i can't tell you how excited we are to have you here.
this case made page one of the globe. the tabloids say there is a headhunter on the loose.
the mayor wants closure. that's his vacation house they were building. i get calls from supervisors i didn't know i had.
we cleared the mayor. he read the article on you in newsweek and insisted we fly you up. the papers say two campers had a drunken fight and the loser lost his head.
i don't solve crimes anymore, i balance budgets.
thirty-five detectives searched the area saturday. my investigators think you're a witch.
jeez. look at that, looks like he got ice-picked. she simulates fangs with her hands, they match marks on the skull.
laval and reynaud are my stars. very smart, very persistent investigators. on the street; they're magnificent.
you're the expert. if you have any suggestions on how to proceed.
we have people.
no, that's bread and butter detective work. thank you. we should get upstairs. they cross to the exit. director gillet barks orders in french at his two-star inspectors.
no name yet, sir. we have someone from the university recreating his face from the skull.
is that our killer?
please.
we could have had him this morning.
so he hunts people and wears their lives as a kind of trophy.
what's his real name?
find it, laval. find him.
i know.
i haven't felt it in a long time. dinner?
so who was in asher's grave?
why is asher after costa? why isn't he in mexico getting a new face?
where is the real mr. edwards?
have you contacted the clinic?
keep's the collection agencies off the trail. how do we flush mr. asher?
okay. my office will arrange a press conference. i will tell a room full of correspondents we have a suspect who is dead and murder victims who are alive. and i'll sound like a madman.
mr. asher, we know who you really are. we will find you and we will arrest you. you can hide no longer.
please, jean. i called your wife. i'm having someone take you home to her. there is nothing left to do here. reynaud doesn't want to leave his dead comrade.
i'm ordering you home. reynaud acquiesces. a uniform escorts him out of there. director gillet crosses to grace, who was watching him. she sips coffee, an icepack on her ankle.
how's mr. costa?
my luck has run out. until today i have never had to bury a friend. grace squeezes his arm.
thankfully it's over. we have our man. asher's dna matched the hairs recovered on ford's body and in the apartment.
they're on their way from the airport. grace nods, chews a nail.
your old life is over. there is no going back.
you're still young. whatever happens, be strong. where is he, grace? how do we find him?
grace. you know his mind, and his heart. where is he? a beat.
we id'd the remains in the morgue. the real id. he hands her a picture of the man whom we thought was asher.
he was an addict. and a thief. an art thief. he hits galleries in europe and north america. traveled back and forth smuggling and selling stolen canvasses.
costa owed him eight thousand. those are e-mails off hart's computer.
he had us all fooled, grace. all of us. if asher can do that, what else can he do?