INT. WOOLF HOUSEHOLD – BACK PATIO – CONTINUOUS
The two step out onto the back porch, a damp, crowded area that overlooks a patch of mud. Taylor rests her coffee mug on the rail, stares out at the tree line.
Jack, tense, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. Offers one to Taylor.
TAYLOR
I’ve given up.
JACK
Thought I had, too. Picked this up on my way over.
TAYLOR
Yeah, I figured.
(beat)
Tell me about your case.
JACK
That obvious, huh?
TAYLOR
It’s been over a year. No calls. No e-mails. Not even a Christmas card. Yet here you are.
Jack lights his cigarette. Takes a drag, begins to pace.
JACK
Dean O’Hara was murdered last night.
TAYLOR
I can’t say I’m too surprised. The guy was an asshole.
JACK
You two used to work together.
There’s weight to that statement.
TAYLOR
We worked the same beat for a while. He liked to leave copies of the Bible on my desk. Sent a few letters to my house explaining the “benefits” of conversion therapy. Got transferred after the situation with Emily.
JACK
I forgot about that.
Jack stops pacing, looks at Emily in the window.
JACK (CONT’D)
You ever meet O’Hara’s wife?
An agitated Taylor turns to face Jack.
TAYLOR
What do you think?
JACK
Sorry, had to ask.
TAYLOR
Am I a suspect, Jack?
JACK
No, no. Nothing like that. Just wanted to pick your brain. I only met Nadine this morning, myself. She’s the one who called it in. Woke up covered in his blood. Someone came in and slit his throat and she claims to have slept right through it. Can you imagine?
Taylor takes a moment to process that.
TAYLOR
If you’re telling me this because you think I’ll be moved by a sudden sympathy for that piece of shit, you’re wrong.
JACK
I don’t need your sympathy. I need your interest.
TAYLOR
Well I’m not interested.
JACK
What about Pete Oscar? He catch your interest?
CUT TO:
A shot of Pete Oscar, a fat balding man from the Internet. He’s sitting on a couch and half his head is gone. He’s got his shriveled dick in one hand and the television remote in the other. On the television, THE HOME SHOPPING NETWORK plays.
The sudden shift in conversation catches Taylor off guard.
TAYLOR
Why are you really here?
JACK
Truth is, I’m not so sure myself. Seen a recent spike in homicides lately. At first glance they look like open and shut cases but something feels off. As of yet there’s no official connection but —
Taylor cuts him off.
TAYLOR
Don’t. Don’t fucking say it. Don’t rope me into this. You’ve got one of your *feelings* again? Take it to Esposito. I’m done, okay? I’m done.
Jack stops pacing. Finally looks Taylor face on.
JACK
I brought the case files with me. If you could just take a look…
He cuts himself off this time. Shakes his head. Taylor sighs, takes a moment, then…
TAYLOR
I’m not a cop anymore, Jack.
JACK
Yeah, I know.
Jack flicks his cigarette butt into a rain filled Folgers bucket. Immediately puts another into his mouth. Taylor walks past him.
TAYLOR
I’ve got to get ready for work. Nice seeing ya.