her head on his shoulder.

  RICK (CONT’D)

  He’ll come around. Or I’ll make him.

  (beat, then re: blow up doll)

  What does Candy Cane feel about Sonoma?

  SARAH

  (smiles)

  Pop that damn thing before Jack sees it.

  RICK

  Okay.

  SARAH

  What time’re the movers coming?

  She goes to an open moving BOX, digs around. Pops a NICACHEW out of its box.

  RICK

  In an hour. Oh, Regi called, said she wanted to take Jack for a spin on the boat before you leave.

  SARAH

  Maybe she can give me away at the wedding. What’ll your parents think about that?

  RICK

  Who cares. What about you, you ready to do this?

  SARAH

  Do what?

  He laughs. Kisses her.

  RICK

  Sell the condo, quit your job, move your kid away from his cool friends … Marry me.

  She kisses him. Deep, passionate—

  SARAH

  You know I’m not one for words.

  RICK

  It’s a good thing you only need
two of ’em.

  They kiss again, heating up. Their need for one another bottomless. BEEP BEEP—

  RICK (CONT’D)

  That’s me, ahhh—

  Rick disengages and moves toward his bags.

  SARAH

  Why can’t you fly down with us tonight? Candy Cane wants to play, argg—

  Sarah grabbing at him.

  RICK

  Yeah. Okay.

  He laughs at her playfulness. Grabs his bags. Makes his way to the front door.

  RICK (CONT’D)

  Tickets on top of the fridge, flight’s at nine thirty.

  SARAH

  I do.

  RICK

  What?

  SARAH

  Want to marry you.

  This moment honest. No jokes. No masks. They smile.

  RICK

  Tickets on the fridge, flights at nine thirty.

  Rick exits. A beat as Sarah sits in this empty place, her smile fades. She spots the TICKETS on the fridge. As she takes them down, a PHOTO — pinned underneath — flutters to the ground. Sarah picks it up, smiles, tenderly kisses the photo. Pins it back on the fridge.

  We see the PHOTO: Sarah and her 13-year-old son, JACK, smiling into camera. Mom and son against the world.

  Only thing left in the empty kitchen. She carefully straightens it. Making it perfect.

  EXT. SEATTLE PD - DAY

  Sarah seen in her office window, cleaning up. A UNI walks past.

  SARAH

  … We’ll have a few hours before the airport, Regi … Yeah, it’d be great …

  INT. SEATTLE PD - SARAH’S OFFICE - DAY

  Musty and cramped, mismatched steel filing cabinets, Sarah, in sweater and jeans, tosses manila FOLDERS into cardboard boxes, chewing gum, mid-convo on her cell phone—

  SARAH

  … To take Jack out on the water—

  Her office door bangs opens, revealing Det. STEPHEN HOLDER — 30, ex-narc, dark circles under his eyes. Startled as she—

  HOLDER

  (overlapping)

  Ahh, this is a bad door. Sorry, what … what are you doing here—

  SARAH

  (overlapping)

  A who … Can I help you—?

  HOLDER

  Yeah, this is my office—

  SARAH

  Who are you—?

  HOLDER

  I’m Holder, from County. You Linden?

  REGI (O.S.)

  (from phone)

  Sar? You there …?

  SARAH

  (into phone)

  Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Regi.

  Sarah hangs up, takes him in: cardboard BOX in his arms. Fish out of water in his Fubu and baggy jeans. Amused—

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Yeah. I’m Linden.

  HOLDER

  I thought you’d be outta here by now. But if you need more time, I can wait outside.

  SARAH

  No, it’s okay. No, no, come on in. I’m almost done.

  Not much room to navigate. He drops his box on the desk, knocking over her box, spilling files everywhere.

  HOLDER

  Damn it—

  SARAH

  It’s okay, I got it.

  Holder tries to help, making more of a mess.

  HOLDER

  My bad, my bad.

  Hold picks up the box, she takes it.

  HOLDER (CONT’D)

  Here.

  He moves to the other side of the desk. Starts unpacking his own box.

  HOLDER (CONT’D)

  So, I hear you’re moving to LA.

  SARAH

  San Francisco area.

  HOLDER

  Oakland?

  SARAH

  Sonoma.

  HOLDER

  Sonoma. It’s nice.

  SARAH

  Yup.

  Beat. She continues to clean up, not interested in engaging.

  HOLDER

  Nice weather. Ocean. The beaches … Hate that shit.

  Holder shoots a ball into a hoop/trash can. Sarah smiles grudgingly.

  SARAH

  You must love this place then.

  HOLDER

  Ouch.

  He’s glancing at one of Sarah’s files. CLOSE ON gruesome crime scene PHOTO of an ADDICT — white, trashy, fatty (think Courtney Love) — cut ear to ear. Beneath, a SKETCH: a lonely grove of trees on the sand. Beautiful.

  HOLDER (CONT’D)

  Crack head thought she was Picasso?

  SARAH

  Crack head’s six year old son drew it.

  HOLDER

  He get iced, too?

  SARAH

  No.

  Sarah takes the sketch. Puts it away. Holder waits for more. None coming. Fort Knox this woman.

  HOLDER

  So what happened to the kid—?

  LT. OAKES — 50s, soft touch for Sarah — enters.

  OAKES

  Don’t waste your time moving in, do ya?

  HOLDER

  No. County cut me loose early. So, I …

  OAKES

  Well, you got a tough act to follow. You wrapped up here, Sarah?

  SARAH

  Yup. All done.

  Oakes hands her a PAPER.

  OAKES

  Good. Got a call down at Discovery Park. Check it out.

  SARAH

  On my last day? My flights tonight—

  OAKES

  You’re still on the city’s dime.

  (off her look)

  You can hand it off end of shift. Six o’clock. Go on do your job. Take him. Show him how to work a scene.

  HOLDER

  (quietly)

  I know how to work a scene …

  Reluctantly, Sarah grabs her coat and a box—

  SARAH

  Grab a box. We’ll take my car.

  HOLDER

  Alright.

  SARAH

  (indicating a nearby box)

  Over there.

  As Sarah and Holder exit, boxes in tow, Holder shuts the door with his foot.

  EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT - DAY

  Transition.

  INT/EXT. SARAH’S CAR - DAY

  Sarah drives, Holder yaks. Wipers flipping across the rain-soaked windshield. Squat factories — abandoned, graffii-marred — slide past their windows.

  HOLDER

  … They tapped me out of the Academy like first year, boom straight to

  (MORE)

  HOLDER (CONT’D)

  undercover. So I was working vice, narco. I don’t know, I guess narco kinda stuck to me, so …

  SARAH

  (no shit)

  You? A UC? I never woulda guessed.

  Holder shoots her an amused look.

  HOLDER

  Whatever. It’s mostly like street level buys and busts, you know, Joaquim shooting Rakim, blah blah blah.

  SARAH

  You think Homicide’s gonna be any different?

  HOLDER

  Least you got a bad guy.

  SARAH

  Yeah? Who’s that?

  Holder looks at her, waiting for more. No luck. They stop at a light.

  On the sidewalk, a TEEN RUNAWAY — 16, male, filthy dreads, kindly face — slouches numbly against a monstrous duffel bag. Rain drizzling down.

  Holder presses two fingers against the glass: “Peace”. The Teen Runaway lazily sticks up his middle finger: “Fuck you”.

  Holder grins, gives him the finger back. As they pull away—

  HOLDER

  Is that why you running away, Linden? Cuz you don’t know no more?

  She doesn’t even look at him. Off which—

  EXT. SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT FROM A DISTANCE - DAY

  Transition.

  EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - FIELD - DAY

  Sarah drives down the fire road, pulling up to the scene. A scattering of UNIFORMS in a desolate field, woods in the near distance, lonely fire road. Rain abated for now.

 
Exiting their car, Sarah and Holder make there way to the scene and are approached by a young, UNIFORM in charge—

  UNIFORM

  Detective Linden …

  SARAH

  Where’s the body?

  UNIFORM

  Still lookin’. School kids on a field trip this mornin’ found this.

  He hands a clear Evidence BAG to Sarah — inside a shimmery pink SWEATER. Torn, blood-smeared.

  HOLDER

  This park’s like Tweaker Central at nights. Ho-bags bringin’ their tricks down. Could be some basehead—

  SARAH

  (hands the evidence bag back to the Uni)

  The owner’s not an addict. At least not the kind who hangs around here.

  (off Holder’s look)

  It’s a wool sweater. Looks recently cleaned.

  HOLDER

  Brought it to the coin wash, so what.

  SARAH

  You dry clean wool? Do you know any tweakers who drop their wardrobe off at the cleaners?

  (to uniform) Anything else?

  UNIFORM

  This. ATM card.

  He holds out a baggie: inside, a bank CARD. Imprinted on the front: “STANLEY LARSEN”. Holder takes it—

  HOLDER

  ‘Stanley Larsen’. Guy loses his wallet while he’s gettin’ his knob polished?

  ON Sarah as she steps away from Holder and the Uni, surveys the field — taking it in.

  HOLDER (O.S.) (CONT’D)

 

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