RIVERSIDE COUNTY SHERIFF'S STATION - DAY: In a conference room, Novak, shirt off, is brushing his teeth and spitting into a cup. He's sporting a distinct five o'clock shadow. Ramsey walks in, seeing the exhausted Novak.
RAMSEY: Jesus Christ, Peter. I thought you were going to get some sleep, clean yourself up.
NOVAK: I did.
RAMSEY: They're waiting, you know.
NOVAK (grabbing his wrinkled shirt): I'm ready, let's go.
In a Briefing Room, we see Ramsey, Cole and local cops. All in need of caffeine. They complain, gossip, and shoot the shit. Resembling a demanding professor, Novak enters and through presence alone, lacking any self consciousness about his dishevelled appearance, takes control of the room. The chatter dies. Novak holds up a thick list and drops them on the front tables for the copies to be passed among them.
NOVAK: We're going to do this two ways: Breeders of German Shepherds. . . Ford dealers.
Every person is solemn and focused. The list is long, but Novak gives them a fierce look that says, "I will not rest until this man is found and neither should you." He's hooked them.
NOVAK: I want you to be thorough, and I also want you to be fast. This guy's accelerating. He only waited six days this time. When he first started, months would pass. And that means one or two different things . . .
A Desk Sergeant enters the room and hands a fax to Ramsey. Novak is curious about it, but continues.
NOVAK: One, he thinks we're stupid and can't catch him. Two, which is the one that I believe, he wants to be caught. The dog hair thing is sloppy. He leaves Anne Marie Vickson in three inches of water. He knew that we'd find her. Now there is one thing I know for certain. If we can't stop him....
Looking at the fax, Ramsey has a grim look on his face, but gives his attention to Novak's speech.
NOVAK (dreading what's on that fax): ...he ain't gonna stop himself.
Gravely concerned, Ramsey moves across the room and hands the fax to Novak. Novak looks intense as he reads it.
SUBURBAN HOUSE: A County Sheriff's car parked in the front, a deputy keeping watch.
Inside a distraught middle-aged woman, Mrs. Hickson and Julia's fiancee, John, sit on the couch in the living room. Novak and Ramsey have the unfortunate task of interviewing them about their daughter's disappearance. She gives Novak a photo of Julia.
MRS. HICKSON: Will this be allright?
NOVAK: Yes ma'am, that's great. Thank you very much.
RAMSEY: Was she still living at home, ma'am?
Struggling to contain her emotions, she nods yes.
JOHN: We were looking for apartments.
MRS. HICKSON (important they know): But they're not moving in together until after the wedding. Julia wants to be married.
RAMSEY: She ever mention anything out of the ordinary? For instance, somebody she's recently met or somebody perhaps watching her? Following her?
JOHN (shaking his head, no): No.
Ramsey's cell-phone rings and he excuses himself to a corner of the room.
RAMSEY: Pardon me.
Leaving Novak alone to deal with this uncomfortable, sad situation, we can hear the emotionally shattered Mrs. Hickson talking. . .
MRS. HICKSON: Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe Julia is safe.
NOVAK (delicately): There's certain things that he does that made us pretty positive that this is the man.
We hear her crying in the background as we zoom in on Ramsey on his cellphone. He's being told something of grave importance. Ramsey and Novak bid farewell and head to the Sheriff's car.
NOVAK: What's going on, Gordon?
RAMSEY: Riverside Sherriff on a dog breeder in Woodcrest. Three years ago, she had a buyer for an albino Shepherd pup. The Sheriff checks DMV, son of a bitch drives a 92 Ford pick-up. . . Guess what color.
NOVAK: Aqua-green
SMALL AIRPORT: Ramsey and Novak exit a small jet and are met by FBI Agent Stockwell.
STOCKWELL: Ramsey, Novak?
They nod and he directs them to a waiting GMC Suburban with a driver ready to taxi them.
STOCKWELL: Agent Stockwell.
NOVAK: Where is he?
STOCKWELL: Edison. Just east of Loma Park. SWAT's had the house under surveillance for about twenty minutes. (info memorized) Carl Rudolph Stargher. No registered weapons, no priors. Got a license for his dog, though. Named him Valentine. HA!
They head off with an escort of police cars around them, racing down the highway. Stockwell's in the passenger seat, Novak and Ramsey in back. Shotguns and body armor line the cargo area. Novak's eyes target the FAX, a copy of Stargher's license and registration, and the grainy dot-matrix image of the suspect's face. And Novak knows he's found him.
NOVAK: You're the bad man, aren't you, Carl?
STARGHER'S BATHROOM: Carl is soaking in the tub, calm, singing to himself. Suddenly he suffers an attack, much like a siezure. The awful pain eating away at his skull. He reaches for an Aspirin bottle on the floor, but it's empty.
STARGHER NEIGHBORHOOD: A sparsely populated lower-middle class neighborhood. The Suburban and police cars screech to a halt the back paved play area of a Preschool.
STARGHER'S KITCHEN: Struggling to stay on his feet, he searches cabinets for Aspirin, but suddenly experiences another siezure. Regaining his composure, he checks another cabinet . . . another siezure.
PRESCHOOL: Inside a classroom, Stockwell introduces Ramsey and Novak to Brock, leader of the FBI Tactical Unit, a calm, confident ex-Marine. Children's drawings fill the wall.
STOCKWELL: Brock, Agent Ramsey, Agent Novak. We got here as fast we can. I briefed them on the way over. Where do we stand?
Brock look to Novak, who is opening a window blind to to observe Stargher's house. Brock sits and turns his attention to Stockwell's question.
BROCK: Here's the situation.
We are shown a visual of each law enforcement position as he gives details. As Brock explains, Novak checks with binoculars.
BROCK: Got a high ground team on the roof, four man element to the east. Got an entry team in the van and across from the house, a two man element to the south.
NOVAK: Have you seen him? yet
BROCK: No. There's been some movement in the kitchen. Can't tell who it is. (important) You think the girl's in there?
Novak is careful with his answer.
NOVAK: We proceed assuming that she is.
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