Solace

- Cuban. - What's the word, Sawyer?

Looks like a match.

Yeah, it's Joe. We've got a series.

Same M.O., same signature, no DNA.

Not one goddamn shred.

You said that already. I'm doing everything I can.

Goddamn fucking asshole.

Fuck.

I need to go see him.

Joe.

I think it's a mistake.

You're entitled to your own opinion.

Well, let me rephrase that.

I think it's a big mistake.

Apart from time and resources, it's bringing an unknown into a...

- into a really bad situation. - Not unknown at all.

I've worked with him before, and he's actually my friend.

- You said he's unstable. - I did not, Katherine.

I said he's had a hard time.

It's too early for a Hail Mary, Joe.

You will learn it's never too early for one of those.

Goddamn, are you seeing this?

I mean, look at all this... pretty green shit.

How long has he lived out here?

Two years. Ever since his daughter Emma died.

Leukemia. In his arms.

Gave up his medical practice. Hell, he gave up everything.

What happened to his wife?

Well, therein lies the truth about tragedies.

They bring some people closer together...

drives others apart.

There it is.

Do you mind staying here? Let me talk to him alone?

- You could have left me in the city. - I could've...

But you would have missed the pretty green shit.

Sentiment.

Yeah?

- John? It's Joe. - Yeah, I know.

Are you gonna open the door? I'd like to talk to you.

Not interested.

John, I just drove three hours to come and see you.

Come on. You know me well enough to know that I'm not leaving.

And I'll kick down this door if I have to.

A real pain in the ass.

Yeah. I've heard that before.

You know, I sent you a letter like a year ago. Did you get it?

Yep.

What did it say, John?

"No parent should outlive a child."

- So you've been holed up here. - Uh-huh.

I see you've settled in.

- It's a beautiful day out there. - That's what they tell me.

So you don't get out much?

- Do you want a soda? - No, thank you.

I don't have cigarettes.

I gave them up a few months ago.

Meet my new addiction.

Laura and the kid okay?

Yeah, they're good. Thank you.

Heard from Elizabeth yet?

No.

You will.

So, besides wanting to see you...

I've got a situation that I'd like you to take a look at.

- I could just tell you about the victims. - I'm not interested.

By the way, who's your girlfriend?

That is my loyal partner, Agent Cowles,

who apparently doesn't listen to a fucking word I say.

S.A.C., Joe.

I thought you might want to take the call.

Excuse me, John.

- Hi. - Hi.

- I brought the case files. - It wasn't necessary.

The Agency has changed the guidelines

for the way we break down the cases.

It makes them more readable.

Oh. Well, that's a relief.

We gotta go.

Three murders. Identical M.O.

Agent Cowles.

I'll leave the case files here.

John.

You okay?

If you change your mind about this...

you know where to find me.

- Hey, Joe. - John.

I make no promises.

I'll stay maybe one day. Maybe one week.

Deal. No promises.

- You knew I'd come back? - I had high hopes.

You remember Agent Cowles? I should say "Dr." Cowles,

- with a doctorate in...? - Psychopathology.

She was to become a professor before the bureau snagged her.

- You gave up academia for this madhouse? - They let me carry a gun.

Wow! So sexy.

You two will make a good team.

John, you know when and Katherine, you know why someone's about to do something.

Run this through until we come out.

Dr. Clancy, before we go upstairs, with all due respect,

I don't hold an ounce of confidence in the paranormal as a field.

I think it's a sham. I hope that's okay.

No problem at all. I feel the same about shrinks.

After only one thing, your money.

They'll take your whole hand.

Whoever said that has obviously never met a good one.

It was Sigmund Freud.

Like I said, a hell of a team.

Consistency

Each victim was killed by a puncture wound at the skull.

Inflicted by a five-inch instrument.

It went straight into the medulla oblongata.

Immediate, according to the coroner. Painless execution.

- These photos are all post-mortem. - A couple of them almost look alive.

Consistency

Crime scenes so far have yielded no evidence of DNA, hair-fibers,

- shoe-prints, nothing. - No witnesses, either.

Ward lived in a secured building. No signs of forced entry.

On the psych front, it's unheard of. There's no geographical, chronological

or astrological pattern to the murder.

No robbery.

Other than that, we got a good handle on this case.

John?

John.

Yeah.

Robert Ellis, the kid in Mount Pleasant.

- He was eating ice cream. - He was.

Where do you want to start, John?

Well...

how about the beginning?

The residence of Mrs. Ethel Jackson, age 69.

She lived alone with three cats. Was a regular at church.

Landlady grew suspicious when she hadn't seen or talked to her in two days.

She was found killed in that rocking chair.

On the TV, the Cooking Channel played.

And the note we were looking at earlier?

Was here. On this table.

My wife. I need to take this.

Sweetheart, I...

- What do you make of the note? - As a shrink?

- Yeah. - It's a classic riddle.

"I will tell you in two words who I am, what I do and how I live. May I?"

Taunting questions designed to mislead.

Asking our permission to reveal himself, yet never intending to.

It's playful, but only one person is playing here. It's solitaire.

Or is it something more?

Is it a cry for help?

An indication of split personality disorder,

where the riddler is asking themselves, and us,

who they actually are? But no. That's not consistent with the crime.

This is too controlled, too sharp.

There's something else going on here.

It's like he's looking for someone.

- So? - She likes hats.

Hey. How are we doing?

Fantastic.

Katherine works up a full profile based on the note.

- Which she's finishing at home. - Okay.

- I'll see you in the morning. - Yes.

John.

How about I buy you dinner? Special treat. Best place in town.

Do I need a jacket?

Hell, no, you don't. I got connections. I know the maître d'.

Goddamn it. This is so good!

- John? - No, I'm fine, thanks.

- For John, one more please. Yeah? - Coming up.

My boy has a rough time in school. Came home in tears again today.

- Being bullied? - Yeah.

I don't know what to do.

Don't know. Give him a hug. Tell him a joke.

- A joke? - Yeah. A joke.

I don't know any jokes. I'm serious, John. Come on.

In the name of friendship, tell me a joke.

Me? I don't know any jokes.

Okay, just one. Um...

This woman, Mrs. Jones, uh,

was suffering from a rare heart condition.

The doctor prescribes male hormones to up her testosterone, 2 pills a day.

A month later she goes back to the doctor and says...

"That medicine is doing wonders for my heart.

But I'm growing hair where it has never grown before."

"Don't worry, excessive hair is to be expected. Where does it grow exactly?"

She says, "On my balls, Doctor."

It's funny, isn't it?

I can't tell that to my little boy.

- Say "testicles." - That cleans it right up.

Yeah. Biology.

- It's a good joke. - Yeah.

I thought you'd like that.

Elizabeth told me that's why she fell in love with you.

- Why was that? - That smile.

- Oh, the smile. - Not your joke telling.

John, do I have another sandwich coming here or what?

Tonight, as we were leaving Ethel Jackson's,

- you were onto something. - Hmm.

Come on, John. Talk to me. What do you know?

I want this over as quickly and as badly as you do,

but you gotta tell me what you're seeing.

I don't know yet.

John...

John.