it's okay, i'm supposed to be here. click. the light goes off. revealing laval and reynaud.
hi. look, i'm not ready to talk to you guys yet. i need a little more time here. reynaud and laval trade looks, walk toward two uniforms guarding the site.
would you mind trading one liners somewhere else? i need to hear the natural sounds. i appreciate it. the policemen have gathered in a chummy knot. laval gestures for them to walk down the road.
don't shoot, i'm on your team. reynaud holsters his gun. the men relax. grace takes inspector laval aside.
call who you have to call. i found his head. laval reacts.
you only have one victim. usually there's two or three by the time i get called in.
you clear the mayor?
what do you think?
this was not a heat of the moment killing. and the victim was buried complete with head. the grave was five-foot ten. the victim's height. with square corners. dug with a shovel the killer had the foresight to bring.
i've been called worse. the medical examiner finds two small holes in the skull, waves the photographer over.
no. a large canine did that. probably an old or sick timber wolf that couldn't hunt. it dug up the body and chewed off the head. it felt safe in the trees, away from the riverbank, away from the other wolves. the medical examiner looks at a chewed vertebrate.
bingo. that's your murder weapon.
no. look at it, braided parachute cord, two pieces of broom stick. you approach the victim from behind, loop it around his head and hold on for all your might. the more the victim struggles, the quicker he passes out. and now you have convenient handles to drag around two hundred pounds of dead kayaker.
that's exactly what it is. a theory. that evidence supports. when the suspect is in custody you can ask him yourself what happened and you won't need me. inspector. laval bristles, he crosses to check his cell messages. gillet looks at grace, at the cord. turns to her quietly.
i can see that director. you're lucky to have them. a beat.
go ahead, director, say what you have to say.
sure. a forensic anthropologist can draw the victim's face based on the skull. i know someone at quantico who can do it by tomorrow.
call 'em. then show the results to everybody around who was selling outdoor goods two years ago. you have his initials; mrc, inside the wetsuit. the long hair is distinctive, someone may recognize him. it's a semi-long shot.
i had a case once where wild dogs had removed remains.
no headhunters, sir. however, a killer is out there.
he wasn't missed. he had no family, or moved often. he had the musculature of a serious outdoorsman. he spent a lot of time in his kayak.
always is, sir. i can give you a rough profile; white male, thirty to thirty-four. has some college but no degree. neat in appearance. at least six feet tall. very intelligent. charming when necessary. he uses murder as a tool, probably in furtherance of a criminal endeavor. he's killed before and will again unless caught. laval and reynaud write furiously. gillet is impressed. as are the councilmen.
a couple days, sir.
shame. good-looking guy.
vanderholt?
with a c?
can you do a full records search? criminal, credit, commercial history. transcripts. everything.
you're an awesome investigator, inspector. run his name on every database you can. i'll see you in the morning. grace hangs up. makes notes on the sketch. slips it into a picture frame.
fruit of the gods. you know you want one. laval gives in, takes a plain cake. she offers donuts to reynaud. he rubs his eyes, shoves aside papers, quietly to laval:
mr. kohler has been dead two years. no doubt about that. right?
so before he died he got his paychecks, paid his taxes. patronized sporting goods stores. and had long spending gaps where he was enjoying the great outdoors. that pattern continues a year after his death. he gets some paychecks. rents an apartment. buys a three thousand dollar kayak. pays his taxes. dead and buried and still paying his taxes. then everything stops. last visa charge was to travelocity for a plane ticket to mexico city.
this isn't someone renting limos and fancy dinners on someone else's credit. lifestyle and habits don't change.
too many independent systems.
you really think a gangster is going to break his stride and become a long hair groovy river guide? inspector, this guy's whole life has been stolen. someone killed him and became him. down to profession and taste in clothing. laval and reynaud trade looks.
you're everywhere. what's up, laval?
he's still warm.
want to get those? the criminalist takes a lint roller, collects the hairs.
where is it?
holy shit. has le directeur been notified?
maybe. so far he checks out as an art dealer from winnipeg.
you need to confirm he's a suspect or clear him and kick-start a manhunt based on costa's id. if he is a legit witness, he'll get heated up and start forgetting details. i think there's a way to clear him without pissing him off. may i?
inspector. i need a moment with you. laval exits the room, shutting the door behind them. a rookie hands director gillet a cup of coffee and a new dress shirt wrapped in plastic.
i have a shortcut. can you get any of his school transcripts?
call the winnipeg police and have them fax or e-mail his driver's license photo. grace crosses, opens the door, enters.
sorry. i'm the dumb one. agent vanderholt. call me grace. they shake. she slides typing paper and a pencil over to costa.
hold on. before you do that, i need some personal information from you. can you write down the name of the elementary school you attended? and your elementary school teachers, as many as you can remember. costa looking at grace a beat.
i apologize, i know it's random, but it's the best way you can help me.
please, mr. costa. you'd be surprised.
may i? she takes the list of names. she tips over her briefcase with her foot, the evidence bag spills out. costa glances at the garrote, reacts.
that's what?
go ahead and draw the face of the man you saw. costa draws a simple smiley face. he shows her.
we'll get an artist to help you.
i know. see if he tries to peek in it. the real killer couldn't resist. he'll want to know what we know. laval watches costa.
can you remember any of your grade school teachers? he remembered three. a rookie crosses with a photo, hands it to laval.
have a nurse take a dna sample. just to make sure his dna isn't in the victim's car or anything weird.
wvss. 1995. what's that?
cwe? whose initials? not the victim's.
doctor, can i take you back to quantico with me?
inspector reynaud. can we swing by the crime scene before we head back?
inspector. laval startles.
c'mere a second, please. they cross to the victim's car.
borrow your keys? stand there like you're going to choke me. grace pantomimes unlocking the door, drops the keys and reaches for her throat.
keys drop straight down, how'd they end up over there under that car?
okay. kick them as hard as you can that way. laval looks at her, kicks his keys.
not even halfway.
i had this case. this young hundred-pound woman was abducted from a parking lot. she kicked off a mirror, broke a window, dented her door. she struggled. this guy? nothing.
good question. do we trust costa? an unmarked car pulls up. reynaud drives.
you guys have an extra weapon? i didn't want to cross the border armed.
i smell smoke. back where i'm from anyone can kick a door if there's a fire. it's the 'citizen's arrest' of search warrants. then: the smoke alarm inside the apartment buzzes o.s. reynaud and laval trade looks. reynaud cocks a leg.  the manager unlocks the door a beat before reynaud kicks it. laval is no danger junkie, he's a little hesitant to enter. grace gets down low, enters carefully, she knows what she's doing.
clear. grace turns off the burner. she crosses to a window, whips aside the curtains, and opens it. coughing.
ugh. got a lung full.
looks like this guy ran out in the middle of breakfast. laval has entered, he stares out the window. grace looks out the window, reacts.
resembles the man costa sketched. have you released him? you don't want your star witness steaming in a holding cell.
i bet monsieur edwards is in a deep grave with square corners like messieurs kohler and ford. which looks like all the victims. maybe he's subconsciously killing himself. grace finds a guitar case. opens it. it's a mobile office; it has postage stamps. postcards. assorted stationery, different address labels. neat, organized. holiday cards. a cd titled: "learn flamenco guitar." hundreds of practice signatures. forged documents. victim's personal effects.
ever see a hermit crab?
it's a crab that lives in the shells of dead sea snails.
when they outgrow an old shell, they search for a new empty shell, crawl up to it and quickly switch.
they live in these beautiful shells because they have these soft ugly bodies. they couldn't survive without the shells. neither can the guy we're after. laval exposes several mini dv and micro-cassettes hidden under the molding.
with that much detail, you could become anyone.
more like a kind of camouflage.
they're working really hard.
someone died last night because the asshole we're after isn't in custody. it's happened to me before and i'm sure it will happen again. it's a pretty miserable feeling.
thank you. i promised the boys i'd hang out tonight. i'm sorry.
it's okay. i was a street cop in philadelphia for three years before i joined the fbi. grace speaks french. reynaud reacts. as does laval.
life is pretty cold sometimes. man's just trying to spread a little music and gets murdered.
only the new improved mr. ford was going to meet he ship.
i doubt it. he's been so meticulous and effective in the past, i bet he's never needed one. we can assume he has all sorts of fake ids and passports. disguises. but that's not enough for him, he has to be someone else. he gets off impersonating people. and he knows his current persona is compromised. laval and reynaud have stopped eating, are looking at her.
what?
pretty cavalier attitude for a man who just got his ass chewed by his boss.
i'm dropping by costa's, i still have a couple questions. i can't turn it off.
mr. costa.
not yet. grace looks over the art.
overpriced folk art. is it the work of a soul that has suffered? sure. are his explorations as an artist groundbreaking? no.
i couldn't afford it. costa is looking at her, looking through her.
excuse me.
i'm partial to beer. and i don't have long. i came by to thank you for your help. and i apologize if you were detained. you did the right thing. trying to save him.
who knows. where'd you learn cpr?
some journey.
about monday again, did you see mr. ford fighting back?
no, i don't.
i guess that's it. thanks. grace hands him a card.
if you remember any details or need anything. anything related to the case, please call me.
morning. can you run this name? she got twenty hang-up calls from edward's phone. the young detective takes a post-it from grace and crosses.
what happened to that beautiful thumbprint on the orange juice glass, you get an id?
shit. any activity on edward's accounts?
why a year ago.
you connected edwards and kohler? somebody was working all night.
our suspect kills kohler on the river, lives his life a year, kills edwards and assumes his id for a year. then he stalks ford, kills him but is interrupted by costa. think he's pissed at costa?
she must have sounded like a total fruitcake.
let me go and be non-threatening.
do you think it's martin calling and hanging up?
were you ever asked to identify his body?
no. i'm with the fbi. grace shows her creds.
you have some very nice things, mrs. asher.
is that martin?
i'm so sorry, rebecca. how did he drown?
their fourteenth birthday?
you said reese was older.
to lose one son so young, then to lose the other two years later; to think you've lost him. that must have been devastating. mrs. asher lights a cigarette. crosses to the window, so poised, so tragic. grace studies her with a critical eye.
the police want you to sign this so they can exhume the body in martin's grave and verify identity.
i know. i was snooping. grace closes the door. mrs. asher escorts grace away, past the boys' room.
i know. a beat.
that doesn't surprise you?
that lady is definitely a queen without a country. i should have curtsied. hygiene on the road. very efficient. the razor dies. leaving laval half-shaven.
she signed. start digging.
how soon, sir?
vanderholt.
yes. what?
find the real martin asher. he's your killer. you better get his mother someplace safe.
how'd she finagle a room there?
she didn't have one picture of martin. not one. even cut him out of the old yearbooks. and she had a basement door like a vault. she's hiding something. in the basement of her house. what is it, ten minutes away from here? her house. a beat. laval looks at grace, decides he can trust her.
you're right. we should make sure her front door is locked. laval makes a u-turn.
yeah, i'll get 'em. grace enters with a flashlight and a pistol. she cautiously clears each room until she is sure she is alone. grace crosses to the hallway. the little dog is there. growling. grace tosses it a hamburger patty.
let's be friends. the dog happily attacks its treat as grace opens the deadbolts on the door the little dog was guarding.
i think i just shaved ten years off my life.
yes. rabies scares me. only rabies. nothing else. her cell rings.
vanderholt.
at the art gallery?
are they still there?
did you call the police?
we'll be right there. i'm sending a car. don't touch anything.
how long were you gone?
please relax, mr. costa. we don't know if there's a connection yet.
how do we know costa didn't stage this? for attention or something.
we should take the computer. costa who has followed them out, overheard.
should i believe you? grace crosses to the atm. peers into its security camera.
or should i believe this.
mr. costa, is that the man you saw kill mr. ford in the parking lot?
thank you. i just needed you to say it.
john, no harm will come to you. listen to me. no harm will come to you. i promise. anyone who wants to hurt you will have to get through these two for starters.
we want you to be there tonight. a beat, costa smiles. realizes she's serious.
he won't get within fifty feet of you. the second we see him, the cuffs go on.
costa fits asher's choice of victims. travels the world looking for art. single. no kids or anything. asher's here somewhere. watching. with all the patience in the world.
you got kids?
don't keep them in a cage.
i know you have a life. so did the people who have lost theirs. someone else might die if you do not help us. every time someone dies it affects forty, fifty lives. costa looks at her, arms on his hips.
if somebody else dies, and you know you could have done more to stop it, you're going to feel like shit for a very long time, mr. costa. a beat. that resonates with costa.
it's okay to be scared.
you saw him and that's enough. don't stop living your life. you'll be protected by armed officers twenty-four seven.
i can't promise you that. costa is torn, grace empathizes with him.
a car is watching the gallery. you'll be okay. costa looking at grace. he decides to trust her.
i'm sure soulsby's death was a homicide, asher saw the opportunity and took it. he became soulsby and bummed around seattle for a couple years.
costa saw him. costa caught him in the act, caught him being martin asher. seen first by his mother, then by costa. for the first time he's failed at taking a life, and since we found the apartment, he can't be edwards. to be seen, to be recognized, is a horrifying thing to asher. he has no identity and wants it that way.
likely dead and buried south of the border somewhere. south of the american border somewhere. visa records put asher, using kohler's id and edwards at a mexican surf resort. edwards' last charge was sixteen hundred dollars at a 'no questions asked' facelift clinic in guadalajara. director gillet taps out his pipe. looks at a new, more detailed portrait of asher.
he's focused on costa. who fits the profile of asher's victims. he went on costa's computer and e- mailed copies of costa's files to an e-mail account in denmark. constant threat of discovery, asher will become more disorganized. laval and reynaud agree.
it does sound crazy. that's what the press likes, sir.
security is going to be very solid tonight. she waves him out of earshot of the carpenters. their faces are close. grace gets butterflies.
he won't show. but we want to be here in case he does. four plainclothes officers will form a perimeter watching the four corners.
yes. and four plainclothes officers will be in here. mingling.
the officers will be very discreet. we won't interfere with your thing.
sure. if you feel safer.
thanks.
this isn't me.
i'm trying to get into the show, but i mean. what is this? it looks like somebody napalmed the garden of eden.
oh. okay. why the borders? almost every painting has one. was he in prison or something? costa reacts, impressed by grace.
what was his crime?
always is. grace sips her drink, letting herself relax. she enjoys costa's company.
he had a lot of lovers, didn't he?
now he's dead and you get rich?
i don't think i've ever met anyone quite like you.
an fbi agent? the elegant woman spots costa and crosses. she lays a hand on costa's shoulder. he turns and they kiss cheeks.
mr. costa, i would like to discuss an arrangement for the series. the elegant woman reacts.
she's not writing the checks. the elegant woman returns with the older man. he grabs costa's hand.
don't you miss wax?
what's my cut?
i don't know. costa looks at grace for a long beat. not sure what her game is, or if he wants to play.
shit. you see him? pop-pop-boom! more fireworks. laval gestures for some uniforms to spread out.
need a ride home? costa looks at her. despite everything, his face shows he is glad to see grace.
that might be a good idea. until then i'll check under your bed for monsters. costa looks at her. grace gives him a warm, open stare.
please, don't.
john, stop it. please. let's shift the conversation from me and my business onto something inbounds.
no excuses. i'm sorry.
we got his name. we catch everyone sooner or later.
i'm done profiling you. i got you figured out.
is that how you see yourself?
this is how you see me?
and how do you see me? costa licks his lips.
i don't know. john, games are fun. but head games are dangerous.
the justice minister is going to relocate you to another city until mr. asher is in custody.
i apologize if you've been getting the wrong signal.
another province. they want you on a flight tomorrow morning.
thank you, sergeant. the sergeant exits.
what you need. movers can get the rest.
i'll let them know. this is goodbye. neither of them feels very good about it.
no monsters.
i probably won't see you again until the trial. if there is a trial.
you staying or going?
is everyone okay? they seem alright.
they're okay. let's go. he just shot a cop. grace jumps in the passenger seat. the cop looking at her.
let's go. bad guy's that way. the cop nods, punches it.
which way's the river? go to the river. the cop makes a right.
turn around.
let's go!
nothing broken?
don't move, okay.
this hurt?
you're going to the hospital. you'll be fine.
very dead. costa relaxes significantly. he realizes grace is holding him in his arms. so does grace. it feels good. a fire engine heading to the crash passes them.
you're really good with people. gillet shrugs.
he got off light. with a broken wrist and fifty stitches. lucky man.
i'm sorry, director.
hey.
you okay?
anytime. do you know where he was taking you?
it's over. let me take you out tonight. let's have some fun. i owe you that.
it's going to take a couple days to depose you and get a full statement. i thought you might enjoy a break before you have to.
you'll fold this experience into your life and be stronger for it.
i can stop monsters, john. and because i can, i have to.
neither. it's just my job.
roy wilson.
you're a sharp one, john costa.
that's right. you were the cheese in the trap. we stopped a monster. that's what matters. grace is utterly unapologetic. it makes costa like her even more.
i'm sorry. i'm a pig.
want a beer?
what's that mean?
people like me?
you are a trip, john costa. he's not letting her off the hook. she plays along.
okay. i guess i'm running and chasing. costa reacts.
growing up i quit speaking after that. i didn't say a word for three years. when you're not in the conversation, you get forgotten real quick. so i'd watch people. study them. the mouth can say anything, but the body doesn't lie. the tilt of the head, the way the hands move. grace draws closer. costa watching her mouth.
the day my uncle died. the truth exploded out of me like a vision. my uncle and father had been arguing, there was a gunshot and my father was dead.
i remember my uncle telling me not to say anything. and i didn't.
i made myself forget why. the day he died my voice and my memory came back. i screamed for an hour. very primal. i haven't shut up since.
land. great-grandpa owned half of pennsylvania. my uncle wanted control and sold it all. all that's left is an old farmhouse and a horse pasture. my father's murderer got away with it because i couldn't open my mouth.
something good game out of it. the dead can't speak. now i'm their voice. costa cups her face and kisses her. grace breaks away, a little hesitant. something is bothering her.
martin asher is dead, right? costa reacts.
that's the point. he's dead, so there won't be a trial where you or i would have to admit under oath that we did anything inappropriate.
jesus.
how mean. serves you right. costa pulls grace to her feet. grace retreating. step by step across the room. costa. pursuing. slowly. determined. the heat. the immediacy building. costa grabs her. pushing her. up against the wall. the phone clatters to the floor. grace's eyes widen. two mouths. inches apart. costa's hand reaches up her skirt. exploring. grace swallows. his hand reaching into her panties. grace's eyes looking away. as she grabs his arm. pulling. pushing. wanting. her mouth. avoiding his. their breath mingling. until. costa's lips crush down on hers. the kiss devouring. knocking pictures off the walls. grace's hands pulling him closer. costa picks her up. throws her on the bed. he tears at her blouse. her white lace bra. grace's back arching. her legs wrapping around him. as her eyes flutter open. looking up at the ceiling, she gasps. costa stops. turns. to see what she's looking at. surprised to see pictures of asher's victims, the crime scenes. staring down at them. costa turns to grace, whispers.
john. john. costa stirs.
i thought you were scared of blood?
that was my boss. i'm going back to quantico tomorrow. suddenly that seems like the end of the world. costa looks at her.
staple his mouth too, doc. grace's cell rings. she exits to take the call.
vanderholt.
not her son? you're sure?
that's weird. was he adopted, switched at birth?
so john costa is really martin asher?
are you martin? costa gasps. the very thought is painful.
holy shit. costa takes a step toward her. the street cop motions for costa to stay back. costa reacts.
who?
good idea. don't hurt me. costa shakes his head, his brow set with a grim determination. he turns, enters a stairwell and exits the building. grace's heart is breaking.
shit! she kicks the wall and gives chase, runs into the stairwell.
police emergency. we need to pursue him. he's a murder suspect. the cop cocks his head, looks at grace like she's a nutcase. grace dials her cell phone.
director gillet, there's an emergency, can you please tell this officer to cooperate with me? grace hands the cell phone to the cop.
no answer. she turns her phone off.
shut up and focus. that kind of shit helps no one right now.
get right, i got left. wham! reynaud kicks the door. grace is first in.
don't move! it's mrs. asher. sans head, sitting on the couch. grace turns away, reacts. she sees mrs. asher's head.
omigod. reynaud enters. sees mrs. asher's head.
that's none of your business.
back off, reynaud. asher fooled you too.
touch me again and i will kick your ass.
i know.
director, i'm the last person you should be discussing the case with at this point.
not here. this city no longer has the psychic gravity to hold him here. try mexico, getting a facelift.
richard hart.
let me guess, costa was selling stolen art for hart and never gave him the money. now hart is just another one of asher's victims. director gillet.
go to hell. i won't pay you a dime. i'm not scared of you.
come and get me. i will never pay you, dumbass. asher taunted hart into a confrontation. jesus. it was right there in my face. i was interpreting behavior from two different suspects.
anything he wants. knocking. gillet stands, crosses, opens his door. two fbi supervisors enter. grim, silver-haired. grace stands.
ah, the undertakers have arrived for my career.
yessir.
he needed a murder he could link not only richard hart to but also to his past victims.
hart's behavior was consistent with a disorganized drug addict following the rules of the criminal road by attempting to kill a debtor who won't pay. he had no idea he was being manipulated by a serial killer.
asher wasn't becoming disorganized and decomposing into madness, he was evolving.
the ford murder was staged and i missed it. asher drove ford's car there with ford unconscious in the car. ether maybe, ghb. something that disappears. asher works out, heads to the parking lot. pulls ford out of the trunk. and strangles him. he left a couple of hart's hairs on the body. asher leans over todd ford, strangling the unconscious man with the garotte. asher places a couple of hart's hairs on the body.
he draws a nice portrait of mr. hart and he's now inside the heart of montreal pd's investigation.
evidence at the ford crime scene led to an apartment with more of hart's dna. and evidence linking hart to asher's crimes. hart never set food in that apartment. asher staged everything.
yes. hart thought costa was systematically destroying his life. hart's violent explosion was inevitable.
he couldn't. my guess is asher intended to kill hart and make it look like suicide. the authorities would find the body and close the martin asher file.
no. i have nothing to say.
you'll manage.
it wasn't? grace gets in her car.
i'll dig a hole and hide in it.
hello?
i'm here.
why don't you come and see me. i miss you, too. i'm at the gainesville virginia. the motel 6 off highway 29. stop by. there is a strange tension in her voice. she hangs up. turns off the tv. she gets off the bed, crosses to a corner. she sits, settles in for a long vigil.
six months.
twins.
you're so full of shit your eyes turned brown. asher is happy to see her.
how the fuck did you find me?
get it over with. just get it over with.
what happens if i don't want to assume this woman's identity and raise my babies with a serial killer?
answer my question.
you'll do what you have to do. i can respect that. how do you know it's still real? maybe it's gone. what we felt. grace tilts her lips, looking in his eyes. asher leans over to kiss her. slow, delicate. asher kneels beside her, the kisses become hungry, desperate. grace's eyes are so open, so vulnerable.
god, i missed you so much. asher leans in to kiss her.  grace head-butts him. crunch! smashes his nose. she drives her feet down and her shoulder into his chest. asher, already on his knees, falls back. grace scrambles over him, gets out of the chair. she shoulders over the kitchen table.  there is a holster mounted underneath the table. grace turns her back so she can grab the gun from it. grace reacts. there is no gun in the holster. asher looking at her, matter of fact:
better you than me, asshole. walks back toward the house. alone. strong. whole.