The Barber Page #6

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to see somebody get out.

F*** you.

Go get the Chief.

Don't bother.

He's had an unfortunate incident.

Maybe we can't pin Luis on you,

but Audrey right here

is a walking, talking piece of evidence

that didn't stay in the box,

and now we got the Chief, too.

And you know something?

- You lost, Eugene.

- Well, that's a matter of opinion.

- Oh, really? Explain that to me.

- Yeah. Girl stays in the ground,

another notch, no big deal.

But the day I'm caught is the day

everybody learns the real scary truth.

It's the guy next door,

guy who sits too close in the theater,

maybe even at church,

plain, ordinary, the everyday man.

That's the guy they should be afraid of,

'cause they never see him coming.

It'll be quite a story.

A son catches the killer

who beat his dad,

and right at the center

of it all will be...

me, Frank Visser, me.

I never lose, son,

never, ever.

What are you doing?

I'm calling it in.

Can't listen to this sh*t anymore.

Wait.

What if we didn't?

What do you mean?

I mean...

- what if we don't call it in?

- We're cops. What are you saying?

That's what he wants.

He wants us to arrest him

and connect him to all those murders

so he gets the fame and the credit

and all that sh*t, so the whole world

can see how f***ing brilliant he is.

But the only way that doesn't happen...

Is if we bury him. If we bury you...

and everything you've done.

- You couldn't do it.

- Oh, really?

You're right. It won't be easy.

It's all about adapting.

It's what you've been doing

this whole time, right?

Well, I'm adapting. It's just a matter

of being careful, being clean.

Trust me. We won't rush.

Hardest part's gonna be the Chief,

making that look like an accident,

but we'll figure something out.

We're gonna make sure the world

never knows

that Eugene Van Wingerdt

was once Francis Allen Visser.

You'll be the first one

the cops haul in.

I'm sure. I'm sure they'll work me

for hours, days even. It doesn't matter.

If they don't have the evidence,

they can't hold me.

Isn't that right?

Isn't that what you taught me?

You'll never get away with it.

Maybe, maybe not.

But they'll never find out about you.

They'll never know who you really were.

Maybe I'll think about you

on Thanksgiving when I'm carving

my turkey, maybe, or when I shave.

But no one else.

No one will ever think of you, Eugene...

never again. You'll be forgotten,

like it never f***ing happened.

That's pretty good, isn't it?

Hey, I had a good teacher.

You know, I got something else, though,

that you never had, an alibi.

Right, baby?

What do you think?

I can't do it on my own.

You with me?

We better get started.

No. No! No! No!

- You have all you need...

- No!

- ...one hour, maybe two.

- No, please!

- That seems fair.

- No! No!

John,

are you okay?

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