Psych9 Page #3

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Someone must know

who this man is--

a wife, a daughter,

a girlfriend.

It's absurd.

What is?

What's with

the tape recorder?

Do you mind?

I thought it might help us

clarify things.

I can switch it off

if you'd like.

It's fine.

What's absurd?

Everything--

what I feel.

Well, what do you feel?

I mean,

you've told me

what happened,

but you haven't told me

how you feel.

I don't know

how I feel, okay?

But you--

you have some fear

that perhaps

Cole might be involved

in these murders?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Tell me more about him.

He--

he's having problems

with his career, isn't he?

How did you know that?

Well, I don't need a PhD

to figure that out.

He drives a cab, right?

Cab driving was supposed

to be a temporary thing.

He was gonna go back

to school.

We needed

the money, so...

I see.

Hello.

Yes.

What?

Sure, I'll be right down.

Some detective

who wants to talk to me.

Well, I'd better go

and see what he wants.

Um...

we can finish

this up later.

My name is Marling.

I'm a homicide investigator.

An event, a person,

a time, a place.

Something.

This is someone

with a grudge,

someone who feels

cheated by life.

In every other respect,

he's the guy next door,

just an average guy

who kisses his wife goodbye

every morning,

spends all week

scraping a living,

all weekend

fixing the house.

Then it's night

and-- pow!

Something snaps.

He's out butchering women,

back in time for cocoa

and a late movie.

And no one suspects

a thing,

Ieast of all her.

Are you Cole Hanniger?

Yeah.

My name is Marling.

I'm a homicide investigator.

Can we talk?

Yeah, sure.

Come in.

I'm just--

just curious,

Detective...

what sick thoughts has my wife

been putting in your head?

Well, she's had

to come to terms

with some very traumatic events,

Mr. Hanniger.

Yeah well, she just

wants her baby.

Is that lipstick?

So what do you think

she's capable of doing

if that doesn't happen?

Did you see anyone else

in the area?

No.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Okay.

Thank you.

Jelly bean?

The plastic cigarette--

it just wasn't doing it

for me.

You ever try

the patch or gum?

It's not the nicotine

that I miss.

It's keeping my hands

and my mouth busy,

you know?

I stopped by here

the other night.

You weren't here?

Yeah, I was here.

Didn't feel like

talking, huh?

Son of a b*tch.

What are these--

what are these Xs here?

They're where the murders

have occurred, right?

Yeah.

All within

the two-mile radius

of the central point.

Which is where?

Here.

What, this street here?

This hospital.

I've been worried sick.

Where have you been?

What the hell are you--

did you tell me

that my cab windshield

got busted up, smashed?

It did.

Why don't you go

have a look?

Go ahead.

Yeah.

Yeah, Ros.

Why don't you tell me

where the hammer is?

I'm sorry, what?

The hammer

from the kitchen cupboard.

Or did l--

did I imagine that?

Where is it, Cole?

I don't know.

I mean, I probably used it

to fix the cab.

What the hell difference

does it make?

What were you doing

downtown the other night?

Because I looked

in your logbook

and there's

no pickup listed.

Wait,

what is this?

I want to hear this

from you.

What is this?

The hammer?

You think it's me?

You're sick.

You think

I'm the Nighthawk?

I don't know.

You think I could do that?

You think I could do

those things?

This is so f***ed up.

I need a drink.

I thought

you gave up drinking.

Yeah.

Babe, like you

quit smoking?

No, I gotta

get out of here.

I can't f***ing breathe.

For Christ's sakes, clean

this sh*t off the wall.

Why don't we talk a little bit

about your father?

We haven't broached

that subject yet.

No.

It's important, Roslyn.

No.

I don't want

to remember that, okay?

Well, if we're to make

any real progress,

we're gonna have to deal

with this at some point.

Oh, l--

I don't want

to talk about it.

The first time

I was four years old.

I remember his--

his hands around my--

my throat,

pressing and choking and--

"You can't tell anyone.

It's our secret.

Do what Daddy tells you.

Open your mouth.

Spread your legs.

You can't run because

I'll always be there."

"Daddy, I don't want

to do this anymore.

I don't want to play

this game anymore

'cause it hurts.

Please stop, Dad.

Please just stop.

I want my mother.

I want my mother."

That's all.

I just want my mom.

I feel like

I'm going insane.

Let's switch gears here

for a moment,

uh, talk to you

a little bit about Cole.

Has he ever been

violent towards you?

No.

Never hit you

and never raised

a hand to you-- nothing?

Oh my God.

What the hell

is this, Roslyn?

I swear to God

I didn't do this.

God damn it, you got

this job because of me.

What the hell have you

been doing here?

Beth, I swear to God,

I did not do this.

Jesus.

You've got to

get a grip, Roslyn.

Beth, I didn't

do that.

Look, this Nighthawk thing

has everyone on edge.

You just have to concentrate

on getting the job finished, all right?

Beth, I didn't do that.

Please, Roslyn,

I'm asking you to get a grip.

- Beth.

- Please do not let me down on this.

Beth, I didn't do that!

It's not me.

It's this f***ing place.

What are you

talking about?

Why don't you tell me

why paramedics

brought that woman here

the other night. Tell me.

What woman?

Blonde,

cut up really bad,

brought here

the other night

by paramedics.

I sent her to County.

We haven't had anybody

like that at County.

And there isn't a paramedic

in this state that would bring anyone here

because they know that this place

has been closed down.

Jesus Christ.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Kimberly Wallace.

And then?

And then?

Oh my God.

Every woman that was murdered

was a patient here in this hospital.

Cole was looking

at their files.

He saw their names,

their addresses.

Okay.

Marling's on his way

over here.

You called him?

Yes, I called him.

What do I tell him?

I can't tell you

what to do, Roslyn.

You have to decide

that for yourself.

Why do I come up here

and talk to you?

You're f***ing useless!

Your husband?

That's a hell

of a story.

Where are

the other files?

I'll go get them.

Wait a minute.

I need to make

a personal telephone call.

Can I use the office?

Yeah.

I'll be right back.

You think it's me?

You think I could do

those things?

Is that my file?

That looks like you had

more than a paper cut.

Where did you find that?

It was on the desk.

I took a peek.

Call it professional

curiosity.

Look,

we spoke

to your husband.

He checked out.

He never mentioned that.

Well, maybe he didn't

want to worry you.

Does he know about

your mental history?

I don't understand.

Mrs. Hanniger,

I have battered wives

and hysterical mothers

and vengeful daughters

all convinced

that they know who

the Nighthawk Killer is.

I don't know

whether it's fear

or paranoia or spite,

but I don't have

the time or the energy

to follow up

on all these stories.

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