Diagnosis Murder (1993–2001): Season 6, Episode 8 - Rear Windows '98 - full transcript

Okay, Internet,

take me someplace where I don't
have to do any paperwork.

Mm-mm.

That's better.

Nice living room.

That's unbelievable.

Well, I'm afraid my paperwork's
a lot more interesting.

Bye-bye, Joannecam.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Oh, somebody help!

Where are you?



How do I find...? Oh!

Where...?

It's got to be here.

What's an "url"?

It's an address you type in

to get to a site on
the World Wide Web.

Now, this message is saying

that the address Amanda's
using doesn't exist.

But it did.

I watched a woman get murdered.

You know, maybe it was
a film clip.

Some of those sites use videos.

Mark, it wasn't a film clip.

Well, maybe it was
just a joke, then.



You know, like that couple
who, uh, set up the Web site

so you could watch them
lose their virginity.

Yeah, nothing ever happened.

It was in the paper.

This isn't a joke, you guys.

We've got to find her.

It's gonna be tough

without a full name
or an address of any kind.

All right, she was
in her late twenties,

she was fairly attractive,
she walked with a limp.

Can't we call missing persons
and see if anyone fits

that description?

You know, Amanda,
even if there was a murder,

it could have happened
anywhere in the world.

You know that... just because
you were logged in from L.A...

Doesn't mean
she was killed here.

I just don't think
there's enough to go on.

Someone died somewhere,
I witnessed it,

and I feel like
I'm the only one who cares.

Susan?

Susan, what's wrong?
What happened?

Acute stomach pain,

vomiting, low-grade fever.

Okay, uh, I want a C.B.C.,
chem 7, liver profile,

amylase, lipase, K.U.B.,
flat and upright,

and, uh, let's get
an abdominal sono

to rule out gallstone
or acute appendicitis.

Jesse, I do not
have appendicitis.

Look, I am the doctor,
you are the patient.

I have to check for everything.

I am telling you the pain
is not just on one side.

Especially with you
poking at me like that.

I think it's food poisoning.

You couldn't have gotten
food poisoning.

You and I had breakfast
together, and I'm not sick.

Not breakfast... lunch.

Lunch?
But you were going out to lunch.

You were going
to have lunch at...

Barbecue Bob's.

Shh!

You did not get food poisoning
at Barbecue Bob's.

Will you stop?

It wasn't Barbecue Bob's.

I poured some of that so-called
hot barbecue sauce of yours

on a piece of bread...

and I barely made it
to the bathroom.

It wasn't Barbecue Bob's.

It had to be.

Jesse, you have to get

a health inspector to check.

What if other people get sick...

like I'm about to again?

W-w-whoa...

Okay, I want 35mg of Compazine

and start an I.V. with
ringer's at 250 per hour.

Mm-hmm.

Oh, and, uh, call admitting
and get a room. Thanks.

Oh, a-and, nurse...

thanks.

Okay?

You don't have to do that.

Just treat me and
let me go home.

No, no, no, I'm not gonna have
you running around loose here

bad-mouthing my restaurant.

But I got food poisoning there.

Shh!

You put that hand
over my mouth again,

I will use it for a bucket.

Okay.

We're going to get you
a private room,

a private nurse and
around-the-clock care, okay?

Everything's going to be fine.

And it wasn't Bob's.

Wasn't Bob's.

Wasn't Bob's.

You still trying
to find Joannecam?

You saw her, too?

No, but Mark told me that
you were obsessed about it.

Concerned.

He said that you were concerned.

What have you found, exactly?

Exactly? Lists.

The Internet is big on lists.

Yes, including ones
of unsolved homicides.

I have been searching
and searching and I
can't find anything

that even begins to resemble
the woman I know I saw.

Why would anybody do that?

Set up a camera like that
in their house.

All those strangers watching you
all the time. Creepy.

Except nobody ever really
does know who you are.

You're just this body
wandering across the
screen doing whatever.

You know, I really wish
I knew who Joanne was

or knew somebody who did.

I think I might be able
to help you.

So this is where
everybody knows your name?

That's my Demon Demolition

You play online games?

Game. Singular.

You don't want to do too many

or else you lose
sight of reality.

So I hear.

Hey, guys.

Aw, man, you had
to bring a newbie.

We have to focus our attention

on the dripping tunnels.

That was very cordial.

Consider this a blanket apology

for whatever comes
out of Tapley's mouth

now or anytime in the future.

Thank you.

This is Dr.
Amanda Bentley.

She's the assistant
county medical examiner.

You mean, like...
like in autopsies?

Y-incisions, bone saws?

Tapley gets way too
much joy out of
killing demons.

I'm Boyd Harcourt.
I'm the normal one.

That would depend on
one's definition of normal.

You want to log in, me?

Me?

Oh, M.E., as in
medical examiner.

Uh, no. No, actually
I just came by

to ask you if
you knew anything
about Joannecam.

Oh, one of the Web cam floozies.

You know her.

J.W. doesn't know
anybody, exactly.

It's the clothes.

Scares people off.

These are visual critiques
of cultural trends.

And this month's critique is...

I am mourning
the loss of mortal sin

in a world where
everything is relative.

Ah.

Uh, Joannecam
was stabbed to death

while Amanda was logged
on to her site.

Cool.

See?

We've been logged
on all morning,

and I haven't seen
anything about it,

and that's the kind
of info that just

moves across the Web
in a nanosecond.

What's Joannecam's U.R.L.?

Maybe the body's still there.

It's gone.

Bummer!

My first real dead cyber-corpse.

Gone. Gone!

No, I mean the Web site.

It doesn't work anymore,

and I need to find this woman.

I want to know what
happened to her.

Oh, don't look at me,
I only speak games.

It's an index for all
the Web cam sites

that go up on the Internet.

It links you up to the newest,
coolest Web cams as they go up.

Which happens
a couple times a day.

Proving there's more ego
than sense on the Net.

All right. Do you have
the U.R.L. for, um...

Sure.

Be my pleasure to log you on.

Of course it would.

Ow.

Don't worry, Dr. Bentley.

If Joannecam's still
on the Net, she
can be found.

A live feed of somebody's
front lawn.

That's exciting.

Not nearly as exciting
as the woman

who devotes her site
to her castanet lessons.

The electronic frontier.

Scary.

Sad.

Okay, let's get back on
HotWebCam and try again.

I don't know, this
index of Web sites

is interesting, but it hasn't
exactly led us to Joanne.

I know, Mark,

but I'm not gonna quit looking
until I find her.

You said Joanne had a limp?

Yeah, a pronounced one.

What did it look like?

Kind of a shuffle?

Well, I... I can't
really describe it.

I don't know.

Well, did it look like this?

Kind of a...

No.

Mmm.

How about this?

Mm-mm.

No?

Mm-mm.

How about this?

That's it.

She had a club foot.

Are you sure?

That kind of birth defect's
very distinctive.

Do you still have that list
of unsolved homicides

you told Jesse about?

Yeah, I downloaded a new
one a few minutes ago.

Maybe if you cross-indexed
the autopsies...

With orthopedic anomalies,

specifically clubfoot...

you just might find Joannecam.

Yes, I'm still waiting.
You told me to.

It's a simple transaction.

What's the problem?

I just got a call from the
Philadelphia Police Department.

They find Joanne?

This is definitely
the woman that I saw.

I talked to one of their
homicide detectives
right after you called.

He, uh, checked around and sent
that over a few minutes later.

I did have fun trying to explain

how I knew she was dead.

Do they know who she is?

Joanne Markbright.

She's an accountant that works
out of her living room.

When they checked her house,

they found bloodstains,
signs of a struggle

and a camera on top
of her computer.

Well, at least I really saw
what I thought I saw.

Any suspects?

Not yet.

They're checking
an old boyfriend

and her business contacts,

but so far nothing's turned up.

Amanda?

Hmm?

I'm really sorry, but
I'm having a problem
with your bill.

It was a barbecue
sandwich, Jesse.

How much trouble
can it be giving you?

I'm rea sorry about this.

What are you...? St-stop it!

I'm doing what the credit card
company told me to do.

They told you to turn
my credit card into confetti?

I ran it through the
machine, a code came up,

I called it in,
they said cut it up.

But this is me.
I'm not a stranger.

How can you do this to me?

I didn't have a choice.

He's right. If we don't
confiscate the cards

when they tell us to,

the company could
cancel our account.

Yeah, and we-we can't
run a restaurant

without accepting credit cards.

Well, I'm sure when you call in
your canceled check numbers

they'll realize it's a mistake.

Well, thanks a lot, guys.

I don't believe this.

I hate computers.

Is your computer fighting back?

I'm waiting for the NCIC

to identify some fingerprints

I faxed over this morning.

Oh, you mean the John Doe

that washed up
in Ballona Creek last night?

Sixty years old,

no visible identifying marks,
no wallet,

not even a shredded credit card.

Yeah, I sort of came up here
to apologize about that.

That's okay. You were just
doing what you were told.

Ah, I've been thinking
about it ever since.

You know, how
embarrassing it must be

to have something like that

happen to you
right there in public,

someone who's
in a position of trust,

a respected member
of the medical community.

I'm sure by now you've called
the credit card company

and everything
is going to be okay.

I'm sure they've
straightened it out

and it'll never happen again.

It probably should have never
happened in the first place.

You didn't call
your credit card company?

Yes, I did call
the credit card company,

and I called
their computer or whatever,

which insists that I'm six
months behind in my payments,

which is absolutely not true.

There's no way.

You can argue
with a computer and win.

What about your canceled checks?

I do all of my banking online,
thank you.

Oh, which means that your bank's
computer has to talk

to the credit card
company's computer.

And with my luck,
they'll hate each other.

Wait a minute. At least
my computer seems to like me.

Or maybe not.

What?

"NCIC request number
CGLA 47509F.

"Positive fingerprint match.

Subject name:
Amanda Bentley."

What is this?

Damn. Crime scene call.

See you later.

Hello?

Is there a crime scene
officer here?

Where the hell is everybody?
Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Anybody back there?

Amanda Bentley.

This is Joannecam's
bank statement.

He wanted me to find this.

He's warning you to back off

any further investigation.

But there's no way he could know

that Amanda helped
the police I.D. Joanne.

My credit card,
the NCIC report...

That's got to be him, too.

It's the only thing
that makes sense.

You know, our killer's got to be

a computer expert.

Maybe that's his connection
with the victim.

But why is he after me?

He probably figures
you can identify him.

But I can't.
I never saw his face.

I wish I could.

Amanda...

Caltrans says that the, uh...

traffic signal
malfunction yesterday

wasn't a technical problem.

Someone hacked into
their computer system

and rerouted the signal
for 90 seconds.

Making all the lights
go green at the same time.

And then he lured me

into that empty building

just to let me know
that he could.

Somehow your search
for Joanne has let him know

who and where you are.

We've got to find him.

An electronic stalker?
That's awful.

You want some of my latte?

This isn't a joke.
This is real, you guys.

Yeah, stop smiling.
She needs our help.

She does?

Don't you recognize

a damsel in distress?

I don't see

a damsel anywhere

just someone in need
of our expertise

such as it is.

That right?

All right, how do I stop him?

How much do you do online?

Some banking, my shopping.

I don't know, my bills.

He's hacking through

the encryption programs.

Yeah.

Well, I thought
those security programs

were protected by passwords.

Some encryption programs
are better than others.

Besides, nothing's secure
if you're good enough.

Which he obviously is.

So what do I do about it?

I think maybe
it's time for the Weasel.

"The Weasel"?

Best little rodent
in cyberspace.

Come on.

Hey, Amanda, have
you seen Steve?

I got to talk to him.

I think he's home.

Wow.

You actually let them in there?

Well, they're your friends.

Besides, I don't think
I really had a choice.

If I don't make a move,

this guy's going
to ruin my life.

It is pretty scary

how easily he seems
to be doing it.

You ever think about
how vulnerable we are,

you know, all that information
floating around

out there in cyberspace?

Sometimes I don't think we exist

anywhere but online.

Oh, but we do.

I mean, what if
this guy figures out a way

to revoke my medical license
or take my son from me?

I'm not prepared to fight that.

Maybe these guys are.

They are serious
about what they do.

Whoo!

Mostly serious.

I got to go.

Susan is calling
the health inspector on you

just because she's got

a little touch
of food poisoning?

On me? I thought we both owned
this restaurant.

You're the one that's
going to apologize...

You know, flowers, candy.

If she sees candy,
she's going to puke... again.

Well, then marry her.
Just fix this.

Hey, come on, Steve.
She's really sick.

I know. I'm sorry.

How can she be so sure
that it's Barbecue Bob's?

I mean, she's a nurse.

She's around
sick people all day.

Because she started throwing up

after she had
your barbecue sauce.

Jess, if it was
the barbecue sauce,

there'd be a fleet of ambulances

bringing people
to the emergency room.

A fl... We had that large
a lunch crowd?

A small fleet.

Okay, one very full ambulance.

Look, Jess, I hate to say this,

but your girlfriend
is delusional.

Nah, she's not delusional.

I've dated delusional women,

and they wouldn't have
stopped at the barbecue sauce.

Why couldn't she just
stay one more day

at that girls' camp?

That's right. She was
there for three days.

Yeah. And now she's
way too community minded.

And she's very sick,

and I think I'm starting
to understand why.

Hey, and it wasn't the
potato salad, either.

I ate a bunch of that myself.

It was fine.

Oh, I wouldn't do
that if I were you.

That's scalding water
to clean the autopsy table.

Oh.

Guys, it's been three hours.

Are you sure this
is going to work?

Absolutely. We just don't
know when your stalker's

going to launch his next attack.

And we have to be
online when he does.

All right, so we wait.

I wish I'd never
found Joannecam.

I mean, who in their right mind
would put a live camera

in their living room
for everyone to look at?

It's stupid.

It's cool.

Showing people how you live.

Yeah, well, I wouldn't want
anyone to see me

in the morning before
I had my first cup of coffee.

Might be nice.

It demonstrates
the interconnectedness

of every life on the planet.

Pure visual communication
to bind us together.

That is a crock.

It's all about making
their insignificant lives

seem significant.

Say you're some poor slug

who works in a cubicle all day,

you barely see your coworkers,

never see the boss,
but when you go home

and step in front
of your Web camera...

You're no longer
Joanne Markbright, accountant.

You're Joannecam, Internet star.

You get e-mail.

They set up chat rooms
and news groups about you.

You make pasta and everybody
wants your recipe.

You're somebody...

for a while.

You know what you need
in here, me?

Hmm.

Yep, you tie into
that security camera up there,

show the world what life is like

in the mundane but gory world
of a medical examiner.

You'll get more hits
than a Pamela Anderson site.

I still don't understand
this Weasel thing.

It's really pretty simple.

As soon as your stalker
starts trying

to download your personal files,

our Weasel program
will kick in...

And instruct his computer
to send info about him

to your computer.

Everything about him?

Depends how long it
takes him to catch on.

Don't worry,
Dr. Bentley.

Joannecam may have sunk

beneath the icy waters
of cyberspace,

but some of us will survive.

Here we go.

Cute little guy, huh?

What's that?

His modem number.

J.W.'s sending it over
to Boyd's computer

to get a reverse
directory listing.

Now.

Well, what happened?
It's gone!

He's killed the connection.
Bye-bye.

Well, was it long enough?

More than long enough.

That's here in L.A.

Time to call the cops.

Amanda.

Is it the killer?

We have something,

but it's not what
we're looking for.

Check the back.

Yeah, got it.

The killer wanted you
to find him.

He lured you here.

Stabbed to death

less than an hour ago, I think.

Just after you found
the address.

This is Sloan.

I need a crime scene unit
and a coroner's wagon.

Steve?

Now we're online, too,

and I'll bet you
he's out there watching.

I don't see what my list

of unsolved homicides
is going to give us.

The link between
your two dead Web cam operators.

I went looking
at the Web cam index site

looking for links
that don't work anymore.

Well, there must
be a lot of them.

Oh, there were.

Now, if we can cross-reference

the information we have on them

with your list
of unsolved murders...

I don't think
I like where this is going.

You found a match?

Yep.

There's six
inactive Web site addresses,

six cities,

six murders and six matches.

We've got ourselves
a serial killer.

I decided to surf the Web,

then I witness a murder online,

and now the serial
killer's after me.

I don't get why he's destroying

Amanda's credit report

and why he's committing murder
in front of witnesses.

Because he's killing
people twice...

Once in real life
and once in cyberspace.

But how does the killer know

where the victims were?
I mean in the real world.

Because he knows where to look.

Let's log on
to our little Web cam site.

Another fascinating glimpse
into the daily life of America.

Okay, now, there's a...

shopping bag on the table.

Looks like it says
"Filene's Department Store."

Filene's is only
in the Northeast.

That doesn't narrow
it down much.

Yeah, but this does right here.

Look at that... a magazine

with a subscription label on it.

Yeah, but it's too
small to read.

Well, it wouldn't be
if you had a digital enhancer.

You could blow it right up.

This guy's most deadly weapon
is his keyboard.

He must have
known about the
Weasel program.

That's how he lured us in.

Which means he could be
one of those computer geeks

who planted it for you.

Oh, come on, I walk in there,

I ask for some help,
and this would be

the one place in the world

where he hangs out?

Still wouldn't hurt
to check him out.

Whoever our killer is,

I think he just made
his next move.

Amanda, your car.

Oh!

Wait a minute!
What are you doing?!

Come on.

I want to meet
these new friends of yours.

He's ruined my credit history,
he's had my car towed,

and the NCIC thinks
that I'm a 60-year-old man.

What's next? The I.R.S.?

That's what I'd do.

There's a surprise.

We know you've tried
to stop him before.

And it didn't work.

He obviously guessed somebody
tried to use the Weasel on him.

This guy's really good.

Better than you three?

No way.

Not if we work together.

Not if we're doing it for you.

You're asking us
to hack for you.

Look, I don't know
who this guy is.

I don't know why he's doing
this to me.

And I certainly don't know
how to stay out of his way.

So I guess, in essence,
I am that damsel in distress.

All we're asking
is you help clean up

the wreckage
that he's left behind.

We have to start
with the obvious.

The credit reporting company?

See what screwed up there?

It's easy enough to fix.

We'll have to hit

a government computer or
two... no way around it.

You're talking
serious illegalities here.

Bogus passwords.

Host rerouting.

Encryption busting.

I got dibs on the I.R.S.

Whoo!

Thank you.

We'll help you, I promise.

Don't ask.

Hi!

How you feeling?

Rotten.

I'm not surprised.

Of course not.

You're the psycho chef
behind the death sauce.

That not you talking;
that's the meds.

Next it'll be the
health department.

Oh, good. I encourage
you to call them.

I will.

I will tell them how

my ex-boyfriend poisoned me

and is now taking
obscene pleasure

in my death throes.

Oh, or you could
tell them all about

your girls' camp reunion,
about the sparkling purity

of those crystal-clear
mountain waters.

I should have never come back.

And you could tell them
about the tiny, little creatures

that live in those
crystal-clear mountain waters,

the little creatures
that are multiplying

by the millions
in your intestines.

Giardia?

I have giardia?

Yes. Isn't that great?

But I'll be on I.V.
antibiotics for days.

Yes, you will,
but when you're done,

dinner at Barbecue Bob's
will be on me.

And lunch today is on you, too.

Her mortgage company, too?

Looks like they're about
to foreclose on your house.

What?!

We fixed everything else.

We'll get this, too.

Attention, all units.

Reported sniper at Ventura
Boulevard and Haskell.

Suspect is a white-haired male,
approximately six feet tall,

65 to 70 years old.

Armed and dangerous.

We'll have to try
the password production program.

No, it'll take too long.

Let's try a mnemonic
or a commonsense.

You type in "equity,"

and it gives us
access? Not likely.

It's worth a try, isn't it?

Yes.

You're enjoying this,
aren't you, Doc?

Put your hands up!
Let's go!

Right now. Put 'em up.
Come on.

Get up here.

What's going on here?

What's going on?

Lock the place down!
Find me that rifle!

Rifle?

What's going on?

Shut up. You've done
enough damage for one day.

You have got to be kidding.

Dispatch sent it down to us.

Not according to dispatch.

Well, whatever's wrong
with their computer now,

an hour ago, they sent us a call
saying there was some guy

inside the cafe
taking potshots
at people outside.

My father doesn't even
own a gun.

We were just following orders.

Where are those orders?

Well, they've... disappeared.

Excuse me?

Somebody wiped out
the computer record

by the time we got back.

While my father
was in handcuffs.

Another computer glitch.

Sergeant, it's all right.

The only thing done
any real harm was my latte.

I am sorry, Doctor.

All right, Jackson, take off.

Come see us anytime.

And next time, bring some
of those big guns.

That was way cool.

Dr. Bentley's
psycho killer

targets us, and
you say, "way cool"?

We don't know it was him.

I agree with Boyd and J.W.

We already know that our killer

can pull
something like that off.

But why target you?

I thought I was the target.

He might have found out,
somehow, who your friends are.

The HotWebCam...

I'll bet that's the connection.

The Web cam index site?

Amanda and I logged on there
within the last 48 hours.

That's the only thing
we did in common

that the killer could track down
on the Net.

Well, it's certainly
the only lead we have.

We have to find this guy.

We tried that already,

and we ended up
with a second body,

and I don't want
anybody else to get hurt,

especially not any of you.

Weasels aren't the
only way to find

somebody on the Net.

We could track down
their host computer

for HotWeb's U.R.L.

And the host computer
could lead us

to the killer's
Internet service provider.

You have to give them

all kinds of information
when you sign up.

Name, phone number, address,
billing information.

You game, Doc?

We'll need a computer.

With a really fast modem.

This is the address
the computer came up with.

No! Get out of there!

Take it easy, Amanda.

How can I take it easy?

Don't you understand
what's happening?

It's exactly what went down
in that apartment.

He's lured us here

because he's going to be there.

Then we have to find

that Web site before
he does get there.

That's impossible.

Well, maybe we can identify
something in the room.

Anything that will tell us the
location of a Web site. Okay.

Right. So...

what do we see?

Uh, a fish tank, a
pile of books, papers.

I don't know. Maybe
he's a student.

Could be a dorm.

If I could only see the
label on that magazine.

Wh-What about what's
on the table?

Uh, postcards, folded newspaper.

Oh, no.

Steve, that's him!

No! No...
oh, my God!

Stop! No!

Amanda, are you all right?

He's taunting me.

We have to find him.

The answer's in there.

What do you see?

Orange and purple throw pillows.

Can you tell anything
from the postcards?

No. We need a digital enhancer
Dad was talking about,

and I don't think
the killer left us one.

The newspaper looks like
it says
"Something" Ledger.

That narrows it down
to about a dozen cities.

What about the poster
on the door?

It looks like it's
some sort of a schedule.

There's a cat... is-is
that a... a jaguar?

No, it's a cougar.

Look, we already figured
this guy's a student, right?

Yeah, from all
the books and papers.

Then he's old enough
to be in college.

Well, the orange and purple

could be school colors.

And the cougar

could be a team mascot.

That sounds like

Puget Sound
Junior College to me.

Are you sure?

Dead sure.

When the orange and purple
Cougars beat your team 120-17,

you remember.

Then the paper could be the
Seattle Ledger.

Uh-huh.

I think we got him.

As soon as we know something,
you will, too.

Right.

Seattle Police
Department's
on standby,

but they can't do
much without an I.D.

Well, the last
passenger manifest

is coming through right now.

I had no idea there were so many
airlines flying out of L.A.

Major carriers, minor carriers,
puddle jumpers.

We're lucky we got the manifests
as quickly as we did.

Okay, we know our killer
was in Philadelphia two days ago

when he killed Joanne.

And here in L.A. yesterday

when he killed the guy Amanda
and I found in that apartment.

Which means he
left for Seattle
sometime after that.

And he killed the Puget Sound
College student four hours ago.

So if we cross-reference
the Philadelphia-to-L.A. flight

and the L.A.-to-Seattle flight,
we should get a name.

If he didn't use an alias.

Yeah.

He didn't.

Charles Colter.

And he used
a company credit card:

Thunder Shoes Athletic Footwear.

I'll bet you he's a sales rep.

That's why the killings
are all over the country.

Well, if he is, he's
a careless sales rep...

Using his own name.

That's not too smart.

Didn't think anybody
would make the connection.

I'll call
Seattle P.D. back.

Whup. Hold on.

Colter is not
in Seattle anymore.

Flight arrived here in L.A.
a half an hour ago.

I'll have a unit
waiting for him
when he gets home.

I'll call Amanda.

Yeah, this is Sloan.

I need a unit at 18724

Minden Drive, suite 52,
in Westwood.

Pick up a Charles Colter

for questioning in
multiple homicides.

Consider Colter
armed and dangerous

and, uh, notify me when
he's on his way in.

All right, thanks.

Did you get Amanda?

Her cell phone's turned off.

Did you try the path lab?

Well, I got a message that
her extension was out of order,

but when I called
the main operator to page her,

it didn't even ring.

Dispatch,
this is Lieutenant Sloan.

Get me every unit
you can find
and meet me

at Community General
in ten minutes.

What?

Well, what happened?

All right, then get me
a helicopter right away.

I don't care
what you have to do.

Just get me that chopper now.

Right. Traffic's snarled
all around the hospital.

Bunch of traffic signals
malfunctioned.

Just like that intersection
the other day.

He's after her.

Dispatch, this is Lieutenant
Steve Sloan in Chopper 1.

We're still five minutes away
from Community General.

Can you get any
ground units there?

Negative, Chopper 1.

Surface streets are gridlocked.

Oh...

Come on.

Maryanne! Maryanne!

Maryanne!

Maryanne, please!

No. Maryanne, no...

Hello. Hello?

No.

Amanda...

No! No!

Take it easy, take it easy.

It's all right.
It's okay.

Mark...

We got here as fast as we could.

He's alive,
but he's not going anyplace.

It's all over.

It's all, all over.

It's all right.

Jesse, what is that?

Barbecue Bob's is
about to become wired.

You're not going to try
and get on the Internet

with that thing, are you?

It's a dinosaur, man.

Belongs in the trash.

Put a frame on it
and put it on the wall.

It's beautiful.

Get out of here.

Jesse, get that thing
out of here.

Come on, Steve.

"That thing" is going to help us

turn this place
into something really hip.

"Hip"?

That's right, hip.
And profitable.

We're going to make
Internet connections available

for any patron
who wants to log on...

Games, chat rooms, you name it.

We're going to be
turning people away.

What are they going
to do, type and eat
ribs at the same time?

We set out little finger bowls.

I'm telling you, Steve,
if we do this thing right,

we're going to give
the old Cyber Cafe

some real competition.

You serve lattes?

No way.

Steve, you got to have lattes

if you're going to get wired.

Oh, you do?

Oh, yeah.

Oh, besides,

you put a modem
in this poor old thing,

you'll fry its innards.

That would be a crime.

Jesse, get it out of here.

We'll take it to the cafe,

make it our first museum piece.

Well, how about dinner on me

before you go...

Now that my credit cards
are working again?

It's the least I can do
after everything you've done.

It wasn't that much.

Yes, it was.

This time, I have
to agree with Tapley.

You know,
Colter could easily have gone

after you three eventually.

Ugly thought.

You sure Colter's
the one that killed

Joannecam and the others?

Well, forensics
matched up the knife

he had on him
with the college
student's wounds

and, uh, looks good
for Joanne, too.

He was definitely
the serial killer.

Why did he go after
Web cam operators?

Well, since he refuses to talk,

we may never find out.

Is any of this stuff vegan?

Uh...

the beef's grain-fed.

Good enough.

Jesse, in the kitchen.

Bye.

Let's get this piece
of junk out of here.

Right.

That thing is older than I am.