The Killing
The Road to Hamelin

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 135 USERS: A-
The Inability To Stop

She goes on and on about the clues, the gray Crown Vic; Skinner's turned quite a corner on her and she hasn't even got to the map yet. Before she's even pulled it out, he hisses at her.

"Could be anyone's car, doesn't mean it's Reddick's."

She's confused, strikes out blindly -- "So after all this, it's still about your reputation?" -- but he just slides past her, around her, turning his body like she's in his way at the grocery store: "You have no idea what I'm thinking," he tells her. Just straight-up tells her. "I've just got to get out of here."

He waves his hand at it, appealing vaguely to a meltdown with his wife that even now could be a lie. Even the truth, that he keeps too many secrets, that she doesn't know him and never did.

"James! Right now we need to find this car. We need to find Adrian."

He promises. He swears they will. He is telling the truth.

"But the case you and Holder made against Reddick is appallingly weak, and circumstantial, at best. Accusing a fellow cop without hard evidence? I mean -- I'm surprised at you, Sarah. You used to be a thorough and careful detective!"

Too stressed, his voice raw and unmodulated. She shuts her face down, crumples the map: This is her life, her new life. Islands connecting back to the shore. And she fucked it, again, by getting in too deep, too fast. Committing to a narrative. Unable to stop caring. This is the thing they were always talking about, Regi was always warning her about: Somehow, her bad police work has burnt the wrong fingers... She can feel him peeling away, a jigsaw piece that was shoved and hammered in. A moment of weakness. He sighs, when he sees it; comes to her like a groom. Like an abuser.

"Listen. Wait, wait, wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm just having a horrible day. I'm just trying to keep it together, you know? And I believe you. Of course I do. I believe you."

She's reminding him to call IA, to save Stephen, when the front door opens. Caught upon the stair, for a million years, she thinks for a moment to scream, "I'm only hear on work!" but even she knows how crazy that would sound.

The wife's disgust at this tableau -- the two of them halfway down the stairs from the bedroom; this woman in her house again -- could be that of a woman who was prepared to kick her man out. It is also the look of a woman shocked by everything. Either way, it's a woman who never really knew her husband.

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The Killing




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