Original subtitles

Yama Matthew Peter.

You think he's ditched the acting or is this his greatest role yet?

So far, nothing's sparkled, right?

Just a substance the killer left on the murdered women's bodies.

That's the makeup remover Matty boy used the night of the murder.

Fucking A.

We should be looking for other suspects.

I did think

it was him back then.

If he really did have something to do

with this, then Gwen's death is on me.

Commissioner Amburgey just called. He's asked to see you. Immediately.

Was that the chief I saw a minute ago leaving the building?

Summoned by the big kahuna.

But you didn't hear that from me.

Are you aware, Dr. Scarpetta, of a leak,

all having to do with the Lori Petersen murder?

My office computer was hacked.

Who the hell are you?

Blaise Fruge.

Pete Marino sent me.

Said you're helping locate a suspect for the Gwen Hainey case.

Let's start talking about what Gwen was really doing at Thor Labs

and how you were helping her.

Do you know this, uh... this woman?

Gwen Hainey.

No.

What does this woman have to do with anything?

She was murdered.

And the weirdest part about that

is they found your prints in her condo.

Get the hell

off my land.

I just wanted you to know that I'm on your side.

I wouldn't want to mess with you.

Out of here. Yeah!

Go, go, go! Go!

- Go. - Open your eyes.

Quit squirming, Pete.

Quit squirming, Pete.

Nico again?

Who else?

Did you hit him back?

Good boy. Turn the other cheek.

That's what Cristo asks us to do.

Might I speak to you a minute?

- You're making him a cripple. - I'm doing no such thing.

- He's 11 years old. - He's still a boy!

A soon-to-be man, destined to become a peacenik idiot

and get victimized by every Tom, Dick, and Harry with the way

that you're pacifistically raising him.

I am trying to raise a man with ideals and morals!

Ideals and morals are for boys with a brain.

Ours needs a good left hook.

That's what's gonna get him through this life,

not the space between his ears.

You get out there...

play with those boys,

and don't take no shit this time.

You are better, handsomer,

and smarter than all those boys combined.

You hear me?

You think I'm smarter than them?

Damn right.

One more.

Come on.

Holy smokes.

- Baby. - Hello.

Hey, you look...

you look hot.

Thank you very much.

- Mmm. - That's very nice of you.

If you play your cards right, you'll never know where this day's gonna go.

But first, I got us a table at Locavore.

For two. I know, I know.

It's a Michelin two-star.

- Very exclusive. No, no, no. Shh, shh. - Okay, but I-I have a lot of work to...

I used my modest celebrity to get us this booking,

so you're not gonna cancel because of your volunteer job.

You're not.

- Okay. - Okay.

- Uh... - Mm. Mm-mm.

Okay.

Ooh.

Salty.

Everywhere.

I love it.

Um, wear that cashmere hoodie

that I got you.

It'll be pretty.

Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

What is that? Is that Star Trek?

2001.

Oh.

How was dinner last night?

It was fine.

Oh.

Hey, Janet.

Hi! Dr. Scarpetta.

No, no, please, call me Kay, I mean, for-for God's sake.

Never quite got used to that.

Um, can you do something for me?

Can you see if Matt Petersen ever knew our victim Gwen Hainey?

Well, I could run facial recognition on the public cameras, but why?

- Do you think they knew each other? - I don't know. I'm not sure.

Well, it'll take a couple hours to generate a report.

Can you send it to Pete when it's ready,

because I'm gonna go to Daingerfield and I'm gonna see...

Be careful.

That place is living up to the sound of its name.

For women.

For women? What does that mean?

Another woman died there.

I'm pretty sure.

About six months ago.

Female jogger.

Cammie Ramada.

Was it murder?

Hmm.

What?

Her death was ruled accidental.

So two women

died there

and no one said a thing.

Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

Oh, God.

That is so fun!

I love it.

Good morning. Wow.

You look amazing.

Is that a new suit?

- Uh... - Love it.

Great. Yeah. You look nice, too.

Did you need something, Mom?

No, no, no. I just came to say good morning

to my favorite girls.

Good morning, Janet!

Nice to see you.

- You know? Okay. - I should be, uh, getting...

You're my nearest and dearest of kin.

No secrets between us.

Not any.

Mm-mm. Hey,

have you lost some weight?

No, seriously. I don't know how you do it. Because, you know,

- I have been trying to get rid of this... - Okay. Okay. What do you want?

I want to lose my fupa.

So who'd you have dinner with last night?

It doesn't matter.

That means it does.

It really doesn't.

Okay.

Here it is. Cammie Ramada.

Jogger, alone, Daingerfield Island... just like Gwen.

And, uh...

ruled a drowning.

Manner of death, accidental.

I don't remember hearing anything about that.

Seems like they made a pretty big effort to keep it quiet.

Call Fruge.

- See what she knows. Yeah. - Yeah.

Did you hear Benton leave this morning?

I wear, uh, earplugs to sleep now.

That's 'cause she snores. My sister snores.

- I didn't say that. - Loud.

- Officer Fruge. - I didn't say that.

Hey, Blaise. I got you on the speaker here with the doc.

Have we made any headway on that warrant

- for the Petersen farm? - No-go.

But the Thor Labs warrant just came through.

I'm headed there now

to meet Officer Ryan.

- Good. - Do you remember

anything about a jogger...

Cammie Ramada, Daingerfield Island?

You mean back in April?

Found on the shore of the Potomac?

Yeah, I was first on the scene.

Papers say

she drowned.

I mean, allegedly.

What,

- you don't believe that? - They said that she had

a seizure while jogging, fell, hit her head,

- and then... - What, she had head wounds?

Head wounds? Just like Gwen Hainey.

Huh.

Yeah, I guess she did.

Cammie Ramada.

So what do you know about this case, Wyatt?

That was right before Debbie,

and Dr. Kaminsky went on maternity leave.

So she did the autopsy?

Mm-hmm.

Wasn't too happy about the whole thing.

1:00 a.m. autopsies don't usually produce a lot of giggles.

No, not that.

Look, now.

Dr. Reddy came by,

said he was gonna give Debbie the assist.

He never did that.

Ever.

All for show?

The man was dressed up in a three-piece suit.

A little over-the-top, if you ask me.

Suit, no scrubs?

Trying to impress those, uh, FBI guys he brought with him.

Okay.

- Thanks, Wyatt. - Mm-hmm.

I'm pulling that autopsy report.

You bet your bippy you are.

Manner of death,

undetermined.

I mean, made it look like an accident.

No crime, no perpetrator, nothing.

Didn't upload anything onto CODIS.

Well, why would a bunch of FBI guys

be so interested in a random jogger?

Yeah.

Exactly. Why?

Let me see this.

Scarpetta.

I got a Dorothy here,

Dr. Scarpetta.

She claims she's your sister.

My sister? Is here?

- Oh, fuck me. - Okay.

Let her in.

I got to go to lunch.

You don't get to choose your family, Wyatt.

Mm-hmm.

Go on in.

- Thank you very much. - Around the corner, to the left.

Okay. Thank you.

Peter?

Wha...

Peter!

Peter, honey!

Hey, whoa, whoa.

Peter, please, just get me the fuck out of here. Please.

- Get a grip, honey. - Get me the fuck out of here!

This is Hell!

They're stiffs!

Guess what my snitch found in a dumpster

up in Berkeley Heights?

- Oh, God. - Yeah.

- Is that... - Breathe it in, Doc.

I think this is the murdering S.O.B.'s jumpsuit.

Uh, the color is close to the fibers found on Lori Petersen's body.

The fabric is a cotton,

synthetic blend.

Well, same glitter goo as we found on Lori Petersen and the others.

If that ain't the killer's jumpsuit, I'm a monkey's uncle.

Let's see what serology says when they get the biological evidence.

Maybe they find the killer's blood and it belonged to hubby Matt.

Are you always this bullheaded?

Dingo, help me out here.

- It's always the husband, am I right? - I don't know.

- What's your problem? On the rag? - That's not funny.

Jesus, would it kill you to unclench

- once in a while? - Pete.

Look, Dingo,

you're a death investigator, for fuck's sake. Try growing a pair.

- Pete, cut it out. - Everybody's tripping themselves over

this PC bullshit, next thing you know,

you got a pack of Skittles crying over a body.

Can't do his job right, and somehow I'm the jerk?

Detective Marino, shut up!

That was awful and unprofessional.

You wanted the truth.

Just because you think it, doesn't make it the truth.

You cannot treat people that way,

especially people in my office. I will not have it.

- Is that understood? - Understood.

Um, Dr. Scarpetta?

Hmm?

I just found this in the fridge.

No, the Lori Petersen evidence was already sent to New York.

So... you

- missed a slide? - No.

No, my-my process,

- it's foolproof. - But it's... it's not initialed.

Uh, you usually do that.

I only collected one PERK.

W-What is this?

A mislabeled folder from a different case?

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Tell me you didn't wreck the entire chain of evidence.

I... I don't know where this came from.

The jumpsuit,

that means squat now.

We might have had the son of a bitch dead to rights,

and now it won't mean a fucking thing!

I remember receipting Lori Petersen's samples to the labs,

including a cardboard folder of slides smeared with anal,

oral, vaginal swabs.

Is there any chance that maybe you got busy,

- maybe mixed up a case file? - No.

No, there is no chance. I am meticulous.

I start with the label machine in the autopsy suite.

I typed in Lori Petersen's information.

A run of labels was generated

with every type of sample I could possibly collect...

blood, bile, urine.

I labeled the tubes

with samples in them.

I date and initial the PERK, and then I put that

information into the computer.

Okay, what about the extra labels?

The extra labels. I...

put them with Lori Petersen's paperwork,

clipped to my clipboard,

so the extra PERK labels should still be here.

- And they're gone. - Okay,

and it's been locked up in your desk this whole time?

- Yep. - Doc,

they'll throw out this case and any other you've ever touched.

Yes, I know! I know!

I'm well aware that my credibility's at stake here.

And if Amburgey gets hold of this, I will be fired by lunch.

Let's... not panic,

- okay? - Yeah. Um...

There is another possibility.

That, um, somebody did this to me to-to put my credibility at stake.

I was just wondering if there's any way I could help?

Actually, yeah, yeah.

Can you give us a minute?

I hate to ask, Wingo.

You and I are the only two that go into that fridge.

You think I set you up?

I don't know.

Wow. Uh...

I actually came in here to thank you, Dr. Scarpetta.

I've never had anyone,

certainly not a boss, who's defended me like that.

And I'm not saying there's no one here who

would set you up like that.

I just thought you knew that it wasn't me.

Fuck.

Dr. Kaminsky?

I'm Dr. Scarp...

Oh, I'm sorry.

No, no. I know who you are.

You're-you're the big cheese.

As far as first impressions go, this is not...

this is not my finest moment.

I just... it's hard to find privacy

- in the morgue. - You store it in there all day?

I used to store it in the break room fridge,

but then, one of the guys thought it would be a riot

to cream his coffee with it, so...

- Stop. - Yeah.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions

about Cammie Ramada's autopsy?

Uh, why do you ask?

I was curious as to why

you ruled the manner of death as undetermined.

You know, I think that any questions you have about the Ramada case,

I think you should direct to former Chief Reddy.

He was present that night, so he should be the one to fill you in.

Really nice to meet you, Dr. Scarpetta.

Ho-ho.

We have an assortment of chocolate and mints.

The Charbonnel et Walker is my personal favorite.

Yeah, I'm good, buddy.

I'm dubious of toilet candy.

These hoity-toity assholes are looking at me funny.

Like I don't notice.

Mm-mm. Mm-mm.

Mm.

- No phones at the table, mister. - This could be work.

I don't care if it's King Charles.

I don't give a shit.

Hey, you know what? All right.

- Down. - Hey, honey, can I ask you something?

- Sure, of course. - How long do you think

this lunch is gonna be, okay?

Only because me and the doc,

- we broke this exciting new avenue... - You know, Peter, it seems to me...

- of this investigation just today... - that you are more interested

in working with her than you are having

a romantic lunch with the love of your life.

Okay, honey, I-I'm so happy to be here,

but you know what it's like when I'm on a case, okay?

- I get, like, in the zone. - No. No, I actually don't

know because

you were retired when I re-met you.

- I think you... What? - You know what?

Boom, now it's on vibrate.

- Huh? I'm here. - Good boy.

- Okay. - I also got us a room. For after lunch.

- A little happy ending. - Really?

- Mm-hmm. - Hey, things are looking up.

In so many ways.

Great. Thank you. Oh, beautiful.

- No, that's not me. I ordered a burger. - Oh, no, no.

It's fine. I actually... I may have amended your order just a little.

What do you mean? Why? What's wrong with the burger?

Nothing, it's just you don't order a burger at a place like this.

It's on the menu, right?

Yes. Yes, thank you.

Um, the branzino here is to die for.

What kind of place doesn't bother taking the head off?

You're funny. You're very funny, Pete Marino.

Dr. Reddy, we were looking for Betty.

Ah, uh, yes. She was called out, personal emergency.

Said you needed this slide examined?

- She said that? - That you were questioning

whether it was from the Lori Petersen case?

Oh, no, no. No, no, no.

The Lori Petersen evidence

is already sent to New York for analysis, so...

she must've misheard me.

That slide was actually from me.

A personal favor I asked the doc. My fault entirely.

Really?

Because there's been some

chatter around the office about mishandled evidence.

Who's saying that?

When I was interim chief, I had...

Your entire tenure

- was like six weeks, bud. - Still,

I instituted certain protocols that mitigated labeling complications.

So you're suggesting we go backwards

to a fully antiquated analog system?

I know you're partial to your computerized system.

- Zero incidents in my entire tenure. - And there will be

zero incidents in mine.

So you can tell that to whoever is chattering.

Trace Evidence.

Yes, I'll tell them.

Agent Wesley's here.

Okay.

You asked him to come?

- We need help, Doc. - Why Wesley?

What part of "keeping this quiet" do you not understand?

It's his case, too.

Ain't gonna hurt to have his brain around.

Are you trying to sabotage me, too? You know he was part of

- the Amburgey ambush? - I'm trying to save this case.

I didn't work this hard just to watch it crash and burn

on a bunch of technicalities.

You should've told me first.

Doc, you can trust him.

No, I don't even know if I can trust you.

How does it feel getting booked?

It's not funny, Agent Wesley.

There's a rare syndrome,

Naegeli-Franceschetti-Jadassohn.

- NFJS. - You've heard of it?

It's a genetic condition that affects the sweat glands, nails,

also friction ridges on the hands and feet, which results

in an absence of fingerprints.

Looks like someone's read up on allelic ectodermal dysplasia.

Excuse me for interrupting

the, uh, egghead chuckle,

but are you saying the doc doesn't have fingerprints?

No, I just thought of it because, sadly,

Dr. Scarpetta, only your prints are on the evidence.

The news just keeps getting better.

Hold up.

Here, I got it.

Wait, is...

is that coming from my hands?

It's gotta be.

Dingo and Betty wore gloves.

What, now I'm emitting the same sparkles as our killer?

Looks like it.

Did you touch anything

- you normally wouldn't? - No, I wore gloves,

and then I washed my hands in my office bathroom like I always do.

What about a new hand cream

- or perfume? - I didn't touch anything

that wasn't part of my regular routine.

Also, I think I know who's chattering.

It's my new secretary.

Oh, look, it's the peanut gallery.

Mr. Boltz, what brings you here?

After our last set-to,

Amburgey and I decided it'd be in everyone's best interests if I were

kept up to the moment on developments.

I see.

A babysitter.

Great.

Look, Abby Turnbull's sharpening her quill for another story.

God only knows

- what that'll mean for all of us. - Please excuse me. For a minute.

Got one out of the oven, ready to go.

It needs to fit in that box. No more, no less.

And I am now officially on lunch.

Fuck you!

You were right.

I did not want to know what that bat was for.

Okay.

I came back to this job for one reason.

Because ever since I left, this office has been run like garbage.

It's sloppy, it's messy, it's unethical.

And the first time I did this, the first time I came here,

I wanted to do it right. I really did.

Because the dead, they deserve at least that, hmm?

They deserve an honest, dignified ending.

And I know, in my gut,

Cammie Ramada did not get that.

But it's not your fault.

I know whose fault it is,

and if it's gonna change around here,

it's gonna require us to have a little backbone and a little courage

and not to give a fuck.

Because men have the ability to fail upwards.

That's what they have, that's what we don't.

They have the guaranteed longevity of protecting their own,

and I'm not saying I can protect you.

I know you're afraid of losing your job. I know that.

I can't insulate you, I can't insulate myself.

But what I can do is I can be on the side of good.

I can stand for the dead.

And I'm asking you,

do you want to stand with me?

- This is where she was jogging. - Mm-hmm.

And then this is where she drowned.

That's a pretty good distance.

Why would she leave the jogging path?

Unless she was being chased.

Okay, so, can you talk me through it again?

- You got to Daingerfield... - Yes.

Thanks for coming, Debbie.

I know this isn't ideal.

- Watch your step. - Thank you.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who's this?

Dr. Kaminsky, M.E. with the Commonwealth.

Commonwealth? Lieutenant Jones, D.C. Metro.

When was that decided?

Nothing's been decided. We're waiting on our people.

Well, somebody called me.

We all called our M.E.s. You're just the first to arrive.

The body is partially on Virginia soil, hence Alexandria's presence.

But this portion of the river is technically in the District.

Flip a coin?

You have a three-headed coin?

This is a national park. We can stake our claim, too.

Then Elvin Reddy shows up. He's dressed like

he's going to a catered affair,

- not a crime scene. - Apologies for the delay, boys.

Wife and I were out to a nice dinner.

Came by as soon as we could.

Then he has a private conversation with the FBI,

and somehow he gets the body sent to us.

Hey, hey, no. Dr. Reddy, I'm sorry, you guys can't be in here.

We're just observing.

There's PPE in the cabinet.

Not necessary, we won't be long.

These head wounds all but scream "accident" to me.

- Based on the injury patterns, or... - Well, it's pretty clear

she was running, then slipped,

hitting her head on multiple rocks.

The trail gets very dangerous down around that one point.

Obviously an accident.

What do you guys think?

It's your rodeo.

We defer to Dr. Reddy's great expertise.

Park services really ought to do something about that trail.

Remind me to mention that to Officer Ryan.

Dr. Reddy, at least let me submit DNA samples to CODIS.

Why? We're looking at an accident.

And make sure our FBI friends have access to whatever

they need for their own investigation.

Is that clear, Dr. Kaminsky?

Yes, sir.

You didn't happen to see a flattened penny there, did you?

- No. - And Cammie had no

biosynthetic skin grafts on her body,

- did she? - No, there was nothing.

Just trying to establish a pattern between Cammie's death

and Gwen's murder.

Two women, two joggers, one island,

same injuries.

There's one more thing.

The night on Daingerfield,

Reddy said that he had his wife in the car, but...

it looked like Maggie to me.

Thank you.

I don't think I've ever seen you eat less.

Fucking thing's

been eyeballing me since he got put down,

like I'm the one that killed him.

Okay. A toast.

- Yeah. - To our new

perfect little Airbnb in a gated community

with a full gym in the clubhouse.

- Oh, really? - Yes.

- All right, I like that. - It has an 80% walk score.

And yes, this cute little café. We can be very Parisian

in Virginia, because the Commonwealth

is for lovers.

And apparently it has a robust nightlife so we can go dancing.

- Which we have not been able to do. - Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

- What do you mean, dancing? - No, but we haven't danced

since the wedding. No, seriously...

Peter? No.

- Peter, no. - I'm gonna just look at it.

No, please don't. Come on, babe.

Oh, look at that, it's your daughter.

- Oh, of course it is. - I got to get this, right?

Hey, Lucy, what's up?

- See what I sent you? - Uh, no.

I, uh, no, I've been, I've been indisposed.

Oh.

Well, you should take a look.

Okay, uh,

all right, give me a second. Pull up here. This...

It's Matt Petersen and Gwen Hainey

having a drink.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

- You gotta be fucking kidding me! - Hey, Peter. Peter.

This guy thinks I'm a fucking moron?

Peter...

- Now I don't need a warrant. - Hey!

Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I gotta go.

Thank you for the...

- the fish. - Peter. Peter.

What?! What?!

Everything okay, babe?

I think I just made a mistake.

What happened?

- No, I think I just made a big mistake. - Hey, what is it?

Officer Fruge.

Marino's going after Petersen.

I found a connection between him and Gwen, and...

I shouldn't have told him, but...

Crap.

I'm at Thor Labs right now. I'll call you as soon as I get done here.

No, I'm afraid of what Marino is gonna do.

You... Fine, I gotta go.

What's taking so long?

It's a no-go.

What do you mean? We have a warrant.

They're talking security clearances. Like from the government.

They're calling the Department of Defense.

DOD?

Shit.

Morning.

I brought you a coffee. It's fresh.

You know why I like talking to serial killers?

They're not stupid.

Or boring.

I mean, sure, they can be perverted,

grotesque, aberrant, vicious, demented.

Some, I'd just say, uh, sick in the head,

but one thing they are certainly not

is dull.

Like you.

I'd never hurt Gwen.

You want to tell me why you made a habit of hacking

Thor Labs' computer system?

Would you just look at me, please?

Thank you.

You are well aware that Thor Labs is doing experimental research

into 3D bioprinting human tissue and organs.

And we were well aware that you and Ms. Hainey

were selling that information to the Russians.

So, what happened?

You find out she was cheating?

- What? - Oh, come on.

These are her text exchanges

with a man from her contacts named Gary Mitchell.

Now, I can understand why you would be hurt.

She used you...

and then she got bored with you.

Probably wanted someone more like herself...

smart, ambitious.

The kind of person she could build a life with,

and how could you compete with that? You, huh?

A dullard.

And your anger broke you, Jinx.

And you killed her.

I was only trying to protect her.

Protect her from what?

She would lay digital trails, and I'd...

clean up after her.

I would obscure them

so Thor wouldn't catch her.

So that's why you hacked them.

She really saying all this stuff to some other guy?

We've got a problem.

This will all work out.

What, for him or for me?

Well, I meant for you.

God, Benton, if you were anything

but a white man, you would know that this is not gonna work out.

My whole office is out to get me,

even the one guy who, for half a sec, kind of liked me,

now hates me,

and one of them will surely blab to Boltz,

and he wants to punish me because I wouldn't go on a date with him,

which is probably the first time that anyone has ever turned him down.

Boltz asked you out?

Yeah, when I first got here.

Anyway, now I have been hacked

and I have had evidence tampered with...

so, yeah, take one good look at me because I'm gone.

And Elvin will bring out the bubbly,

- and he'll steal the job that I earned... - Kay.

- Which he thinks that I stole from him. - Kay.

And don't even get me started on Marino.

Tell me how someone can be an imbecile and a genius at the same time.

- I don't get it. - Pete is...

And on top of all of that, the cherry on

this shit pile is that I have

developed feelings for a coworker

I most certainly should not be having feelings for.

You should quit, before they fire you.

No.

I'm not quitting and letting them win.

Exactly my point.

You will figure this out.

Years ago, I worked a case

- that just about crushed me. - Mm.

I learned a breathing technique

- to help cope with the stress. - Oh...

- Benton... - Come on.

Marino's right, you really are kind of an egghead.

Come on. You have to get down.

It's a box breathing technique.

You breathe in, you count slowly to four, all right?

I can't...

Counting slowly to four.

One, two, three, four.

Feel the air. You hold it four seconds.

Then you slowly exhale

through your mouth for another four seconds.

See?

I'm sorry.

You're all right.

It's all right.

- It's all right. - I'm sorry.

It's all right.

Okay. One...

- Can you count for me? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Breathe in.

Hold it. One,

two,

three, four.

Now, let's stroll through your day.

How'd it start in the morning?

I did an autopsy.

And, um...

Marino brought the jumpsuit.

And we examined it, and then we had a fight

because Marino is an asshole.

Sorry.

Wingo found the PERK, and...

before we went to Betty's, I washed my hands

in my office bathroom.

No, I didn't.

Oh, shit. I...

I didn't... I didn't wash my hands in my office bathroom.

I, uh,

I used the bathroom downstairs. I almost never use that bathroom.

It can't be that simple.

This is the only bathroom you used today, right?

Yeah.

Only one way to find out.

- Turn it off. - The light?

Yeah.

Ready?

There it is.

Holy shit.

Turn, turn.

Do it again.

Let's do it again.

- Huh. - Oh, my God.

There's a cumulative effect with each wash.

That explains why

the residue shows up on anything he touches.

He's obsessively washing.

Maybe he's, uh, obsessive-compulsive.

You know,

- like a serial killer. - OCD

isn't actually on the serial killers' compendium.

Well, still, this guy's clearly sick in the head.

What if he-he needs to wash,

- like he can't control it? - Or, or, or...

that jumpsuit, the syrupy sick smell? What if our killer has a...

a metabolic disorder?

A syndrome, an illness

- that creates the odor. - Yes.

And-and he's paranoid about it, or at least self-conscious.

Right, exactly, so that's why he keeps washing, to mask the smell.

Holy shit.

It's a significant discovery, Kay.

We can trace the soap,

narrow our scope of suspects.

Not to mention, the doc can start figuring out

what kind of diseases can make a person

smell like a rotten pancake.

It's gotta be rare.

Plus, easy to find out if the hubby had it or not.

You still think it's Matt Petersen?

Nothing yet that tells me otherwise.

Hey, fuckwad.

You don't know Gwen Hainey?

You don't know her, right? Huh? You never fucking met her?

- Give us a minute. - Yeah, get lost, honey,

unless you want to see your guru get unmasked in front of your eyes.

Huh?

You think I'm a fucking moron? I ain't a moron.

You think you're gonna get away with this

a second time, you got another thing coming.

"I ain't a moron."

I've got news for you, former Detective Marino.

You may actually be the biggest moron I've ever met in my life.

Ah, okay.

Yeah, get up.

You fucking...

Marino, stop!

- Come on, take a breath, Pete. - Get the fuck off me!

Hey, hey, hey!

Stop. Stop.

You're okay.

I'm gonna sue you for assault.

- You're going to jail. - Fuck you.

- I should've put a bullet in your head. - All right.

- Okay, Marino... - No, he killed his wife!

Put on a sob show

and got away with it, but not this time, you hear me?

He dresses up all of his sick shit in trauma

and then uses it to lure defenseless girls.

I didn't do it. How many times do I have to say it?

- I didn't kill anybody. - You're a liar.

You lied to my fucking face about knowing Gwen.

How did you know Gwen Hainey?

I read an article, uh, maybe like a year ago about

Thor Labs, all their biosynthetic engineering breakthroughs.

Their artificial organs and, uh,

artificial skin trials.

It, uh, it all just got my brain...

a little crazy with the possibilities, and, um,

one day, I'm at the bar, and I see this woman.

It's the biomedical engineer from the articles

just sitting there, and it felt...

The Jewish people would say "Beshert"...

"meant to be."

- Sick fuck. - So, we got to talking...

- And you brought her home. - Flirting.

Yes, but nothing happened, okay?

I was desperate. I... wanted to find out

if they'd found a way to do it or if they were going to or if...

if it was ever even going to be possible.

What?

What?

Make fully functioning,

compatible, independent synthetic organs.

What do you use those for?

Answer me, you fuck. What do you use those for?

To create life where there is none.

- Yeah. - So, what, you thought you were gonna

bring your-your wife back to life?

What, using Barbie doll organs?

She was the love of my life.

You think you're the only person in the world that ever lost anyone?

What would you do? Huh?

If you can even summon the imagination, what would you do

if you lost your love?

Listen to me.

When people die, that's it, they're gone.

They're fucking gone.

They're not coming back.

You know why?

Because the dead ain't supposed to come back.

We're reopening the Cammie Ramada case, so I'll need

all pertinent information, evidence,

files, everything on my desk in the morning.

That death...

that death was ruled accidental.

I'm not asking.

Just, in the morning. Thank you, Maggie.

Oh, and can we arrange for a, uh, mini fridge

for Dr. Kaminsky?

For her breast milk?

Yes.

And, uh, actually, any doctors

who might be returning from maternity leave.

And shall I arrange every day for a pumpkin carriage

to take them home and deliver them to their prince as well?

Niceties go a long way for a working mother.

Ah. In my day, you had to choose. There was no working mother.

Uh-huh. My day, too, but things move on, don't they?

At least you have that lovely niece.

Lucky woman.

- Excuse me, ma'am. - Oh.

I was hoping you could point me in the direction of Dr. Scarpetta.

Oh, yes. Absolutely. This is her office.

- Right here? Thank you. - Right here, yeah.

Mm-hmm.

Dr. Scarpetta?

Yes, that's me.