The grey covers the city, under the darkness that forms Bridgeport.
Rebeca's cigarette burns in her hand. Rebeca, in her chair, stare the client, in attention. The client, in silence, observe Rebeca's reaction. What is it that she wants?
ELENA: I've never done this before. I wouldn't know how...
REBECA: You can cut to the chase. I'm not here to judge.
Rebeca takes a long smoke on her cigarette. The client is apprehensive and also hesitant.
ELENA: There's someone after me.
ELENA: I... There's someone... Watching me. I'm not paranoid, but I can feel like a constant creeps.
REBECA: When did it start?
ELENA: Two weeks ago.
REBECA: And do you think this... Someone... Is trying to hurt you?
ELENA: I don't know. I wouldn't go near... I tried it three times and I ended up without the courage in the end.
REBECA: Elena... Do you have any reason to believe that this person behind you may have some reason to be following you?
ELENA: No. That's why I... I came here.
Elena gives a nervous laugh. Rebeca takes another long smoke on her cigarette.
REBECA: Who gave you my name?
ELENA: An acquaintance of my husband. His name is Davis.
REBECA: Go home. I'll help you.
Client stays quiet, all previous tension goes to nothing. Rebeca begins to wonder that this case will cost her.
Rebeca is with Davis, both standing in the square. Davis looks curious, she is agitated.
REBECA: What happened?
DAVIS: You're the detective.
REBECA: **** you Davis...
DAVIS: I thought you wanted this job.
REBECA: Maybe I don't.
DAVIS: Rebeca, I think you better fix your shit. I'm tired of it already.
DAVIS: You chose this. You blew up your career with the Bridgeport Police Department. Made a deliberate choice of **** with everything and almost took me with you.
REBECA: I did not come here to relive the past Davis.
DAVIS: It's not the past. All that shit is still very present in the lives of many people. Rebeca, you can not escape. Dispite what you believe, there are many people interested in your head on a tray.
REBECA: What do you mean?
DAVIS: Nothing. Doesn't matter. Get the job. But please... Take a break, stop feeling sorry for yourself and go get laid for your own sake!
Rebeca laughs. Davis remains serious.
REBECA: Davis, you big jerk!
DAVIS: And the nightmares?
REBECA: Now you care about me?
DAVIS: Always do.
REBECA: Ah... Tough love.
DAVIS: You're my protégée.
REBECA: Well... Where were you when I was 20?
He laughs, relaxed.
DAVIS: I think I was in my first divorce.
He pauses, looks at Rebeca and resumes.
DAVIS: Accept the case.
REBECA: You'll get what I'm going to ask next?
REBECA: I want total access to some files.
DAVIS: It depends.
REBECA: Don't be vague.
DAVIS: Send it to me by e-mail. I'll see what I can do.
REBECA: I gotta go.
DAVIS: Oh... I remembered. Gilba said hi.
Rebeca smiles and walks away. Davis laughs alone, yet relaxed, filling his lungs with air from downtown.
Rebeca's father gets distracted and does not realize Rebeca, entering through the front door with blood on her clothes.
Carl gets up and walks over to his daughter, shocked by her appearance, imagining the worst happening.
CARL: Beca... What did you do?
She cries and Carl begins to despair.
CARL: What did you do? What did you do?
Rebeca wakes up, scared. It was just a nightmare.
She gets out of bed, walks to the window - with a view of Bridgeport. Rebeca burning a cigarette in her hands. Gray. Ashes.
Pause. Rebeca walks up to her notebook, still smoking.
She turns the notebook on and look for some files. Feel the cold through the window.
Talks to herself while her cigarette burns in the air.
REBECA: Elena back. No police record. Has a husband, Frederic. Two daughters, one of eight and one of five. What are you hidding Elena Back? Why is someone after you?
A little away from the front of Elena's house, Rebeca is inside of her black car. Discrete. Lurking.
Talks alone, watching Elena's life.
REBECA: Two days. Two days... And nothing. Two days.
A man approaches Rebeca's car.
And hits the window of the car. He gets in the passenger seat - next to her. Rebeca does not react, recognizes him immediately. Gets surprised.
TYSON: I recognized that shitty car two blocks away.
REBECA: **** you and your mother. My car has personality.
TYSON: Why are you here?
REBECA: Here, where?
TYSON: Don't pretend you're crazy, Rebeca.
REBECA: I'm in the middle of a case.
TYSON: Okay and how much crap will hit the fan this time?
REBECA: Not trying to mess with BPD.
TYSON: You better not.
REBECA: What are you doing here?
TYSON: Anonymous tip. We are looking for an informant.
REBECA: If it's anonymous, how will you find it?
TYSON: It's not your problem.
Tyson lights up his cigarette.
TYSON: Want one?
REBECA: No. I stopped.
TYSON: Me too.
Tyson smokes firmly.
REBECA: My client thinks she's being watched.
REBECA: She doesn't know who he is and doesn't know why.
TYSON: Since when do you take as truth delusions of persecution of others?
REBECA: Paying well...
REBECA: Nothing. Two days and... Nothing.
TYSON: You were discovered.
REBECA: Two seconds ago you said it was paranoia.
TYSON: And if not?
REBECA: Well, I don't see anyone spying on her. Do you?
Shadow sitting on the chair. Rebeca, relaxed, watching her nervousness. She wanders.
SHADOW: I'm smelling the smoke...
SHADOW: You are thinking too much.
REBECA: Shadow, are you sure?
SHADOW: I have. Four days. No one is behind her.
REBECA: I checked with some acquaintances of mine, this woman is a kind of example in the community. Perfect suburban housewife.
SHADOW: There's something wrong with that...
REBECA: Yes. Nobody is perfect.
SHADOW: Every other day?
REBECA: With four days apart? Just when I began to investigate her? Quite a coincidence.
SHADOW: Investigate her?
REBECA: You understood what I meant.
SHADOW: Do you think it's the BPD?
REBECA: No. If it was Davis would already be on top of me. And worse, he's the one who pointed me out.
- - -
Part 1 of 2.