Page 72

Seen

INT. APARTMENT. DAY.

RED, oddly textured, fills the screen.

DETECTIVE CARVALHO (O.S.)

So whatcha got for me here?

PULL BACK. The RED is revealed as a splotch of BLOOD on a rug.

RAY WRAY (O.S.)

Something sharp . . .

CARVALHO (O.S.)

(Unimpressed)

Yeah, no shit.

We KEEP PULLING BACK, revealing more and more splotches—a definite trail, like spray from an invisible wound . . . a whole bunch of invisible wounds. Then a tail-end of CRIME-SCENE TAPE and the chalk OUTLINE of where a body used to be.

RAY (undistinguished, middle 30’s) is down on his knees next to the OUTLINE, checking notes on his clipboard. He wears plastic gloves and a disposable coverall.

RAY

(Points)

. . . thin, no edge, no blade. Kind of rounded,

maybe an awl, or a big needle.

CARVALHO

What, like some kinda mad knitter?

A NEW ANGLE establishes the rest of the room: Mass slaughter, but no bodies—just tape, chalk and blood trails.

RAY

Well, I need to do more tests, obviously. But

the closest parallel I can get you right now

is something the size of a catheter or a

trocar, like what they use for draining off

fluid during an autopsy.

(Gets up, turns to point)

So here’s how it plays out . . .

CARVALHO turns too. He sees—

HIS P.O.V.: A QUICK CUT of an outline next to the fridge.