TW // Strong language, violence
ACT ONE.
EXT. A SERVICE STATION CAR PARK - SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA, MIDDAY
A tired SUV sits in a car park beside a quiet freeway, with the bright sun glaring off its windshield. A mountain range can be seen in the distance, orange and golden. No other cars can be seen; there is a secluded quiet.
CUT TO:
INT. CAR INTERIOR, MIDDAY
A lady, MIRIAM, sits with a straight back and chin sticking out; she looks approachable and stocky: relaxed in her physical shape. She is deep in thought; consumed by something as she stares out at the mountains through the bleeding-orange windshield.
CUT TO:
INT. SERVICE STATION, JUST AFTER MIDDAY
MIRIAM enters the service station; she is dressed casually in jeans and a button-down, plaid shirt. Her hair is tied tightly behind her head. She approaches the counter where a young woman smiles brightly. The smile is not returned.
SERVER
How can I be of service today, ma'am?
MIRIAM
(frowning at the copious menus above the server)
What soups do you have? I'd like soup.
SERVER
Ma'am,
(gesturing behind her head)
we have chicken broth as the special-
MIRIAM
Do you have noodle soup? I'd like noodle soup.
SERVER
(the smile tires)
Chicken broth, ma'am.
MIRIAM
(meets the server's eye, frowning)
No noodles?
SERVER
(the smile is gone)
No noodles, ma'am.
MIRIAM takes a long, deep breath through her nose while staring at the board behind the server's head.
CUT TO:
INT. MIRIAM'S CAR INTERIOR, MOMENTS LATER
MIRIAM slurps a cup of hot, chicken broth as she sits gazing over the mountains in the distance.
CUT TO:
INT. MIRIAM'S CAR INTERIOR, 90 MINUTES LATER
MIRIAM lights and takes a long drag on a cigarette. We see the sun hanging lower in the afternoon sky.
CUT TO:
INT. MIRIAM'S CAR INTERIOR, 2 HOURS LATER
MIRIAM plays with the radio, cycling between stations that mean nothing to her; country music cycles in and out of ear-shot. The sun begins to duck below the mountains in the distance.
CUT TO:
INT. A MOTEL ROOM, MIDDAY
A tall, muscular man named JAMES, lays naked amid strewn sheets in a filthy motel. Empty bottles of alcohol decorate the floor and over-filled ashtrays swell onto the bedside cabinets. He is awake and staring at the ceiling as an alarm blares over and over beside a pile of browned cigarette butts.
A dog barks in the distance and a disembodied voice shouts for it to be quiet to no avail.
CUT TO:
INT. A MOTEL ROOM BATHROOM
The shower runs and fills the room with steam as JAMES crouches on the floor vomiting noisily into the toilet.
CUT TO:
INT. A MOTEL ROOM
Partly dressed in a clean suit and open-collar shirt, JAMES looks at himself in a stained, vanity mirror. He drags down the skin below his eyes, as if this would tell him something he didn't already know.
A NOTE is slid under the door.
Still holding his eyes open, JAMES turns to acknowledge the NOTE, but does not move for several seconds; wary of its contents.
He walks slowly over and checks the door's peephole flippantly before bending and collecting the NOTE. He reads the hand-written message and screws it into a tight ball. He clenches his teeth and sits on the bed.
CUT TO:
INT. A COLLEGE, EARLY AFTERNOON
DR. SYMONDS, a middle-aged, male professor in a neat suit, sits alone in a small, square room with several empty metal chairs. He is staring blankly through rounded glasses at scribbled flash-cards, as though he can't see them. A hubbub of movement and chatter can be heard beyond one of the walls. A phone makes a single bleep and the man brandishes it from his pocket.
The man's CELL PHONE buzzes in his hand and shows the message "TODAY."
The man returns the CELL PHONE to his jacket pocket and rises from his seat. He takes a breath and shakes away the emotion that is rising in his throat. His chin wobbles and his eyes water but he composes himself and leaves the room.
CUT TO:
INT. A COLLEGE AUDITORIUM, MOMENTS LATER
A silent mass of students gaze over laptop screens, their faces illuminated from beneath. They are of varying ages, some suited, some casual. The speaker is clearly one of note and prevalence.
DR. SYMONDS
...and so we find, that the Goldilocks zone is one that is many-faceted; a tesseract of nuance that gives the human race the only possible instance in which life is at all feasible. We are not what we have created; we are the end point of that which is a blindly forged existence. Any contemplation for control, or rationality, in terms of this accidental perfection, is foolhardy and detrimental to our ongoing being...
A WOMAN IN THE CROWD IS POINTEDLY NOT TAKING NOTES, HER HANDS ARE CLASPED TIGHTLY IN HER LAP AND SHE IS IN A CRISP PANT-SUIT. SHE HAS A SLIM, TIGHT FACE AND HER EYES DO NOT LEAVE THE PODIUM.
DR. SYMONDS (CONT'D)
...and indeed, the likelihood of a saviour for all of our faults is not only minuscule, but
(he pauses, takes a breath and stares at the lady in the crowd. He touches his hand to his jacket pocket before he can continue)
a dangerous and foolhardy pursuit to consider; a fairy-tale of grandiose proportion...
CUT TO:
INT. DR. SYMONDS' OFFICE, AN HOUR LATER
Rippled applause can be heard in the distance as DR. SYMONDS sits at his desk, staring at the padded wood. A cup of black coffee steams beside him, untouched. He fingers a leather-bound journal on his desk; drawing invisible circles with his fingertip.
A knock at the door makes him sit upright, his eyes darting around the room. The door opens and in walks MIRIAM.
MIRIAM
(to somebody outside the door)
...Thank you so much!
UNSEEN RECEPTIONIST
Not a problem, ma'am.
The door clicks shut and MIRIAM's smile drops from her face as she turns to face the man. They stare at one another and a clock somewhere in the room ticks away relentlessly. MIRIAM drops the backpack that she had slung over her shoulder onto the floor and raises her eyebrows with a soft smile. She has all the allure of a student, despite her age.
MIRIAM
So, today's the day.
The man opens his mouth to speak but just shakes his head. MIRIAM shrugs and walks closer, making him flinch and sit back in his chair.
MIRIAM
Are you Doctor John Wade Symonds?
The man nods and his eyes return to the desk.
MIRIAM (CONT'D)
Do you know who I am? Do you know why I am here?
DR. SYMONDS' eyes return to MIRIAM and she licks her lips in frustration at the delay. Laughter outside the door makes her look over her shoulder. DR SYMONDS looks at his steaming coffee for a moment. The laughter fades and MIRIAM returns her gaze to him.
MIRIAM (CONT'D)
I need something, Doc. Otherwise you're wasting both our times.
DR SYMONDS
(nodding excessively, as though coming to understand what was going to happen)
I know who you are.
MIRIAM steps over to the desk and simultaneously brandishes a pistol from the back of her jeans. DR SYMONDS leans back in his chair and raises his hands instinctively with a whimper. In one swift movement, MIRIAM grabs the top of DR SYMONDS' head and jams the gun under his chin.
The trigger is pulled and then DR SYMONDS' dead body, along with his chair, fall back onto the floor. Screams can be heard in the distance and rushed footsteps above as MIRIAM casually walks around the table and, after wiping her prints from the gun, she places it into his lap. She walks to the door, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She then opens it a short way and glances to check that there is nobody outside.
CUT TO:
CLOSE UP OF MIRIAM'S FACE:
She forces tears from her eyes and screams at the top of her lungs.
CUT TO:
INT. A DINER, MID AFTERNOON
JAMES is sat at the counter of a diner, nursing a cup of milky coffee. The diner is busy and he seems nervous; glancing around repeatedly and checking each new face that enters.
JAMES drains his coffee and gestures to the server that he doesn't want any more when she offers. He throws down some cash and rises to his feet. He walks along the length of the diner and takes a seat opposite a young blonde lady sat in a booth.
ANNIE is alone and has a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich in front of her. She seems unsurprised by his presence, though no smile is forthcoming, and dabs the grease from around her mouth with a napkin (the second half of which is tucked into her collar forming an impromptu bib). She is wearing a dark blue dress and her hair is tied back in a ponytail; she stands out as being dressed for an occasion.
JAMES
Annie Rose?
ANNIE
(pauses, wary)
I am she.
Her voice is richly southern and colourful, a juxtaposition to JAMES flatiron timbre.
JAMES
Do you know who I am?
JAMES cracks his knuckles and glances around the diner; formulating a plan, calculating his options.
ANNIE
No, sir.
JAMES stops his fidgeting and stares blankly at the pretty girl opposite him.
ANNIE (CONT'D)
Well, you could be anybody.
(shakes her head with a bright smile)
You've just come strolling over and taken a seat without even a suggestion of presenting me with your name. How would I be supposed to know who you are without it being offered to me? You seemingly know who I am. So it seems only fair that I get the same from you in return, wouldn't you say?
(her smile is broad and playful but her eyes are wet with a deep pain)
JAMES
(transfixed)
I'm not important.
ANNIE
On the contrary;
(frowning exaggeratedly)
you are the most important person in my life right now, are you not?
There is a pause and a cup is smashed somewhere in the diner.
ANNIE (CONT'D)
(looking taken aback)
You are here to kill me, right?
JAMES exhales with irritation and glances with more urgency around the diner for anybody that might have heard before concluding that there probably wasn't
JAMES
Keep your voice down, lady.
ANNIE
(the smile has gone from her face and her brow stiffens with anger)
It's Annie, man.
JAMES
(rubs his mouth and closes his eyes while he savours his irritation; he just wants to get this thing over with)
James.
ANNIE
(smiling broadly again)
That's pretty.
JAMES
(licks his lips and glances around again)
We need to leave.
ANNIE
(feigning shock)
But why? I've not even started the second half of my grilled cheese-
JAMES
-you know the rules, this place-
ANNIE
(her voice carrying a venom that he had not yet heard)
-this place what?
JAMES
(taken aback)
It's impossible.
ANNIE
Oh come on, James. I've read the news. I know that your kind won't hesitate to put a bullet in my head in the middle of Times Square if it meant you got your payday.
I saw on the news it's been done in a damned cinema!
(pauses in thought before seemingly softening on the idea)
I do request that you let me finish my sandwich before we continue with proceedings, however.
JAMES
This-
(catches himself from raising his voice before whispering)
This is crazy. We leave now or the deal is off.
ANNIE
I will just find somebody else.
ANNIE takes a big bite of the grilled cheese and smiles at JAMES' frustration as she chews and dabs grease from her chin with her bib.
JAMES
(dropping his gaze to the table; deep in thought)
I'll blacklist you. It's now or not at all.
ANNIE
(stops chewing abruptly and frowns)
That's not true.
JAMES
Try me.
ANNIE seems hurt and scared all at once and pushes the remainder of the sandwich away from her as she swallows hard.
ANNIE
(long pause)
Where then?
JAMES
(through gritted teeth)
Anywhere. Go and get in your car and I will follow in two minutes.
ANNIE looks distraught and tears rush into her eyes. She takes several breaths and then shakes her head. She removes the napkin from under her chin, revealing the bump of her growing child, and screws it into a ball that she places onto the table.
JAMES (CONT'D)
(staring at her swollen, pregnant stomach)
Fuck.
Tears run down ANNIE's cheeks and she says nothing.
JAMES (CONT'D)
You know the rules. I can't-
ANNIE nods once but can't meet his eye.
JAMES (CONT'D)
I have to-
ANNIE
(a flicker of anger flushes her face)
-I know, damn it!
(the curse seems to pain her as it leaves her mouth)
Leave me be.
ANNIE rises to her feet awkwardly, manoeuvring her heavily pregnant stomach out of the booth and down the narrow centre of the diner. JAMES closes his eyes and drops his head to the table, clenching his fists so they shake.
SERVER
(gesturing to the half-eaten sandwich)
You finished with that?
JAMES just slides the plate half an inch towards the server. The server collects the plate and disappears.
JAMES looks back over his shoulder for the girl but there is no sign. He looks out of the window and sees her climbing into the front seat of a beaten up old Ford.
CUT TO:
INT. ANNIE'S CAR, MOMENTS LATER
ANNIE squeezes into the front seat, facing away from the diner, and begins to sob. She bangs her hands against the steering wheel in anger and despair. The passenger door opens and JAMES climbs in.
ANNIE
(urgently wiping tears from her eyes)
What are you doing?
JAMES
I don't know.
ANNIE
(staring at JAMES, incredulous)
Get out of my car.
JAMES
(shaking his head, confused and conflicted)
No. Not yet. No, I won't.
ANNIE is panting and wiping tears from her face, staring at the steering wheel. They sit in silence for a while.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Mind if I smoke?
ANNIE just looks at him and offers the slightest of shrugs before he lights up.
ANNIE
(after a long pause)
What's the plan now then?
JAMES shakes his head and continues smoking without looking at her.
ANNIE (CONT'D)
You can't kill me. But you won't leave me alone, so what now, James?
JAMES
Just drive. I don't know, just drive.
ANNIE stares at him for a few moments, just shaking her head. She puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the diner, continuing to shake her head as she joins the freeway, occasionally glancing at the stranger in the passenger seat.
CUT TO:
INT. COLLEGE ATRIUM, LATE AFTERNOON
DETECTIVE COOPER, an overweight man with a permanent scowl and a long grey coat, leans back against a wall and stares at the ceiling.
CUT TO:
CLOSE UP OF THE CRACKS THAT RUN THROUGH THE OLD, WHITE CEILING AS HE TRACES THEM WITH HIS EYES.
A female, uniformed officer enters.
UNIFORMED OFFICER
Detective?
DETECTIVE COOPER drops his gaze and his head dips in the slightest suggestion of a nod.
UNIFORMED OFFICER
This way.
The officer leads DETECTIVE COOPER away down a corridor before standing aside and gesturing into DR. SYMONDS' office. DETECTIVE COOPER walks past into the empty space.
INT. DR SYMONDS' OFFICE
A petite, middle-aged lady dusts the desk and pauses only to glance at the detective before continuing.
DETECTIVE COOPER
Beatrice.
BEATRICE
Cooper.
DETECTIVE COOPER
Suicide?
BEATRICE
(continuing to dust without looking up)
You'd like that wouldn't you?
(she manages a half smile over her shoulder before continuing to dust)
I thought as much. Cut and dry, really.
DETECTIVE COOPER
But?
Beatrice nods at a cellular phone in a clear, plastic bag on the desk, which DETECTIVE COOPER gathers in a large, hirsute hand.
CLOSE UP OF THE PHONE SCREEN WHICH SHOWS THE WORD "TODAY"
DETECTIVE COOPER
Eutho?
BEATRICE
That's not for me to say.
(she raises both eyebrows over her square spectacles as she faces him)
How's the wife?
DETECTIVE COOPER
Relentless.
BEATRICE
(smiling wryly)
You're a piece of shit
DETECTIVE COOPER
I know.
BEATRICE
Oh, and there's something else.
Beatrice shuffles around the desk and slides a leather-bound journal over to DETECTIVE COOPER. He catches it before it slides off the end and peels open the bloodied front cover, flicking through some of the pages and glancing at the scrawled writing.
DETECTIVE COOPER
(reading aloud)
The Metaphysics of Man... An Ana-Anthe-
BEATRICE
(without looking up from her work)
-Anathemic-
DETECTIVE COOPER
-Anathemic Theodicy...
Is this supposed to mean anything to me?
BEATRICE
It means a lot to somebody.
DETECTIVE COOPER
I don't follow.
BEATRICE
The FBI are on their way, and they want everything that belonged to this man. He was more important than met the eye and people are pissed that he's dead.
DETECTIVE COOPER
(closing his eyes and sighing)
Shit.
BEATRICE
Agreed. If this is Eutho...
DETECTIVE COOPER
(turning to leave)
Yep.
BEATRICE
You've not long.
DETECTIVE COOPER
(without glancing back)
Thanks.
BEATRICE
Not a problem. Give my love to the wife.
DETECTIVE COOPER
Fuck you.
DETECTIVE COOPER leaves the room with BEATRICE chuckling to herself as she continues to dust the desk.
FADE OUT
EXT. A NARROW STREET LINED WITH SHOPS, MIDDAY
We see cars rolling up and down the street in a stream of nonchalance between alternating abandoned and decaying shops. The sun is high in the sky and mountains can be seen in the distance.
MIRIAM's SUV rolls up the road, faster than the other cars and she parks; clumsily mounting the curb outside BETTY'S LAUNDRY. She leaves the car and shoulders the door open, seemingly with irritation at its mere presence.
CUT TO:
INT. BETTY'S LAUNDRY, MIDDAY
MIRIAM barges into the laundromat. The walls are lined with washing machines and she tosses her rucksack against the nearest stack, looking around casually: she knows this store and she is comfortable here. The only other person is an elderly patron napping on a bench beside a whirring machine.
MIRIAM
(craning her neck and looking furtively into the back room)
Bets?
WE SEE THE BACK OFFICE OVER MIRIAM'S SHOULDER
A tall, elegant woman, BETTY, emerges and raises her eyebrows at MIRIAM. The look says, "oh, it's you." and is both loving and admonishing in equal measure. The look a mother gives a troublesome child.
MIRIAM holds out her arms.
MIRIAM
Bets.
(with a wary smile)
Don't I get a hug?
BETTY
(scrunches her face in a half-wince)
You don't know.
MIRIAM
(her arms drop to her sides and any hint of a smile falls away from her face)
Know what?
BETTY takes a deep breath and offers a look of sympathy.
MIRIAM (CONT'D)
Bets? What aren't you telling me.
BETTY
(nodding softly in the direction of the sleeping patron)
This is not the place.
MIRIAM
Oh she's half dead and you know it! Tell me what's going on, Bets.
BETTY
(bites her lip and looks at the ceiling)
You didn't suspect anything... untoward? It went as well as you would have wanted?
MIRIAM
(shaking her head and running through her actions in her head)
Sure: in, out.
(gestures a gun to head)
Boom. Piece of cake.
BETTY
You do the normal checks?
MIRIAM
(with a tougher tone)
Bets, you need to tell me what's going on, right now.
BETTY's jaw locks and she fixes MIRIAM with a hard look. Suddenly she looks half her age and twice as broad; she is at once commanding and in control. MIRIAM takes half a step back, regretting her more forceful tone.
MIRIAM
(much more softly)
Bets, please.
BETTY
The FBI are investigating. Turns out the target was working with them. Research of some kind.
MIRIAM turns and punches the nearest washing machine. The patron snores and continues to sleep.
MIRIAM
Fuck. How much do they know?
BETTY
It seems enough to start a formal investigation. We're obviously monitoring the situation but it's not good. You're going to have to disappear for a while.
MIRIAM
(through her hands as though in prayer)
No, not again, please, Bets.
BETTY
It's out of my hands now.
A silence falls and MIRIAM takes a seat on the bench beside the sleeping woman. BETTY walks from the counter and switches a washing onto dry before standing opposite MIRIAM, keeping her distance.
BETTY
How could you not know?
MIRIAM
(shaking her head and staring at the ground)
He was just a professor. I thought that was the beginning and the end of it.
BETTY
It's too soon after the last one. I'm sorry.
MIRIAM
If anybody mentions that cinema again I swear to God-
BETTY
-we're worried about you, MIRIAM.
MIRIAM
Oh, come on, this was just a mistake. And I had no choice about the time before.
BETTY
I've been asked to give you a leave of absence; to let you get your head straight.
MIRIAM
(standing up quickly with her hands open)
No way. Don't do this. I need this. I need the money, Bets. You know me. Please, Bets.
BETTY
(drops her gaze and raises her hands placatingly)
I have something I need you to do. Unofficially.
MIRIAM
(cocks her head to one side, intrigued)
Okay, Bets. Keep talking.
BETTY
(suddenly looking sheepish)
Yesterday afternoon another messenger went AWOL.
(takes a deep breath)
It seems he took with him a target.
MIRIAM
(raising her eyebrows)
Alive?
BETTY
(confused)
Of course.
MIRIAM
(grinning)
Well I'll be!
BETTY
(irritated by Miriam's excitement)
This is a problem for us. I need you to find them both and bring them to me.
MIRIAM
Both? Shouldn't the target be handled?
BETTY
(eyes wide, firmly)
No.
(pauses)
But the messenger is redundant. Can you do it? Unofficially, of course.
MIRIAM
(frowning, doubtful but committed)
Absolutely. Not a problem.
BETTY
Thank you.
BETTY remains standing and nodding into the silence that falls between them.
MIRIAM
Any details?
BETTY
(roused from a reverie)
Yes, of course.
BETTY disappears into the back office.
MIRIAM
(turning to the sleeping patron and grinning)
Looks like we got ourselves a runaway, Jackie.
The patron continues softly snoring and MIRIAM beams, glancing around.
BETTY returns with an envelope which she hands to MIRIAM who takes the envelope but lets her hands linger on BETTY's for a moment.
MIRIAM
(with a renewed, composed sincerity)
You know you can trust me, right?
BETTY shrugs her hand away and walks to the door, opening it for MIRIAM who looks hurt but not surprised.
BETTY
Be swift.
MIRIAM
Sure thing, Bets.
MIRIAM goes to walk past BETTY who grabs her arm.
BETTY
The target lives.
MIRIAM nods with a frown of confusion but BETTY's glance away declares the discussion over. MIRIAM takes back her arm as she leaves into the street. The door closes with a chime behind her and BETTY stands staring after her for a few seconds.
BETTY
(in a bright and crisp shout)
Ms. Owens, these panties aren't gonna dry themselves!
The patron snaps awake and to her feet, holding up her hands in a familiar, smiled apology.
CUT TO:
EXT. EARLY AFTERNOON, A QUIET SUBURBAN STREET
A small dog off its leash runs across the road and disappears into a bush. ANNIE's car comes into view and winds into a driveway. She and JAMES get out of the car.
JAMES glances around the neighbourhood, sizing potential threats nervously. ANNIE has her head bowed and walks quickly to the front door of her house, opening the door with a jerk and leaving it open for JAMES to pass through behind her.
CUT TO:
INT. ANNIE'S KITCHEN, MINUTES LATER
The two characters enter; ANNIE is panicked, opening and closing cupboards, hurriedly tossing items into various bags. JAMES stops in the doorway and his eyes dart around the interior. They rest on a framed photograph of Annie and a man with his arm around her. He picks it up and takes a closer look.
JAMES
The father?
ANNIE
(stops packing and looks to James with shock)
Yes. Well, he would have been.
JAMES' eyes move from the picture to ANNIE, who hurriedly distracts herself with her packing again.
ANNIE (CONT'D)
(pausing and regarding James, her eyes wet with fear)
What is this? What are we doing?
JAMES looks at her, his eyes blank and lost.
ANNIE (CONT'D)
It would be simpler if you killed me.
JAMES
For you, maybe.
ANNIE
(drops her bags and covers her eyes with her hands)
This is insane! Where are we even going to go?
JAMES
This isn't familiar territory for me, okay. I haven't done this before. Just please, hurry up and pack what you need. We need to leave now.
ANNIE
(retrieves her bags from the floor and shakes her head)
You're only supposed to kill us, not kidnap us. What is it? You want my baby?
JAMES
(closes his eyes and exhales, wrestling with his stress and now pronounced headache)
No, I just thought... there was something that I could do.
ANNIE
I don't want you to do anything other than end all of this. One way or another.
(puts her hands together as though in prayer)
Isn't that your job?
JAMES
Just get ready.
Sweat had formed on JAMES' brow as he was speaking and he disappears down the corridor while ANNIE continues packing with a hurried and reluctant flurry.
After a few moments she hears some noises down the hall and stops to listen, angling her head towards the door and then following the noise out of the room.
WE SEE JAMES THROUGH A PARTLY OPEN BATHROOM DOOR, ON ALL FOURS AND VOMITING HEAVILY.
ANNIE's anger fades away to concern and sympathy but she turns and goes back to her packing before JAMES notices her.
CUT TO:
INT. A BEDROOM, NIGHT
We see detective COOPER asleep beside his wife in bed. His phone vibrates on his bedside table and rouses him awake. He slips out of bed and places the phone to his ear.
COOPER
(voice thick with sleep)
Cooper.
A muttering can be heard on the other end of the line and he listens intently, scratching his naked stomach.
COOPER
I'll be there.
His clicks the phone off and stands looking at his sleeping wife for a moment. He begins to get dressed.
FADE OUT.
INT. POLICE STATION FOYER, TWENTY MINUTES LATER
COOPER walks into the empty foyer and is met by a tall woman in uniform. He nods at her and she half smiles-half winces back at him.
COOPER
Morgan, talk to me.
MORGAN
(handing Cooper a coffee with a knowing smile)
We've matched a visual on the college's CCTV and the Lakeside theatre.
They begin walking into the depths of the police station, through swinging double doors and passed napping, handcuffed criminals. A police dog barks in a closed room as they pass.
COOPER
(frowning with drowsy thought)
And?
MORGAN
Ms. Miriam Dubois. Ex-navy. Couple of past minors.
MORGAN holds open a door and COOPER slinks on through. A monitor illuminates the room with two frozen CCTV images. We see Miriam outside the College alongside Miriam outside of a cinema in a crowded street, her face half hidden by a baseball cap.
COOPER approaches the screen and squints at the images, glancing at them alternately.
COOPER
This the best match?
MORGAN
It's still scanning but this is over the threshold.
COOPER
(screws his face, unsure)
Anything else?
MORGAN
She lost a husband to a suspected suicide six years ago.
COOPER
(turns to her, raising his eyebrows)
Suspected?
MORGAN
Exactly. We're reviewing the file but it seems there wasn't enough evidence to tick the Eutho box at the time.
COOPER takes some time digesting the information and watching the screen, as though it might burst into life at any moment.
COOPER
Residence?
MORGAN
We have an address. March Street. Shall I pass it over to the Feds?
COOPER
(nodding, deep in thought and swigging his too-hot coffee)
Sure.
(checks his watch)
Would be unfair to wake them at this hour; fancy a drive?
MORGAN
(smiles broadly, relieved)
After you, sir.
They both leave the room and the door clicks shut behind them, leaving us alone with the two frozen images of Miriam.
CUT TO:
INT. MIRIAM'S BEDROOM, NIGHT
MIRIAM Dubois lies in a bed that is surrounded by dirty washing and takeaway boxes. We hear a door knocking but MIRIAM doesn't for a few attempts. She rolls out of bed and clumsily picks up her cell phone to check the time.
MIRIAM
The fuck?
She throws on a dressing gown and walks out of the room.
WE FOLLOW HER DOWN THE HALL, THROUGH THE EQUALLY MESSY HOUSE, TO THE FRONT DOOR.
MIRIAM opens the door mid-yawn and tilts her head through the gap.
MIRIAM
-time do you call this?
COOPER
Sorry to bother you at this hour, ma'am-
Both he and MORGAN show their badges.
COOPER (CONT'D)
-can we come in and ask you a few questions?
There's a moment of stillness and quiet. MORGAN'S eyes dart from COOPER'S to the dark space in the doorway.
MIRIAM
(opening the door wide and smiling falsely)
Please. Be my guest.
She allows them past her and switches on a standing lamp in the corner of the room. She collects handfuls of papers and trash from the sofas and piles them on the coffee table.
MIRIAM (CONT'D)
Sorry about the mess. Can I get you a coffee?
COOPER and MORGAN take seats tentatively in the lounge and keep an eye on MIRIAM as she darts around the room and in and out of the adjoining kitchen.
MORGAN
No, thank you.
COOPER
Ms. Dubois? Is it?
MIRIAM
(re-entering the room and perching herself on the arm of a chair)
It's Doo-Boys. "I ain't French" as my husband used to say.
(chuckles and opens a pack of cigarettes)
COOPER
Sorry.
Both cops decline the offer of a cigarette and MIRIAM lights up in front of them.
COOPER (CONT'D)
You live alone?
MIRIAM
(smiling broadly, playfully)
How'd you guess?
MORGAN
Co-habitants tend to nurture a more ordered living standard
COOPER takes a moment to regard MORGAN with an admonishing glare.
MIRIAM
(fixing MORGAN with a stare of shock and almost-admiration)
I see you've read a book. Well done.
MORGAN feels COOPER'S stare and sheepishly drops her gaze to her lap.
COOPER
Ms. Du- can we call you Miriam?
MIRIAM shrugs and taps her cigarette into the overflowing ash-tray on the coffee table. MORGAN'S nose wrinkles at the sight of it.
COOPER (CONT'D)
Miriam, we understand you were at Bradshaw College yesterday. Can you tell us what you were doing there?
MIRIAM
(without hesitation)
I'm a writer. I went to see a lecture.
COOPER
On...?
MIRIAM
The dissonance of the self. I'm interested in death; self-destruction, etc.
COOPER and MORGAN exchange a look and MORGAN begins to make notes.
COOPER
You know the speaker?
MIRIAM
Symonds? Sure.
COOPER
You know he's dead?
MIRIAM begins to distract herself with tidying again.
MIRIAM
Are you sure you don't want a tea?
COOPER
Ms. Dubois.
(said the French way)
Answer the question.
MORGAN looks uncomfortable and her eyes dart from MIRIAM to COOPER and back again. MIRIAM notices and allows herself to smirk.
MIRIAM
Sure. He blew his own damned head off.
(unemotionally)
Such a shame.
COOPER
(noticeably losing patience)
What were you doing at the Union theatre on May 12?
MIRIAM's facade drops an inch and her eyes flicker in width. She catches herself with irritation and frowns to think.
MIRIAM
May 12. I don't recall.
MORGAN
(sitting forward, sensing a weakness)
There was a shooting.
COOPER exhales and closes his eyes in irritation at MORGAN'S impatience.
MIRIAM
Oh, of course.
(pointing her cigarette at Cooper)
I went to see a movie, but there was a shooting? All hell broke loose and...
(frowning)
Wait. You don't think that I'm involved here in some way, do you?
MORGAN
Were you?
MIRIAM smiles widely at COOPER and nods toward MORGAN
MIRIAM
This one's impatient, boss.
COOPER
Answer the question.
MIRIAM
(holding up her hands)
I did nothing.
MORGAN
So it's no more than a coincidence?
MIRIAM
(her tone fixed, becoming agitated)
You could say that.
MORGAN
Is it also a coincidence what happened to your husband?
A silence falls on the three and suddenly the room feels cold. Any joviality drops from MIRIAM'S demeanour and she regards MORGAN with an ice-cold stare.
MIRIAM
(licks her lips and forces a smile, though her voice is almost a growl)
I don't care for this line of questioning at such an unholy hour. My husband killed himself.
MORGAN
Though the circumstances were
(checks notes)
somewhat inconclusive.
COOPER
Morgan.
MIRIAM sits forward and regards MORGAN with livid eyes.
COOPER (CONT'D)
(standing up)
I think we've heard enough for now. Morgan, we should be going.
The two women remain seated, staring at one another.
MIRIAM
(through gritted teeth)
I agree; you should.
COOPER makes his way towards the door.
MORGAN
(still seated)
One last thing, Ms. Dubois.
(French again, and with feeling)
COOPER turns, his hand almost at the door handle.
MORGAN (CONT'D)
May you pass me that newspaper?
WE SEE MIRIAM'S EYES FOLLOW MORGAN'S NOD TO THE COFFEE TABLE THAT SEPARATES THEM. A FOLDED NEWSPAPER SITS ATOP A SHORT STACK OF PAPER, ATOP AN OPEN BROWN ENVELOPE. A PHOTOGRAPH, A MUGSHOT OF A MAN IS PINNED TO THE TOP-MOST PIECE OF PAPER.
MIRIAM sees the paper and realises that she must act.
MIRIAM
Sure.
She leans over with an outstretched hand and COOPER takes a step forward, his hand moving to his sidearm, anticipating what is about to happen.
MORGAN has a flat smile on her face, naively pleased with her control of the situation.
MIRIAM's hand drops below the paper and under the coffee table. She clasps a fork that is jutting out of a take-away box and simultaneously launches herself at MORGAN.
COOPER yells and is too late grabbing his gun before the fork is embedded in MORGAN'S bleeding neck.
With a deft agility, MIRIAM rolls over the couch and plants her foot into COOPER'S crotch with a crunch. He lets out a scream and falls to the ground.
MIRIAM runs across the room and disappears into the back as COOPER fires in her direction, hitting nothing but empty wall.
COOPER
Fuck!
(dragging himself over to MORGAN who is gargling her own blood with wide, staring eyes)
Morgan? Talk to me. Morgan!
(he grabs for her radio and squeezes it to his mouth)
Back-up! Back-up! Back-up! 34 March Street. We need back-up now. Officer down! Officer down!
COOPER tosses the radio that squawks back a cacophony of queries and rallying cries while he places his hands tightly around the jutting metal fork. He looks towards the back of the house as he hears a door slam and grits his teeth, knowing if he goes in pursuit then MORGAN would die. He roars at the ceiling as his eyes fill with tears.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT ONE.