FADE IN:

EXT. STREET - DAY.

We are looking up at a tatty office block. Half of the offices are up for rent. The other half is occupied, but only just.

INT. NEWSROOM - THE LEDGER - DAY.

The Ledger operates a skeleton staff. A few are watching the phones -- literally, since they are hardly ringing off the hook with the latest scoops. The reporting staff number about a half-dozen, and they all look bored.

A door marked Editor-in-chief is located at the back of the newsroom, but the man himself is nowhere in sight.

We focus on one reporter's cubicle. Her little fiefdom has a little more character to it than the others. There are newspaper articles tacked onto the walls, but none of them were written for the Ledger. They identify the occupant of this cubicle as LUCILLE VOLANT, 33.

Lucille is staring dully at her computer screen, occasionally typing slowly. The phone by her elbow RINGS, startling her.

She answers.

LUCILLE

Volant.

FORREST (V.O.)

I've missed that voice of yours.

LUCILLE

You better have something good.

FORREST (V.O.)

That hurts, babe. That hurts bad.

LUCILLE

My knee in your crotch. That would hurt bad. Now, gimme what you got.

FORREST (V.O.)

That's more like it. I've...acquired what you asked me to.

LUCILLE

(humourous)

And by acquired, I assume you mean stolen, right?

FORREST

Not me personally.

LUCILLE

Uh-huh. You can bring it to the usual place.

FORREST

You got it.

INT. ANGEL CAFE - DAY.

The Angel is a fairly busy place at this hour. It is the sort of establishment that keeps going year after year due to serving excellent coffee, but isn't likely to ever gain popularity outside of its loyal clientele.

Lucille is sitting in a booth near the back. A WAITER - JOSHUA - makes a beeline for her.

JOSHUA

Hi, Lucille. What can I get you?

LUCILLE

Just coffee, you know how I like it. How are you these days, Josh?

JOSHUA

Still here. Which isn't bad, but...

LUCILLE

Could be better.

He nods: that's exactly right.

He's heads back to the counter to fix her coffee. Lucille, for lack of anything better to do, focuses her attention on the people around her, taking in all the little details the rest of us miss.

There's the couple who's furtive touches suggest they are either married or seeing other people apart from each other, and selected the Angel for their meeting precisely because of its anonymity. Then there is the lonely guy who comes here just to be around his fellow human beings.

And standing right in front of Lucille: Forrest, in the flesh. He's dressed in a cheap, shiny suit with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. He's doing his best to look the part of local sleazeball, though the rucksack is anomaly.

LUCILLE

You're right on time. That makes a change.

FORREST

I like to be fashionably late sometimes.

LUCILLE

Today not being one of them, apparently. Sit.

FORREST

Yes, ma'am.

He sits, setting the rucksack beside him. Lucille eyes it suspiciously.

LUCILLE

Don't tell me you actually brought a --

FORREST

-- Shh! We're in a public place. And yes, I brought a little...sample, I guess you could say. Didn't think you'd believe me otherwise.

LUCILLE

Shit, if we get caught with that -- !

FORREST

We won't. No one's raiding this place. How dumb do you think I am?

Lucille gives him a look that lets Forrest know the answer to that.

Joshua brings Lucille her coffee, scowling when he sees Forrest sat with her.

FORREST

(not looking at Joshua)

Coffee for me. Only thing worth consumin' in here.

JOSHUA

(dry)

Noted.

He's gone again to fetch Forrest's order.

FORREST

Don't think he likes me much.

(beat)

Far be it for me to tell others how to live their lives, but are you sure you want to be doing this, Lucille?

LUCILLE

Very sure.

FORREST

Messin' with Gray. Again?

LUCILLE

Your concern is noted, Forrest. You're a regular Good Samaritan.

FORREST

I'm serious. You got off easy last time. Look, I've worked with her people, I know what I'm talking about.

Lucille is about to respond when Joshua returns with Forrest's coffee.

FORREST

Thanks, man.

JOSHUA

(surprised)

Oh. You're welcome.

Lucille waits until he is out of earshot before responding.

LUCILLE

Just trust me on this.

Forrest is reluctant to do so, but Lucille obviously isn't going to be talked out of this either.

He takes a casual sip from his coffee.

FORREST

Fuck, I needed that.

LUCILLE

Another long night of following cheating husbands?

FORREST

Mine is a perfectly respectable profession, Lucille.

LUCILLE

Of course.

She is smiling. Forrest is a rat, but he's her rat.

EXT. ALLEY WAY - DAY.

Lucille and Forrest are stood in the trash-strewn alley, facing one another. Forrest hands the rucksack over to her. She starts to unzip it, but he stops her.

FORREST

Just a minute.

She looks down at the rucksack, frustrated.

Forrest lifts the lid on the alley's dumpster and then shuts it, apparently satisfied that the contents contain only rubbish.

FORREST

Clear.

LUCILLE

Afraid Gray planted a few ninjas in there?

FORREST

Nah. Just checking for hobos. They may not be ninjas, but they are her eyes and ears, know what I mean?

Forrest gestures for the rucksack and she hands it back.

He unzips it and reaches inside, extracting a plastic doll, of all things.

Forrest swings the doll one-handed against the wall of the alley, cracking the cheap plastic easily.

Lucille peers over his shoulder. The dolls is stuffed full of rocks of crack.

LUCILLE

Son of a bitch. I thought it was just coke or some other yuppie drug.

FORREST

So did my, ah, contact.

LUCILLE

Are you worried?

FORREST

Me? Nah.

(beat)

How 'bout you?

Lucille considers the question. This is a bigger operation than she thought.

LUCILLE

No. No, this is exactly what I wanted. Can I take this?

She gestures to the doll.

FORREST

Go ahead.

She slips it into her own shoulder bag.

LUCILLE

I'll hand this over to the cops. Someone I'm familiar with.

Forrest is uncomfortable with that.

LUCILLE

Relax. They won't ask any questions.

FORREST

(dubious)

Cops who don't ask questions. New one on me.

LUCILLE

They won't ask me questions.

FORREST

You got a bigger fuckin' ruthless streak than I realised, Lucille.

Lucille preens.

FORREST

But Gray's is fuckin' huge.

LUCILLE

I told you. I know what I'm doing.

FORREST

Okay, well. Until next time.

He tips an imaginary hat to her.

LUCILLE

Hey, Forrest.

FORREST

(turning back)

Yeah?

LUCILLE

You be careful out there.

FORREST

Anything for you, babe.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT.

We follow a car as it turns into an underground parking garage.

INT. GARAGE - NIGHT.

Lucille steps out of the car and checks the alarm. It BEEPS reassuringly.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT.

She sets her shoulder bag down on the kitchen table and takes out the plastic doll.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM.

Lucille settles herself onto the couch. Behind her is a display cabinet showcasing several trophies. On closer inspection, they are journalism awards. Despite working for a rag like the Ledger nowadays, Lucille still feels a sense of pride in her past achievements.

She turns the doll over in her hands thoughtfully. Then gets to her feet again.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - OFFICE.

Her office is tiny, consisting of a filing cabinet, desk and computer. It is to the filing cabinet that Lucille heads, pulling out a very large overstuffed folder.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM.

She sets the folder onto the coffee table next to the doll. She flips open the battered cover: the file is full of newspaper cuttings about the underworld figure known as Gray.

As Lucille shifts through this collection, we catch glimpses of headlines such as GRAY GANG SUSPECTED IN RESTAURANT SHOOTING, MURDER OF ASSISTANT D.A. BELIEVED TO BE THE WORK OF GRAY, GRAY: HOW A WOMAN SUCCEEDED IN THE MALE CRIMINAL FRATERNITY.

There are no pictures of Gray accompanying any of these articles.

Lucille has obviously read these article countless times. She sets the top half aside, focusing on a smaller pile. This set of articles were written by Lucille herself, for the biggest newspaper in the city no less.

MAYOR HAS LINKS TO GRAY GANG.

This is the headline of the cutting at the very top. Judging by the dates, this story was the last Lucille ever wrote for that paper.

INT. NEWSROOM - THE LEDGER - DAY.

A BURLY MAN in his fifties approaches Lucille's desk. This is KINSELLA, the editor-in-chief.

KINSELLA

I need that story on the Bay stabbing.

Without looking up, Lucille pulls out a copy from her drawer and hands it to him. He takes it, but doesn't even bother with so much as a cursory glance at the contents.

KINSELLA

That private dick Forrest was here earlier. Looking for you.

LUCILLE

Forrest, here?

KINSELLA

I let him go unharmed.

LUCILLE

I appreciate that.

KINSELLA

He was involved in your work before, wasn't he?

LUCILLE

Now and then.

That's clearly all he's going to get out of her.

KINSELLA

I don't care what you do in your spare time, Volant. But I don't want this place getting shot to hell because of it, you hear me?

LUCILLE

One-hundred-per-cent. Is that all?

Kinsella leaves. That would indeed appear to be all.

Lucille casts a critical eye over the newsroom.

LUCILLE

(undertone)

A shoot-out would probably improve this place.

INT. ANGEL CAFE - DAY.

Lucille and Forrest are once again sat in a secluded booth near the back of the cafe. Lucille looks furious.

FORREST

You weren't answering your phone!

LUCILLE

That's because I don't get in till nine!

FORREST

You weren't answering your cell phone either!

LUCILLE

How'd you get my cell phone number?

FORREST

That's neither here not there, Lucille.

LUCILLE

You've been putting traces on me? That's just fucking creepy, Forrest.

FORREST

It's...it wasn't what you think.

LUCILLE

Sure.

She rubs a hand over her eyes, tiredly.

LUCILLE

What was the big emergency?

FORREST

Shade has requested the pleasure of your company.

Whatever answer Lucille was expecting, it wasn't that.

LUCILLE

Holy shit. How'd you pull that off?

FORREST

(preening)

I can get the right words in the right ears.

LUCILLE

More like you have the right bribery material on the right people.

FORREST

Shade and I have been acquainted for awhile.

LUCILLE

How so?

FORREST

(side-steps the question)

She's the one who got the doll for me.

LUCILLE

Can I trust her?

FORREST

She's come through so far.

LUCILLE

That's not really an answer, Forrest.

FORREST

She's a criminal, Lucille. How much would you trust any of them?

He's made a good point.

LUCILLE

Where and when?

FORREST

Pier 17, Saturday, 6am. She's an early bird.

For the first time Lucille registers Shade's gender, mouthing "SHE?" at Forrest to check that she has that right.

Forrest nods.

FORREST

Can I let her know it's a go?

LUCILLE

You can.

INT. NEWSROOM - THE LEDGER - DAY.

Lucille is typing furiously at her computer, showing much more enthusiasm for her work now that she has something to look forward to.

EXT. PIER 17 - DAWN.

Lucille is standing at the pier as requested. No boat is tied there. In fact, all the piers nearby appear to be unoccupied.

She is clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, shivering in the early morning cool. Around her the city is waking up, slowly but surely.

A slight figure is approaching Lucille in b.g.

Lucille, sensing the presence of another human being, turns, squinting to get a better look at this enigma.

As the figure drawers closer, we can see that the bottom half of her face is concealed by a scarf.

LUCILLE

(mutters)

I feel like I'm in a bad spy movie.

Shade is close enough to catch this remark and CHUCKLES, the sound somewhat muffled by her scarf.

SHADE

(gesturing to the scarf)

I'm sure you understand.

LUCILLE

I do. Kinda rustic, though.

SHADE

It does the job.

Lucille takes a sip of her coffee, taking in every detail of this mysterious woman.

She doesn't seem to be getting much. Shade is a closed book, even for a practiced observer such as Lucille.

LUCILLE

(prompting)

You asked for this meeting.

SHADE

Forrest said I could trust you.

LUCILLE

But you don't.

SHADE

No. Nothing personal, you understand. Before we get too serious, I need you to do something for me.

LUCILLE

Okay.

SHADE

Your contact in the police department --

LUCILLE

-- What makes you so sure I have any contacts?

SHADE

(scornful)

You used to be some kind of ace crime reporter, right? Of course you've got contacts. I'm guessing someone high up.

Lucille is giving nothing away.

SHADE

You tell him or her that there's a freighter coming in at the docks at 9:30 tonight. It'll have a lot more of those dolls on board. A lot more. The bust goes well, we have an arrangement. If not --

LUCILLE

-- I'll never see you again. Right.

Shade fixes her a look that lets Lucille know that she will do a hell of a lot more should Lucille or her contacts prove untrustworthy.

Lucille takes a cautionary step back, remembering that she is dealing with a criminal here.

SHADE

You trust your contact?

LUCILLE

Yes.

SHADE

Then you've got nothing to worry about.

She starts walking away.

LUCILLE

How do I get back in touch with you?

SHADE

You don't.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY.

Lucille is talking on her cell phone. The doll is still propped up on the coffee table, eyes watching her unblinking. Judging by the nervous looks Lucille keeps shooting its way, the doll's lifeless stare is making her uncomfortable.

LUCILLE

You need to see this. In person. And I can't hold onto it anyway.

(beat)

You'll come up with something.

Lucille reacts in annoyance to the response to that remark.

LUCILLE

Fuck you. You wouldn't be sitting in that fancy office if it weren't for my tips.

(gentler)

C'mon, Jude. Please.

The reply is in the affirmative. Lucille is delighted.

LUCILLE

Great, great. Yes, I can be there. Thank you.

INT. PARKING GARAGE - DAY.

We are in the subterranean depths of a multi-story car park. There are no cars down here, only bundles of rags that suggest this level belongs by tacit agreement to the city's homeless.

The sound of FOOTSTEPS approaching.

Lucille is stood to the side of a pillar. She draws herself cautiously back, out of sight, then SIGHS with relief. She recognises the approaching figure.

LIETENANT JUDE VASQUEZ, 40s, steps out of the gloom. She is not happyd to be here.

VASQUEZ

This better be as good as you say, Volant.

Lucille is disappointed by the cold reception.

LUCILLE

It is.

She draws the doll out of her shoulder bag and hands it to Vasquez.

Vasquez peers inside the neck, noting the illegal hard drugs within.

VASQUEZ

The fuck is this supposed to mean?

LUCILLE

It means Gray is shipping drugs into the city on a regular basis.

VASQUEZ

That's some fine work, Sherlock. Couldn't have figured that out without you!

LUCILLE

I can tell you where and when it'll be coming in tonight.

That's better.

VASQUEZ

Is it worth it?

LUCILLE

Don't the police care about stopping criminals now?

VASQUEZ

Don't be smart, Volant. You know Gray has a good percentage of the cops by the balls. And the last time we tried --

LUCILLE

I know. Kinda hard to forget.

VASQUEZ

What's your intel?

LUCILLE

The docks. 9:30 tonight. It'll have dolls like this, probably amongst plenty of legal goods.

VASQUEZ

I can get a warrant.

LUCILLE

Through people you trust, I hope.

VASQUEZ

(annoyed)

Of course.

LUCILLE

Good. Got a new contact and we're still sizing each other up.

VASQUEZ

Not working with Forrest anymore?

LUCILLE

I am, but I'm keeping my options open.

VASQUEZ

Good. I wouldn't trust that weasel as far as I could throw him.

Lucille bristles.

LUCILLE

He's okay.

VASQUEZ

(dubious)

If you say so.

The women regard each other quitely.

A string of INCOHERENT RAVINGS erupt from the homeless corner, distracting them briefly.

LUCILLE

How are you?

VASQUEZ

Good.

The implication of her clipped response is unmistakable: we're not friends here.

VASQUEZ

I'll run this info. I can't promise Gray won't be tipped off.

Lucille has guessed as much, but it is still disquieting to hear.

LUCILLE

I trust you, for what it's worth.

VASQUEZ

Do you?

LUCILLE

Of course.

Vasquez isn't buying it.

VASQUEZ

Take care of yourself, Volant.

LUCILLE

You too.

Vasquez vanishes back into the shadows, her FOOTSTEPS growing fainter and fainter.

HOMELESS GUY (O.S.)

Hey! Hey lady, you lemme feel your tits?

A BARK of laughter follows.

MONTAGE - DOCKS.

A - Police cars and vans arriving. The freighter has already pulled in.

B - The drugs squad unloading crates.

C - They find the dolls.

D - A relieved Vasquez, overseeing the removal of the dolls from the crates.

INT. THE LEDGER - KINSELLA'S OFFICE - DAY.

Kinsella is reading Lucille's copy. He is clearly angry.

KINSELLA

Are you kidding me with this?

LUCILLE

Pardon?

KINSELLA

You want me to run a story about Gray --

LUCILLE

-- You run stories on her every day!

KINSELLA

-- With your byline! What the fuck is wrong with you, Volant?

LUCILLE

I don't scare easy. Never seen it as a character flaw, myself.

KINSELLA

You wouldn't.

(beat)

Look. I've got no problem running the story. You got plenty of shit in here I'm guessin' the other rags ain't got. But I can't put this story out there with your name attached. No way.

Lucille leans forward in her seat.

LUCILLE

You want to put some other joker's name on my work?

KINSELLA

Exactly. Think of it as a pseydenym.

LUCILLE

No.

KINSELLA

I'm not giving you a choice here, Volant.

LUCILLE

This isn't out of any concern for my safety! This is --

KINSELLA

-- to save my own neck. Damn straight.

They glare across the desk at each other.

Lucille backs down.

LUCILLE

Fine. Fine. Run it under Jimmy fucking Hoffa for all I care.

She SLAMS out of his office.

EXT. STREET - DAY.

A newsstand. The front page of the Ledger reads: DRUGS BUST: POLICE SEIZE CRACK HAUL WORTH A QUARTER OF A MILLION.

There is no direct reference to Gray.

Pull back to reveal Lucille looking down at the headline, not pleased. Still, she buys one. It is her work. Her obsession.

She tucks the paper under her arm. Inside her shoulder bag, her cell phone SHRILLS.

LUCILLE

(undertone)

Fuck.

She sits down on the nearest bench. Setting the newspaper aside, she takes out her phone. The caller I.D. reads: UNKNOWN NUMBER.

LUCILLE

Volant.

SHADE (V.O.)

No tip-off. I'm impressed.

LUCILLE

The story didn't run how I wanted it to.

SHADE

Shame. Ran just how I wanted it to.

LUCILLE

Does this mean we can do business?

SHADE (V.O.)

It does. Feel like taking a trip out to the pier tomorrow morning?

LUCILLE

Six am. I'll be there. Hello?

The other party has disconnected.

EXT. PIER 17 - DAWN.

Shade is already there when Lucille arrives, holding two cups of take out coffee. Once again, Shade is wearing a scarf to conceal the lower half of her face.

SHADE

Coffee. How generous.

LUCILLE

Well. Since we trust each other.

SHADE

I don't trust anyone, honey.

LUCILLE

(smiling)

Neither do I.

Understanding passes between them.

SHADE

Lietenant Vasquez, huh? I figured as much.

LUCILLE

For a small-timer, you know an awful lot.

SHADE

Small-timers can learn a lot if they listen.

Lucille nods. She knows all about the benefits of listening.

LUCILLE

You don't seem afraid.

SHADE

If I was, I wouldn't be likely to show it.

LUCILLE

True.

SHADE

Story wasn't printed under your name. Smart move.

LUCILLE

I can't take the credit for that idea.

SHADE

Pride gets people into trouble, Volant.

LUCILLE

Perhaps. But I wanted her to know I --

SHADE

She'll find out. One way or another.

LUCILLE

God, I hope so.

Shade DRUMS her fingers against the side of her coffee cup.

LUCILLE

Something on your mind?

SHADE

Are you sure this is what you want?

LUCILLE

Yes.

SHADE

Because she won't just black ball you from every decent paper this time.

LUCILLE

Trust me. I know what I'm doing.

SHADE

I don't think you do.

LUCILLE

You don't know the first thing about me!

Shade shrugs.

LUCILLE

So what happens now?

SHADE

You wait. I'll call you.

LUCILLE

Good.

They shake on it.

INT. ANGEL CAFE - DAY.

Lucille is sat alone, leafing through a battered paperback novel.

Joshua approaches her table.

JOSHUA

More coffee?

LUCILLE

No thanks.

JOSHUA

Good book?

LUCILLE

Very.

She lifts the title page to show him.

JOSHUA

James Sallis. He writes a lot of crime stuff, right?

LUCILLE

That's right. My kind of thing.

Joshua regards her for a long beat. This enigmatic woman who frequently meets up with shady characters and, apparently, likes to read books about them too.

Lucille is absorbed in her book and doesn't notice that he is staring.

When she looks up, Joshua has gone.

INT. POLICE STATION - LT. VASQUEZ'S OFFICE - DAY.

Vasquez is reading the Ledger article. For the first time we see the byline: J.A. HOFFA.

Someone KNOCKS on her door.

VASQUEZ

Come in!

CAPTAIN LAKE steps inside. He is an imposing figure in his fifties, smiling at Vasquez in a predatory way.

VASQUEZ

(surprised)

Captain.

She stands up to greet him. He sits down without being invited and Vasquez, after an awkward pause, follows suit.

Lake slides the newspaper toward himself.

CAPTAIN LAKE

(indicating the byline)

They've got quite a sense of humour at the Ledger.

VASQUEZ

Apparently.

CAPTAIN LAKE

Also seems they know an awful lot about the bust. Described the dolls perfectly.

VASQUEZ

Are you implying something, Captain?

CAPTAIN LAKE

Not at all.

(beat)

Just...

Vasquez braces herself.

CAPTAIN LAKE

I understand your old buddy Lucille Volant works there now.

VASQUEZ

Volant was never a buddy.

CAPTAIN LAKE

Really?

VASQUEZ

Yes. Really.

CAPTAIN LAKE

(not buying it)

I hope it stays that way.

He gets up and leaves.

Vasquez is visibly shaken.

INT. LUCILLE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT.

The folder containing all of Lucille's information on Gray. Lucille is adding the latest clipping to her collection.

She flips through the vast pile once more. Tucked between several pages is a black and white photograph. Blurry, but we can make out enough to ascertain that it is of a tall woman with light hair.

The eponymous Gray.

Lucille studies the photo thoughtfully.

INT. NEWSROOM - THE LEDGER - DAY.

Lucille crosses the newsroom without acknowledging any of her co-workers. They, in turn, ignore her.

Just as she is settling herself at her desk:

KINSELLA (O.S.)

VOLANT!

Frowning, Lucille gets back to her feet and strides over to his office.

INT. KINSELLA'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS.

LUCILLE

What's up?

KINSELLA

Have a seat.

She takes the one across from him. She seems confident she is not in any trouble with her boss now she is in here.

KINSELLA

You've heard, then.

LUCILLE

We had our best sales in years. Thanks to Mr. Hoffa.

KINSELLA

Don't think I don't appreciate your work, Volant.

LUCILLE

Any repercussions from Gray's end yet?

KINSELLA

She doesn't give a shit about a two-bit operation like this. But she might if we keep breaking exclusives on her.

LUCILLE

You want me to back off.

KINSELLA

It would be wise.

(beat)

But you're not going to, are you?

LUCILLE

No. Is that going to be a problem?

KINSELLA

With sales like these? No way. But you watch your back, Lucille.

LUCILLE

That's what people keep telling me.

Kinsella is confused.

LUCILLE

Never mind. Can I get back to work?

KINSELLA

Sure.

Lucille is gone.

Kinsella tracks her across the newsroom and back to her desk. Then he picks up his phone and dials.

KINSELLA

Tell her it's Kinsella.

A pause. Kinsella picks up a paper clip and fiddles with it while he waits.

The person he is trying to reach comes on the line.

KINSELLA

Yeah, it was her. She's not lettin' it go.

He puts the phone down, looking unhappy.

INT. GRAY'S MANSION - DAY.

We can only see her back, the cascade of silvery hair spilling over her shoulders. She seems to be thinking over the phone call she has just received.

EXT. PARK - DAY.

The SOUND of children's LAUGHTER and SHRIEKS fill the air. Parents look on as their offspring play on the swings, line up for another turn on the slide, and explore the jungle gym.

We focus on one young mother. NINA, late twenties. She is watching her son, SEBASTIAN, six, as he climbs the monkey bars.

SEBASTIAN

Look, Mommy!

NINA

I can see you!

Reassured, he refocuses on his hand holds. It's a long way to the ground.

EXT. STREET - DAY.

Nina and Sebastian, now rather dirty from his earlier escapades, stop in front of a sunny apartment building.

int. nina's apartment - day.

They bustle inside.

NINA

Go wash up.

Sebastian obediently scampers away.

INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY.

Nina is preparing dinner: spaghetti bolognese. Sebastian returns from the bathroom, face and knees much cleaner now.

He pulls a face when he sees what his mom is making for them. Even though her back is to him, Nina senses his disapproval.

NINA

You used to like this.

SEBASTIAN

Can't I just have some fries?

NINA

You had some last night.

Sebastian slides into his seat at the kitchen table, sulking. Nina ignores him.

The cordless phone RINGS. Nina pauses, reluctant to leave the sauce unattended even just to fetch the phone.

It RINGS again. She doesn't seem to have a choice in the matter.

NINA

Watch the sauce for Mommy while I get the phone, okay?

SEBASTIAN

'Kay.

She dashes out of the kitchen and grabs the phone.

NINA

Hello?

VOICE

We have an order for you.

NINA

Sorry. You must have the wrong number.

She hangs up.

INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - LATER.

Nina is washing up. The SOUND of the TV playing loudly from the living room offers a clue to Sebastian's whereabouts.

A phone RINGS again, but this time it isn't the cordless in the hallway.

It is a cell phone tucked away in one of the kitchen drawers.

Nina dries her hands on a nearby handtowel, opens the drawer and plucks the cell phone out. As she does so, her whole demeanor changes. No longer is she a gentle mother. Nina suddenly seems...dangerous.

NINA

Yes?

VOICE

We have an order for you.

NINA

Let me get my laptop.

INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM.

Nina has her laptop open in front of her.

VOICE

I'm e-mailing you the details.

Nina logs into her account and, just as promised, there is an e-mail, supposedly giving her details of her "order."

NINA

Got it, thanks. 

She hangs up.

There is a file attached to the e-mail. Nina hits download.

INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM.

Sebastian is just finishing up watching an animated film. The credits are rolling.

Nina enters and clicks off the TV.

NINA

Time for bed, champ.

SEBASTIAN

(wheedling)

Just a little longer!

NINA

'Fraid not. C'mon, chop-chop.

Sebastian reluctantly gets up off the couch.

NINA

Remember to brush your teeth.

SEBASTIAN

'Kay, Mommy.

INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM.

The file has downloaded.

Nina opens it. Inside is a picture and details about Lucille Volant.

She types a quick reply: YOUR ORDER IS BEING PROCESSED.

FADE TO BLACK.

END.