Love You More: A Novel

Rick exits. A beat as Sarah sits in this empty place, her smile fades. She spots the TICKETS on the fridge. As she takes them down, a PHOTO — pinned underneath — flutters to the ground. Sarah picks it up, smiles, tenderly kisses the photo. Pins it back on the fridge.

We see the PHOTO: Sarah and her 13-year-old son, JACK, smiling into camera. Mom and son against the world.

Only thing left in the empty kitchen. She carefully straightens it. Making it perfect.

EXT. SEATTLE PD - DAY

Sarah seen in her office window, cleaning up. A UNI walks past.





SARAH




… We’ll have a few hours before the airport, Regi … Yeah, it’d be great …





INT. SEATTLE PD - SARAH’S OFFICE - DAY

Musty and cramped, mismatched steel filing cabinets, Sarah, in sweater and jeans, tosses manila FOLDERS into cardboard boxes, chewing gum, mid-convo on her cell phone—





SARAH




… To take Jack out on the water—





Her office door bangs opens, revealing Det. STEPHEN HOLDER — 30, ex-narc, dark circles under his eyes. Startled as she—





HOLDER




(overlapping)



Ahh, this is a bad door. Sorry, what … what are you doing here—





SARAH




(overlapping)



A who … Can I help you—?





HOLDER




Yeah, this is my office—





SARAH




Who are you—?





HOLDER




I’m Holder, from County. You Linden?





REGI (O.S.)



(from phone)



Sar? You there …?





SARAH




(into phone)



Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Regi.



Sarah hangs up, takes him in: cardboard BOX in his arms. Fish out of water in his Fubu and baggy jeans. Amused—





SARAH (CONT’D)



Yeah. I’m Linden.





HOLDER




I thought you’d be outta here by now. But if you need more time, I can wait outside.





SARAH




No, it’s okay. No, no, come on in. I’m almost done.





Not much room to navigate. He drops his box on the desk, knocking over her box, spilling files everywhere.





HOLDER




Damn it—





SARAH




It’s okay, I got it.





Holder tries to help, making more of a mess.





HOLDER




My bad, my bad.





Hold picks up the box, she takes it.

HOLDER (CONT’D)



Here.





He moves to the other side of the desk. Starts unpacking his own box.

HOLDER (CONT’D)



So, I hear you’re moving to LA.





SARAH




San Francisco area.





HOLDER




Oakland?





SARAH




Sonoma.





HOLDER




Sonoma. It’s nice.





SARAH




Yup.





Beat. She continues to clean up, not interested in engaging.





HOLDER




Nice weather. Ocean. The beaches … Hate that shit.





Holder shoots a ball into a hoop/trash can. Sarah smiles grudgingly.





SARAH




You must love this place then.





HOLDER




Ouch.





He’s glancing at one of Sarah’s files. CLOSE ON gruesome crime scene PHOTO of an ADDICT — white, trashy, fatty (think Courtney Love) — cut ear to ear. Beneath, a SKETCH: a lonely grove of trees on the sand. Beautiful.

HOLDER (CONT’D)



Crack head thought she was Picasso?





SARAH




Crack head’s six year old son drew it.





HOLDER




He get iced, too?





SARAH




No.





Sarah takes the sketch. Puts it away. Holder waits for more. None coming. Fort Knox this woman.





HOLDER




So what happened to the kid—?





LT. OAKES — 50s, soft touch for Sarah — enters.





OAKES




Don’t waste your time moving in, do ya?





HOLDER




No. County cut me loose early. So, I …





OAKES




Well, you got a tough act to follow. You wrapped up here, Sarah?





SARAH




Yup. All done.





Oakes hands her a PAPER.





OAKES




Good. Got a call down at Discovery Park. Check it out.





SARAH




On my last day? My flights tonight—





OAKES




You’re still on the city’s dime.



(off her look)



You can hand it off end of shift. Six o’clock. Go on do your job. Take him. Show him how to work a scene.





HOLDER




(quietly)



I know how to work a scene …





Reluctantly, Sarah grabs her coat and a box—





SARAH




Grab a box. We’ll take my car.





HOLDER




Alright.





SARAH




(indicating a nearby box)



Over there.





As Sarah and Holder exit, boxes in tow, Holder shuts the door with his foot.

EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT - DAY

Transition.

INT/EXT. SARAH’S CAR - DAY

Sarah drives, Holder yaks. Wipers flipping across the rain-soaked windshield. Squat factories — abandoned, graffii-marred — slide past their windows.





HOLDER




… They tapped me out of the Academy like first year, boom straight to



(MORE)





HOLDER (CONT’D)



undercover. So I was working vice, narco. I don’t know, I guess narco kinda stuck to me, so …





SARAH




(no shit)



You? A UC? I never woulda guessed.





Holder shoots her an amused look.





HOLDER