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Insomnia Page #5
Will goes back to his suitcase. Hap follows. A thin film of
sweat on his upper lip.
HAP:
(lowers voice)
Look. We've tampered with evidence.
We've pushed witnesses. We've planted
sh*t. And they're sniffing around like
dogs. Especially on the Dobbs case...
Will flares up. Struck a nerve. Turns to his partner.
WILL:
Weston Dobbs killed an eight year-old boy
and left him hanging in the basement like
a piece of meat. You remember that?
HAP:
You know I remember that.
WILL:
One word to I.A. and he walks.
HAP:
Maybe not. We could talk to Buck...
WILL:
No way.
HAP:
Cut some kind of a deal. I heard that's
what Flynn's doing...
WILL:
Mike Flynn's a dirty cop, Hap! We are
nothing like Mike Flynn. We did what we
needed to do to make sure that son-of-
b*tch Dobbs paid for what he did. And
every bastard like him. We say one word
about it and every case we ever brought
in is going to blow wide open and they'll
all walk. Every last one. And I am not
going to let that happen. No deals. No
compromises. No discussions.
He grabs a hanger.
HAP:
Goddammit, Will. You grab on to
something and you don't let it go.
He takes out a handkerchief. Wipes his brow.
HAP:
I don't know if it's because you think
it's the right thing to do or because
your pride won't let you do anything
else. I can't tell any more.
(steps back)
But I can tell you one thing. I'm
getting too old for this cowboy cop
stuff. Breaking the rules. Cleaning up
messes. We're a dying breed, Will.
You're a dying breed. I.A., the D.A.,
all those reporters - they don't care
what you did at Leland Street seven years
ago. They don't care that you've made
this your life. They don't care about
getting the bad guy...
Will turns on his partner, eyes burning.
WILL:
I care.
The partners, lock eyes. Years of working together. A
thousand things unsaid. Hap reaches for the door.
HAP (cont'd)
They're watching us, Will. Like it or
not. They're watching us.
INT. WILL'S ROOM - NIGHT
Will's asleep. Kay Connell's folder open on his chest. It's
dark in his room, quiet. Suddenly the shade on his window
quivers and SNAPS up, flooding the room with light.
Will's eyes pop open. He rolls over to look at the clock:
3:
15. Squinting, he gets up and walks over to the window.We can see the rest of his scar. Runs down deep across his
sternum.
He yanks the shade back down. It bucks, then settles.
Satisfied, Will returns to bed. Plumps the pillow, pulls the
blanket up around him. Closes his eyes.
The shade lurches halfway. Then SNAPS back up. Light pours
in. Will's eyes open.
WILL:
You got to be kidding me.
Will jogs along in a Sonics sweatshirt, a ring of sweat
around his collar. He looks out over the harbor. Fishing
boats coming in with their early morning haul. More halibut.
He checks his watch. Slows to a walk. Looks up and sees...
Ellie Burr standing on the front steps of the Pioneer Lodge.
Smiles. Holds up some car keys.
ELLIE:
Fred wants us to meet him at the
Connell's.
Ellie driving. A hula-girl, swinging from the rear-view
mirror. Will in the passenger seat. Wearing a crisp suit.
Ellie hands him a take-out bag.
ELLIE:
Brought you a bear claw. Just in case
you were hungry.
Will takes the bag. Looks inside. Yikes.
ELLIE (cont'd)
Local delicacy.
WILL:
Think I'll pass.
He puts the bag on the dash. Looks out the window.
Nightmute's main street. A line of shops. Undistinguished
Town Hall. Elementary school up on a hill. Sign out front:
Sign-ups for Midnight Little League!
WILL (cont'd)
What kind of calls you get around here?
ELLIE:
Oh. You know. Small-time stuff.
Nothing like what you must get. Mostly
drinking-related problems. Domestic
abuse. Barroom fights. Stuff like that.
She shifts down. Takes a steep turn.
ELLIE (cont'd)
In the summer months it's pretty quiet.
That's when there's work out on the
boats. The rest of the year, though...
They pass a MAN walking along the road. Gnarled walking
stick. Ellie calls out the window.
ELLIE (cont'd)
Hey, there, Joe!
JOE waves. They pass.
ELLIE (cont'd)
That's Joe Willy. Took his family
hostage in November. That was the most
exciting thing that happened last year.
I wasn't there, though.
(grinds gear)
Chief barely lets me handle anything
above a misdemeanor.
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"Insomnia" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/insomnia_397>.
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