Crossing Jordan (2001–2007): Season 1, Episode 8 - Digger: Part 1 - full transcript

Hey, Lois, what have you got?

Unidentified male.
Five gunshot wounds.

Looks like a good
spot for a mob hit.

There's a million
stories in the naked city.

How come all of yours
seem to involve me?


Got a real live
one here, Jordan.

With all due respect to the dearly
departed, this guy's a chum bucket.

A what?

Don't feed the animals, Lois.

Chum is a
factory-compressed block of, uh,

dead fish with the smell and
consistency of rotting meatloaf.

Scavenger fish smell it a mile
away and just come running.

Case in point.

The gunshot wounds are
all in the abdomen and chest.

Want to help me
turn him over, Lois?


Oh, man.

That's odd. Look
how preserved he is.

Part of him looks like
he died in his sleep

but over here where the
fish got a hold of him, he's...



But these bullet holes.

There's five entry wounds,

no exits.


These aren't bullet wounds.

Well, what the hell are they?

Trocar marks.

From the hollow vacuum spear
morticians use to remove body fluids.

This guy wasn't shot.
He was embalmed.

Embalmed like embalmed?

Yeah, as in embalmed.

So what was he doing
floating in the harbor?

That's what I'm gonna find out.

But first we have to
figure out who he is.

I'm running his prints
right now. Thank you.

But unless someone
reports him missing...

If he was embalmed, chances
are he had a funeral, right?

Yeah, you're right.

Which means there's a death
certificate on file somewhere.


What's with the scowl?
It's worse than normal.

Yakura's leaving.

As in vacation? As in for good.

She's been asked to chair a panel
on medical ethics in Washington.

So as of this Friday she'll no
longer be our chief medical examiner.

Sweet. High five me, baby.


So, uh, when's she handing
you the keys to the kingdom?

Well, that's the problem.

Keys are going to someone
else, someone from outside.

She told me that until her replacement
arrives on Friday, she's gonna need me to

handle things for a couple days,
sort of as a de facto interim chief.

De facto interim? That is
so many shades of wrong.

Well, she's had it in
for me since day one.

Going with an outside hire is a deliberate
move to rub my face in my failure.

Is she in her office? 'Cause
she's not going to get...

Don't, don't, don't.

Come on, Garret! I owe you one.

When you got me my job back I'm
sure you had to twist Yakura's arm.

I practically had to fracture her
left ulna to get her to take you back.

So, now it's my turn.

Jordan, no.

If you go in there, you'd
kiss your job goodbye.

Sometimes a man just has to accept the fact
that he's gone as far in life as he can.

Garret. Let's just
leave it at that.


Good morning, Garret.

Not for me, it isn't.

Is everything okay?

Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine.

I had a real nice time
with you the other night.

That's good.

You know, I've been on a
lot of really weird first dates,

but this one was really cool.

So I was thinking maybe
Friday night if you're in...

You know, Lily...

This really isn't a very
good time to talk about this.


Yeah, sure.

This is downright slanderous.

"Poor hygiene,
smirking attitude?"

All right, spare
my feelings, Bug.

Would you describe
my attitude as smirking?

Well, maybe a hint of a
smirk now and then, but no,

I'd say you project more of a
sneering, simpering, leering sort of vibe.


How'd you do?

Oh, exemplary,
outstanding, dedicated.

Practically perfect
in every way.

That's ridiculous. I'm
just as perfect as you are.

This is a disaster. What
am I gonna do, Bug?

Don't worry about
it. It's just a report.

Yakura's not gonna fire you.

You don't understand.

My immigration visa
expires next Tuesday.

You know how hard I've
worked to stay in this country?

I've got to turn this in, prove I'm an
invaluable member of the workforce.

This is gonna make
that a rather tough sell.

I see your point.

I've got exactly five days
before big men in dark glasses

grab me by the scruff of my neck

and dropkick me
back to Brighton.

The INS only gave you a
five-day deportation warning?

Yeah, well, give
or take six weeks.

I came here on a six month
student visa 13 years ago.

Well, you obviously
weren't a student of math.

What's your in, eh, Bug?

How'd you scam the
Yanks into staying here?

I happen to have marketable skills
which are highly valued in many lands.

But you...

(SNICKERS) Yeah, I can see
why you'd have to resort to trickery.


I got a print match
on our floater.

Leland Jacobs,
died two months ago.

His wife doesn't know
how he got in the water.

Last she knew, he was resting
in peace in National Cemetery.

The military cemetery
out in Quincy?

That's the one.

Hey, Trey.

Why would someone go through all the
trouble of covering up the grave again?

Whoever took him needed
to cover his or her tracks.

Or maybe he or she needed
to bury something else.

Who's that?

I don't know. It looks
like we're gonna find out.

Can I help you?

Don't know yet. Who are you?

Detective Lois Carver,
Boston P.D., Homicide.


Who wants to know?

Ooh, FBI.

Your turn.

Jordan Cavanaugh,
Medical Examiner's Office.

Well, ladies, I'll be handling
things from here on in.

Handling things?

Yeah. Federal land,
federal case. So, you mind?

Doing the honors?
Oh, not at all.

JORDAN: There's a
dead woman in here.

What the hell is going on here?


There's a walkie-talkie
in her hand.

Claw marks on the lid.

This woman was buried alive.

What happened? I beat
you back here by 15 minutes.

I had to park three blocks away.

Tell me, what breed of moron takes a
parking spot of a medical professional?

The nerve.

Yeah, well, it's the
presumption that's involved,

that whatever business
he has is more important

than the person whose name
is actually on the parking spot.

Plus, it's only guys with size
issues that drive cars that big.

Tinted windows, no plates.

MACY: Jordan. Yep.

You two met
earlier, I understand.

Oh, you have got to be the guy.

What guy would that be?

The moron who
took my parking spot.

You do remember this is Special
Agent Drew Haley of the FBI?

Or moron, if you prefer.

There's something
I want from you two.

You kicked us out of the crime scene.
You wouldn't release the girl's body.

You absconded with evidence
pertinent to our decomp case.

What else could
you possibly want?

Your photographer
was taking pictures.

I'm gonna have to ask for that
disk from your digital camera.

What? What?

I'm sure you're a
model of discretion,

but we wouldn't want those
getting out. Nothing personal.

Give him the disk, Jordan.
It's not up for discussion.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I've got to go keep the Chief M.E.'s
chair warm until her replacement arrives.

For the record, I'm a medical
examiner, not a photographer.

Hey, sorry about the "moron."

Nothing personal.

I got to say, I'm surprised.

Why is that?

You giving up the goods so easy.

Since when did you
cooperate with the Man?

Since never.

Come on, Darmesh. Be a man.

You won't get any if you
can't even court the woman.

Why are you grinning at me?

What sign are you?

I'm busy. Go away.

You're a Pisces, aren't you?

You know, we're
extremely compatible.

Go away.


"Business is questionable, but
marriage more than favorable."

Face it. If Yakura's
gonna sack me,

only one option remains
for me to gain citizenship.

You're not talking about what
I think you're talking about,

are you? Come on.

Yeah, you and me,

a scenic jaunt to Vermont for
a quickie same-sex wedding.

But, there's method
to my madness.

You see, the INS is bound to ask
questions to make sure our love is true,

but you and I, we're co-workers.

So it minimizes the subterfuge.

We can say we fell in love over
bacteria slides and splatter patterns.

I like girls.

As do I, but our love
can transcend sexuality.

What do you say, Buggles?
Help out a friend in need?

Be my wife?

You know, I can't think of a
way to be sensitive about this.




All right then,
see you at lunch.


Doctor Macy, can we talk?


Lily, this may not
be the best time.

I've got a splitting headache
and I can't seem to...

I can't seem to open
this damn bottle.

Well, it'll only take a second and
then you can get back to banging.

Our conversation this morning...

I was... I was just trying to
convey my feelings for you,

feelings that I just
assumed were mutual.

Look, I'm very sorry.

I've just had a really bad day.

Well, maybe you shouldn't
take that out on people that


really starting to
care about you.

It's just bad karma.

Bad karma.

You're gonna tell
me about bad karma?

Try doing a job for 15
years that you despise,

only to be passed over
time and time again,

stuck forever in the
seventh level of hell.

(STAMMERING) Relegated
to being some temporary

interim de facto vice idiot!

Whatever I did in a past life,
it must have been a doozy.

I know what's happening here.

You're all the same. You give a
girl enough to keep her interested

and then you pull away
and treat her like crap.

Which, of course, only
makes her like you more.

Lily, it's... Please.

I've been through it enough to know when
I'm gonna get my heart broken by a bad boy.

And you, Garret, are a bad boy.

What do we have?

Well, I took the liberty of enlarging
the walkie-talkie in her hand.

Thought maybe I could
read a model number.

It's worth a shot.

How come this is all
you've got to go on?

Can't you read the boot
print on my ass that says FBI?

Oh, yeah, there it is.

So, uh, have you got room
on your dance card tonight?

Oh, please. No, I'm serious.

What sign are you?

Well, I've got
several. Uh, "Danger,"

"Do Not Enter," "Beware
of Men Who Are Dogs."

Fair enough.

So what are the chances that you'd be
free to marry me, say, uh, next Tuesday?

I'd say, uh, the chances of that
could be expressed mathematically

as diddly over
squat. But thanks.

Well, you can't blame
a bloke for trying.


Now, if we can just make
out the model number here.

Series 7-2000. It's
a two-watt output.

Geek-free version, please?

It's a short range
two-way radio.

Whoever was listening
in on your girl's last rites

was within 200 yards of her.

Looks like my dance
card just opened up.

Got any plans?

Wherever he was hiding out,
I guarantee you he left a trace.

Hold it right there,
sugar. You, too, twinkle.

Whatever necrophilic
skinhead Goth hippie freak show

you're thinking of putting
on, it ain't gonna happen.

Not on my watch.

Your watch?

And, what watch would that be?

Do you realize my colleague
Agent Bollocks and I

penetrated the perimeter
an hour and 27 minutes ago?

What? Yeah, we could have dug up

half the east lot and reenacted
the Battle of Bunker Hill in that time.

You know, it's
employees like you, Milo,

who give all graveyard security
personnel a really bad name.

Look, I thought
you guys were done.

Wait, are you
guys with the Feds?

Do we look like we're
with the Feds, Milo?

Well, then who are you with?

I wouldn't ask too many
questions if I were you.

All you need to know is we're here to
file a report on lax security measures

and your name is gonna
be above the title, Milo.

Especially after last
night's desecration.

It takes me an hour and 43
minutes to walk the perimeter.

I can't be everywhere
at once, Agent.

An hour and 43 minutes.
Make a note of that.

I'd start right
now if I was you.

Try and get that
down to an hour 38.

Thank you, Agent Bollocks.

But I can't do that.

I am timing you.

Yes, ma'am.

JORDAN: Okay, where did he hide?

This entire door's
been dusted for prints.

Ah, you smell that?
Industrial bleach.

I smell something else.
Government cleanup job.

God, look at this place.

The Feds have been over it with a
fine tooth comb and then hosed it down

so no one would be the wiser.

Not quite.


I ask myself,

why do I do these favors for
you when I get so little in return?

I just gave you a story about
a top secret FBI investigation.

Oh, yeah. Some headline.

"Vandals Strike
Boston Boneyard."

Vandals? What are
you talking about?

I ran your LexisNexis search for "FBI"
and "Cemetery" over the last six weeks.

Kept it New
England, like you said.

Only hits were vandalism
investigations in military graveyards.

Pretty boring.

But there is one thing
that's kinda hinky.

You want to tell me why the FBI's ace
behaviorist is digging up graveyards?


Profiler. Serial killers.

This is the guy who closed the
Klineman case in Montana last year.

You're welcome.

Come on, Vicki. What better way to get
to know someone than matrimony, eh?

I'll do it.

I'll marry you.

Oh, ha-ha.

Rub it in, Lilliput. Kick
the Brit while he's down.

Hey, I'm serious.

Lily, while I
appreciate the gesture,

perhaps you'd better
think this through.

Already have.

I've been waiting for you to ask
me since Bug turned you down.

I never thought I'd
hear myself say this,

but why would you
want to marry me?

Let's just say it has something to
do with my karma and leave it at that.

It's just something
I have to do.

Oh, so this is all
about you then?

Focused self-interest.

One of the first things
we have in common.

How's next Tuesday for you?


Oh, thanks, kid.

If you're looking for me, I didn't
know we had any unfinished business.

Want to try again?

And this time, tell me why this
was coated in fingerprint powder?


This wasn't on the curiously
blank photo disk you gave me.

The girl we found,
what number was she?

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

That's funny, 'cause as a
profiler specializing in serial killers

I'd have thought you
would have been filled in.

Her name was Valerie Wenner.

She was the fifth.

Two in Portland, two
in New Hampshire.

So he still has one left
here in Boston, huh?

I'm gonna appeal to your professional
nature, assuming you have one

and ask you to
keep this to yourself.

Good night, Doctor.

Tell me, how many fingers
did you have to break

to pry that radio out
of the girl's hand?

This guy taunting
her, terrifying her,

that was the last thing
she heard in this life.

Look, I just want
to help you get him.

Good night, Doctor.

Okay, since my appeal to your
sense of decency isn't working,

here it is in language
you do understand.

Unless you want to hear my own
personal account on this tragedy

accompanied by a photo spread in
tomorrow's paper, you better start talking.

Who is he?

We call him The Digger.

What's his thing?
Why does he do it?

I don't know


Well, five bodies in three states,
that's a lot of ground to cover.

Which is why I'm having all the bodies
exhumed and sent here to the field office

so an expert can get a
look at them side by side.

Well, look no further.

Why do I get the feeling you're
not gonna take no for an answer?

'Cause I'm not.

Be here tomorrow
morning, 9:00 a.m. sharp.

These numbers he etched in
the wall, what do they mean?

We think they're
biblical references.

This is the second
one we've found.

We're bringing
the bodies in now.

Valerie Wenner.

Well, what do you see?

Is this a test?

I'm just curious.

Well, I'll know a lot more
once I get her on a table.

These puncture
wounds in her neck,

he injected her with something
to get her into the coffin.

Phenobarbital and diazepam.

So much for the blood work.

Other than that, there's
no distinguishing marks

except for the mole
on her left cheek.

Drawn on with an eyebrow pencil.

Why don't you save us both a lot of
time and just tell me everything you know?

Victor, bring them
all in, would you?

Victor's on loan to me
from Spatter Analysis.

Give this guy a bloody
sheet and he can triangulate

the height, the weight and the posture of
the shooter, all using computer imagery.

Cool as that may be, I'm
really a low-tech girl at heart.

I figured that.

Oh, that's right. You profilers
like to get inside people's heads,

figure out why they
do what they do.

They say you're
pretty good at it.

They? They don't know
a damn thing about me.

So, dazzle me.

Tell me about how my dad
spanked me when I was eight

or how I kissed my
first boy at the age of 12.

Hey, what color
underwear do I have on?

(DOOR BUZZING) I take my
work pretty seriously, Doctor.


And so does Digger.

Now the nature of his crime leaves
us five steps behind every time.

He places each of these
girls in a freshly dug up grave.

It's always men's graves
and they're mostly in their 50s.

Then he transports their
bodies in some kind of a truck,

like a flatbed.

Then he dumps
them in a remote area.

He's clever, but he's driven by the two
things that are gonna bring him down.

And the first is hatred.
Someone hurt this guy real bad.

The second is need.

The bigger the monster,
the bigger the need.

Well, you already
know Valerie Wenner.

Meet Susan Messenger,
victim number four.

Jane Doe, number
626, victim number three.

Ann Ridley, victim number two.

And Jaclyn Mercer, patient zero.

As of now, you and I are the only
ones who have seen all the bodies.

Besides him.

Doctor Macy.

Oh, hey, Lily. Um...

Listen, about our
last conversation...

I just wanted to ask if I
could have Tuesday off.

What? This Tuesday, why?

Well, it's short notice,
I know, but, uh...

A friend of mine is
in a bit of a jam, so...

Well, I don't see why not, but

you're leaving me
a little shorthanded.

Nigel asked for
Tuesday off, too.

Yeah, I know.

We need to get the license signed before
we meet with the justice of the peace.

I'm sorry, am I
missing something?

It's no biggie. Nigel's having some green
card problems, so I'm gonna help him out.

You're helping him out?
You're... You're marrying Nigel?

Yeah. It's just so he
can stay in the country.

Do you have any idea of the
world of legal hurt you can get into?

I'll be fine. It's the
right thing to do.

I'm pretty sure the
INS would disagree.

If I were you, I would
forget all about this.

Well, you're not me.

When I see a situation that's unfair,
I don't just sit around for 15 years,

I do something about it.

Can I have Tuesday
off, Dr. Macy?

No, I need you
here at the office.

Fine. We'll just have the
wedding here then after work.

HALEY: She fought hard.

An adult confined
to a small space

quickly regresses
into an infantile state.

Her last words were
probably "Mommy."

That's a pleasant thought. It's
inhuman what he did to them.

I disagree. Cruelty and
violence are very human.

Look, we only have four
biological imperatives.

Feed, fight, flee and fornicate.

And they all are linked
to pain and pleasure.

Man came down from the
trees a couple million years ago.

Meaning? Meaning we evolved.

We've got this little thing
called impulse control.

Look who's talking
about impulse control.

Face it, we're a
species of bloodletters.

That's a bleak view. Is that
the world Digger lives in?

Digger? Oh, no.

Whatever impulse control
Digger had is long gone.

No, a killer this
bold wants attention,

all the attention he can get.

How do we know that?

Lesson number one
in criminal profiling,

analyzing the killer's
first victim is crucial

in determining his psyche.

Now, you take Miss Mercer here.

Digger grabbed her in broad daylight in
a crowded parking lot of a supermarket.

Blind rage, untempered by fear.

There's just one small problem.

I think the Portland M.E.
made a very common mistake.

Now, both bodies were found
at approximately the same time

and Jaclyn was far more
decomposed than Ann.

Correct. That's how we determined
that Jaclyn was the first victim.

Except Jaclyn suffered
from hypothermia.

She fought so hard to escape from that
coffin that her body temperature soared,

virtually melting
her internal organs.

Now, Ann, on the other
hand, died from suffocation.


So victims of hypothermia decompose
twice as fast as victims of suffocation.

Are you telling me...

Are you telling me
that Ann was killed first?

The bodies never lie.


That means my
profile was all wrong.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

People die when I make mistakes.

It wasn't your fault. It
was shoddy forensics.

You want to hear
what else I found or no?

I don't know, do I?

Ann Ridley was a natural
chestnut-haired brunette.

The other four all got dye jobs right
before they died, which would suggest...

That they were all
made up to look like her.

I thought you were gonna
tell me something I didn't know.

Well, if you'd let me in on
some of your little secrets,

I wouldn't be going over
the same damn clue trail.

And if I thought I could trust
you a little more, maybe I would.

Then you're not as good at
reading people as you think,

because you don't know
the first thing about me.

You're an only child.

A daddy's girl.

Something happened when
you were young, something awful.

It's a wound that's
never healed.

But you use it. It
fuels you, drives you.

I bet you have
nightmares about it.

And they're powder blue.


Your underwear.


I'm not wearing any.

Well, it's not an exact science.

And I'm not the one you
should be picking apart.

You're right.

Let's go. Where are we going?

Inside Digger's head.

NIGEL: My favorite
color? LILY: Chartreuse.

Tell me about my tattoo.

Betty Boop, left butt cheek.

We're all set then.

Wait, aren't you gonna ask
me something about myself?

You're an open book, angel.

What's my last name?

Point taken. Mmm-hmm.


Oh, I forgot to ask you
the most important thing.

What's your size?

I usually take a
twelve and a half.

I don't mean your shoe size.

Oh, my size.

I'm gonna need to see it. What?

What if they ask
me to describe it?

Well, um, do I get to see yours?

No, of course not.

Well, I'm not dropping
trou. Come on. Hey, look...

Here's an instant camera.

I'll wait.

You're a twisted bird.

And I love that about you.


Tell me about Ann Ridley.

She has no family, no friends.

She lives alone in a trailer
park outside of Portland.

The evidence shows that
he grabbed her at night.

So Digger's first kill wasn't
public and impulsive, but secretive.

He probably had time to plan.

But why Ann Ridley?

Why was she his first kill?

We gotta go deep
enough inside him

to know what he craves,
to know what he fears.

I'm familiar with the mechanics.

Daddy's girl, remember?

Well, uh, Daddy was a cop and I've
been doing this since I was 12 years old.

So, you be Digger.

And I'll be Ann.

HALEY: There's
something about you.

JORDAN: I remind you of someone.

Yeah, someone I hate.

Someone I've been fantasizing
about getting revenge against for years.

How do you know me?

Maybe I deliver your mail.

Maybe I live next
door. But I watch you.

Every day, coming and going,
standing at the door, until finally I snap.

But you don't kill me yet.

Because whoever I remind you of,

you've never been
able to kill her either.

Does it excite you?

Yes. Oh, yes, enough to do
it again and again and again.

But why did you choose me?

You're the only one I didn't
have to put makeup on.

You were perfect.

You remind me of someone.

Who? Your wife? Your mother?

Whoever it is,

it takes time to make the
other girls look like you.

You use hotel rooms,
assumed names?

No, this is an act of intimacy.
I'm recreating someone.

I need a place of
my own. A home.

Then how did you kill so many
women in so many places?


You live in a trailer.

He took his home on the road.

That's why Ann was the first.

You live right there
in the trailer park.

Right next door.

Watching her.

Wanting her.

Then taking her.


Gotta go.

Is that about Digger?

Gotta go, that's all.


So, Jordan Cavanaugh
asks for help again.

Didn't Nostradamus predict this?

You find anything out?

Let's get something straight.

I don't jump when you snap
just to get nothing in return.

I've kept you in the loop.


All right, come with me.
Where are we going?

Practically had to sign a
blood oath with the devil

to get this information out
of my contact at the Bureau.

Please, just spill it.

Your boyfriend Haley applied
for a federal search warrant.

Residence outside Boston.

She slipped me the
address. Get this. It's...

A trailer park.

I'm not even gonna ask.

JORDAN: The Feds,
they're not here yet.

It takes time to wake a judge
and get a warrant signed.

We're looking for slot K.


Hope you brought a
change of underwear.

That's it.

What the hell are you doing?


Excuse me.

You're gonna get us killed.

But we're having fun. And
isn't that what's really important?


ADAM: What the...
JORDAN: Dead lilies.

There are dates at the top.

They correspond to the dates
those girls disappeared, right?

Yeah, but these numbers
here, they're not Bible references.

They're times.

He recorded how long they
stayed alive underground.


Get behind me.




(SOBBING) Help me.


Hello, hello.

Help me. I can't see anything.

I'm a doctor. I'm gonna try to
help you, okay? What's your name?

Chloe. My name's Chloe.
Oh, my God, please help.

We're gonna find
you, Chloe, I promise.

But I need you to
conserve your air.

From here on out, just take
slow, deep breaths, okay?

Oh, please, you've
gotta get me out of here.

I don't know where I am.

We're on our way.

Call the morgue,
ask for Dr. Macy.

Tell him we're on our way in.
We need everyone there. Help me.

And we need to get that dead
body in the trunk of your car.

What for? He's gonna
tell us where she is.

Got it.

Okay, people, listen
up. We've got 90 minutes

until that girl goes into carbon
dioxide-induced coma and dies.

Let's work some miracles.

Nigel, this is a
different walkie.

Any idea on the range?

No, he's jerry-rigged
the antenna.

It's a CB frequency.
She could be anywhere.

Lily, I need you
to keep her calm.

Her name's Chloe.
Just talk to her.

Okay, get Haley.
Bring him down here.

What do we know? White
male in his 60s, no viable prints.

I think we interrupted the
killer before he could dump him.

Wherever he was buried is
where we're gonna find the girl.

Skull is completely fractured.

It'll be tough to
do a dental match.

Looks like he's been in the
ground less than two months.

Looks like a tattoo. Trey,
Bug, raise it and track it.

Nigel, you get the torso.

Garret, I think we can work the head,
maybe pull out a facial reconstruction,

but we're gonna have to separate
it and put it on another table.

All right, let's do
it. Come on, go, go!

This isn't gonna work. We're
gonna have to take the face off.

Nige. Thanks. Let's see.

Okay, we got all the trace
we're gonna get. Ready to hose.

Funky looking Y-incision.

More like an I-incision.
Eastern European technique?

Most of his teeth
are still here.

At least 15 fillings.

Definitely had a
lot of work done.

Yeah, but not in this country.

We stopped using
platinum in the '50s.

The only place I know that still
do are parts of Eastern Europe.

So where do we start?

TREY: This one must've
hurt. Amateur job, looks like.

Trusting fellow, wasn't he?

Letting somebody poke him
50,000 times with a dirty needle.

TREY: What does
this look like to you?

I don't know, I
can't make it out.

It could be anything
from Greek to Russian.

Okay, that's good enough.

Let's upload these
in the computer,

see if we can clean it up
and get a match with VICAP.

Bingo. Armenia. It's the insignia
for the Armenian National Guard.

If he died overseas and
was shipped here for burial,

there's gotta be a trail
of paperwork somewhere.

I'm on it. We gotta find
that cemetery, Nigel.

Everyone out!

Can't get a hold of Haley, but
I left a message. LILY: Hello?

Keep trying. Chloe?

How's she doing? I don't know.

I just keep talking. I think I
can still hear her breathing.

Chloe? Can you hear me?

Chloe, we're on our
way, sweetheart. Chloe?


Marcon Napetian.

Died and autopsied overseas, but shipped
stateside to be buried next to his wife.

Where? A small cemetery plot

right behind the
Armenian-American church.

It's just 10 minutes away.

I'll drive.

JORDAN: Lily, call Boston P.D.

Doctor Macy?

Grace. I received
your call on my service.

Looks like I've
missed all the action.

It's all right. We've
got it under control.

Anything I need
to get involved in?

No. We're okay.

Very well then. Good night.


Listen, I know you're bringing in
some heavy hitter from the outside,

but whoever he or she
is, I want you to fire 'em.

Excuse me?

You're not gonna find
anyone who's already

gone through all the
stages of grief and hatred

before arriving at acceptance,

even love, for this place,
these people and this work.

I want your job, Grace.

It was yours all along, Garret.

I was just waiting
for you to ask.


WOMAN: Any minute
now. They're on their way.

I think we got a live one.


Chloe, I'm here.
Come on, breathe.

Chloe. Come on,
come on, breathe.

We'll take it from here.

Where have you
been? Getting a warrant.

It's a little thing
called the law.

What the hell happened?

I was trying to save her.

She's gone.

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