Live to Tell (54 page)

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