TROPHY GIRL

*****

Tracy: Freeze, right where you are.

Nick: Tracy? You okay? Tracy?
Tracy: I killed him.

Nick: I don't think this is going to be a problem with IA. Trace? (Gets in car) Well, we're done here, we can go. Tracy, you with me?
Tracy: Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine.
Nick: Okay. I'd better drive you home.

Nick Um...I'll come home with you. Spend some time, if you want. There's no problem.
Tracy: No. Thanks.
Nick: Okay. You're going to have to ride this one out at a desk for a few days, you know that?
Tracy: Yeah, I know. Nick....
Dispatcher: 81-Kilo, respond to a 10-54, body in the water, Cherry Beach and Lakeshore. Units on scene. Coroner rolling.
Nick: 81-Kilo--hold on. I can do this myself.
Tracy: No, my place it out of the way. Let's just go. Maybe I need some distraction.
Nick: 81-Kilo, responding.

Natalie: Brace yourselves. Tugboat captain found her. Divers brought her in about twenty minutes ago. I'm told it's not an extremely pretty sight.
Nick: How long had she been in the water?
Natalie: You're asking me? I just arrived. One thing for certain, though, she did not drown. She was decapitated...they cut off her hands, too.
Nick: You okay with this?
(Tracy shakes her head and turns away)
Natalie: Boy, do I remember that.
Nick: It's not just this. She got into a shoot-out tonight. She won.
Tracy: I'm fine. I'll be fine. Why would someone do this?
Nick: Let me get a unit to take you home. Come on.

Nick: I've heard it happening in Central America. Haiti. The head and the hands are cut off to hide the victim's identity. Or it could be mob-related.
Natalie: No, I'd have to say no to both theories. The work is too precise. It was very cleanly done. No shattering or splintering of the radii, ulna, or vertebrae, which one would expect if a blunt instrument had been used to sever the appendages. No, I would have to say that you are looking for someone with surgical skills, and that's the good news. The bad news is that doesn't necessarily mean he or she is a surgeon.
Nick: Could be anything between a med student to a butcher.
Natalie: Tracy going to be okay?
Nick: Well, after what she's been through tonight.... It takes time.
Natalie: Ah, speaking of time, I would say that the body was in the water for no more than forty-eight hours.
Nick: Are you sure there's no evidence of rape?
Natalie: Yeah, I'm sure, although that doesn't mean that the assault wasn't sexually motivated.
Nick: And does anything you've found indicate what it is?
Natalie: Well, there was some scarring on her lower back. It looks like she had minor surgery recently. I suppose I could x-ray it and see what was corrected.
Nick: We could track that, right?
Natalie: Don't see why not.

Reese: Three days off. I don't make the rules.
Tracy: But it's at your discretion.
Reese: Exactly. I could either tie you to your desk or I could send you home. My call and I made it.
Nick: It's just a cooling off period. It's not a suspension.
Tracy: Captain, hear me out, okay? I killed someone. Line of duty, self-defense, whatever, and I can handle it. What? I'm a rookie? A woman? What?!
Nick: It's just three days. If you want to talk about it, I'm here. (Tracy walks away)
Reese: You think you can get a quick ID on the girl?
Nick: Natalie's on that right now. I'm cross referencing with missing persons.
Reese: Ah, man.... I've seen some hellish sights, Nick. Read all the psycho profiles you want to name. And I don't care however many reasons they come up with to explain this kind of...perverted sickness, no one's going to tell me they understand it.
Nick: Maybe the only people who understand it is someone who's done it. (Nick hands Reese a file) Reese: Oh. The mortician. Yeah, I remember him. About ten years ago. The guy who was hording all those body parts.
Nick: And bodies. Christopher Scheer. They've got him in Oakridge.
Reese: You think a certified wack-job like him is going to talk to you? And don't say you'll make him an offer he can't refuse, because we're in no position to offer any kind of clemency to this guy. He'll be serving time until the afterlife.
Nick: Well, maybe there's something else we've got that he wants.
Natalie: (Comes into the office) I got it. There's only one case that fits her description. A woman had surgery to correct a disc alignment at Scarborough Grace five weeks ago. Deena Ellis. Twenty-six.
Nick: Hold on...Deena Ellis. I think I've got her here. (pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket) Yeah, look--reported missing by her employer four days ago. According to this she works at an escort service. The Palomar Agency. What was the cause of death?
Natalie: Well, aside from the amputations, which I believe were done after the victim was killed, there are no other signs of injury to the body. I'm running a full toxicology panel right now.
Nick: Okay, I'm on her employer.
Reese: Right. I'll see if I can get you into that insane asylum.
Nick: Okay.
Natalie: Hey, where's, uh, where's Trace?

Natalie: Well, what the hell, maybe a little time off will do you some good.
Tracy: I don't need the special consideration. The guys in there just figure I don't have the stomach for the job.
Natalie: No, not Nick. I know him better than that. Look, Trace, its not easy for any police officer to do what you had to do last night.
Tracy: I appreciate your concern. But I have to prove that I can hack it here. It's part of my job.
Natalie: Well if you ever need to talk about it.
Tracy: Thanks, but I don't think I will.
Natalie: (After Tracy leaves) You might....

Ingrid Marr: Are you sure it's her?
Nick: We can't be absolutely certain until we've done some tests, and uh...recovered certain evidence, but we're pretty sure it's her. If you don't mind, Miss Marr, I'd like to see a list of all your clients.
Ingrid: I assure you, all my clients are screened.
Nick: And your employees. Addresses. Phone numbers. Everything you've got.
Ingrid: I take care of my girls, Detective Knight. Just like I take care of my customers. Everything about my business is legitimate. Totally above board. I run a dating service. Period.
Nick: And you protest too much. No one's accused you of anything...yet.
Ingrid: They're in my desk. Master file. Feel free to run it down as you like. Everyone associated with the agency is in it. If Deena was killed. It wasn't by one of them.
Nick: Thanks for your cooperation. I'll let you know when we get a positive ID. And you'll let me know if there are any additions to this list, okay?
Ingrid: Of course.
Nick: Thanks.

Ingrid: Mmm. I'm sorry, I was just spacing out there for a minute. I like your look. You have a good resume, and I want to work with you--but you have to want to work with me.
Heather: (Interrupting) Oh, sorry, Ingrid. I didn't know you had someone in here.
Ingrid: That's okay. We're almost finished. Heather, I'd like you to meet our newest addition. This is Tracy, from Vancouver. She worked at the Blackburn Agency there.
Tracy: Hi.
Heather: Hi. Welcome aboard. I know the Blackburn Agency. Do you know Jennifer?
Tracy: Uh, there's a few Jennifers there.
Heather: Oh, well--she was probably before your time, anyway. Okay. See you later. (Leaves)
Tracy: Guess this is my lucky day.
Ingrid: We're always looking for fresh faces, Tracy. That's how we stay alive in this business. Welcome aboard.

Manny (Guard): You don't want to get him worked up, that's for sure. And, uh, no one goes into his cell. Can't let you take your weapon with you, either. Can't take the chance. He's about as spooky as they come. Like's to get inside your head. Had guards on this block just up and quit because they don't like being around him. Says he's psychic. Sees right into your soul, or something. Personally, I think he's full of it.
Nick: Well, he's got to like me. I'm his first visitor in months.

Manny: Hey Sheer, lucky you, you got a visitor.
Christopher Sheer: Ah, another writer. Oh forgive me. A journalist. Fact finding, hard hitting, sniffing in the sewer for his award winning expose. Or am I mistaken?
Nick: You're mistaken.
Sheer: Well, whoever he is, he doesn't get a story unless he comes inside, Manny...but I suppose that's a moot point.
Manny: No one gets in, Sheer.
Sheer: Oh well, rules, you see. So sorry, perhaps another time.
Manny: Sorry, Detective.
Sheer: Well, that's too bad. You're a cop. Another cop.
Nick: Open it up. *Open it up!* (The guard opens the cell, let's Nick in) *There's no need to check on me.* (The guard leaves)
Sheer: Manny's usually not that agreeable.
Nick: Official business. I'm in no danger am I, Mr. Sheer?
Sheer: Oh, of course not. Perfectly safe. Won't you have a seat?
Nick: Detective Knight, metro homicide.
Sheer: Homicide.... You want something?
Nick: Information.
Sheer: No. You want insight.

Ingrid: Well, ready to have some fun?
Tracy: Sure am.
Ingrid: You're going to love him to pieces. He is absolutely fabulous. He's handsome. He's got money up the you-know-what, and he's as eligible as they come. (She hands Tracy a piece of paper)
Tracy: The Raven?
Ingrid: Oh, a little edge-of-the-envelope club on the other side of town. He works close to there. What you'll do is you'll meet him there, and then it's off to the Commerce Awards dinner tonight. Oh, he got stuck for a girl at the last minute. It helps his cause to have a pretty girl on his arm. You know what I mean.
Tracy: Trophy girl.
Ingrid: Oh, what'd you say, sweetie?
Tracy: I said, I'm his girl.

Sheer: Ah, now, that's some nice piece of work. A real sickie. No doubt he'll do it again. Do you mind if I keep these? (Nick takes the pictures back) You didn't come here just to give me a thrill. You have questions. Questions I know the answers to.
Nick: I want to know why?
Sheer: Ha! The very cops that hunted me down like a wild pig, crawl to me for insight. The twisted cunning mind. Rosebud would enjoy the irony of that.
Nick: Rosebud. All right, I'll ask.
Sheer: Rosebud, my uh, my internet friend, my email pen-pal online is my...should I say, was my life line to the outside. So hard to find like-minded souls when you're...unique. Let's cut to the chase, Detective. You came here to pick my brain. But you don't get in for free.
Nick: All right, we'll trade.
Sheer: Okay. I talk and I walk. (Laughs) Not hardly likely, huh? You're not afraid of me. No fear, at all.
Nick: Why should I fear you.
Sheer: Why? Because I'm a killer. Killing is what I am. And so I ask myself, what is it which we fear the least? We fear the least that which we recognize.
Nick: I am nothing like you.
Sheer: Ah, I don't believe that. You've killed many times, don't deny it. You've seen death in all it's glory and you've been drawn to it. It compels you in ways that shock you, frighten you, and thrill you. And they give you a badge.
Nick: Then we understand each other.
Sheer: It's good to have friends.
Nick: I need your help.
Scheer: Then tell the concierge of this dump that I want my computer privileges back.
Nick: So you can commune with Rosebud on the Internet?
Scheer: Among others. The warden...the warden cut me off, I don't know why. There's no phone in here, and the computer they gave me doesn't even have a modem. I had to hand over all my disks for him to screen and censor. He's afraid of me. He thinks he can't control me. We always suppress that which we can't control. Something else I think both of us understand, isn't that right, my friend?
Nick: I'll talk to him. Your turn.
Sheer: You asked why...why did I...? Tell me, hasn't there ever been anything so precious in your life you couldn't let it go? So rare and beautiful, you felt compelled to protect it, preserve it?

Sheer: You protect and serve. I protect and preserve. I was an artist in my own right. A preservationist.
Nick: You're a taxidermist. You did experiments on human beings.
Sheer: And now...I've got a copy cat, haven't I?

Urs: Hey, isn't that you know who? Nick's partner?
Vachon: It's either her or her evil twin sister.
Urs: She has a twin sister?

Jeffrey: Hi. You must be Tracy.

Urs: (She watches Tracy leave with a guy) I don't think she's looking for you after all.
Vachon: Am I mistaken, or did that look totally weird to you? Me too.

Tracy: That certainly is a different sort of place.
Jeffrey: Mm.. they do get an interesting mix, don't they? Good people watching...and whatever else they are in there. Better hurry if we're going to make this affair. Can't promise anything special, mind you. It's usually a pretty dull thing.
Vachon: Tracy, Tracy Vetter. Is that you?
Tracy: Javier, how nice to see you.
Vachon: You're looking uncharacteristically gorgeous tonight.
Jeffrey: You'll excuse us, we have to run.
Vachon: Only in a minute.
Tracy: Javier, you know we really do have to run.
Vachon: Yeah, sure, okay, but--it's about that private matter. I gotta tell ya-
Jeffrey: Hey, fella--you heard the lady. We're running late.
Vachon: *The lady is a good friend. Get lost.*
Tracy: Jeffrey? Jeffrey? (He's gone) You know, you ought to keep that hypno thing in your holster.
Vachon: Sorry. It gets away from me sometimes.
Tracy: Is he okay?
Vachon: Yeah. He has no idea where he's going, but he's okay. So, what's the deal?
Tracy: The blown deal. I'm undercover, Vachon!
Vachon: Oh...I thought maybe.... Well, you could.... I didn't know. You could have been....
Tracy: In some kind of trouble? Why is it everybody assumes I need their help. I am a cop for God's sake!
Vachon: Are you okay?
Tracy: Yes.

Tracy: (Going back to her car and finding a flat tire) Oh, perfect. Look at this.

Tracy: I can do this. It's not problem. I should have taken the three days off, but no, Tracy has to keep busy. Efrem Sedrick: A flat tire will cut into anyone's busy day. Can I uh, help?
Tracy: Uh, no. Thank you. Actually, I'm a police officer.
Efrem: Oh...then I'm safe. Please, I'd...I'd love to help.
Tracy: Okay. Look, I'm having a problem loosening these things.
Sedrick: Well, why don't you let me? All these hours in the gym hopefully have paid off in some small way. (He takes off his jacked and folds it over his arm) Will you hold this for me?
Tracy: Sure. (She goes to take the jacket, and gets stabbed with a hypodermic needle)
Sedrick: How about that? Does that feel good? (Tracy collapses) I got you. I got you, beautiful.

Nick: I spoke with the warden.
Scheer: Charming man, isn't he?
Nick: You'll get your computer time back when and if any cooperation you give results in an arrest.
Scheer: Ah. A long-sought opportunity for rehabilitation. Your man--or your woman--is a collector. He likes to acquire things. Own them. Control them. He has financial resources, as I did, and resourcefulness, but he's restless. Always searching. In need of new challenges. He moves. Look for movement, city to city. Maybe even between countries. He fights the urge to satisfy his sickness for a while, but he gives in. Then he gets nervous, so he packs up and moves on to the next place, on to the next victim. Above all, he needs things. Tools. Supplies of a very esoteric sort. Purchases you can track, if you know where to look. And he requires a facility. A place that affords privacy where he can...indulge himself.... How I miss those days.... They were so...essential....
Nick: And the victims. How are they selected?
Scheer: Well, it's not random. It's a matter of proximity. It's quite delightful to take one that's been right under your nose. He waits, and he watches. There's pleasure in the waiting, you know. Pleasure in the anticipation....

Mid 15th Century(?), probably France

LaCroix: As lovely as I've ever seen. Wine and Honey, Nicholas. One must sweeten their essence with sustenance that one cannot partake of oneself. One must take time, Nicholas, to prepare. To perfect them for the taking. It adds considerably to the pleasure.
Nick: Will you bring her across?
LaCroix: Then I would have her with me for all eternity. Would that she were a less annoying woman. No. I will drink my fill, and then be gone. On to new game.
Nick: It seems...such a waste, such a tragedy.
LaCroix: Tragedy, Nicholas? Tragedy is not a word that I think I've heard you use before. It is not a word that has anything to do with any of my business. It is not a word that I like.

Sheer: Detective, you seem to be enjoying this as much as I. I was right about you. We are kindred souls.

Nightcrawler: They say no two persons are alike. Never is that more true than when it comes to our desires. Some cherish what others abhor. One man's precious cargo, is another man's poison. Some prize what others revile. Prize what you will, prize what you can, but always remember, even he who dies with the most prizes...still dies.

Nick: Liselle? Liselle, wake up.
Liselle: LaCroix?
Nick: It's Nicholas, listen to me. You must leave here, you must leave here at once. You must get as far away from LaCroix as you can. He has dark designs on you. You are but a prize to him Liselle. One as fair as you, one as beautiful you, deserves much better than him.
Liselle: Your concern is touching, Sir Nicholas. But misplaced, I fear. You have never held me like this. It's...very nice. (They kiss) I must confess that I like it.

Nick: (After killing Liselle, and facing LaCroix' anger) I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know.... I was only trying to protect her.
LaCroix: (Tasting some of Liselle's blood on Nick's chin) Intoxicating, wasn't she?

Vachon: Cars and sexier with fins, don't you think? More predatory.
Nick: For me, it's a question of trunk space.
Vachon: Pragmatist. Speaking of which, what's with your partner?
Nick: Leave of absence. She's off duty. She got involved in a shooting the other night, a drug dealer--she had no choice. It's rough on a cop no matter what anyone says.
Vachon: Is she okay with it?
Nick: Well...she doesn't say otherwise to me. She might be more forthcoming with you.
Vachon: Not right now she won't.
Nick: Meaning?
Vachon: She was in the club earlier, dressed to kill.... She met some guy there. I'm afraid I kind of alienated her.
Nick: Alienated?
Vachon: Yeah, I think that's the word for it. Anyway, she said she was undercover, or something.
Nick: Are you riding along, or what?
Vachon: No, I think I should stay out of this.

Efrem: Shh. How are you feeling? A little hung-over? I'm sorry, I'm...I'm Efrem Sedrick, and you...are the prettiest girl that I have ever seen.

Nick: Has Tracy called you in the last little while?
Reese: Nah, I doubt she'll even want to talk to me after her three days are up. There a problem?
Nick: Well, I'm not sure.
Reese: Nah, she'll be all right Nick, she just needs the time.
Nick: Actually, that's not it.
Reese: Well then, Detective, what is it, actually?
Nick: She may have gone undercover--escort agency.
Reese: Say that again?
Nick: Sorry, Cap, she never really talked to me about it.
Reese: Just got something in from research. They found a pattern. Escort services in every case. Portland. Chicago. Detroit. All turned up like Deena Ellis did. If Vetter is undercover, she's playing with fire.
Nick: She's a good cop.
Reese: Then why haven't we heard from her?
Nick: Well look, if she's onto something maybe she can't risk a call.
Reese: If she's onto something she should be calling in for backup. She knows the drill. No, no, I'm putting an APB out on her.
Nick: It's already done.
Reese: All right, all right--look. Let's think through this thing. Could one of these Internet geeks be Scheer's copycat?
Nick: Nah, it's doubtful. I tracked them down. One in Arizona. One in London. He's only got one of his regular correspondents here in Toronto.
Reese: Which one's that?
Nick: Rosebud. We're trying to get a positive ID on him now. It's a pseudonym. You can be as anonymous as you want on the Internet. Captain, I read Scheer's email. He's not enticing anyone to follow in his footsteps, from what I can tell.
Reese: Escort agency clients?
Nick: Yeah. Mostly out-of-towners. We're checking on it, but I don't think we're going to find our guy here, either. Ingrid Marr screens all of her clients thoroughly.
Natalie: Toxicology report. Cause of Deena Ellis's death: lethal dose of thiobarbitol. Fastest acting barbiturate you can find. And not exactly easy for the average person to obtain.
Nick: Have you heard from Tracy?
Natalie: Not since I talked to her on the way out. She was pretty upset--with you guys. About her suspension.
Reese: It's not a suspension.
Natalie: Well, she thinks it is, and she feels like she's got to prove herself.
Reese: She said that to you? Prove herself?
Natalie: Something like that, yeah.
Nick: Yeah, and you encouraged her.
Natalie: Hey, hey, hey, look--we're all a little tired, okay? I just offered the girl a little support.
Officer: Detective Knight? Did you put out an APB out on Detective Vetter?
Nick: Sure did.
Officer: Hmm.... Traffic just found her car near John and Richard with a flat tire. Looks like she left in the middle of changing it.

Reese: Don't like it. Don't like it one bit. Officer?
Cop: Yes, sir?
Reese: Resend that APB on Detective Vetter. Highest priority.
Nick: And get forensics down here to dust this stuff for prints. I'll check her place. Could be she's not answering her phone. Could be at her parents.
Reese: Yeah. Yeah, but... (Nick leaves) Sure, I'll tell her father she turned up missing. How come I'm the Captain and I always get the dirtiest damned jobs?

Efrem: Your gun. Nasty gun for such a pretty girl. Tracy.... I love that name, Tracy. I don't have any Tracys. And a homicide detective! Wow. I definitely don't have any of those. This is too weird. I need a minute to digest this. Um...please don't thrash around...I don't want you to get any cuts or bruises on that peaches and cream complexion. And...don't scream, because no one will hear you, but more importantly, screaming gives me a headache, and if you give me one of those, I'll have to kill you. I hate headaches.

Efrem: Um...I would have fixed you dinner, but I think it's probably best that, uh...you don't eat...before surgery.

Ingrid: I got down here as fast as I could.
Nick: Why didn't you tell me you added another girl to your roster? Tracy? She's my partner. She's a cop, and she's missing. So if you know anything about anyone involved in this, you'd better tell me right now.
Ingrid: Oh, God.
Nick: Was Deena or any of your other girls stalked or threatened?
Ingrid: Never.

Tracy: Come on.... One in the chamber.... One in the chamber....

Sedrick: (In a high voice) Help me, please. I'm in here. He's got me. Oh, God, I can't get out.... Please.... Please, I'm over here. Yes.... (Then, in his regular voice) Help me!

Nick: Tracy, Tracy, it's me, Nick. It's okay.

Natalie: I gave her a sedative for the trip to the hospital. She fought me on it, but I convinced her. You saved her life, Nick.
Nick: She saved mine. I guess we're turning into a pretty good partnership.
Natalie: Well, if anybody has proven that they can hack this job, she has. She's had quite a night.
Nick: Hope it's the worst she ever has.
Natalie: Oh, that reminds me. Fax for you. It came after you left Reese's office. Thought it might be important, so I brought it along. (She hands him the paper and watches his reaction) What is it?
Nick: Christopher Sheer's internet circle.... We have a positive ID on Rosebud, his email buddy.
Natalie: Oh yeah? Anybody important?
Nick: No. Not really.

LaCroix: My dear friend, it's so good that you're back. The news of your most recent adventure was quite entertaining. And the circumstances surrounding your reemergence into our loose circle of friends inspired quite a flurry of chat. We're all glad that you're back. To lose someone of your singular wisdom from our forum, would have been...quite a tragedy. Welcome back. Stay tuned. Yours, as ever....Rosebud.