Original subtitles

Previously On Rookie Feds...

I think you're assigned to the Background Check Unit.

You'll be doing background checks

on potential federal employees.

These are your coloring books,

officially known as a Probationary New Agent Handbook.

All the mandatory tasks rookies must complete...

You have 30 seconds to explain

why you have abandoned your post.

Oliver, it's my fault.

You can't just poach my people.

♪ Just bought some new kicks ♪

Oh, my God. I cannot believe he did that.

If brains were taxed, that man would get a refund.

Avery, you're so bad.

Yeah. Okay. See you tomorrow.

Bye. Bye.

♪ Want to get in my car ♪

♪ Maybe we can listen ♪

♪ To some music or whatever ♪

♪ Make our own sounds even better ♪

♪ They don't know ♪

♪ They won't know ♪

♪ Nobody's business ♪

♪ Our windows tinted ♪

Don't step in the broken glass.

Now, remember, hard and fast...

Her neck has to snap with a single blow.

Like she slipped and fell.

Three, two, one.

♪ Ah ah, ah ah, ah-ah-ah-ah ♪

♪ Ah ah, ah ah, ah-ah ♪

Good morning, dream team.

What's up, cute thing? Hey.

What is up is that you and Simone

have fallen behind on your coloring books.

Oh. That's because we've been out saving the world.

Well, it doesn't matter. Rules are rules in the Bureau.

No exceptions.

If you two don't complete every task

by the end of your probationary period,

no amount of heroics will keep you in the FBI.

Oh. Today we're checking off lower profile items.

Brendon, you're going on a burn run.

A burn what?

You and Laura are gonna follow a truck

with old evidence from adjudicated cases

to a burn site to be destroyed.

The Bureau requires that agents oversee that procedure, so...

That sounds, uh... Boring? Yes, it is.

Why are you so happy? 'Cause I am.

Alright, let's get to it.

Okay, boss, well, what about me?

What is my assignment?

Inventory.

Every item that the Bureau issues its employees

needs to be accounted for on a quarterly basis.

We're talking phones, computers, weapons,

even staplers.

Everybody hates inventory day.

You're gonna get loads of hell.

Why are you smiling?

You have to do it with me. Wrong.

Inventory takes place within the FBI office

and therefore requires no adult supervision.

You will be flying solo on this.

And I'll take some personal time.

Well, why'd you even come in?

To see the look on your face.

Yep. That's the one.

Alright. I am about to crush this.

My boss?

He's not here.

He's hiding from you in the bathroom.

Agent Daniels. Are you in there? No.

Agent Daniels, I just need to get the VIN number

from your Bureau car.

But you don't need to look at any of the pictures on it,

right? Nope.

Just the serial number.

No one touches my girl but me.

No one.

I don't have it. Meaning you left it at home?

No, I mean, I just... It's... I can't find it.

You lost your Bureau car?

And a bit of advice?

Next time, keep your privates off your publics.

I only need to "touch your girl"

with my eyes to confirm the serial number.

It's just... It's... It's temporarily misplaced.

Can you come back tomorrow?

Honey, I got to get this done today.

I got to do all the...

I know you did not just close this door on me

while I'm talking to you.

Isn't burning evidence kind of a bad idea?

I mean, what if the evidence is needed again down the line? No, it won't be.

All the evidence on that truck belongs to cases

that have gone through the appeals process...

Sentenced, settled, done.

So... So we just sit there and watch it burn?

Well, the burn site is a commercial business.

And the evidence is federal property.

So we just, you know, babysit it until it transforms into ash.

You can't possibly enjoy this.

Plus, you let me drive, which is weird.

What... What are you looking at?

Oh, um... I'm buying a house.

What? Oh, my God. That's amazing.

Congratulations.

Where is it? Uh, Culver City.

Yeah, I just put the offer in last night.

Waiting to hear back from my realtor.

So I need a task that requires zero brainpower.

Let me see.

Oh, wow. It's adorable.

What does that mean?

Nothing. You think it's small.

No, I didn't say small. It's... cozy.

Respiratory tech to OB.

Hey. Hey. Hey.

So, I have the perfect day planned,

starting with breakfast at the beach.

Great.

You okay?

If you're too tired, we can do something

more low key. No.

I love the beach.

It's just been a difficult shift.

You lost a patient? No.

The pill count in the pharmacy

has been off every day for a week,

and people are starting to point fingers.

At me. What? Why you?

'Cause they figure the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

That makes no sense. Your mom's not a drug dealer.

She's a felon who runs a strip club.

I love that you see the difference,

but most people don't.

Okay, what pills are going missing?

Adderall, Oxy, Ketamine.

Admin has talked to LAPD,

but it's a low priority for them.

Well, you're a top priority for me,

and I can't have this hanging over your head on our date.

So I'm gonna solve this crime.

No. This feels beneath you.

Title 21 gives the FBI permission to investigate

controlled substances.

Just have to call my boss for the okay.

I do need one more thing to start my investigation.

What? A smart, sexy partner.

You know the hospital and the employees.

And I can't crack this case without you.

Do I get a code name? Yeah.

Trouble.

Let's get started. Come on.

"Do I get a code name?" I mean, in the movies,

they always get code names.

This ain't the movies.

Good morning, Agent Bailor.

You ever thought about hanging up some artwork in here?

You know, liven up the place a bit?

Probationary Special Agent Clark.

That's me. Never thought I'd see your face in here again.

Well, me neither. But I'm on inventory duty.

Oh, gun, phone, laptop, credentials, and Bu car.

Correct?

A complete list of my items

and their corresponding serial numbers.

Everyone, hand over your inventory cards

to Special Agent Clark.

Damn. Impressive.

The devil is in the details.

You'd have learned that if you'd stayed here

instead of jumping ship first chance you got.

Ooh, this looks like fun.

I wonder if they'll let me throw in a few.

No, no, no. Stand down, Probie.

Their job is to burn, our job is to observe.

Oh. Alright.

Public corruption, 30 boxes.

Intellectual property theft, 20 boxes.

What?!

What?

My offer didn't get accepted.

I-I'm now in a bidding war with four other buyers.

That's L. A. real estate for you.

Apparently now I have to submit my best and final offer

along with a letter to the homeowners?

Not only do I have to overpay,

but I have to kiss their asses.

No, it's very common. I've been through this before.

T-The homeowners, they want to be courted.

You know, they don't just want your money,

they want a good story.

Okay, well, my story is in my credit score,

my 30% down payment,

and my pristine employment record. Yeah, no.

That's all financial.

You need to convince the homeowner

that you love this house,

that you're the only person

who will take care of its legacy. Ugh, gag.

Well, then bye-bye, house.

Fine.

What do I need to do?

What you do best. You profile them.

You tell them exactly what they want to hear.

Hey, Chuck.

I'm Simone.

I'm here to inventory

all the unassigned department cellphones.

I mean, if you could help me out and let me know

where they are...

Thanks.

Are you going on a coffee run?

Because if you are, I'll take a...

What the...

Hello? Who's this?

Uh, who did you want it to be? Mike Jeffers.

I don't know who that is, but I'm Simone.

Then why'd you answer his phone? Because it was ringing.

And you just happen to have an FBI agent's cellphone?

I'm an FBI agent, too. But not the right one.

I need to speak with Mike now.

It's a matter of life and death.

Okay, sweetie, let me try to find him.

Can you tell me your name? No.

Psst. Do you know Special Agent Mike Jeffers?

I did. He died a few months ago.

Heart attack. So sad.

Honey, I am so sorry to tell you this,

but Jeffers passed away.

What?

No. I-I-I gotta go.

No, no, no. Now, you called him for a reason.

Let me help you. Just forget it, okay?

Okay, I-I know you don't know me from Eve,

but you can trust me.

If you were in a confidential relationship with Jeffers,

you were most likely his C.I...

Which means he looked the other way on some things.

How am I doing so far?

No comment.

Trace the call for this highlighted number.

I will honor the relationship you had

with Jeffers 100%.

And I will help you with this matter of life and death.

I-I don't know.

What are you so afraid of? I...

I overheard something I wasn't supposed to last night,

and I don't know what to do.

What was that?

What? I think there's someone in my house.

Who's in your house?

Tell me where you are

and I'll send help right away.

I don't know who they are.

They must have found out that I...

Hello?

H-Hel...

Damn it. Did you trace the number?

No go. It's a burner. No name or address attached.

Boss? Yeah?

I got a situation. Oh, no. No, you don't.

You are on inventory duty, and that is the antithesis

of a situation. Well, yeah, but a phone

I was inventorying belonged to Agent Jeffers.

His C.I. called.

She's in trouble, but she hung up

before I could get a name.

She said someone was in her house.

You sure this isn't you just desperately searching

for a way out of inventory duty? No, sir.

Jeffers' former partner's Oliver Bailor.

Go talk to him. Bailor?

Twice in one day. What a treat.

Sir, I need to speak to you about an unidentified source

that belonged to one of your former partners.

Which one? Mike Jeffers.

A woman called his old phone,

and she said it was a matter of life and death,

and then she hung up.

I mean, do you have any idea who that might be?

Nope. But, sir.

The late Special Agent Jeffers and I parted ways

over a year ago.

He had dozens of C. I. s.

Well, how many of them were women? A few.

I'm sure I have no idea which one she is. Maybe you do.

Okay, this woman, her voice sounded sophisticated,

almost like the attitude you would have if you were rich.

Gracie Hunt.

She runs an illegal poker game for high rollers

out of her home in Brentwood. I'm going.

Please call LAPD and have them meet me there.

You're a probationary agent.

You need a senior agent with you.

Then come on. Gracie needs us.

Gracie? It's Simone!

♪ Why don't you show me what you're made of ♪

Gracie?

♪ Why don't you show me how you feel ♪

♪ Your kind of taste is what I live for ♪

Damn it.

♪ Dance like a fiend with a fix to fill ♪

She's dead.

Maybe she called Mike hoping he'd talk her out of using.

Hearing that he was dead pushed her over the edge.

That doesn't track.

20 minutes ago, this girl was yelling

that there was an intruder in her house,

and now she's O. D.'d?

Something is not right.

It had to be staged.

We don't have nearly enough evidence

to support that theory.

Ms. Hunt was in and out of rehab,

so an accidental O. D. Is possible.

But not plausible.

Were there any signs of a break-in?

No, sir.

And even if it is a murder, it's LAPD's jurisdiction.

Unless it's the murder of a federal informant.

I'm going back to work. Good luck with that. And this.

Oliver, wait.

Simone's instincts are usually spot-on.

Could you work this with her? No.

Her training agent isn't here, Oliver,

and you worked with Jeffers for years.

No one's gonna have your level of insight.

You know that.

Alright, fine.

But she will do things my way or not at all.

Of course. Goes without saying.

So I got an idea. Good for you.

Now stop talking and do as you're told.

Camera should catch the unsub stealing the drugs.

What's that? A list of hot suspects.

Everyone with access and motive.

There's, like, 20 people on that. Mm-hmm.

And that's one of them right there.

Nurse Melinda, lookin' all guilty.

Or just hungry.

Not Miss Sacred Cow going medieval on a cheeseburger

after acting all sanctimonious about being a lifelong vegan.

What a liar. But not a thief.

It wasn't right when folks accused you with zero proof,

so maybe don't do the same thing to them? She is a liar, though.

I mean, that's clearly a double patty.

This letter is perfect.

Huh. Almost.

Okay, so first you're a real estate expert

and now you're a literary critic? Uh, just don't be so sensitive.

Ma'am. I-I'm just gonna highlight one sentence here.

"Your recent kitchen remodel was refined yet breathtaking."

Yeah, that's a really nice compliment.

Yeah, but think about your profile.

Okay, they're aging hippies who go to Burning Man every year

and use a psychic.

Oh, so they value community and prize sentimentality

over the material. So do they care about a remodel?

No, of course not.

They care about the memories they leave behind.

I mean, Phil and Connie have been married for 25 years.

They raised two kids in there, you know? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I got it.

Oh, and there's just a little spelling...

Shutting up. Mm-hmm.

And done.

Boom. Yeah.

Take cover!

M-80s.

It's just someone blowing off steam.

Or distracting us.

Hey, FBI! Stop!

Stop!

I need a BOLO out for a blue Camry,

no rear license plate, last seen headed north on Western.

Why would somebody steal an old evidence box?

I don't know.

But it's our necks if we don't get it back.

Tell me you got something. Yes.

No. Tell me you got something.

According to Gracie's dealer,

Gracie left the game early last night,

which never happens,

which means she was clearly upset by something.

Which proves nothing. Maybe not.

But it gives credibility to what she said

when she called me. She didn't call you.

She called Jeffers.

The dealer said that there were

seven high rollers at that game.

We need to bring them all in for questioning.

We can't compel them, and they've all got

lawyers on speed dial.

But we may have an in, Oliver.

Gideon Taft.

Alright. The actor from all the Marvel movies.

Yep.

And Brendon's nemesis.

He got every role Brendon wanted.

Which might make this ask a little tricky,

but if anybody can sweet-talk B, it's me.

Is she always like this?

Yeah, pretty much.

Ooh, just the person I was looking for.

Hey, how you doing? How'd the burn run go?

Oh, not great. How's inventory?

Well, I kind of ran into a little thing,

and I'm hoping you could help me with it.

Yeah, you know I'll help you if I can.

Gideon Taft. No, no.

But wait, B. You didn't even... Yeah, yeah, yeah.

No, I-I... No. You didn't even let me get the question out.

I don't need to. He's the worst guy in the world, so no.

Please. I need to talk to him without his lawyer.

And you know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important.

Ugh. Fine.

I'll ask him to come in. But you owe me. Big time.

Trust me. Deal.

Hey, any clarity?

Stolen evidence box was from the Andrew Vogel case.

Why do I keep hearing that name?

Do you listen to the "Cold Storage Crime" podcast?

Uh, sometimes.

The new season is all about Vogel.

He was an accountant who ripped off his clients $30 million.

He was sentenced to 20 years, but died in prison...

Heart attack. Think maybe the podcaster

can tell us why someone stole that evidence?

Laura already has her coming in.

Clearly, our unsub knew that the files

were being burned today. And you think someone from this building tipped them off.

And you want me to see who was in the loop.

Why do I feel like you're already on it? 'Cause I'm already on it.

You're the best. I know.

Thank you.

Another stakeout tip... Go easy on the coffee.

It's Murphy's Law.

Crimes always go down when the bladder has other plans.

Too late. Back in a sec.

Hold up, hold up. Who's this guy?

Oh, that's just Gregory. He interns here after school.

He's a good kid.

And a pill thief.

FBI. Show me your hands.

Seriously?

I'm sorry, Miss Davis. But I had to.

They're making me. Who's making you?

I-I can't tell you that. You can't?

Okay, listen to me.

I know it's scary talking to the FBI.

But trust me, Carter's the best person to have in your corner.

What's going on, son?

Two weeks ago, I-I got a text from this random number

saying I needed to steal pills.

Alright, I thought it was a prank.

Until they sent me a photo of my nana.

Your grandmother? She's in a nursing home.

Alright, they got a photo of her sleeping in bed.

These guys are no joke.

Said they'd hurt her if I didn't deliver pills.

And how do you deliver them?

I get a new location every day.

When and where is the next drop?

Two hours. At Griffith Park.

Looks like our stakeout just turned into a sting.

Do you mind if I record this? For my podcast? No way.

Okay. Well, then I'm out of here. No, no, uh, no.

Y-Y-You can't record this conversation.

I'm sure if you help us, we can do a follow-up,

uh, interview at...

I'll do a follow-up interview. How's that?

Great. Earlier today, someone stole a box

of old trial evidence from the Vogel case.

Now, why would they do that?

Well, Vogel stole millions,

hid the accounts behind a cryptographic web of mystery.

I mean, it's true-crime catnip.

Yeah, but in your last episode,

you said that there was 800 grand missing.

Uh, what's the deal with that?

So you're a fan. A-As of 45 minutes ago, y-yeah.

I listened at five-times speed.

You listened at five-x? You can't listen at five-x.

You lose all the nuance. There's no nuance to this.

All of the money was accounted for.

So why tell people that it wasn't?

It's money the FBI didn't know about.

I'm telling you, Vogel hid money behind one last puzzle.

And you're just sending amateur sleuths out on a treasure hunt?

You know, one of them likely committed a crime because of it.

I'm just sharing the truth

with my listeners.

What they do with it is on them.

It's Simone. Uh, she said it's an emergency.

Hey. You need to talk to your "nemesis."

Oh. Uh, Gideon's not cooperating?

Gideon's not here. But "Cobra Wixx" is.

He says he's a spy for MI-6.

Uh, yeah, he's a "Method" actor.

He won't break character because he's preparing

for a role or filming, so...

So how do we get him to talk to us?

You got to play by his rules.

You mind if I have a run at him?

Hey, Cobra. Special Agent Acres.

Can't say I appreciate

being run in like this, mate.

Oh, well, the FBI needs your help.

Cobra's listening, ain't I.

When you were at that poker game last night,

did you overhear anyone talking about anything illegal,

dangerous, or worth killing for?

Certainly a spy in the King's Service

must have overheard something.

I might have, bruv. Oh.

But before I say what I know, what's bloody in it for me?

Okay. I have had it with you, Daniel Dumb Lewis.

There is a murderer on the loose,

and you're wasting time.

Stop all this stupid method acting

and tell us what you heard.

I... I...

- Boy, I'm not playing with you. - Okay, fine.

I-I'm sorry. I-I-I didn't hear anything.

So all of this was just improv?

Yeah.

But maybe... maybe my phone got something.

One of the other players there... he's from England.

I was recording him to perfect my accent.

Hand it over.

And work on your damn accent, 'cause it's hella wack.

Colin, you're in serious trouble.

You logged into the FBI database

and looked up when the Vogel case evidence

was set to be burned.

Why would I do that? I don't know.

But there's a record showing that you remotely logged in

from your house three nights ago at 10:14 p. m.

That's not true. Oh.

Oh? Well, there was a girl...

Uh, Molly, or Margaret, maybe Mary.

Uh-huh. But I can't remember.

Uh, I met her at the bar near my apartment.

And she was into all the things I'm into...

Dutch Soccer and D&D.

Unicorn combo. Ugh. Okay.

And you brought this unicorn woman

back to your place?

Yeah, and she ended up using my laptop

to quiz me on Nordic trivia.

To find out your password. I guess so.

Now, what did she look like? Um, glasses, but hot.

Uh, long red hair. Sounds like my thief.

Okay, where did she go after she left your apartment? I don't know.

She grabbed a ride share, and I passed out.

Okay, do not even think about leaving your desk

until we verify your story.

Do you understand? Yes.

- I'm sorry. - Yeah.

I heard you had a recording from Gracie Hunt's poker game. It's rough.

But the digital forensics team

managed to isolate the background,

and we got this little snippet. Okay.

The specialist you hooked me up with?

He's making my problem go away tomorrow.

And I'm going to dance at his funeral.

So you're thinking "specialist" equals hitman? Yeah.

I mean, that has to be the "life or death" thing

that Gracie overheard. That's what got her killed.

The audio is too distorted to I. D. the speaker.

So not only do we not know who the target is,

we don't know who ordered the hit, either.

Well, we do know it's one of these five guys up here,

but we don't have enough time to figure out which one. Uh, not true.

This is when we have to fall back on our fundamentals.

What fundamentals? Research.

A skill you would have perfected

if you had stayed in my department.

Now, something in the background of these players

could be the clue to figuring out who ordered the hit.

One detail, no matter how small,

might be all we need to crack this.

Let's see.

The specialist you hooked me up with?

He's making my problem go away tomorrow.

And I'm going to dance at his funeral.

The specialist you hooked me up with?

He's making my problem... Wait, wait.

The specialist you hooked me up with?

What are you thinking, Simone?

Well he's speaking so methodically, deliberately.

I worked with a lot of kids

that had language and speech disorders.

This guy could be covering up a stutter.

That might be just the detail.

Okay, where did I see this?

Mitch Ballard, CFO. Not there.

Nothing in his financials.

Yes! Okay.

Mitch Ballard last year was the keynote speaker

at the American Speech- Language-Hearing Foundation.

Ding, ding, ding. That can't be a coincidence.

He's our man. Nice work.

Nice work to you, too, sir.

Okay, you guys want to stop patting each other on the back

and go pick this guy up, please?

Hopefully he makes this easy. Yeah.

Hey, there. Slow down.

FBI, Mr. Ballard. We need a word.

I'm late for a meeting. Sir, we need you to stop.

Alright, get the car, cut him off.

Drop the case.

Get down on the ground.

You okay?

Put him in the car.

I need a minute.

Hey, boss. Yeah?

Good news... Oliver and I caught Mitch Ballard.

Okay, well, then what's the bad news?

He's not talking, so we have no idea

who the hitman is he hired or who the target might be.

Oh, and Oliver took himself off the case

and went back to BCU.

Simone, what did you do this time?

Me? Yeah.

Nothing. I didn't.

It was Ballard.

He hit him in the face with a briefcase.

And he's okay.

I just think it's his pride that's a little bruised.

It's more complicated than that.

Two years ago, when Oliver and Jeffers were partners,

Oliver was shot in the line. He almost died.

Well, he could have just retired and taken his pension,

but he loved the work.

So he left the field, and he took over the BCU.

Looks like he was just given a harsh reminder

of how dangerous field work can be, right?

Hi. You doing okay?

Fine. Thank you. Goodbye.

Listen, Ballard isn't talking.

But we still have time to stop the hit.

Yeah, I'm not going back out with you.

I'm not asking you to.

I'm just saying, I think we could solve this thing

if we do a deep dive

and figure out who Ballard wants dead.

Hey.

I can't do what you do.

You're damn right, you can't.

Everyone, drop what you're doing.

We've got a new research target.

Give me some.

So, uh, any news on the house? No.

My realtor says that Phil and Connie

won't make a decision until they consult their psychic.

It is no way to make a major financial decision.

Oh, it is in L. A.

So, uh, where are we going? Oh.

The warrant came back for the redhead's ride share.

Really? Mm-hmm.

Way to bury the lede. So who is she?

And no one found the money.

Not his kids. Not his wife. Not his boss.

FBI. Open up, Amelia.

You guys want to do the interview now? Sure.

Are you ready to make a confession?

Just, uh, not for your listeners.

Hey, wait. Oh. Don't touch my stuff.

Oh, it's... it's not your stuff.

It's the FBI's. Here we go.

And you are using it to crack some sort of a code.

Vogel's personal journals.

It has the missing piece of the puzzle,

which will reveal the location of the 800 grand

and make me a true crime legend.

Who are you working with?

Someone told you the evidence boxes

were being burned today. And pointed her towards Colin Mayberry

to use as a patsy.

I don't have to tell you anything.

Yeah, but you're looking at some serious time.

So remember this... Whoever talks first

gets the deal.

And then my uncle

sent me back to the coffee cart because his latte didn't have

that stupid heart design in the foam.

Hey, Sherry.

Do you have a second to talk about some

Freedom of Information Act requests? You have one to file?

No. But Amelia Teller did.

More than a dozen, actually,

requesting evidence from the Andrew Vogel trial.

And you're a big fan of her podcast, right?

So you decided, "I'm gonna reach out.

I'm gonna give you the evidence that you need

in exchange for half of the money that Vogel hid."

No, I didn't. Your partner flipped.

We have "receipts." You're under arrest.

Stand up. It was my ticket out of this stupid job

where I have to listen to my dumb boss

complain about his lame life while I do all the hard work.

Alright. Back me up, Elena.

You were just complaining about your uncle.

I was not.

Who are you gonna believe? Me? Or a confessed criminal?

Come on, let's go. I'm going!

Why can't I come with you?

Because our target is a dangerous extortionist.

It's better if you stay here with Gardner and Morales.

I feel very safe.

I also feel like giving you a kiss.

Well, it's neither the time nor place for...

Code Name... Trouble. Living up to her name.

Good luck. Be safe.

Tell me you got something. Yeah. Ballard's target.

Billionaire big wig Dan Delford.

Ballard's boss. Why him?

Money. Delford's always been considered a reclusive genius.

Hasn't left his penthouse in months.

Lately, his decision-making has been so erratic,

it's tanking the stock price.

Ballard is losing millions a week.

Last straw appears to be Delford's new

"Avery Initiative."

It's an environmental money pit that shareholders hate.

Have you warned Delford? We tried.

Reached out to his security.

They said he gave them the slip an hour ago.

Nobody knows where he is.

Our hitman must have figured out a way

to lure Delford out of his hiding, but how?

Delford must have a leverage point

that we don't know about.

I might know what it is. What?

Delford mentioned in an interview

that he named the Avery Initiative

after a long-lost high-school girlfriend... Avery Edison.

I've been trying to track her down.

Avery Edison died in her home last week.

Slipped in the bathroom.

Her funeral is this afternoon.

I bet Avery's death was as much an "accident"

as Gracie's O. D. Was an O. D.

I'll mobilize LAPD to meet us at that cemetery.

Yeah.

You coming?

It worked.

Of course it did.

Heart strings are the easiest thread to pull.

Now finish the job.

Package has been taped under a bench at my 10:00.

We're a go.

Keep eyes on Mr. Gray Jacket here.

We got a bogey. I'm gonna get this old man out of here.

You gotta be kidding me.

Hey.

FBI, sir.

Put the package back. Sir.

Sir! Aah!

Hey, hey! Aah! Aah!

My knee. Drop the package.

Are you armed? No. No.

This is all a big misunderstanding.

Stay still. I'm a nurse.

Are you feeling lightheaded? No, I'm feeling old.

Joseph Cicero. Yeah.

Joseph Cicero.

You were a Mafia enforcer

for the Milano brothers back in the '80s.

They called you Joey C.

Didn't you get a life sentence?

They gave me a compassionate release

because of my age.

Suckers. So you went right back to crime-ing?

There's no pension plan for old mobsters.

My idiot son spent all the cash I had hidden

and stuck me in a home.

Now, I ain't built for Bingo.

So when I overheard this old windbag

going on about her grandkid working in a hospital,

it created a business opportunity

for myself. By terrifying a young man into stealing pills.

Shame on you. Stick your shame where the sun don't shine.

How about I stick it where those false teeth are? Okay.

Ooh. Ooh. Okay, let's... let's not do that.

Yeah. Yeah. Come on. Mr. Cicero, you're under arrest.

There's Delford.

Mr. Delford, we need you to come with us.

What? Garza: We're with the FBI, Mr. Delford.

Just come with us, okay?

Why? You're in jeopardy. We'll explain later.

Let's go, sir.

Are you okay? It's a nerve agent. This is Garza.

I need an ambulance at my location right away.

There. Gray suit, brown hair.

The nerve agent was delivered by handshake.

Do not touch his hand.

I got it. Stay with them.

FBI. Freeze, right there. Don't move.

There you go. Hands up. Get down on one knee.

Let's go. Yeah.

So I talked to the prosecutor.

If Gregory testifies against Joey C.,

the charges will be knocked down to a misdemeanor.

No prison. That's great, Carter.

Yeah, and now we've proven to your colleagues

that you weren't the pill thief. Thank you.

You're the best partner ever.

- You're not so bad yourself. - Carter!

Why does God hate me?

Y... You're supposed to be doing inventory.

Yeah, well, we caught a murder.

What's wrong with him? Nerve agent of some kind.

Page Dr. Miles, now.

I'm afraid to ask. I was minding my own business

when this girl called.

She was looking for Agent Jeffers,

but he's dead.

She was in jeopardy because she found out

about a murder for hire.

Then she gets killed. Staged to look like an O. D.

Uh, which you did not believe, by the way.

But that's a whole 'nother story.

Anyway, turns out there's this hitman

who makes his kills look like accidents,

and he poisoned this billionaire,

but we caught his ass at the cemetery.

So you didn't do the inventory?

I-I did some of it.

Okay, Logan. Okay.

You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to.

That's fine. But I'm not a fool, either.

There was no getaway car at the cemetery. Huh?

There's no way that one man

could have subdued Avery and Gracie all by themselves.

So you have a partner.

You give him up, we cut you a deal.

Or you can spend the rest of your young life

in a federal penitentiary.

Yeah.

Hmm.

Okay.

We are not gonna get anything out of him.

Who knew that hitmen could be so loyal?

Yeah, well, it's not just about loyalty, Simone.

The guy's afraid.

He knows that if he talks, he dies.

We arrested Ballard for paying for the hit,

but it doesn't feel right that there's a killer

still out there. We're gonna find him. Starting tomorrow.

But tonight, you need to complete inventory duty.

That's funny.

You see me laughing? Nope. I'm on it.

Good.

You know, I can get a suggestion box if you'd like.

For any complaints or anything.

Oh. You heard.

No heart shape in my latte's foam.

Hey, you have to give a little

to get a little in the assistant network.

Complaining about our bosses is what bonds us.

It's all make-believe with you.

Tío. Tío, come on.

How's Delford doing?

It was touch and go for a bit.

But he's gonna be okay.

Almost killed by a handshake. What a day.

I'm on hour 22, but I feel more wired

than I did when we started at 9:00 a. m.

Yeah, me too.

You know, as fun as today was,

being Code Name... Trouble and all,

I'm sad we missed breakfast at the beach.

Yeah. Would have been romantic.

You know what would be even more romantic, though?

The beach at moonlight?

Exactly. I like it.

Yeah? But you know what would be even more romantic than that?

Hmm? The beach at sunrise after we spend the night at my place.

You win. Always.

And don't you forget it.

You really think there's a missing 800 grand out there

and the key to finding it is hidden somewhere

in Vogel's journals? Well, if it is,

the cryptanalysts will find it, but by the way it's looking,

those two women just got into a lot of trouble

for nothing. At least it saved us

from some serious embarrassment.

And I got to check something off of my coloring book.

Oh, not quite.

We have to finish the burn run tomorrow.

Really? No credit for time served?

Alright, well, we can go look at some

different houses for you, then. Oh.

Actually, I predict that my housing fortunes

are about to improve.

Is that Bill and Connie's psychic? Yes.

Ah, Madame Montclairé, thanks for coming in.

Do you know who I am? Laura Stensen.

You're one of the less qualified applicants

for Phil and Connie's home.

Wow, the Internet's really made life easier for psychics.

Oh, yeah. I must warn you.

I am bound by a covenant to guard my clients' trust

in their communion with the fates

and wisdom of the spirits. Sure.

On the other hand, what I'm offering

is to put a small thumb on the scale of justice

with the Phoenix P. D... Who currently have a warrant out

for your arrest for shoplifting a crystal ball.

Congratulations on your new home. Thank you.

Yes!

Oh, see, you are not the only one

who knows how to play the L. A. real estate game.

Working late? Inventory is not gonna finish itself.

You? I'm just trying to get a jump on tomorrow.

I, um... I heard about what happened with you and Jeffers.

And I can't imagine how hard it was to come back from that.

Well, I hope you never have to find out.

Tell me, are you the reason that there is a rumor going around

that I broke the back of the Delford case...

single-handedly?

Well... I, uh, kinda sorta put that out there.

I guess you want me to thank you.

No. I want you to forgive me. For what?

My first day in your unit, I was a little annoyed. Oh, really?

I couldn't tell. But working with you today changed my perspective.

I can be headstrong and impatient.

But I could have learned a lot in your unit.

I could have learned a lot from you.

♪ Flicking light buzzes on everything almost ♪

Probationary Special Agent Clark,

you're absolutely right.

For once.

But, um, next time you have a problem?

Leave me out of it.

Where's the fun in that?

♪ But there's no need to steer ♪