Original subtitles

(Harrow) Previously on Harrow...

I can't see you anymore and they think I did it.

- What? Why? - Because you've got a criminal record.

If the cops see you together,

she'll be arrested for breaching her bail conditions.

- She didn't do it. - (Paul) I don't think it's gonna matter.

Unless you can prove someone else did.

(Jill) She was working as a cleaner where the Fentanyl was stolen from.

She knew where the drugs were kept.

- Are you okay? The shooting, now this. - All part of a day's work.

I didn't know she was working here or that she was Fairley's niece.

(Harrow) There was a string of murders, all linked to him.

(man 1) Did you like my beautiful blood red roses?

- (Pavich) Francis Chester. - (Harrow) He was the man who shot me.

I put him away for these murders 15 years ago.

- And now he wants to get his own back. - It can't have been Francis Chester.

He died in a prison fire six months ago.

(tranquil music playing)

(ominous music playing)

(theme music playing)

- I thought you would drive a... - What?

Go on, Dr Harrow, do tell me how you've pigeon-holed me.

Well, a top neurosurgeon, I would have expected a...

- Cliché? - Touché.

Regarding clichés,

I suppose it's true what they say about the size of a man's car.

- It's inversely proportional, right? - You're telling the story.

- It's quite a small car. - Oh, medium.

And you're a doctor, too.

You could afford something that doesn't look ready to implode.

- What's the real reason? - It was my dad's.

- He was an Army surgeon in Vietnam. - Oh.

When he came back, he didn't love a lot of things, but he loved that car.

Is he still around?

- Yours? - I wouldn't know.

(classic music playing)

(woman 1) Hi, Port Astor Morgue. Sorry for the wait.

- You're after that autopsy report, right? - Yes. Francis Chester.

Died in a prison fire about six months ago.

I'll just check. One moment.

(Pavich) Well, that explains why you're not answering your phone.

Well, changing phone plans, trying to be a grown-up.

I left you a voicemail.

Oh, about?

Honestly, carrier pigeons would be more effective. An urgent PM.

Well, why are you here if you left a voicemail?

Francis Chester.

I'm, uh, I'm just a bit worried

that you might be dwelling on our conversation the other day.

Not at all.

I'm alive. Chester's dead. Skene shot me. Skene's dead.

I'm on hold, I wish I was dead. Life goes on.

- So, you're sure you're okay? - Promise.

All right. Voicemail.

- (woman 1) Hello, Dr. Harrow? - Ah, yes, I'm still here.

I got the autopsy report. Want me to sent it over?

Yes, please. Everything you've got.

(Nichols) Looks like someone bricked up the asbestos sheeting,

then shoved her in as well.

The owner of the house?

It's changed hands a few times. We're putting together a list.

She looks as if she's been there at least ten years.

More like 20, judging from those shoes.

Oh, you're a shoe expert.

Don't judge me, Mr. Denim Catalogue Pirate.

You do wear a lot of Denim.

- She would have had a purse? - Yeah, but unfortunately, no ID.

Whoever put her in there probably ditched it. But we did find this.

Ecstasy.

We'd be unlikely to find any trace in her organs after this long.

Do we really need all this?

There wouldn't be much fibre dust left on her clothes, would there?

Some people can be exposed to the particles for years and not be affected,

others can inhale just a few fibres and get lung cancer.

Better safe than sorry.

Those builders would've done the same if they had known about the asbestos.

- You're not coming in? - White's not my colour.

♪ Oh, Miss Misty Was a stone-skinned gal ♪

♪ Well, she didn't stick around In one town for too long ♪

♪ 'Cause too long is too long ♪

- Blood? - (Harrow) Could be.

Do those tears correspond with those cuts?

- A knife? - Nah. They're too rough and irregular.

I wore a top like this to my cousin's 18th.

Didn't really go with the three-quarter pants.

You really remember that?

You must know what you wore to the significant events in your life.

I don't remember what I wore yesterday.

- Same as today. - Same as every day.

When you lot have finished discussing your fashion choices,

can I have my evidence bags, please?

♪ She opened him up Some 50 horses hot ♪

♪ Foaming at their mouths In a dust cloud headed south ♪

♪ On down the devil's backbone ♪

You're staying here?

- Dad believes you. - Yeah.

- Your mum doesn't. - I know.

Hey...

- Cal. - Yeah?

When I asked you about the rent money, you said it was sorted.

You said "trust me".

Yeah, because I got a job.

Bullshit.

You know that Italian restaurant two streets from our flat?

Well, I am their new apprentice.

The pay's shit and the hours are shittier.

And I've still gotta do TAFE two days a week, but...

I didn't want to say anything because I wanted to keep it a surprise.

Treat you to a fanc...

Wait.

- We're not supposed to see each other. - Stuff 'em.

(camera shutter clicks)

- Start with the local dentists? - No fillings.

No dental work. She may not even be on file.

What's that?

(Simon) Paint.

- (Grace) Take a sample. - (Simon) Yeah, sure thing.

(Harrow) No defensive wounds. Fingernails intact.

No sign of skin or hair under the nails.

This knee looks hyper-rotated.

CT is up.

Oh, yes. You're right about that knee.

And that shoulder is dislocated.

All consistent with being manhandled into that small space.

Jaw intact.

- (Grace) No skull fractures. - (Harrow) No damage to the hyoid bone.

And her cervical vertebrae are all intact.

No bruising on the neck, so, not strangled.

But those ribs are fractured. So is her sternum.

Symmetrical bilateral and anterior fractures.

The fact they're symmetrical, are more consistent with...

CPR.

Well, I've done it myself on the operating table.

Maybe someone wasn't trying to kill her. Maybe someone was trying to save her.

There are no free red blood cells in any of the rib section.

She was dead already. Someone tried to revive her, but they were too late.

This blue material is paint.

I've never seen anything like it though.

Ahh! Those are metal oxides. You get them in pearlescent house paint.

Was there anything that colour in the crime scene photos?

No.

Wait! May I?

That is not hers.

Oh, shit!

- Possession charge is a slam dunk. - So, what would the sentence be?

Is it jail?

I spoke to a prosecutor friend of mine and, uh...

apparently, we're looking at... seven.

Seven months?

Seven years!

So, what happens if we take it to trial?

Your solicitor advised that?

No, he wants us to make some kind of plea arrangement.

Oh, that would be my advice. An early guilty plea will work in your favour.

You know, in fact, with a first offense, good family, good work record,

you could get them down to two years. Maybe 18 months.

- It's still jail! - It's still possession of Fentanyl.

- Dan, it's the enemy drug du jour. - But she didn't steal it, Paul!

How would she have broken into the chemist's drug cabinet?

She didn't have a key for that! What about the security footage?

- Why aren't the police looking into that? - Because they don't need to!

Okay? They found the stolen drugs on your daughter.

Now, right or wrong, the law says they're hers.

The police are not gonna look for anyone else.

Unless you can find someone else to admit they put the drugs there,

your girl is going to jail.

(Harrow) What's this?

Missing Person photos from mid-'90s to early 2000s.

Hmm.

Too short, too tall,

- not Caucasian... - Ahem, Harrow?

Grace has already found our girl.

Elizabeth Hewitt.

She's a right match for height, age, ethnicity, hair-colour and earrings.

She was a uni student. Reported missing April 1997.

- By her parents? - No, they died when she was 12.

- So who reported her missing? - Her best friend... Melissa Turner.

(Melissa) She's dead?

You shared a room on campus,

and, as far as we know, you're the last person to see her alive

on the night of Saturday, the 12th of April?

Now, is there anything you can tell us?

Where... where she was going? What you two were doing?

Nothing.

We were watching videos.

And the next day, the Sunday?

Uh... Sunday morning, her door was shut. I thought she was asleep.

I had classes, uh, my cleaning job.

It was Monday or Tuesday, I realised I hadn't seen her since the weekend.

And her room was empty.

So I reported her missing.

All right, well, um...

if there's anything else you think of...

Watching videos on a Saturday night?

That's party night on campus, right?

Libby was found dressed to go out.

Last time I saw her, she was wearing pyjamas.

All right, okay. Thanks very much, Ms. Turner, we'll be in touch.

I know you have a lot of skills, Dr. Molyneux,

but let me respectfully say something I've said to your supervisor quite a few times,

leave the police to ask police questions.

If they do, I will.

The hair we found on Libby's body, is an exact match with

an unknown male who sexually assaulted two university students in 1998.

Both young women were attacked on campus. No-one was ever charged.

Hmm. That was the year after Libby went missing.

We didn't find evidence that she was sexually assaulted.

Maybe he was unable to, lost his temper, smothered her...

- But tried to revive her? - Failed.

- Hid away his crime? - It's not adding up, is it?

The police have found the man who owned the house.

Well, I don't know who put her there. I didn't.

Look, yes, I was brickin' up the asbestos,

but I didn't rape anyone, I didn't kill anyone,

and I sure didn't hide any dead girls under my house.

(Nichols) Fair enough. You won't mind giving us a DNA sample then.

I do mind, actually.

I don't know what you blokes'll do with it, muckin' around in the lab.

Nope. You can go jump.

(Harrow) How many times have you performed CPR?

I've never done that. What's that got to do with anything?

Harrow, what the bloody hell are you doing?

Someone tried to resuscitate Libby Hewitt.

But That man barely knew what I was talking about.

Maybe he assaulted those other girls, but I don't think he put Libby in the wall.

Look, Evans worked at the uni. He owned the house where the body was found.

He's copped to the brickwork, and he refused to give his DNA.

I just think it's a bit... too easy.

What, you come out of the same bloody cupboard as him, did you?

- I think maybe... - I think once we get a court order

compelling Ron there to give us a DNA sample, you'll both be buying me a drink.

Have you found out cause of death yet?

No? Well, how about you run off and do your job, stop telling me how to do mine?

Top shelf, that drink.

- I think he likes you. - So, now what?

There's nothing more we can do to find out cause of death.

So we just wait for Ron's DNA on the off chance he's the guy?

- Which we both know he's not? - It's one of the worst parts of this job.

Huh?

Wanting something and... not being able to have it.

Yes. The perils of the job.

Heard they got the guy.

Well, we'll see when the court compels him to give his DNA.

- You're not sure? - I'm not sure I'm not sure.

- Memo. - Boring.

- Memo. - Boring.

- Court appearance. - Fine.

Invitation to speak.

- Annual report. - Boring.

- Oh. - What?

Couriered from Port Astor Morgue.

One of your former supervisors is based there.

You requested this personally. What's this about?

Whatever it is, maybe I can help. I've helped before.

- Eighteen months? - Yeah,

if I plead guilty, otherwise it's longer.

You can't go to jail for something you didn't do.

Baby, that doesn't even seem to matter.

It's like I'm in this big machine and everything's just running over me.

- But they weren't our drugs. - No one seems to care about that.

- They're not even looking for anyone else. - So, then what do we do?

We have to do what the cops should be doing.

We gotta find out who actually put the drugs there.

- What are you doing? - I'm coming with you.

No, you're not. You've got a job, babe.

Fish, I'm not gonna let you do this by yourself.

Well, you have to because if you don't and we get caught together, I'm going anyway.

- Fish, Fish, Fish! - Cal, let me go. It's okay.

What are you going to do?

I'm gonna find out who stole those drugs from the chemist. Okay?

Be careful, please?

So why this guy? Chester, of all people, why him?

Nearly 20 years ago,

Francis Chester was principle suspect in multiple killings of couples.

But a very, very smart man. The police knew he'd done it.

We knew he'd done it, Maxine and Jack and I.

It was the end of the final day of prosecution evidence.

Jack was on the stand, but we had nothing solid to convict Chester.

So it looked like he might be acquitted.

Maxine and I had been working three days straight to find anything, and we did.

The last minute, we found it.

- What? - A tiny piece of evidence

that put Chester at every murder he'd committed.

So, I rushed it to court, had it entered and...

And I remember Chester's face when he realised we had him.

That he was going to jail for the rest of his life.

The way he looked at me with such hatred.

So if anyone wanted revenge, it would be Francis Chester.

Only he's dead.

The one tiny flaw in my otherwise excellent theory.

No, we have better things to do... than chase ghosts.

♪ You've been so long ♪

♪ Your blind eyes are gone ♪

♪ Your old bones are on their own ♪

♪ So take off your coat Put a song in your throat ♪

♪ Let the deadbeats pound all around ♪

♪ Hand-me-downs ♪

♪ Flypaper towns ♪

♪ Stuck together One and all ♪

♪ The bargains you drive ♪

♪ Buckets and bags ♪

♪ And all your belongings ♪

- Lyle? - Present.

- (Grace) Have you seen Simon? - No.

Can I help?

He showed us some DNA of some historical rape kits.

- Are they kept here? - In the evidence archive room.

Any pathology results to do with a police investigation.

What if a sexual assault was initially reported,

but the victim didn't want to pursue it?

Well, depends how far down the track they got.

If DNA was tested, it might still be on file.

- Thanks. - Mmm.

Is this to do with a PM under Dr Harrow's supervision?

- Sort of. - Oh.

Did you know Ron was hiding asbestos?

Almost every house on the street had asbestos in it.

We'd get quotes to get it removed.

Cost a bloody fortune.

And Ron didn't want to?

Ron threw money around like a man with no hands.

- So he bricked over it. - Yep.

And that poor girl, apparently.

Of course, Ron didn't brick it up himself.

Ron was the laziest bastard I ever met.

So who did the work?

- There you are. - Here I am.

- What are you up to? - Ron Evans' neighbour said that

Ron had a young university student doing the brickwork.

- Have you told Nichols? - Well, I thought I'd tell you first.

- Hmm. - What are you up to?

There's no evidence of sexual assault on Libby's body,

but that hair we found is bugging me.

I wanted to see if Libby filed a report that could link to Evans, but...

But there's no rape kit for Libby.

And something else. I can't get over her clothes.

Libby wasn't dressed up to watch videos, she went somewhere.

So why would Melissa lie about what happened that night?

Maybe it wasn't Libby that was raped. Maybe it was Melissa.

(Melissa) I've never even told my husband this before.

You don't have to tell us if you don't want to.

But whatever happened to you, it might explain how Libby died.

That Saturday night... we went to a party off-campus.

Ready? Go ahead.

I was just trying to fit in. Be cool.

We were all drinking.

Then, the birthday boy, he... handed out these tablets.

Ecstasy.

At that moment...

I've never felt so special.

And I'd never been... envied before.

Where was Libby?

She was drinking.

The boy and I ended up in the bedroom.

I liked it at first.

I wanted it at first.

Then I asked him to slow it down.

To stop.

He didn't.

He raped you.

What happened?

When we left the bedroom, I went to the bathroom

and I overheard him bragging to his mates that...

he'd scored his first black chick.

So what did you do?

I went home.

I left Libby there.

And I never saw her again.

I was so ashamed at what happened to me that...

I never knew what was happening to Libby.

- It's all my fault. - None of this is your fault.

Something terrible happened to you...

and you're not to blame.

You said stop, and he didn't.

But if you want...

you can stop him now.

(siren blares)

- James Northcott. - Yeah.

You're under arrest for sexual assault.

- Sexual assault? What... - Before I ask you any questions,

I must tell you, you have the right to remain silent.

- Do you understand? - Yeah.

We've got a small problem.

James Northcott has copped to the sexual assaults,

but he denies any involvement with the death of Libby Hewitt.

And he can prove it.

So, around midnight on the night of the party,

he gets admitted to hospital, ecstasy overdose.

He stays in hospital all night. He gets discharged the next day.

- And there's a record of this? - Yep.

He had ecstasy. Libby had one in her purse.

They must've had contact at the party.

Explains how his hair got there.

- And the blue paint? - Bah. He has no idea.

I mean, the bloke comes from money.

I doubt he's ever lifted a brick or a paintbrush in his life.

But we've got him for the sexual assault. He'll do ten years.

But not a day for Libby Hewitt.

No.

The young man you said did the brickwork for Ron,

- was it him, Jamie Northcott? - No.

- Are you sure? - Yep, positive.

Because it was him.

Yep, that's him.

Jamie Northcott was a rapist?

Jesus.

You think you know someone.

And you drove Jamie to the hospital that night?

I was the only one sober enough.

So what time Sunday did Jamie get back to his house?

Maybe Libby was still there? He assaulted her,

- disposed of the body... - No.

His parents were coming home from Europe the next day. So...

So, if Jamie was in hospital,

and his parents were coming home, who cleaned up the house?

- You did. - Here's the cord, Dad.

I seem to remember you worked your way through uni, labouring?

Where are we going with this, Dan?

- Make that, did you? - No!

- I'm not that good. - Yeah, you did.

You built the garden wall and Mum's Pergola.

Why don't you go inside, Poll? Just go.

I think you should go, too.

You bricked her up, Paul, in that wall.

- I don't know what you're talking about! - The neighbour ID'd you.

- You didn't kill her. - No!

No, you gave her CPR. You tried to save her.

(Harrow) What happened, Paul?

(Paul) Everyone was drinking. Except me.

I had to work for Ron Evans the next day. More brickwork.

Then the whole thing went south at a rate of knots.

Everyone was a mess, Jamie was worse, so I...

I took him to hospital.

And then you went back to clean up.

(tense music playing)

Her mouth... was full of vomit.

She must have choked.

You tried to revive her.

Paul... why didn't you just

- call an ambulance? - I know. I should've, okay?

I wasn't thinking straight.

People had taken E. There was a dead girl!

I thought I'd lose my scholarship, I'd lose everything!

So what...

You decided to make the whole thing go away.

You dragged her onto your van.

You drove her to Ron Evans'.

(Harrow) You busted through the sheeting.

You put her in...

and you made her disappear.

- What now? - Well, now you call the police.

- I was a kid! - Like you should have done 20 years ago.

It was a mistake. I have a daughter now, like you!

I could be disbarred, please. I could go to jail!

She was hidden in a basement, Paul! For 20 years, alone.

Forgotten.

And everyone who cared about her never even knew where she was.

I'm not making any admissions.

You can't...

You can't prove any of this.

That cough.

So what? It's the flu.

- How long have you had it? - Oh...

on and off nearly a year, why?

When you busted through that asbestos sheeting...

you must have inhaled some of the dust.

That's not flu, Paul.

That's asbestosis.

You should tell the police...

then see how long you have left to live.

(tense music playing)

♪ So you fly by me With the blink of an eye ♪

♪ It's devastating I can't read the signs ♪

♪ I can see faces ♪

♪ And pictures and spaces ♪

♪ I can hear voices But not what they say ♪

♪ So you fly by It's just taste that you leave ♪

♪ Life has a secret You'd like to keep ♪

♪ On and on and on we float ♪

♪ Happy as we'll ever be ♪

♪ Drifting through our misery ♪

♪ On and on and on it goes ♪

♪ Until we're old Or dead and gone ♪

♪ No one's gonna look beyond ♪

Sorry.

♪ So you fly by As if I didn't know you ♪

♪ Life has a sweet... ♪

My God, it's so pigeony up here.

- I quite like it. - Yes, you and Harrow both.

- You okay? - Mm-hmm.

Did your excavation at the archive room pay off?

It did.

But not strictly to do with the autopsy though, was it?

I thought the reason you changed disciplines

was because you didn't want to be involved in the tricky business

of friends and relatives.

Because you know where that can lead.

Look, Grace... I just don't want you to have spent the last three years

re-jigging your career to have the same thing happen again.

It won't.

Yeah. Hmm.

- (Harrow) Hey. - Hey.

Hmm. Still looking at the dead man.

What happened?

Francis Chester had earned the right to work alone in the prison laundry.

Where, apparently, the build-up of lint in one of the dryers

caused a fire to break out, and he died.

And... dental records? DNA?

All confirm the body is Chester's.

- Your supervisor did the PM? - Dr. Laurie Badcoe.

One of the best.

He and Jack were like uncles to me.

Well, there's no mistake. Chester is dead.

- It's unusual for you to be wrong. - Yes. Huh.

Guess it had to happen one day.

- (Fern) It's me. Leave a message. - Hey, Fern. It's me.

Call me when you can.

Broken down?

Ha-ha. Just off home to see if there's anything edible in the fridge.

- I was thinking of Japanese takeaway. - Mmm. Sounds good.

Do you want to...?

- We can't. - Of course not.

Are we being silly about this? We're not teenagers at a party.

We're adults. We're practically the same age.

You're too kind.

- I'm almost a fully-qualified pathologist. - Almost.

And I'm still your supervisor.

Good night then, Dr. Harrow.

Good night, Dr. Molyneux.

(phone ringing)

- Hi. - (Fern) Hi, Dad. Sorry I missed you.

It's okay. I just...

- What? Did you find something? - (Harrow) No.

I'm sorry, bub. I don't think there's anything to find.

I don't think anyone's targeting me.

I don't think anyone set you up to get to me.

- I just wanted to believe... - That I'm not a thief.

I know you're not. I believe that, bub.

I just don't have another explanation.

- Yeah, it's okay. - Is it?

- Fern? - Yep. It'll be fine.

Everything will be okay.

Do you want to come over, get some dinner?

Um, not tonight.

Maybe another night. Okay?

(siren wailing)

No... no.

No!

- Good evening, Callan. - Hey, Frank.

(theme music playing)