Unforgettable (2011–2016): Season 3, Episode 3 - The Haircut - full transcript

Fallout tonight

as the case against NSA Deputy Director,

General Calvin Claridge,
continues to unfold.

The general's office has
denied the existence of

any romantic e-mails between himself

and female Yemini intern,

Hoda Amin, even though WHN has acquired

copies of those e-mails.

This, after a suggestive photo
of the intern in his office

was released by our own Annabel Parker

here at World Headline Now,

creating a firestorm of negative
publicity for the general

and putting his nomination
as head of the CIA at risk.

- To Annabel.
- Hey, Annabel.

Mmm!

- Here.
- Oh, uh-uh, uh-uh.

Come on...

you guys call yourselves journalists?

- I'm done.
- Yeah. Me, too.

I'll take two shots, if you tell me

where you got the picture
in the first place.

Uh, she won't even tell
me and I'm her boss.

I'm happy for you, Annabel.

I really am.

You worked hard for this.

Well, thanks.

But I'm still not going home with you.

Come on.

You boys look like you're ready to party.

That we have a long history
of breaking major stories.

The Claridge scandal hasn't
been our only success.

The network was struggling

- with viewership for a long time, yes.
- Ah.

Triple 18!

That's 54.

Mark it.

Hello?

Got to mark it. Mark it.

Sorry. I've got a friend...

in Claridge's office.

This scandal's got to be a giant headache.

Yeah, well, he'll probably
be looking for a new job soon.

Your turn.

- Sorry, Boyo.
- What?

We got to call it even.

Wait, what? Why?

Someone erased the score.
I don't know what happened.

- Oh, "someone"? Yeah, it was you.
- Get out of here.

What?!

You're always erasing the score.

- Hey, shut up!
- Hey...

It's because I'm up. I was up by a lot.

He's right. He was.

By 152, to be exact.

- You don't know that.
- Yes, I do.

I also know you failed to score

your buddy's last three shots.

A 21, a 16

and a 19, which brings your total score

to 286.

And you need to tuck your
elbow further under the dart.

You had three wall hits

and punctured the beer sign. Twice.

What are you, the dart police?

Yeah. I show up whenever
anyone sucks at darts.

Come on, come on.

- Want to go? Want to go?
- Please...

can you give your highly
superior memory a break

while we try to relax?

I... I never relax, you know this.

I do.

- Am I winning?
- You don't remember?

I'm winning.

You can't cross here.

Get back.

All right, make some room.

Make some room for them.

Right here! Look over here!

Back, get back.

Hey, folks, you got to clear the door.

Hey, guys.

Welcome to the greatest show on earth.

Send in the clowns.

The victim was found by housekeeping

when they came around to clean.

We sealed off the room,

but this one...

it's gonna be a political nightmare.

- Why?
- It's the reporter...

Annabel Parker.

Hey.

Looks like an accidental overdose,

I'm sorry to say.

Pretty wild party, though.

You know that drug overdoses
are the number one cause

of accidental death in New York?

And heroin accounts for 50%?

Wait a second.

She was left-handed.

The needle mark is in her left arm.

People use their

dominant hand to inject...

right?

This wasn't an accidental overdose.

This was a murder.

One more bull's-eye, I would've
had you. Plus, you footfaulted.

Dreaming.

Bad news. General
Claridge's office just kicked

our interview request back.

He's not available.

- On what grounds?
- He's engaged

- in matters of national security".
- Ah.

- With a naked intern?
- You tell them

if it's a subpoena they want,

- it's a subpoena they'll get.
- Yep.

You have a friend in that office, right?

Why don't you just ask him?

Yeah. Maybe.

What is that look on your face?

No, no, no. It's just
funny you assume it's a man.

Lieutenant Colonel Emily Connors.

Emily. Wow.

Well, should I assume
by the look on your face

that you two were more than just friends?

- Carrie.
- Mm?

You slept with her, didn't you?

That is a matter of national security.

You're not gonna tell me?

Not jealous!

So your assumption was correct.

It was a hot shot,

a massive amount of heroin injected

for the sole purpose of killing someone.

She also has bruises on
her wrists and her arms

not from an injection.

So they held her down and shot her up.

The reason criminals use hot shots is that

it's virtually impossible
to prove that the victim

didn't inject themselves.

So your left-handed theory might help.

Jo, I think she either knew
the killer and let them in,

or the person was waiting for her

when she got back to the room.

There's no sign of forced entry.

- So who had a key?
- There was one key,

according to the hotel,
and it was Annabel's.

Did she lose it?

You know, those little
cards can be confusing.

The last one I had, I
tried to buy coffee with it,

and the barista thought
I was hitting on him,

which was kind of flattering

but hey.

The victim was found by housekeeping

when they came around to clean.

Wait a second. You're a genius.

I'm calling housekeeping.

Fresh towels?

Yeah, okay.

Jay interviewed the
housekeeper at the hotel.

She confirmed she misplaced her key

and it never turned up. So the stolen

master key gets our killer into that room.

But Annabel doesn't scream.

She wasn't afraid.

She knew her killer.

This is some kind of notebook.

Seems to be written in code.

Hmm.

- We should get this to Jay.
- Yeah.

Hey, Al.

How much do you want to bet

she was pissed at somebody?

Look at these.

Flowers. Not opened.

Dumped in the trash.

And there is a card.

"I'll make it up to you.

I promise.

DG".

Head of the network, Donovan Gates?

We should go talk to him.

I'm gonna drop in on my Lieutenant Colonel.

What?

- "Drop in"?
- Yeah,

just... police business.

Annabel was the face of this network,

but more than that,

she was like my daughter.

Everyone felt that way about her.

- She was family.
- Were you seeing

Annabel outside work?

Where'd you get an idea like that?

The flowers.

A note that was

a little more intimate than "nice job".

I'm on my third marriage.
I've got seven kids.

I'm too exhausted to fool around

with a 29-year-old haircut.

"Haircut"?

It's what I call all my on-air people.

Look, I'm heartbroken over the fact

that she's dead.

As for the note,

when two powerful,
committed, creative people

work together,

feelings get hurt.

I'm sure you understand.

Well, it has been

a pleasure meeting the
best-looking detective

in the department,

but I think that your time

would be better spent with
Annabel's direct supervisor,

Pemberton Ward.

Thank you.

Annabel Parker's office. This is Matt.

Sorry, can you hold, please?

Annabel Parker's office. This is Matt.

Please call the WHN public affairs office.

Sorry. Thanks.

- Annabel Parker's office. This is Matt.
- Hey, Matt.

- Can you open Annabel's office for me?
- Sorry, one sec.

- Please call...
- NYPD.

Open the office, Matt.

Whoa. Uh, sorry.

- Busy day, huh?
- Yeah.

People don't really know what to do.

Especially me.

I've never worked for
anybody who died before.

How come you're here?

How long had you worked for her?

Over a year.

She was awesome.

I still can't believe it.

Anything strange happen recently?

Did she act differently?

- Like on drugs or something?
- Just anything odd. Hey.

No, not at all.

Detective Wells, Pemberton Ward.

I've got a show that's about to tape.

- Can we walk and talk?
- Sure.

I started here as an intern
and have seen a lot of people

come and go, but once Annabel
was on board, things got better.

Everybody here is devastated.

She must've made a few
enemies along the way.

- Comes with the territory.
- Right.

Are you guys investigating her overdose?

- Wasn't it an accident?
- Here we go. 90 seconds to air.

Did you notice anything
in the bar that night?

Not really.

We were just having fun.
There were some guys there

that she blazed on some stories,

but everybody respected
Annabel as a journalist.

We're competitive, yeah, but, in the end,

we're family.

Sorry about that.

So tell me about the hotel.

We kept it on hold for
Annabel to interview informants

who needed discretion. But it's...

not like we had anything
scheduled for that night.

It's possible she was working
up a new piece, but, uh,

I wasn't aware of it.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

We were celebrating.

She got a text, got up

and that was the last I saw of her.

I don't know, maybe if I'd...

gone with her, or checked on her.

But, um...

How could you know?

- Yeah.
- Going live in five.

So Major Crimes has worked out for you.

Oh, I love it. Something new every day.

And you've partnered with your ex.

Maybe... not "ex".

Oh, still ex.

Keeping tabs on me?

Us Washington folk
occasionally scan the Times.

You two make a lot of news.

That we do.

So maybe we should get around

to why you called me.

I called you 'cause I want to see you.

Al, I'm in the intelligence business.

All right.

I want to talk to your
boss, General Claridge.

And you know why.

- It's not gonna happen.
- The young woman

who destroyed his career was killed.

It's pretty standard to talk
to anyone who might have motive.

Well, he's not cooperating with anything

connected to the scandal.

I am not interested in the scandal.

I'm interested in the murder.

I can force him.

You can try.

Listen, he is a good man

who's been framed for
something that he didn't do.

He's not even in the photo with the intern.

Everything is circumstantial.

What about the romantic e-mails
between him and the intern?

General Claridge has been
around for a long time.

There are a lot of people
with very serious skills

who would like to see him ruined.

You're a good cop, Al.

Don't you think it's
interesting that nobody

can find the intern, Hoda Amin?

You're telling me the NSA
doesn't even know where she is?

I'm saying it's gonna get dirty.

And I want you to tread lightly here.

Please.

Hey, listen.

I want you to reach out
to every contact you have...

FBI, Marshals, whatever.

I want to find Hoda Amin.

The intern from the Claridge scandal?

I want to talk to anyone close to Claridge.

- She's a good place to start.
- Hmm.

What have you got?

Well, since we weren't able
to find Annabel's phone,

I dumped it for all the
call records and texts,

but there's nothing there.
Nothing about the room

and anything related.

My guess is she used Snapchat

or Burn Note for these kinds of messages.

No idea what you're talking about.

They're apps where messages
appear for a short time,

then they disappear.

So, perfect for spies.

Or discreet hookups.

I'm downloading it right now.

- Hey.
- Hey.

So I was just sifting through
tons of videos from the hotel

elevator and lobby. There's Annabel

in the elevator. Time-stamped 10:25.

Wait a second, why aren't there
any images of the 14th floor?

That'd be the VIP floor.

Discretion's what they're selling there.

Lot of plastic surgery recoveries,

clandestine meetings,
that sort of kind of thing.

Wait a second, stop it, right there.

Yeah, okay. Jay interviewed
the housekeeper at the hotel.

There was a framed picture of that guy in

Annabel's apartment.

And look at the timecode.

Ten minutes after
Annabel left the elevator.

- When does he get back on?
- Well...

- He doesn't.
- Aha.

All right, let's ID him.

All right.

So how long were you two together?

She ended it after the...

greatest six months of my life.

She was ambitious, but

people didn't know her like...

like I knew her.

She was kind and she was sweet.

Gentle soul in every way.

Did you follow her to the hotel?

You say that like it's a bad thing.

I needed to tell her how I felt.

- So you go up to the 14th floor...
- And I knocked

and I knocked, but...

but sh-she wouldn't open
the door to talk to me.

She told me to leave.

How'd you know about that room?

I was her cameraman

at WHN before I quit.

You never get back on the elevator.

Where'd you go?

There's a secret set of stairs to...

sneak out celebrities.
We used them all the time.

Carrie Wells.

Detective Wells? This is Hoda Amin.

You need to stop looking for me.

Where are you?

I'm no longer in the country. Please.

By pursuing me, you're
putting my life in danger.

- I'm begging you.
- Ho...

Hello?

Hello?

Jay said Hoda's cell was a
burner. No way to be certain

- it was really her.
- It was her. I know it was her.

And she's trying to tell
us something important.

Someone wants us to stop.

It's the someone that bothers me.

These Washington guys...

Ah, I rest

- my case.
- Hello.

Is the president here to see
me? I'm awfully flattered.

Not the president, but the next best thing.

- Francis, get out of my chair.
- Hey.

Needed to check my e-mails. Thank you.

What are you doing here?

We need to talk.

In private.

I like private.

How'd you get the password
to unlock my computer?

Oh, thank you.

So?

General Claridge.

It's the top item at our morning briefings,

and your name was mentioned.

Did it make you feel warm all over?

Claridge is a tough customer.

And I thought you should know.

Are you telling me to back off?

It's just a heads-up.

You could have called.

It seemed impersonal.

You're all about the personal touch.

Well, you should know that about me by now.

Uh-huh.

So...

I didn't put on
hand-crafted French perfume

so we could talk shop, did I?

I'm sorry.

I just thought you could give me
some insight into why Hoda Amin

would think her life was in danger.

Don't get distracted by the messenger.

Pay attention to the message.

So, you don't think she's in danger?

Sure she is, just not in
the way that you think.

But you've got a different problem.

Which is?

You're wasting a lovely meal

with a beautiful woman.

Mm.

What's this?

Subpoena for your boss.

You're supposed to give
it to the person directly.

That's absolutely correct.

Maybe you could help me with that.

No wonder you're still single.

Hmm.

How was your lunch?

- Good. Yours?
- Good.

- We both had good lunches.
- Mine was great.

Mine was just good.

Good is fine when you can't have great.

So our killer came out this door

and disappeared into the darkness.

Hey.

Yo. What's up?

Were you here last night
when Annabel Parker died?

I'm working every night,
unless you're making an offer.

You see anything odd?

W-What are you guys, like,
cops, or something?

All of these guys were here last night,

and the same guys here this morning?

Look, nobody's leaving a
front page story like this.

One of them's missing.
Guy with a weird hat?

Oh, Yeah. Joey was here. Joey Quinones.

He was tight with Annabel
'cause he used to run

special... errands for
her every now and then.

What kind of special errands?

You're gonna have to ask
Joey about that, but

let's just say photography
wasn't his only job.

Where can we find him?

There he is.

Joey Quinones?

- Yeah?
- Yo got a minute?

Sure.

Oh. I guess you don't make

enough money selling sleazy
pictures to Web sites.

The heroin packets match the
ones we found in Annabel's room.

You're done, Joey.

I'm not a murderer.

You're a heroin dealer.

Annabel died from a hot shot.

And now, your palm print in her hotel room.

Yeah, okay, so I was in
there last night, but early.

- Oh, okay.
- I had the drugs,

the door was propped open.

I put 'em in the safe and then I was gone.

There was nobody there.

You ever deliver drugs to her before?

No.

I thought it was weird, but I figured

she was working on an undercover thing,

making a trade for a story or something.

You heard from Annabel
directly? She called you?

No. It was a Burn Note.

But she had nicknames for
everybody. Mine was Holden.

You know, like "Catcher in the Rye".

She's the only one who called
me that, so I knew it was her.

Burn Note? Not Snapchat?

Snapchat? Do I look 16?

How'd you get into the safe?

She gave me the code in the note.

9461.

Easy to remember.

What is that?

WHN1? Like the network?

Exactly. But listen, listen,

I didn't kill anybody.

It doesn't look good for you, Joey.

You're gonna have to come
up with something else.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

I got it.

I've got over 500 pictures

of ballplayers stepping
out on their wives...

they won't get me killed.

I think this one could.

Check my camera from that night.

I don't know, Al.

- I think he's stalling.
- No, I don't think so. Keep going.

Right there, right there.

That's General Claridge leaving the hotel.

Right? Look at the time stamp.

That's a half an hour after Annabel

got off the elevator.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

The general's lawyers claim
he's not even in the country.

Stop? Can you? Can you stop

harassing the Deputy
Director of National Security?

This guy is a suspect in
a murder investigation.

The name at the top of our list.

Why isn't Joey Quinones that name?

This was way over his pay grade.

Okay, let me break it down.

On one side, we have a sleazy,

drug-dealing paparazzo who
was actually in the room

and knows how to inject heroin.

And on the other side, we have

a highly-decorated intelligence officer

whom no one saw at the hotel that night.

Didn't your mommy tell you not
to judge a book by its cover?

We have a photograph.

Forget about that. Can't this just be easy?

Remember the good old days when it was just

the drug dealer who did it?

Are you still having
dinner with Frankie later?

Yeah. Why? You and, uh, Emily

want to do a double date thing tonight?

I'm just saying, if the subject

of how to get to the general comes up...

I should seduce

the information out of him,
do whatever it takes, right?

Or you could just ask for his help?

Or I could seduce him.

Hmm.

No one is untouchable.

Are you kidding me?

See, that's why guys like
Claridge get into the game.

See, they're allowed to do things

that the rest of us aren't.

You need to stay away from him.

- Stay away from him?
- Stay away.

Do you know me at all?

That's exactly what I'm trying to do here.

Listen, I can protect myself.

Okay? I just need you to get
me in a room with Claridge.

I don't want to get you
in a room with Claridge.

- I'm trying to get you in a room with me.
- Oh.

No. No, that's not gonna work.

- No? What do you mean "no"?
- You're trying to distract me.

You're trying to distract
me, and's working.

It's so sexy.

- Good morning.
- Hey, Carrie.

Oh, you know, you got, like, this, uh,

nice glow about you this morning.

Oh, yeah? Thanks.

Late night, was it?

I hope Francis was at least helpful.

- Oh, define... "helpful".
- Oh, I think I'd rather not.

- Jay, what have you got?
- Yeah, Jay, what have you got?

Right, uh, so, this is
Annabel's laptop, and

I've been sifting through
her e-mail looking for something

relevant, and she's got over
600 messages in her inbox.

But while I was working, about
40 of them suddenly disappeared

from the screen, all of them
from a sender named Zombie19.

Annabel Parker's office. This is Matt.

Please call the WHN public
affairs office. Thanks.

Zombie... 19. That's...

Annabel's assistant, Matt.

- The missing e-mails came from him.
- Let's go.

He must have cleared out overnight.

It was like this when
we got here this morning.

Any idea where he might
have gone? Friends, family?

I barely knew him.

He was kind of a geeky computer guy.

I'll go see if HR has
any other info on him.

- This is Matt.
- Hey, Matt.

I need you to open Annabel's office for me.

Sorry. One sec.

- Busy around here, huh?
- Yeah.

People don't really know what to do.

Wait a second.

Hang on.

Hey, Carrie.

Hey, Jay, listen.

Matt had a laptop
computer. It's missing now.

It had a white sticker
on it with a symbol...

a black circle with a
lightning bolt on either side.

Can you cross-reference
that symbol with hacking?

Are you sure it's a lightning bolt, Carrie?

'Cause, uh, I got nothing.

Hang on.

I am gonna send you... a little gift.

All right, can you take a picture of that?

- Got it?
- Mm-hmm.

Oh.

I got it.

It's from a hacker co-op
called Hacktropolis.

Apparently, these geeks rent workspace

for 50 bucks a week.
I'll send you the address.

I'll meet you there.

Hello?

I don't know. Shouldn't
this place be crawling

in guys with glasses and neckbeards?

Maybe there's a Star
Wars convention in town.

I got a bad feeling about this, Al.

Wait. Look.

Someone's clearing the board.

Now another person is dead.

What does this have to do with me?

I'm not making accusations.

I'm asking for your help.

You have no idea what my
side of the table is like.

Look, no disrespect.

I got two young people murdered.

You don't understand how hard it was

for me to get where I am now.

What you're asking me for...

if I hand it over to
you, everyone will know.

The NSA, the CIA, Homeland.

I'll be through.

It's a breach I won't recover from.

My career will be over.

I understand. I do.

But the Emily Connors I used to know...

she knew the difference
between right and wrong.

Do you know why I wanted to meet
you here by the library today?

Besides the memory of our first kiss?

No.

There's a wonderful manuscript

by Blaise de Vigenère.

It's worth reading.

So, obviously, there are
no surveillance cameras

in a hacker's co-op.

Plus, his computer's missing, so,

we have nothing but dead ends on Matt.

Whoa! That is a big book.

You know, you told me you weren't into

the 50 Shades of Grey Trilogy.

Try Blaise De Vigenère, the 1586 edition.

It's a copy from the library
bookstore, but it will do.

The Vigenère cipher?

My guess is, it's what
Annabel used in her notebook.

All the major intelligence agencies

have been using a version of
this code since World War II.

- I tried it already, Al.
- The research librarian

told me Vigenère made a change

from the first edition to the second.

This is the second edition.

That's why you need the key in this book.

You know, the Al Burns

I know is kind of a comic book guy.

Who turned you on to Vigenère?

- I did it by myself.
- Lie!

All right. Had a little help.

Ah. From Lieutenant Colonel Emily Connors?

As a matter of fact, yes.

- Hmm.
- At least my contact was useful.

Well, that depends on how
you define "useful".

Hey, guys, I don't
mean to interrupt, but

when I run Annabel's notebook
through the decryption software,

I get all kinds of contact
info: names, phone numbers.

Yeah, she had a thing for nicknames.

Holden, Casper, Zombie19.

Casper! As in "Casper
the Friendly Ghost".

Ghost is also known as "Spook."

- It's her spy contact.
- Yes!

And it's also the keyword
that breaks the code.

Okay, what's the info on that name?

Uh... it's just a phone number.

Bring up Annabel's cell
records to that number.

Just text messages between the two of them.

All sent using the Vigenère cipher.

I know what you're thinking, but
we got to be careful here.

But if anyone knows anything, it's
gonna be this Casper person.

But a call from you could
scare off our best lead.

Fine. I will text.

Jay, type in

"I want to talk"
using Vigenère.

All right.

Okay.

Here we go.

It's not like he's gonna...

What?

Are you serious?

Someone's hacked into our system.

"East River Generating Station.

"Building Two will be unlocked.

"2100 hours.

I look forward to meeting
you, Detective Wells."

I see you had no trouble finding us.

Thank you for coming to meet me.

Happy to help, but let's be clear.

If I get nervous, I'll be gone.

And you won't leave this tunnel alive.

Did you kill Annabel Parker?

I can confirm that it wasn't us.

Can you confirm who it was?

Not really interested.

We don't solve crimes, you see.

That's what you do, and quite
well from what I understand.

We try and stop trouble before it starts

by gathering information and
engaging those who can help.

- People like Annabel.
- Indeed.

Her reputation as a serious journalist

hungry for her big break
made her the perfect choice.

Hoda Amin was one of
yours, too, wasn't she?

She's in no danger,

but doesn't want her cover blown.

The call she made to you was a warning

that you chose to ignore.

I'm here to solve two murders.

I would

encourage you to do that,

and not draw any more attention to us.

All we wanted was

to block Claridge's appointment to the CIA.

A simple mission, but sometimes
these things go sideways.

Annabel was to put the photo on the air

and then get out of the way.

But, apparently, that
wasn't enough for her,

so I assume she got her assistant,

the so-called computer expert,

to place those e-mails
on Claridge's computer.

So... a little interagency warfare?

It was ambition that got
both of these assets killed,

not the intelligence community.

These were human beings, not assets.

Ambition. Focus on that.

Who, in the end, benefits the most?

Not the NSA.

Not the CIA.

- I still have que...
- Wait!

Carrie.

Let her go.

Look around you.

We're outgunned.

But what about
declining revenue, Mr. Gates?

The network was struggling with
viewership for a long time, yes.

But now we've prevailed.

Wait a second.

WHN were in severe financial trouble.

They needed something to make people

sit up and pay attention.

And now they have it in spades.

Let's get out of here.

Thank you, fellow members...

You're gonna want to see this.

It has come to my attention

that one of our brightest
stars, Annabel Parker,

was living a double life

unknown to us.

She was a wild, overly ambitious
reporter with a drug problem

who would do anything
to manufacture a story,

even where there wasn't one.

And that was the case
with General Claridge.

While we cannot vouch for the photograph,

we have found evidence
that leads us to believe

that the e-mails attributed to the general

came directly from Ms. Parker's assistant.

They're painting a picture
of "Bad Annabel"

in order to tie everything
up in a neat little bow.

We just put this together.
How could they be ahead of us?

And General Claridge is a national hero

for enduring this
embarrassment with such grace.

I will make it my personal mission

to assure the veracity of these stories

before broadcasting them.

Two minutes, maybe three,

and then he's gone again.

Thank you.

Make it count.

General! Lieutenant Burns,

Major Crimes.

Lieutenant. How can I help?

I need to know what happened

in Annabel Parker's hotel room that night.

Ms. Parker's office set the meeting.

I went to set her straight.

The photo was a fake.
The e-mails were fake.

It was only a matter of time
before our people broke it all down.

Ms. Parker said she
was gonna come clean...

she just needed another day. I said fine.

I had a flight to Qatar to catch.

How come you didn't come forward earlier?

I was in the middle of something.

In about a week, you and the whole world

are gonna hear about it. But for now,

at Emily's insistence,

I'm giving you all I can.

Now, listen,

I'm sorry that young woman was killed.

She truly had a change of heart.

Seemed like a nice person. I told her boss

that she was just someone
who got caught up in something

that she didn't understand.

Her boss?

You talked to Donovan Gates about this?

No.

No, the young man had an odd name.

Uh... Pendergrast?

Pemberton Ward?

That's it.

Pemberton Ward

knew the entire story but didn't tell us.

I'll take the office, you
take the control room.

Great.

Where is Pemberton Ward?

I'm sorry, but we're about to go on.

I need to speak to him.

- He's on the floor.
- Now.

Pemberton?

Your friend is here.

My friend?

The cop.

Oh.

Okay. Uh, I'll come right up.

Are you guys investigating her overdose?

Wasn't it an accident?

Yesterday you had live feed

to the whole studio up here.

- Can you bring up those cameras?
- Uh, sure.

I need to see 'em. Now. All of 'em.

Where does that door lead?

To the roof.

The roof.

Pemberton! Hold it!

Pemberton!

All right.

Get up.

You're a little small for a linebacker.

Yeah, well, I make up
for it with speed. Right?

Come on.

Whew.

Snapchat. Burn Note.

- That doesn't prove anything.
- You know what does?

Your access to Matt, your
knowledge of Annabel's work habits

and the fact that you were
at the hotel that night.

That doesn't prove I was in the
room. I want to call my lawyer.

Great idea. Here. Call your lawyer.

Fine.

One second.

Bear with me for a minute, okay?

Al, what was the security code used

on the safe in Annabel's room that night?

- 9461.
- 9461,

the very same number you just punched

into your keypad.

And when I check the outgoing message logs

on both apps, you know what
I'm gonna find, don't you?

There it is.

Messages to Joey Quinones
and Annabel Parker

the night she was murdered. I got you.

Why? What was so important?

She was gonna ruin Donovan

and WHN.

I couldn't let that happen.

He's like a father to me,

and this is my home,

my family.

Did Donovan have anything to do with this?

No.

I thought I could clean this up on my own.

When Annabel had a change of heart

and said she wanted to recant
on the photo and the story,

I got Matt to make up some
e-mails between Claridge

and Hoda Amin. We had to protect
the story. If it fell apart,

I knew it would destroy our careers.

She didn't care.

WHN was just a job for her.

For me...

it's my whole life.

So too bad for Annabel that
she had a conscience, right?

I'm glad you changed your mind.

You reminded me of who I used to be.

That was a gift.

I'm a giver. Everyone says so.

Yes, they do.

I'm remembering why we split up.

These good-byes are tough.

Yeah. But you know what?

Times are changing.

How?

You'll see.

I got to go.

Emily.

Train station's this way.

I know.

I just have a couple
stops to make beforehand.

All right. Thank you.

- Well?
- Well.

You're a lot of fun, you know,

when you let your hair down. Mmm.

Be careful, okay? You worried about me?

- No.
- Are you worried about me?

No.I'm not worried about you.
I know you can take care

of yourself. POTUS worries about you.

Yeah.

You're something else, Carrie Wells.

You're not so bad yourself.

Francis.

- It's Frank.
- Ah.

Not to me.

You'll always be Francis.

Or Frannie.

Be safe.

Bye.

Mm. It's starting.

Oh. I bet all Eliot's been
worried about is his hair.

Joining me now is Eliot Delson.

Everyone here at WHN is so appreciative

of you and your team at Major Cases.

Uh, Crimes. Major Crimes.

Right. Sorry.
That's quite all right.

What was the break in the case

that led you to capture the suspect

in Annabel's tragic murder?

Well, I suppose a large part of the credit

would have to go to Jay Lee,

one of our master codebreakers
on the task force.

Thank you, Eliot.

- He protected your source.
- Yep.

I'd like to introduce someone now

who just joined our team
at WHN as Correspondent

on Military Affairs, Lieutenant
Colonel Emily Connors.

Happy to be here.

I just have a couple

of follow-up questions
for you, Mr. Delson.

I hope you don't mind.

Not at all.

Great.

She's pretty.

- Uh-huh.
- She is. Strong, authoritative.

I mean, I bet she doesn't have

a highly superior autobiographical memory

or a deeply tortured soul,
but, you know, you just...

you can't have it all, right?

She's pretty.

Yeah.

My taste in women is impeccable.

Look in the mirror.

Aw.

You know what's strange?

No matter what we do or where we go,

somehow we always end
up together, you and me.

And a dartboard.

And your highly superior memory
can't help you throw a dart.

It can help me remember
how many times you lose.

All right. Let's go.

Here.

I'm bringing your drink.
You're gonna need it.