Breakdown Page #6

JEFF:

Our car broke down. This guy

stopped to help us, said he’d

drive my wife to a pay phone. But

she never showed up.

SHERIFF BOYD:

(turning to Red)

Sir?

(CONTINUED)

33.

CONTINUED:

RED:

I don’t know, officer. I’m

driving along, suddenly this fella

runs me off the road and starts

hollering about his wife. I

swear, I never seen the guy

before.

SHERIFF BOYD:

And you didn’t give his wife a

ride?

RED:

No, sir.

JEFF:

He’s lying!

The Sheriff takes a long look at both of them, unsure

what to think. He turns back to Red.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Sir, all right with you if I

search your truck?

RED:

Hell yes, officer. Go right

ahead. Name’s Red, by the way.

Red Barr.

(pulls out his

wallet)

My permits are all current. You

can check ’em out.

SHERIFF BOYD:

That won’t be necessary yet. Just

stand back behind the line. Both

of you.

As Red closes his wallet, several credit cards fall to

the ground. He bends to scoop them up. Jeff eyes this

suspiciously.

The Sheriff climbs up into the truck.

INT. PETERBILT CAB -DAY

The Sheriff pokes his head inside, looks around.

Pretty much what you’d expect in a long-haul big rig:

a CB radio, a plastic Jesus, a map of the U.S. taped to

the ceiling with hundreds of magic marker X’s showing

where the truck has been.

(CONTINUED)

34.

CONTINUED:

The Sheriff looks into the sleeping area behind. A

blanket is folded over a foam mattress. A stained pillow

rests on top.

EXT. PETERBILT -DAY

Jeff and Red keep a careful eye on each other as the

Sheriff climbs down from the cab, wiping his hands.

SHERIFF BOYD:

(to both of them)

All right, let’s see your license

and registration.

Jeff and Red fish into their wallets and hand over

I.D.’s. The Sheriff examines them, comparing faces to

pictures and writing down names.

SHERIFF BOYD:

What are you hauling today, Mr.

Barr?

RED:

Nothing, empty load. I’m heading

to Fresno for a pick up --ball

bearings or something.

SHERIFF BOYD:

(eyeing him)

Long way to go empty.

RED:

Tell me about it. Too much

competition nowadays. One horse

guys like me gotta drive halfway

’cross the country just to get a

payin’ job.

JEFF:

(to Sheriff,

impatient)

Are we gonna keep looking or what?

The Sheriff hands back the I.D.’s.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Yes, we are.

(to Red)

Sir, I’m gonna have to see

everything.

RED:

No problem. I understand.

35.

EXT. REAR OF PETERBILT -DAY

Jeff and the Sheriff observe as Red unlatches two heavy

padlocks. Grunting, he raises the slatted METAL DOOR.

It retracts along the ceiling with a noisy RATTLE.

INSIDE:

The cavernous interior is mostly empty, except for a few

randomly strewn cardboard boxes, too small to contain a

person.

SHERIFF BOYD:

(re:
boxes)

Those yours?

RED:

Yeah. Personal stuff. Clothes

and whatnot. You want to take a

look?

The Sheriff considers it, shakes his head.

SHERIFF BOYD:

No. I think we’re pretty much

done here. You’re free to go.

JEFF:

(reacts)

Whoa, whoa --wait a sec. That’s

it? You’re not going to question

him anymore?

SHERIFF BOYD:

Sir, I searched the truck.

There’s no evidence of suspicious

activity, no sign of struggle.

Red has been looking on. He chimes in, trying to be

helpful:

RED:

Look, I don’t mean to butt in, but

maybe you got my truck confused

with someone else’s.

JEFF:

(lunges)

Go to hell, you sonofabitch -

The Sheriff grabs Jeff, holds him back.

(CONTINUED)

36.

CONTINUED:

SHERIFF BOYD:

Hey! Hey! You want to get

arrested? Now the man has a

point. This is a plain-looking,

John Doe truck. Maybe you did get

them mixed up.

Jeff stares at the Sheriff a beat, then bolts suddenly

for the front of the truck. He yanks open the door and

leaps up into the cab.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Hey!

The Sheriff jogs after him. Red walks to the cab,

unconcerned.

INT. PETERBILT CAB -DAY

Jeff searches the cab for signs of Amy. He tosses aside

a jacket, rifles papers on the floor. There is nothing.

EXT. CAB -DAY

Sheriff Boyd looks up sternly as Jeff continues searching

the cab. Red watches calmly.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Mr. Taylor, either you come down

from there or I’m going to have to

arrest you.

Jeff gives up reluctantly. He looks lame and desperate

and he knows it. He steps down from the cab, gritting

his teeth.

JEFF:

It was him. It was this truck.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Uh-huh, I can see that. Did you

get a license plate?

Jeff stares at him, knows where this is going.

JEFF:

No.

SHERIFF BOYD:

What about the information on the

door panel. You recall any of

that?

(CONTINUED)

37.

CONTINUED:

JEFF:

I wasn’t paying attention.

The Sheriff studies him a beat, nods.

SHERIFF BOYD:

Mr. Taylor, did you by any chance

have a beef with your wife today?

JEFF:

What does that have to do with

anything?

SHERIFF BOYD:

Well, for starters, maybe she left

you.

JEFF:

I don’t believe this...

SHERIFF BOYD:

I’ve seen it a hundred times.

Lovers, married couples, gay guys.

You put two people in a car long

enough, they’ll go at it. Hell,

I’ve even seen men dump their

women on the side of the road, and

vice versa.

Jeff stares at the cop. Emphatic:

JEFF:

My wife did not leave me.

RED:

(cuts in)

Officer, I’m sorry, I’d like to

stay and help, but I really got to

make it to Fresno...

SHERIFF BOYD:

I understand. Go ahead, sir. I

appreciate your cooperation.

JEFF:

This is insane. You’re just going

to let him go?

SHERIFF BOYD:

I’ve got his information. If we

need to find him later, we’ll know

where to look.

(CONTINUED)

38.

CONTINUED:

RED:

Much obliged.

(to Jeff)

Good luck findin’ your wife,

mister. No hard feelings.

Red climbs into the cab. Jeff watches helplessly,

resigned to the fact there’s nothing more he can do.

Sheriff goes to the cruiser and speaks on the radio.

the truck drives off, Jeff goes over to the cruiser.

The

As

SHERIFF BOYD:

Sir, I believe you that your wife

is missing. Maybe you got

confused about what truck she got

into, maybe you had a fight --you

don’t have to tell me. The point

is I’m trying to help.

He hands Jeff a card with an address printed on it.

SHERIFF BOYD:

The town of Brackett’s 31 miles

that way. My deputy’s name is Len

Carver. He’s a good man. He’ll

help you fill out the necessary

forms if you want to report your

wife missing.

Jeff clenches his jaw as the words sink in. The Sheriff

softens, his tone sympathetic.

SHERIFF BOYD:

If you want my opinion, your wife

is probably around here. Lost or

plenty pissed off and giving you a

scare. Either way, she’ll turn

up.

As Jeff stares at the Sheriff, the police RADIO SQUAWKS.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

(filtered)

Sheriff, this is dispatch. Mrs.

Gilbert’s locked out of her

trailer again. Can you respond?

SHERIFF BOYD:

(into mike)

10-4, dispatch. Tell her I’mon

my way.

He racks the mike.

(CONTINUED)

39.

CONTINUED:

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