INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT.
The place has been ransacked - furniture overturned, drawers
pulled out and the contents strewn all over the floor, the
Amidst these ruins lies a photo still half in its shattered
frame: a couple smiling widely for the camera, happy and
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT.
CASEY, 33, the woman in the photograph, is pacing the length
of the room. She is clutching a cellphone which she checks
compulsively as she strides up and down, up and down.
Fuck’s sake, Duke, where are you?
INT. HOTEL ROOM - LATER.
DUKE, late thirties, the other half of the couple in the
picture, has arrived.
What the fuck took you so long!?
Sorry, baby, I had to get some
stuff together and -
- ’some stuff’? Duke, these
guys...we don’t have time to be
fucking around with ’stuff’!
I KNOW! But we can’t just...just
leave with the clothes on our
backs, can we? We won’t get five
miles outside the city without money!
He pulls a pack of Marlboro’s out of his coat pocket along
with a lighter, and tries to light one of the cigarettes but
his hands are shaking too badly.
Casey, relenting, plucks the lighter out of his hand and
lights the Marlboro dangling from between his lips.
Duke takes a grateful drag and exhales. That’s better.
She smiles, although rather tremulously. They are still
Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Casey. I
In response, Casey takes Dukes hand and leads him to the
bed. He sinks down to sit on the edge. Casey remains
She draws him into a hug.
Her smile hardens.
We hear a MUTED GUNSHOT.
EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY.
Police cars are parked outside the hotel. A few news crews
are also in attendance, along with the typical crowd of nosy
onlookers - the sort of people who react to a grisly murder
scene with jaded indifference.
Casey strolls past this circus without so much as a glance.
Her phone BLEEPS. She takes it out of her bag and reads the
text message: $15’000.
Satisfied, she puts the phone back into her bag and melts
into the city crowds.
FADE TO BLACK.