He points out #5, Joe Mills, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. When he asks to see his father, she smiles at him luxuriously.
She's still smiling, as Skinner tells the press the Pied Piper's been caught. Their silent conversations are always so intimate; she grins and jerks her head to the left, to tell him their mistake is nearly cleared up. The blood's almost off their hands.
And still, smiling, she retrieves her messages from the front desk: Five messages from Ray, and she's so jumpy she can barely dial the jail. She hangs up with the recording, though, when Danette appears. "Hey," she says warmly.
Danette: "I maybe deserve this. I have a history with shitty guys, and he was so sweet with her and with me, he bought her dumb lame presents and saved money, worked in Alaska to earn money for us..."
Linden: "Presents like what?"
Danette: "Oh, you know. One of those creepy dolls with the hair that grows, to be like mommy. She liked it, but she was a little too old, he was a little off always about that. She was twelve, nobody wants dolls when..."
Linden: "Wait, this was three years ago? Joe was in Alaska three years ago?"
Danette: "Christmastime, gone until February, I picked him up myself..."
Linden: "He was not in Seattle the day after Christmas, three years ago?"
The smile crashes onto linoleum. You knew it wouldn't be long, but Jesus. This episode is half over, by the way. Half over. She was this close to telling Ray she'd saved his life.
Ray screams, screams for the phone, as Dale watches the silence. Nobody's reacting, nobody even moves, it's just Ray pushing his face against the bars. And then Becker.
"You got all your calls. You left all your messages. She's not coming. No one's coming for you. Get there."
He stretches himself, extending his shoulder as far as it'll go: Just fingers, brushing the air in front of Becker's face. Becker pulls out one message he's forgotten: A message from the state, reminding him that 24 hours from his execution he'll get a whole extra hour of yard time.
Becker: "Get as much air in those lungs as you can, Ray."
Dale whispers, between the cells, when he's gone: There's always time, always hope. We are always the Orpheus to ourselves and our redemption. The camera pans slowly back and forth between them. Inches of concrete, like a blank canvas.