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The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [170]

By Root 907 0
GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY


Sarah continues jogging – intense, driven.


EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT


Rosie crouches down, pressing herself into the side of a tree, making herself as small as possible. Rosie’s terrified, bloodshot eyes, the bruises and cuts on her arms, legs, face.


EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - DAY


Sarah continues jogging the wooded trial.


EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - NIGHT


Rosie’s face is suddenly flooded with light. The Assailant has doubled back and is now only a dozen yards away. Moving in with terrifying speed. With a scream, Rosie runs–


EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT


Dawn. Sarah bursts into a clearing, down a small embankment, is an abandoned beach strewn with driftwood, fog.


EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT


Rosie tripping, scrambling on hands and knees down a small embankment. The flashlight behind her jaggedly cuts through the woods, nearing.


EXT. GOLDEN GARDENS PARK - WOODS - INTERCUT


Sarah looks up, goes still. A FIGURE lies on the beach. A blanket of loopy seaweed covering it. Gnats and flies buzzing over it.


Sarah, transfixed, nears the still figure on the sand.


She reaches down, pulls off the blanket of seaweed.


It is a dead SEA LION – one blank eye staring up. Sarah takes it in. RAIN begins to fall.


Even here, on this beach, she is unable to escape these broken, sad bodies. The exhausting knowledge that life doesn’t care. It is indifferent.


Sarah’s CELL PHONE RINGS, startling her–

SARAH

(into phone)

Yeah, Linden here.

Off this–


CREDITS ROLL

END TEASER

ACT ONE

EXT. DOCKS - DAY (CHYRON: “DAY ONE”)


A CAR drives down the industrial docks of downtown Seattle. In the distance, through the now heavy rain, the Space Needle, the gray downtown skyline, the waters of Lake Union, all under a breathtaking, brooding sky. A city of contrasts, light and dark, sun and fog, where rain falls eight months of the year. A city surrounded on all sides by waterways, ocean, lakes. Stark beauty and dark underbelly.


The car pulls up to a crime scene. In her sweats and a raincoat, Sarah exits her car in the now intense DOWNPOUR, chomping NICACHEW. A UNIFORM guards the entrance of an abandoned factory, keeping a bunch of LOOKIE LOOS – sullen emo teens and a bug-eyed crackhead – at bay.

SARGEANT (O.S.)

Back behind the tape. Yeah, you heard me.

A Lookie Loo – male, pierced - catches Sarah’s eye. She holds his baleful stare.


Sarah ducks under the crime scene TAPE, met by a SARGEANT –40s, grizzled, ex-boxer’s battered face—

SARGEANT (CONT’D)

Sarah, sorry ‘bout this. Lieutenant said you were on call so–

SARAH

Where’s the body?

SARGEANT

Conveyor shed. Homeless guy found her coupla hours ago. Jane Doe… No ID, wallet. Coroner’s en route. You’re the first one here.

(beat)

You gotta go up the stairs, follow the ramp, you’ll find her. You want me to walk ya through?

SARAH

No. I’m good. Thanks.

They stop in front a steel door. Sargeant opens it revealing a dark hallway, stairs– He gives her BAGGIES and a FLASHLIGHT over–

SARGEANT

You’re outta here, what? Friday?

SARAH

Nope. Today.

With a smile, she enters…


INT. FACTORY - CONTINUOUS


… Heads up the stairs. Suddenly, the steel door slams shut, plunging her into darkness. It’d be easy to turn back but that’s not Sarah’s style. Instead, she turns on her flashlight – flickery, iffy.


Ahead of her, a ramp tilting up into blackness. Trash, graffiti everywhere. Rain pelts the tin roof, pigeons coo. She’s used to silent, secret places like this. Forges on.


Her light catches a dark SMEAR on one wall. Blood. Below it, a pile of trash. Baggie in hand, Sarah sifts through. Pulls out a sharp deboning KNIFE. Bags it.


Trains her flashlight on a faint trail of BLOOD. Leading to the top of the conveyor shaft, a room. Something in there…


INT. FACTORY - BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS


A large OBJECT, like a side of beef encased in plastic, hangs from a hook. Sarah slowly reaches up, rips it off–


LIGHTS snap on, revealing a group of middle-aged male DETECTIVES in PARTY HATS,

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