Insomnia Page #17

SECRETARY:

Detective Dormer? Telephone.

INT. BULLPEN - NIGHTMUTE PD - DAY

The secretary hands Will the phone. Pulls something from

under the desk. A beat-up BOX. Will's name on it.

SECRETARY:

This came for you earlier.

Will glances at it. Takes the phone. Rubs his eyes.

WILL:

(into phone)

Dormer.

Nothing. Someone's there but they're not saying anything.

Will, too tired for this sh*t...

WILL (cont'd)

Goddammit, Warfield, if you're gonna

check up on me every...

Then...the VOICE. A MAN's voice. Not John Warfield's.

This voice is medium-ranged. Higher. Nose sounds stuffed.

MAN'S VOICE

I bet you haven't been getting much

sleep.

Will straightens. Something weird.

WILL:

(into phone)

What?

A little TITTER on the other end.

MAN'S VOICE

You lower-48s. You think the white

nights are kind of neat. Then you can't

sleep for days. I've seen it happen

about a million times. But you can't

sleep for a different reason.

WILL:

(into phone)

Who is this?

A PAUSE. Will loosens his tie.

WILL:

(into phone)

I said, who is this?

The voice. Dropping to a WHISPER.

MAN'S VOICE

I saw what really happened, Will...

Will, furrows his brow.

MAN'S VOICE

I saw you kill your partner. With your

back-up weapon. Out there on the beach.

I saw you shoot him dead...

CLOSE ON:

Will Dormer's face.

As all the blood drains from it.

As all SOUND

fades around him.

As his heart

begins to POUND against his chest.

He falters, reaching out for the desk. To steady himself.

As if the floor's just dropped out beneath him. Eyes,

darting around the bullpen...

WILL:

(sotto, into phone)

Now you listen to me...

MAN'S VOICE

Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Oh,

and I saw you take my gun. My uncle's

old 357. I dropped it in the rocks.

But you can go ahead and keep that.

CHIEF NYBACK, exits his office. Looks at Will and smiles.

MAN'S VOICE (cont'd)

...I mean...

(beat)

...Now that we're partners.

CLICK. The line goes dead.

Will, throat constricted. Listening to the DIAL TONE.

Smiles back at Nyback. Turns. Slowly hangs up the phone.

White as a sheet. Trying to act normal. Trying to act calm.

SOUND returning to the bullpen, like nothing's different.

Looks over at

THE BOX:

sitting on the edge of the secretary's desk. He reaches for

it. Carefully, rips the packing tape. Bends back a flap.

Inside, some dark blue material. An embroidered daisy.

Kay Connell's knapsack.

EXT. NIGHTMUTE POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY

Will, heading for the Cherokee. Clutching the box. Face

pale, pace quick. Everything's different now.

ELLIE (O.S.)

Detective Dormer!

He closes his eyes. Now is not the time. Reaches the

Cherokee. Yanks open the driver's side door. Ellie catches

up with him. Out of breath.

ELLIE:

You look like you're in a hurry. I just

wanted to ask you about these pictures.

She smiles, holds up some PHOTOGRAPHS. They're of the BEACH.

The ones Kepp took. Almost all fog.

ELLIE (cont'd)

I know they're not great quality, but

this is where you said you were when you

first saw Detective Eckhart, right?

Will. Barely glancing at them. Tosses the box into the car.

WILL:

Right.

Gets in and closes the door. Puts his hand over the box.

Ellie comes up to the window.

ELLIE:

But here's the thing. I retraced your

exact steps according to your statement.

You couldn't have seen Detective Eckhart

from there. I mean, not in that fog.

WILL:

Then change it.

ELLIE:

How much closer would you say you were?

WILL:

I don't remember.

ELLIE:

Five feet? Seven feet?

Will, about to seriously lose his sh*t. Looks at Ellie.

Eyes dark, distant.

WILL:

Listen, Ellie. I don't have time for

this sh*t. Five feet, seven feet, twenty

feet. Put down whatever you want in your

report, alright?

He turns the ignition. Pulls out with a SQUEAL. Ellie

steps back, watching him drive away. More curious than

stung.

EXT. OUTSIDE NIGHTMUTE - DAY

The Cherokee. Parked off-road. A remote spot by the water.

The driver's side door, left open. The PING-PING-PING of the

interior BELL.

EXT. BREAKFRONT - DAY

Will Dormer, walking along a breakfront. Aimless. One foot

in front of the other. Staring out at nothing. The endless

sea. Waves CRASHING. Wind HOWLING. Seagulls SCREECHING.

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