All language subtitles for Crossing.Jordan.2001.S03E10.Revealed.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-iJP_track3_[eng]

[intro the Who's
"I Can See For Miles"]

♪ I know you've deceived me

♪ Now here's a surprise

♪ I know that you have

♪ 'Cause there's magic
in my eyes ♪

♪ I can see for miles
and miles ♪

♪ And miles
and miles and miles ♪

[tires screech]

♪ Oh yeah-- ♪

I've been waiting an hour.Yeah?

Think that has something
to do with the fact

that you can't give directions?

I got here just fine.

Yippee for you.

So, what'd the rangers say?

Hiker on his way out
this morning,

leaves the trail
to take a leak.

He's just got the lizard out

when he practically
trips over a body.

You sure know how
to talk to a lady, Seely.

Well, maybe next time they'll
send a man to do a man's job.

Then what are you doing here?

Oh, and by the way,
nice shoes.

Practical.

You got a guess how long
he's been dead?

Okay, I would put time of death anywhere between a month ago

and...last Wednesday.

You said guess.

Seems pretty straightforward.

He took a header off that cliff,

tumbled down through
this vegetation

and, uh...
met his Maker.

Not right away, he didn't.

Dried blood.

And those drag marks there.

Looks like he crawled
for a few feet

before he finally bled out.

He survived the drop.

[chuckles]
This guy was
one luckless bastard.

Gee, Seely,
don't get all misty on me.

I just call 'em as I see 'em.

Check out his clothes.

Those boots. I mean,
this is high-tech gear.

A lot of these guys
hike the Appalachian Trail

from Georgia to Maine.

So you gotta wonder.

Where's his pack?

No wallet either.

You know what?
Give me a hand here.

[Jordan]
Wait a minute.

Say cheese.

[techno-rock]

[cameras clicking]

Whew. Nobody goes in there
until the M.E. arrives.

Nigel. Nigel...

It is so good to see you.

Good to see you.

Let's not jump to any hasty
conclusions here.

If I was looking for the
whackadoo conspiracy version,

I would've called Jordan in.

I am somehow both flattered
and insulted by that.

So what happened, Wood?

Did someone
go out the window?

Yeah. Uh, that's
how we found it.

Uh, that's what I'm trying
to tell you.

This is kind of a crazy
crime scene.

Could you come this way,
please, over here?

Okay.

Um...I'd appreciate it
if you handled this

with a little bit
of sensitivity.

I don't know
if you know this or not,

but I'm up for a promotion
this year,

so if word got out--Yeah, Woody, Woody, Woody.

I promise I'll keep
an open mind. Okay?

And anyway...
sensitivity is my middle name.

Sweet Mary in the manger!

Look at all that blood.

Guy's name is Samuel Burnham.

He is 48 years old.

He called 911 at 4:52
this morning,

said he was being attacked
by an intruder.

Two uniform officers showed up
17 minutes later.

They knocked, but there
was no answer.

They had to bust
the door down.

Now, the door was
bolted from the inside.

And the only way out is through
that window out there.

And it is a 150-foot drop
down to the pavement.

He's completely exsanguinated.

Exsanguinated?

I'm gonna take a wild a guess

and say that means
his blood is gone?

Arterial spray.

But from where?

Nigel...This is the part
I'm gonna ask you

to chill out about
before you react, okay?

Just because something
looks a certain--

don't do that,
don't do that, Nigel.

Whoa...those are.Don't say it.

Bite marks.

I asked you not to say that.

Must've hit
the carotid artery.

Nigel, I don't think
you're following me here.

Okay, I need you tell me
those are not bite marks, okay.

Because if they are bite marks,

then that means that our killer is a--

Vampire.

There goes your promotion.

[suspenseful rock music]

♪

[techno-rock]

Dr. M.

Detective Hoyt
just called me.

Oh, did he?

He seemed concerned that his
case might be made a mockery of.

Something about being afraid
that he'll be quoted

in the Weekly World News
on the same page

as the photo of Bat Boy.[chuckles]

So I'm officially reminding you
that this is reality.

People are killed
by other people.

Not werewolves.

Not mummies.

And absolutely
not by vampires.

Well, that's a rather narrow
world view, isn't it?

Okay. That's it.
You're off the case.

What? Why?

Because you're too excited
about this.

I'm not about
to turn this morgue

into an episode
of the X-Files.

I'm a man of science,
Dr. Macy.

But there are more things
in heaven and earth

than are dreamt of
in your philosophy.

Now, my beliefs might trend
towards the fringe, yeah.

But please trust me
when I'm telling you

that I'm just like you.

I only want
to uncover the truth.

I'm gonna be watching you
like a hawk.

No paranormal rantings,
do you understand?

Consider this
your first warning.

Uh, hey, Nigel?
Yeah.

There's some guy waiting
in the conference room

who's all upset.

Uh, something about his friend
getting killed by a vampire?

Yeah, just tell him
I'll be right there.
No.

Five minutes.

I wanna see
these bite marks first.

Uh, me too?

Okay.

[beeping]

[beeping]

Damn.

You find anything
in his pockets?

Besides liquefied tissue?

Not even a gum wrapper.

I think someone picked him over.

Well, then why leave behind
a gold ring?

He's got a wife
out there somewhere.

With our luck he'll be
from out-of-state.

People come from all over
to hike the Appalachian Trail.

Not without ID, they don't.

God, this really stinks.

You got that right.

Tell me you found some photos
in that camera.

The memory card
was badly damaged.

There are picture files on it,
but so far,

I've only been able
to reconstruct one of them.

I'll take it.

You said he was found
at the base of a cliff?

That's right.

Is that the cliff he fell off? Yeah.

And it looks like
he had some help.

I can't believe it.

We were gonna
have lunch today.

He called yesterday, despondent.

Said everything
had fallen through.

Why don't we start
from the beginning?

I've been Sam's agent
going on 25 years now.

His agent?

Sam was a writer.

He wrote books
about wacky phenomena.

You mighta heard of his first
one, Roswell Revealed?

It was a big hit.

I must've missed that one.

His next five
didn't fare as well.

Bigfoot Revealed,
Loch Ness Monster Revealed--

I get the picture.

Poor bastard's career
was circling the drain.

But he said this time he was
really onto something.

He'd tapped into this whole
Goth subculture of weirdoes

who actually believe
they're vampires.

My hand to God.

'Course most of 'em are
just disillusioned wackos,

but he claimed he found
this one guy

whose story was gonna put him
onto the bestseller list.

Wait. Are you suggesting that he
actually found a real vampire?

Guy by the name of Dark.

Alistair Dark.

Called last week and said he'd
just gotten this Dark character

to agree to be the subject
of his new book.

It's too bad.

He had a great title
for the book.

Vampires Revealed.

How did you know?

Lucky guess.

Okay.

So what?

So what?

This photo was taken
by our John Doe.

Someone is clearly
looking down at him.

Yet, this someone doesn't try to
help him or alert the rangers?

Could be he didn't want
to get involved.

Come on, Seely, whoever he is,
he's involved up to his neck.

Okay, say you're right.

Mr., uh, Shadow here
pushed our guy.

What do you want me
to do about it?

Set up a lemonade stand
on the Trail

and quiz every hiker
that walks by?

Who needs beverages, you'll just
win them over with your charm.

The victim's been dead
up to a month.

All I've got is a silhouette.

Whoever this guy is,
he's long gone.

The last thing John Doe did

before drowning in his own blood
was take this photo.

We need to pick up
where he left off.

We owe him that much.

I've got no evidence
of foul play,

no time-line,
no ID on the victim,

or the witness, which is all
Mr. Shadow is right now.

You want me on board,
Cavanaugh,

give me something to work with.

I'm starved for good news.

Tell me you've got some.

The sketch artist came up with a
computer composite of his face.

I ran his prints through NCIC.

No criminal record,
no military service.

What about Missing Persons?

Nope.

If he's missing,
no one's noticed.

[Bug]
But take a look at this.

Can you enhance the image to get
a better look at his face?

Sorry, he's completely backlit
by the sun.

Man, we cannot
catch a break here.

Not off this picture,
anyway.

Meaning?

Meaning I was able
to reconstruct

three more of the photographs.

Bug, you rock.

And I determined the order
in which all four were taken,

based on where they were stored on the memory card.

Ansel Adams he's not.

Great. A tree.

As tree photos go,
it's not half bad.

What's behind door number three?

Something a little more
interesting.

What if this guy...

is also this guy?

We were wondering
the same thing.

I'm gonna go finish autopsying
John Doe.

Bug, I need you to determine
time of death.

I am not going
over his clothes again.

I draw the line.

Forget about the clothes.

Your mission,
should you decide to accept it,

is to track down
Grizzly Adams here.

I'm all over it.

Only six people
in the greater Boston area

with the last name of Dark,
none of them Alistair.Alistair.

There's a name that'll get your
ass whupped on the playground.

I bet it's an alias.

Maybe we should narrow
our search to people

from Transylvania.

I'm just saying.Come on.

Don't tell me you believe
all this crap?

Let's just say that I've, uh,

seen some pretty strange things
in my life.

I'm sure you have.

As somewhat of a misfit,
I can't help but

consider myself
a kindred spirit.

Minus the bloodsucking part,
of course.

Yeah, well I'm wearing my
crucifix, and I had garlic

for lunch today,
so don't you get any ideas.

In the meantime, we've got
a lot of legwork to do.

This is Samuel Burnham's
date book.

We're gonna track
his last 48 hours.

Everyone he called, every place
he went, everyone he saw.

And it looks like this
is the one to start with.

Burnham had an appointment
last night at 10:00

with some guy
named Frank Jones.

[Female Operator]
Chatham Blood Bank,
how may I direct your call?

Hello?

You want answers
about this guy?

You've come
to the right place.

His name's Amos Tibbs.

Wow, that was easy.

So you recognize him?

Hell, yes, I recognize him.

Not a month goes by, I don't
get a complaint about him.

What kind of complaints?

Well, Tibbs' got a cabin
off the trail,

but the AT's not always marked.

Sometimes hikers wander off
onto his land.

Other times he harasses people
on the trail.

How 'bout telling me
who took this photo?

The hiker that was found dead.

So this Amos Tibbs,
can you take me to him?

Sure. You and what army?

[wolves howling]

[brush crackling]

Tibbs' shack is just
up ahead.

For the record,
Dr. Maguire,

I think you tagging along
is a bad idea.

Couldn't help myself,
Detective Seely...

excessive commitment
to my work.

This is no place for a lady.

Looking past the sexist-pig
aspect of that comment,

I agree with you.
I'm definitely a city girl.

Well, at least we have
one thing in common.

Oh, you're a city girl, too?

[gunshot]

[Tibbs]
That was a warning!

Next shot,
I blow your head off.

This is Boston PD.

Put your weapons down and
come out with your hands up!

Stay. Amos!

Don't go do nothing dumb!

These men just want to ask you a few questions.

[Amos]
I'll let my shotgun
do the talking.

Now you get the hell
off my property!

We can't do that, Amos.

Anybody sets foot on my land
does so at his peril.

[gun cocks]

[gunshot]

Oh, ow.
My foot, my foot!

Come on, move up.

[groans]
You shot me!

Yeah, you're damn right I did.

Rubber bullet, but it still
smarts, doesn't it?

There now, that wasn't so bad,
was it?

Now take the paperwork
to the nurse outside,

and get yourself a cookie.

Okay?

Gentlemen, you'll have
to roll up your sleeves.

I can only take you
one at a time.

No, thanks,
I just gave last month.

Frank Jones?

Detective Woody Hoyt,
Boston PD.

You had an appointment yesterday
with Samuel Burnham?

Forty-ish, stocky?

Yeah, yeah.

Strange guy.
A writer.

Asked me a bunch of questions.

Said he was researching
some book.

Questions?
What kind of questions?

Blood stuff.

Said he wanted to know if it was
possible to add elements

to human blood to aid
in longevity.

Or immortality, as he put it.

Really?
What did you tell him?

That it's not possible.

Well yeah, but couldn't one,
theoretically,

lengthen one's lifespan with
a constant source of blood--

highly oxygenated,
of course,

renewed on an almost
daily basis?

Yeah, I guess,
but that would require

an almost continuous supply
of fresh blood.

What is this about?

Shortly after you met
with Mr. Burnham yesterday,

he was murdered.

Murdered? Wow.

That's awful.

Yes, it is.

Well.

Thank you
for your cooperation.

Sure, no problem.

Uh, Mr. Jones,
just one more thing.

You'd never seen Sam Burnham
before yesterday?

No.

Never.

Thanks.

Just one more thing,
Mr. Jones?

He's lying.

He met Burnham
four other times.

I read it
in the appointment book.

Gonna go find out who the hell
Frank Jones really is.

You're in a lot
of trouble, Amos.

That so?
That is so.

Yet another epic battle
of Big City Macho versus

Backwoods Macho is waged.

Just a matter of time before one
of them marks his territory.

My money's on Seely.

We found your friend, Amos.

Why'd you push him
off the cliff?

I didn't push nobody
off nothin'.

Never seen him before
in my life.

Then, uh, why'd he take
a picture of you?

Yeah, I remember him now.

He come running outta the woods
when I was clearing my traps.

Asked if I could help him.

Said he's in trouble.

Told him I weren't no charity
for helpin' lost idiots.

That's when the other one
come out after him.

[Seely] Other one?

[Tibbs]
Yeah.

Introduced hisself as Mike.

Mike?

And what did Mike look like?

Dark hair.

Lots of muscles.

And he was gimpy.

Right ankle, I'd guess.

You said this Mike
came out after him.

The two men weren't together?

Mike had his hand in his pocket
like he had a piece in there.

This other fella
clammed up real fast,

like he's scared of this Mike.

He apologizes, and then
they go on their way.

Must've taken that without me
knowin' as they was headin' off.

Tibbs didn't see him
take his picture.

Odds are, neither did Mike.

Mike didn't know
he had a camera.

John Doe took those pictures

because he knew Mike
was gonna kill him.

He was leaving us a trail
of bread crumbs.

All right, we know
where John Doe winds up.

And Tibbs' cabin is here,
about four miles away.

Okay. This landscape, this tree.

We need to figure out
where he took these photos.

How? This trail
covers 2,000 miles.

And since we don't
have a time-line,

there's no way to know
where these were even taken.

Devan?

What does this
look like to you?

What?

This, this speck here.

We've got him.You got who?

Alistair Dark.Oh, the vampire?

There's no such thing
as vampires, remember?

That's your second warning.
Who you got?

We're not too sure.
He's using a fake name.

Frank Jones.

Who, as fate would have it,
was murdered three years ago.

Body washed up on the banks
of the Charles.

Half of his blood
was missing.

At the time nobody
thought anything of it.

They just figured
he bled out in the water.

Shortly after he dies,
our new Frank Jones

gets a job at a blood bank.

Frank Jones.
There's an unusual name.

Be that as it may, but since
Jonesy started working there,

the facility has reported
mysterious losses

of its blood supply--
all type O-positive.

The same blood type
as our new Frank Jones.

You're gonna need
a lot more than a blood type

to nail this guy.

He killed a man by puncturing
two holes in his neck

and draining all his blood out.

I mean, motive, opportunity, and
a murder weapon would be nice.

We've spoken
to Frank Jones.

Now we're gonna go pay a visit
to his alter ego,

Alistair Dark.

How do you plan on doing that?

The last four times
Burnham met him,

was at some Goth club
named Azmandeus.

Goth club, huh?

Let Nigel do all the talking.

[dance music]

Sure glad you decided
to go under cover, Woody.

You're blending right in.

Sorry,
I didn't get the memo.

You sew those pants on
yourself?

Mm, an "O".

Just my type.

I've been known to have
an "O" effect on the ladies.

Okay.
Okay.

And you look like a "B."

That's yummy too.

B-positive, darling.

Mm, even better.

You two are really starting
to creep me out.

We're looking
for Alistair Dark.

Do you know
where we can find him?

In the crypt.
Where else?

Thank you.

Later.

[door bangs open]

Alistair Dark.

Or should we say Frank?

I'm sure you know by now Frank's
been dead for three years.

Yeah, we've been meaning
to talk to you about that.

Wow, check out those fangs.

Can't say I noticed those
last night.

[sinister laugh]
I just ate.

Isis, darling.

Why don't you get some libations
for our friends here?

All right, Frankie,
come on, let's go.

Hey!

Freeze, Frank,
there's nowhere to go.

Ah, Alistair.

[Woody] Come on, man, get down from there.

You crazy, man?
That's a hundred-foot drop!

What the hell
are you thinking?

I can see your reflection.

Right there
in the mirror.

Now, I couldn't do that
if you were really a vampire.

Right?You invited me here.

Besides, this is
a two way mirror.

There's people behind it.

Two of them,
by the smell.

Come on, grab a seat.

Never invite a vampire
into your own home.

That's warning number three.

So, we know you're not Frank Jones,

so who the hell are you?

Dark. Alistair Dark.

Your real name, please.

Alistreta Constantine
Lazaro Darkona.

All right, Alistrator.
Where are you from?

Romania.

What happened
to the accent?

I watch a lot of TV.

You got an ID?
Driver's license?

Don't drive.

Passport?

Unnecessary.

Unnecessary.

How did you get
into this country?

In the hull of a ship.

Okay. And when did that happen?

[Dark]
It's been a while.

Hard to remember exactly.

Let's forget about exactly.

Let's work
with a ballpark figure.

1734.
October, I believe.

[rapping on door]

What's up with the apple,
Count Chocula?

I thought you people
only drank blood.

Well, you thought wrong,
Frankenberry.

Where were you 5:00 AM
Saturday morning?

I don't remember.I think you do.

I think you were
in Samuel Burnham's apartment.

And I think you killed him.

Why would I do that?

I don't know.

Maybe you didn't want him
writing a book on you.

Maybe he found out
you were a phony.

To tell you the truth,
I don't really care.

That's a good story.

My, my. This is
getting interesting.

We found Samuel Burnham

dead in his bathtub

from two puncture wounds
in his neck.

Two puncture wounds
I believe you made

with those pearly whites
of yours.

You're making
a very serious mistake.Zip it, Choppers.

Those two men that smelled you
behind the mirror

are gonna forensically
pin this murder on you.

Now we'll try and have this
all wrapped up by sunrise.

I'd hate to see what happens
when the sunlight hits you.

[eerie music]

It's a man.

A man falling out of the sky.

Yup.

I thought John Doe took
a swan-dive off a cliff.

This guy is not John Doe.

And he isn't exactly falling.

He's sky-diving.

That bulge on his back
is a parachute.

Are you saying
this is our man Mike?

Yup again.

Tibbs said that Mike
had a bum ankle.

Maybe it was
from a hard landing.

I pulled tissue samples
from John Doe,

and cross-referenced
his biological data

with local insect activity,

and came up
with a time of death.

That's my Bug.

Eleven days, four hours.

Four hours?

Well, give or take.

And using this time line,
I was able to narrow down

when this photograph
was taken.

The FAA then provided us with
a list of planes that flew

over this area
within a 24-hour time frame.

And how are we supposed to tell
which of these planes

he jumped from?Twelve of the thirteen
made it back safely.

Just under two weeks ago,

a Cessna 414 crashed
off the coast of Maine.

The plane was never recovered,
but the pilot's body

washed up on shore.

[Devan]
I tried to contact
the plane's owner,

but I'm getting the runaround.

Turns out it's Harold Fallon.

Harold Fallon?

The real estate mogul?

Great, we didn't even make it
past his receptionist.

You should've let me
do the talking.

There are certain things women
just shouldn't try to do.

Anybody ever tell you
you're a pig?
Yes.

Yes, they have.
I believe it was you.

Let's face it, we're gonna have
to go through his lawyer

to get him to talk.Maybe, maybe not.

Mr. Fallon!
A word please!

It's all right.

How can I help you, officer?

It's detective.
Seely.

This is Dr. Maguire
from the M.E.'s office.

Mr. Fallon, we'd like to ask you
a few questions

about a plane of yours that
crashed off the coast of Maine.

I've already spoken to the NTSB
regarding the crash.

Unless the wreckage
has been recovered--

Why did the plane make a flight
from Miami to Boston

once a month?

It was a company aircraft
doing company business.

Nothing more.

What're you moving,
Mr. Fallon?

Moving?

Flight plans list the pilot
as the only occupant.

I doubt you had him flying back
and forth for the hell of it.

I have wide-ranging business
interests, Detective.

Among them, significant
real estate holdings in Miami.

What I'm "moving" is paperwork.

So, if it's just paperwork,
why not fly a smaller plane?

You have a Cessna 310 in your
fleet that burns half the fuel.

Well, I couldn't expect you
to understand all the factors

that went into making
that decision.

After all, what do you know
about running a business?

Nothing.

But I know this.

Another man was on that plane
besides the pilot.

Really?

Well, that's news to me.

He parachuted out
before the plane crashed.

We've got a feeling he took some
of your "paperwork" with him.

Then again, what do we know?

All right, okay.
I'll see you back here.

Well?

That was Devan.

Fallon wouldn't talk.

One more photo.

It has to be significant.
All the other ones are.

If we just knew
why he took it.

Look, I have no idea why,
but I have some idea where.

The FAA said that Mike's plane
followed the Appalachian Trail

for around 11 miles
before veering east.

Which means he bailed out
somewhere around here.

We can't exactly
check every tree

in nine miles of woods, Bug.

Oh, well, we don't have to.
This is a scrub oak.

They only grow at elevations
above 2,000 feet,

which would be this area
here.

That's still a lot of territory.

What are the odds of finding
just one tree?

A lot better if I'm the one
looking for it.

There's a naturist camp
around there.

I know the area quite well.

Naturist?

Naturalist.

Birds and things,
you know.
Yeah.

[door bangs open]

Are you boys
staring at my teeth?

Where'd you get these things?

Using the bite marks
from the apple,

I reverse-engineered
a plaster mold.

I don't understand,
why didn't we just do a DNA test

on the saliva and match it
to the bite marks?

There wasn't any saliva
in the bite marks.

He hit the carotid artery,
remember?

So four to five quarts of blood
pumped through that wound

in less than two minutes,
washing any saliva out.

Which is why I redirect your
attention to exhibit "A."

So...his teeth are real?

Not to open with a cliché,
but I've got good news

and I've got bad news.

Which would you like first?

All right, let's start with
the good news then, shall we?

Dark's fangs are an exact match
to the wound

in Samuel Burnham's neck.

Then we got him.

Oh, Woodrow.

After all our adventures
together,

one would begin to suspect that

you would anticipate
the bad news.

Welcome to Vampirama.com.
Based out of Utah.

Where for the low,
low price of $399.99,

you, yes you, can be
the proud owner of...

[Woody]
You gotta be kidding me.

How many of these
have they sold?

631 since the site's been up.

Each set exactly identical
to Dark's.

Now what are we
supposed to do?

We go back to the crime scene.

[Phantom of the Opera
suspenseful organ music]

[Bug]
Isn't this glorious?

The color, the light?

Air that cleanses the stench
of death from one's nostrils.

Yeah, yeah, just great.

I sense sarcasm.

This whole outdoorsy thing
you got going on here,

where the hell
did it come from?

I always pegged you
as the science nerd.

What is science, if it's not
an appreciation of nature?

Is this really the plan?

Criss-crossing back and forth
through a jungle?

What better way
to locate our tree?

Well, how much of the territory
have we covered so far?

About a tenth of it.

A tenth?!

We're making
excellent progress.

This is insane!

We're in two square miles of
forest looking for one tree.

Keep in mind,
it is statistically unlikely

we'll have to search the
whole area before we find it.

We're never gonna find it!

I'm not even looking anymore.

I'm too busy thinking about
the blisters on my feet

and every bug that's taken
a chunk out of my flesh.

[sighs]
Besides, a tree is a tree.

Leaves, branches, bark--
they're all the same!

You know, that is an ignorant
and an offensive statement.

Where are you going?

We need to conduct this search
in a methodical manner.

It looks different from this
angle, but...I think...

Hah.

O ye of little faith.

That's odd.

This pile of rocks wasn't there
when John Doe took the photo.

You think someone
put them there?

Why?Maybe as a marker.

A marker for what?

Let's find out.

Where do you even get
one of those?

What is that?

Oh. my God!
Is that what I think it is?

There's gold
in these there hills.

Look familiar?

Where did you get that?

We found it buried
in the woods.

It was left there by the guy
who ripped you off.

He calls himself Mike.

He pulled off the perfect heist:
you think your gold's at the

bottom of the Atlantic, while
Mike's off living large.

Why were you moving gold from
Miami to Boston, Mr. Fallon?

I simply converted some
of my assets into bullion.

And now that you found it,
I would like it back.

No can do. It's evidence
in a murder investigation.

What murder?

Actually, that would be murders,
plural.

After Mike took out the pilot,
he bailed out of your plane,

pulled a DB Cooper.

Then he killed somebody
on the ground.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Then how about I fill you in.

A John Doe is hiking
the Appalachian Trail.

He snaps a photo
of a sky-diver--

not something you usually see
out there.

John heads to where
the sky-diver landed

to make sure he's okay.

But he picked a bad day
to be a good Samaritan,

because Mike is not a nice guy.

Yeah, see, Mike offloaded
two duffels worth of gold

from your plane.

We're thinking his plan
was to bury one

and hike the other one out.

Problem is,
he twisted his ankle.

So when John Doe shows up,
Mike pulls a gun.

Turns Doe into his own
personal Sherpa.

And once Mike and the gold were
close to the trail entrance,

John Doe was expendable.

As I said, I don't know anything
about this.

We're not stupid
and neither are you.

You wouldn't fly a load of gold
without security.

This was an inside job.

You tell us where we can find
Mike and everyone wins.

We get to solve a murder, and
maybe you get to keep your gold.

So, unless you want your next
colonoscopy performed

by the IRS audit team, I suggest
that you take the deal.

[Phantom of the Opera
suspenseful organ music]

All I'm saying
is that perhaps

we should consider the obvious

before we consider
the mundane.

Mundane being the version that
doesn't have vampires in it?

Fine, then, perhaps
you can explain

how he saw us
behind the mirror?

Lucky guess.
What about the fake teeth?

Clever ploy
to avoid prosecution.

This is ridiculous!

Why are we even having
this conversation?!

Let's at least listen
to his theory, all right?

That's what this exercise
is all about.
Fine.

Thank you.

All right...

so what if it happened
something like this?

[thunder]

[Nigel]
What if Dark changed his mind

about having a book
written about him?

Perhaps he didn't
want to be outed,

his true nature revealed
to the entire world.

So they had a fight.

Now Burnham's afraid
for his life.

[disembodied laughter]

[Macy] How did Dark get through the bolted door?

He didn't come in
through the door.

[thunder]

[wind howling]

[Macy] Okay, now it's all starting to make sense.

But Burnham's powerless,
mesmerized.

A deer in the headlights.

Finally, Burnham has
nowhere left to run.

And so he gives in.

[yells]

Surrenders to his killer's
cold embrace.

And when Dark's
finished feeding,

he goes out
the way he came in,

leaving Burnham in a state
of half-death.

Doing his best to stop the
bleeding, he calls 911 for help.

But by the time
the paramedics arrive...

it's too late.

Fine. Fine! Fine.

Then perhaps one of you two
can explain

how the door was bolted
from the inside

when the paramedics arrived?

In the real world,
there's only one answer

to a locked room murder.

Suicide.

We know Burnham interviewed Dark
earlier that evening.

We know he was depressed.

Now, this latest book
was supposed to be

his ticket back
to the big time,

but instead he found out
that Dark was a hoax.

Maybe he stumbled across
the same website we did.

Anyway, all of his work
was for nothing.

He was gonna be a loser again.
A never-was.

But maybe there
was a way out.

If he could somehow stage an
attack and make it look like

Dark was indeed a vampire,

that's what I call publicity.

Sure as hell beats
Oprah's book club.

So he dials 911.

Says he's been attacked.
He knows they're on the way.

Then it was time for phase two.

The only problem was he must've slept through Anatomy class,

because he mistook his carotid
artery for his jugular.

[yells]

Burnham's in panic mode now.

He knows the paramedics are
gonna be there any second,

but if they find the fangs, the whole charade was for nothing.

So with what little strength
he has left,

he makes his way to the window, opens it,

and tosses out the evidence.

He staggers back
into the bathroom,

collapses in the tub still
holding the towel to his neck.

And once it's saturated,
all of his excess blood

goes down the drain,
leaving his body exsanguinated.

Damn.

That him?

Yeah, that's him.

Let's get him.

[sirens]

What'd I do?

What's going on?

[Officer] Hands on the car.

Put 'em on the car.

Give me the keys.

What, no parachute this time?

Who's the hiker?

What's his name?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

The man you killed?

Who is he?!

Come on.

Tomato juice.

Sorry, we're
fresh out of blood.

I'd like to speak
to my lawyer.

No need, Marilyn.

We found the remnants
of enamel fangs

on the street
below Burnham's apartment.

So, sorry to disappoint you,
but you're off the hook.

I am?

He found out you weren't real,
didn't he?

Oh, we also found Frank Jones' killer.

He's serving time in Delaware.

He actually admitted to two
other murders last January.

So the only thing illegal
you've done

is use an alias
to gain employment.

And while, technically,
that's still a crime,

I'm willing to let it go,
'cause you obviously have...

other problems.

So I can go?You can go.

[makes a squealing growl]

[still growling]

Hey, man, I gotta ask you
one more question.

What is your real name?

[sighs]

Jeremy Shenkman.

Shenkman? Is that
of Romanian descent?

Very funny.

I'm from Yonkers.

What about Alistair Dark?

I made him up to get laid.

I mean, that's
how it started.

As it does with all great men.

I mean, the girls...

they loved the mystery
and the danger.

And...a whole world, you know,
like this whole thing.

And I fit in.

Finally, I fit in
because Dark is...

He's just a lot
more interesting than I am.

[door opens and closes]

[whispering]
Good work.

♪ I'm so lonely

♪ I wish I was the moon
tonight ♪

[knocking]

Found it in Mike's apartment.

Go ahead. Look inside.

Oh, Jeffrey Montgomery.

Community college professor,
taught botany.

Every spring he'd head out
for a month,

hike the trail.
No phone.

No contact.

Just him out in the wild.

Now, I'll always be a city boy,

but I can't help but respect him
for that, y'know?

Any family?

A wife.

No kids.

I, uh, figured you're better at
this kinda stuff then I am.

Thanks.

Nice doing business
with you, Doc.

Let's not make it a habit.

Yeah.

Captioning byCaptionMax
www.captionmax.com

Mrs. Montgomery?

I'm sorry to be calling so late.

My name is Jordan Cavanaugh.

I'm with the Boston Medical
Examiner's office.

I'm so sorry,

but I have some bad news about
your husband, Jeffrey...

♪ I'm so tired

♪ And I wish I was the moon

♪ Tonight