Retcon

As Mags and Amy dig into the past, old cases start rearranging themselves in real time. Assumptions they thought were settled begin to fracture, revealing a deeper pattern beneath Avalon Falls’ most familiar ghosts. What once felt like coincidence now looks deliberate. What once felt finished… clearly wasn’t.

Between unsettling discoveries, uncomfortable conversations, and a few questionable coping mechanisms, the girls are forced to confront a truth that’s been quietly rewriting itself for years.

Transcript

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Murder Girls is created, written and produced by Eternal Teenager. Content warning, this episode contains references to violence and physical assault, discussion of medical trauma, and unethical medical practices, mentions of institutional abuse and forced treatment, themes of grief, death, and psychological distress, references to drug use, non-graphic recreational, mentions of murder and profanity throughout. Listener discretion is advised.

Previously on Murder Girls.

My dad, he was my whole world, and then he died when I was 13. Car accident, except it wasn't, and I guess that was the lesson. Sometimes even the people who wanna stay don't get to.

You're your father's kid, all right. He came sniffing around Holtwood before he died, asking questions he shouldn't have about toxins in the soil, about what the originals were cleaning up, said it wasn't just environmental anymore, said it was medical.

Whoa, wait, my dad was looking into the Holtwood?

Yes, it didn't go anywhere. The emergency boat that's kept here, it's gone.

Where would they go in a boat from here?

My eyes had already scanned to the obvious answer. Osprey Island. Wait, Claire, look, that inlet.

Checking in doesn't exactly clean the slate when you've stolen a boat.

We didn't steal it. We borrowed it.

And we were going to return it after we got Miles and Walter out.

Out out of what?

They're trapped inside a threshold facility on this island.

There's something else. A signal. A weird background frequency buried in the footage from Hull Wood. Something deliberately placed.

But the crazy part is, we're picking it up here too. Two restricted sites, both with threshold presence, same signal.

Piper and I follow the signal. See what it leads to. You, Val, and Claire focus on getting Miles and Walter out of the facility.

Hello?

Holy shit, Miles?

Yeah, yeah, it's us.

Just tell us the bad news, Miles.

So, Walter broke his leg.

And then I recognize where we are. Not the exact spot, but close enough. Definitely been here before.

This is it. Looks like some kind of environmental sensing equipment. Looks like just data caches. It's useless.

It's not useless. This is someone waiting, watching. We take the data storage, leave the rest.

I'll take the medical supplies down, do initial stabilization on Walter's leg.

Mags? Oh, thank God.

Hey, Walter, are you doing okay?

My leg is broken, so no, I'm not okay.

Closed fracture. Tibia, maybe fibula, possibly a severe ankle fracture. Painful, immobilizing, but very manageable.

I used to think we were reckless, that we'd stumbled into something too big by accident. Standing there, looking at a data cache that's been quietly recording for years, I wasn't so sure anymore.

These time codes, they line up with the Osprey Island case timeline. It's organized into folders, looks like five main categories.

File names tell us anything?

It looks like surnames, I guess. Kemp, Payton, Shrempf, McDaniel, Durant.

Basketball players.

What?

Seattle SuperSonics players. I didn't need to open the files to know who'd name them. Of course it was him. Jonathan.

Murder Girls, episode 15, retcon.

It was Jonathan.

Okay, so your dad planted an environmental sensor cache on Osprey Island.

Yes.

Do you think he expected you to find it?

The spot where Piper and I found the cache. I'd been there before.

During the Osprey Island case.

You, me, Jonathan, we all went there together.

Yeah.

What if he was scouting it? Even back then, like showing us the island while quietly clocking where he'd hide monitoring equipment.

That's actually not insane.

Everything about this is insane, Mags.

Fair.

Daniel told me Jonathan had been poking around the originals' environmental violations back then. It was part of his job. Monitoring, compliance, all that.

So we look at what else he was requesting.

Yeah. We have the photos, Jake's boxes, the files Dylan wanted.

The ones Amber was using to blackmail the Holtz.

Let's see where it overlaps.

Okay. Requisitions going back 10 years. Some approved, some denied, some just stuck.

What was he asking for?

Access permits, testing authorization, environmental sampling.

Osprey Island?

Requested and denied, but not by the Nausicaa Council.

Olympia?

Yup. The state wasn't going for it.

Of course.

He also wanted samples from the Holtwood, old lumber yards, pulp mills, the cannery, the abandoned railroad tunnels, even the falls up the Fern River.

Those are all places we investigated.

Yeah. With him.

Wow.

So let's see what he found.

What are we expecting?

If this is standard environmental monitoring, pulp byproducts, food processing runoff, creosote, solvents, rail grease, petroleum-adjacent garbage.

Corporate negligence, original style.

Okay, there's elevated readings across the board, but yeah, nothing immediately lethal.

So bad, but not catastrophic.

Right. It's the expected shade of atrocity.

Last file.

Easy Money Sniper.

Huh?

Durant. Kevin Durant? That's his, you know what? Never mind. Just open it.

Mags?

Mags, what is it?

This file, it's a miscellaneous category.

Meaning?

A catch-all. Anything that doesn't fit the industrial profiles.

And?

The numbers are not right. I'm double checking. Triple checking.

What's wrong?

This isn't industrial runoff. This is medical.

Why would that be here?

I don't know.

Medical waste?

Not just waste. Pharmaceutical compounds. Synthesis by-products.

Drug manufacturing?

I don't know. Possibly.

We need to call Daniel. Jonathan worked with him back in the day, and the Niseka Council was looped in, at least partially.

If Daniel sees this, he might remember things differently.

Water runoff. Groundwater. We could track it ourselves.

Whether Jonathan was looking for this or not?

He found something big. The case always felt unfinished. We kept pushing.

You, Jonathan, Dee Dee, Claire.

Because there was always more. Pulled back the curtain, and there was always another fucking curtain.

Solving a puzzle with missing pieces.

Yeah, and those missing pieces just never felt biker-shaped.

The threshold facility on the island, it felt old, older than our case.

How old?

Older than 10 years ago. Easy.

Bikers, running a regional meth ring while sharing a restricted island with a corporate black site.

Doesn't feel like a coincidence.

Someone was using someone as cover.

Or it was all the same umbrella.

Shit. How many of the sites Jonathan was interested in overlap with biker activity?

Most of them. The cannery, the abandoned railroad tunnels, the old lumber yards, the fucking paper mill.

Well, it might not be something, but it's definitely not nothing.

Quoting Minerva now?

I mean, she's probably a sociopath, but Lady can definitely turn a phrase.

Valid.

So Jonathan used us as camouflage. That's what all this means, right? Like, the B-plot of this anyway? Like, he needed to recon these places, but alone he'd attract attention.

So he brought two 12-year-old detectives who were looking into weird lights and a murder that seemed connected.

Less suspicious to the people he was going after.

Still dangerous.

I don't think he lied to me. I think he just ran out of time.

Yes, yeah, I think so too. And that happens, re-evaluating your parents as adults.

Yeah, well, most people get to do it while they're still alive.

Amy.

It took secret sensors on a haunted island to realize I didn't know everything about him.

Jonathan was doing side quests, just like everyone else.

Sure, that's one way to put it.

Time for a process the latest wave of traumas break. Remember this guy?

Oh, hey buddy, you showed up right when I needed you. Okay, so Dylan's funeral is tomorrow morning.

Yuppers.

And just confirming, we are in fact going?

It's basically a royal funeral.

A murdered prince, very Avalon Falls.

What are you wearing?

I don't own actual funeral clothes. I know, I know, that seems hard to believe. Do you?

I have some black clothing, but it's not in the stuff I would categorize as fancy.

Same, like an embarrassing amount of black clothing. I mean, obviously.

So we're covered.

Yeah. I mean, no one is gonna care what we wear or that we're even there, right? Like, let's get over ourselves.

Agreed, and with that in mind, I actually know what I'm wearing.

Oh, really? Do tell, m'lady.

It's a surprise. Anyway, it's an old Korean tradition to keep the funeral outfit a secret. It is? No.

You punk.

It's gonna be intense, though. The whole Holt family in one place.

Yes, yes, the whole Holt family.

Plus whoever else shows up.

Or doesn't show up.

Just seeing them all together.

All of those generational freaks together.

Under pressure.

Yeah, we need to be there.

Uh, is it like, I don't know, wrong that I'm kinda sorta looking forward to it, you know, for the drama almost exclusively?

No, no, no. I already have snacks picked out. You would think it's popcorn, but spoiler alert, it's not popcorn. It's cheese popcorn. So, uh, well, shit. That's just formal wear popcorn. Never mind. I'm like, still gonna bring it, though. So if you maybe, you know, um, feel the need, the need for cheese, hit me up, girl. Okay.

Can we just pause and acknowledge how unhinged today has been?

This entire week is cursed.

Fair. But today? We woke up, checked Dylan's video metadata, then like fucking cracked his storage unit key code, talked to the weirdos at the library, got the Anson Calhoun tip. I don't know why I brought up the library.

Drove to Cedar Brook, the metropolis of Talacwa County.

It's a gem, indeed. Then we went back to the storage place, like with the evil bear mascot, and discovered Dylan Holt's murder bunker.

Yes! Then got fucking terrorized and chased by guys in wolf masks.

Which emotionally, a lot.

Definitely a lot to unpack at a less stressful time. Then we visited Anson at the Black Cedar Retirement Prison, and got him just fucking completely blazed on heavy dose CBD gummies.

Learned Deedee, my fucking aunt Deedee, had been there asking about the Calhouns.

Found all those old medical files, pulled a fire alarm, you rolled this joint.

Came home to Minerva.

Barf. Oh man, found out Piper, uh, Pipes is her daughter.

Tracked the weirdos across the county.

To Osprey fucking island, let's not forget.

Got Claire to boat us out.

Uh, Claire Bear, she was so so prickly about it too. But yeah, then we, then we just like, rescued three teenagers and Walter from a corporate black site or whatever.

And uh, oh my god, Walter broke his leg, guy?

Holy shit.

And I had to rappel down into a pipe and administer emergency first aid to his just fucking ruined leg.

Pretty sure you didn't rappel and the leg wasn't ruined, but otherwise swoon. Also, and of course, Pipes and I discovered my dead dad has been running a secret environmental investigation for a decade. I mean, that's an oversimplification, but you get it.

And now we're on the floor.

100% normal.

The chillest of lives, love, innit?

Facts.

Whoa. What? I just like never noticed that lampshade before.

Buddy, it's been there the entire time, like even when we were kids, you're hilarious.

Huh, gonna have to take your word on that jerky. Yeah, just no recollection at all about that particular lampshade.

You know what's weird?

When babies just stare at you?

Yes, but also, five days ago, we hadn't spoken in 10 years. And you know, now we're here, like...

Speaking.

Are you glad?

I am. Are you glad?

Yeah.

So what did you do in those 10 years? Like, what did Marguerite Park fill her rainy Seattle days and nights with during all those years apart from me?

Med school. No sleep. Dropped out. Vibes unclear. Decade was boring.

You were not boring.

Academically boring.

Accidentally boring.

Still hot.

Uh, what about you? Tell me something I don't know about the last decade of Amy O'Connell.

I can fix things.

Like, emotionally?

Stuff and, you know, things. Stuff and things like cars, plumbing, wiring, computers, or whatever. Like that. Yeah.

Oh.

YouTube raised me.

That's upsettingly attractive.

I know.

Um, so what's in your bag?

That is your bag, friend.

Right. My bag. My secrets. Give me that! Whoa, hey, don't. Oh, come on, Amy.

What do we have in here? What do we have in here? Okay, so lighter, chapstick, keys.

Why do I have four pens?

In case one of them betrays you.

Valid.

Oh, oh, oh, the Polaroids.

And the business card. Or phone number card. I mean, it just has a phone number on it, not any mention of a business.

Quick room temperature take. Should we call it?

No, no, absolutely not. We cannot handle a phone call right now. Let's be serious.

Yeah, for real, for real.

We didn't go through all those Polaroids though, did we?

No, no, we did not.

Here's one we haven't seen. Claire. Claire Bear.

Whoa. She looks intimidating.

Dude, she always looks intimidating.

Former Marine Erac Tours, plural. That's just a different flavor of scary.

Dylan wrote Pragmatist.

That tracks, honestly.

Oh, here's Marion again.

Oh dear, she looks so annoyed.

I love that Dylan just did this. Polaroids of people, no explanation.

Total Halt move though. He knew people weren't gonna say shit.

Yeah, apparently not.

Huh, I forgot it said this under Marion. Local history, more?

More what, small town lawyer knowledge?

Wait, wait, wait. Marion kind of is a local history person. You know, when you think about it.

Yeah, her office is basically a museum of sorts.

Maybe we should talk to her?

Yes, yeah, like about the Calhouns, the hospitals, Driftwood School.

It's a good idea, right? Local history buff, local history stuff.

I'm calling her. What, now? Yes, now.

Abort, abort.

It's fine.

This is Marion Caldwell.

Oh, oh, she answered, she answered.

Unexpected twist.

Marion? Hi, it's Mags, Mags Park, Marguerite. From, you know, Loose Ends fame, the shop, your former client, Dee Dee's shop, which is now my shop because she is dead. I mean, you know that. You were there at the, you handled the will. Obviously, you know she's dead. You're her lawyer. That's why I have the, anyway. Hi.

Marguerite, hello? Is everything all right?

Yes, completely. And absolutely. We were just wondering if, you know, you had time to talk about like history and whatever. No, no, no.

I can't breathe.

History, did you say history?

Right, so just like local, past events that happened locally in the past.

Ha ha ha, hoo hoo hoo! Ha ha ha, oh no, oh no!

Well, I'm at my office. I could spare half an hour, say eight o'clock.

Perfect, amazing, love that. Thank you so much.

Great, see you both soon. And Marguerite, perhaps have some coffee before you arrive.

Noted.

Oh my god, she absolutely knows you're high.

I'm aware.

Okay, okay, we have half an hour.

Coffee.

Walking.

Air.

Damage control.

Let's go before I spiral.

God, the air feels incredible.

Right, I didn't realize how stale it was in there.

Or how high we are.

Also, that, extremely that.

Look at that house, purple trim.

That's new, I take it.

Mrs. Chen painted it last year. Fucking HOA tried to make her change it.

What happened?

Baked them a cake that said, Eat shit and die.

Queen.

She bakes cakes to order now.

Is it weird that everything looks exactly the same, but also completely different?

That's what 10 years does.

Seems about right.

Plus, you're high, Mother Flipper.

That is definitely the word on the street these days.

Okay, Lula's, coffee mission.

Coffee mission. Act normal. I am normal.

Dude, like, not even fucking close.

Challenge accepted.

Well, well, if it isn't trouble.

Hiya, Lula.

Back already?

Crazy day.

Just coffee this time.

Just coffee?

We need coffee.

Just coffee? Even you?

Yeah, I mean, we're gonna be walking around, so gotta keep it respectable these days. No walking around with a sandwich spilling out onto the sidewalk and whatnot. I'm kind of bummed out by it, but what are you gonna do, right?

All right.

Two coffees to go, black?

Yes, please.

Oh, oh, oh, actually, can we get two honey crawlers?

Oh my god, yes, honey crawlers, yes.

Been a while, chica?

10 years.

Then you picked the right night. They're fresh.

Lula, you are a saint.

Gracias, I try.

Is Val here? Cedarbrook.

She and Piper went to see Walter.

Okay, two large black coffees, two honey crawlers, and I put in some walking around bacon for you, Amy, on the house.

Oh my god, I feel so seen right now.

What do we owe you? $12.50. Here, $15. Keep it.

Honey crawler tax.

Emotional support pastry.

All right, gracias.

You two be good, you hear?

Bye!

Bye, Lula.

Bye-bye, Locas. Beach?

Yeah, beach. Oh my god. How did I wait until Thursday to eat one of these?

You've been busy solving murders.

That's no excuse. This is... this is transcendent.

The beach always reminds me of the Carnival.

Oh god, the Carnival.

But mainly during the Osprey Island summer.

Bikers who were meth dealers who were posing as clowns.

What kind of twisted metal Mad Max Scooby-Doo bullshit was that?

Hey, let's sell meth dressed as terrifying nightmare entities under some big tops on a beach and a boardwalk.

Well, it worked.

They were disruptors.

Because nobody questions a clown at a carnival. Truth.

Is that also part of the ancient laws of the Carnival?

No, but the Circus Maximus is explicit.

We were 12 years old running around a carnival trying to figure out which clowns were criminals.

She's bit that clown.

On the ass.

And spent the night in dog jail.

We broke a dog out of jail.

She was innocent.

She was framed.

Ugh, I miss her.

Aw, buddy, me too.

Hey, Mags. Can I talk to you about something?

Of course.

The video.

If you don't want to, if now's not...

It's okay. Say it.

I didn't stop when I should have.

I know.

After you left, it never felt finished.

We kept finding things, little things, enough to keep going.

I know.

And then the accident and my dad, Jonathan.

And so then, then everything hardened.

That's one way to put it.

I didn't think it would follow you. Seattle felt far.

It wasn't.

When I got the video, I stopped. Stopped looking, stopped pushing, stopped it all. Tried to put it behind immediately.

I know.

We weren't talking. There was no way to bring it up without, without breaking something.

You broke something anyway.

I, I know.

Listen, I'm not mad about the attack. I'm mad that when we saw each other again, when I told you about it, you acted like you didn't already know.

I'm, I'm sorry. That's what hurt.

I thought, I thought I was protecting you. But yeah, I was just protecting myself. Again, Mags, I'm, I'm sorry.

We're not suddenly fine. But, but we're clearer.

Yeah. Yeah.

Are we still high?

Oh, indeed.

We're about to interview a lawyer.

A very competent one.

This feels irresponsible.

Maybe we'll be more intuitive.

That's a fundamentally flawed perspective.

You can't be certain.

I absolutely can be, and I am. Okay, Marion Caldwell, let's go. Caldwell the cuddly.

Be serious.

I am serious, I am extremely serious.

We're gonna embarrass ourselves.

Nothing is more certain. It's locked.

What?

The door, it's locked.

Why is it locked? I thought this was America. What the fuck happened?

Evening happened, I guess, and it's an office building, like business hours and whatnot.

Ah, yes, business hours and so forth. Very well. Carry on then, carry on.

Shall we try the buzzer then, love?

Oh, I love those. Let me press it.

Marion Caldwell, attorney at law.

Yes, this is Marion.

Oh, wow. This is Mags. Marguerite Park, we spoke on the phone.

Oh, yes, Marguerite. Come on up.

Why are you literally terrified right now?

Shut up, shut up.

Oh, my God. How many floors is this? I'm dying, Mags. It's too much. It's too far. Come on, man.

It's fucking four, dude. You're 23. It shouldn't be hard. Okay, fourth floor. Here we go. Whoa, this hallway feels like we time traveled.

Very 1940s noir law office vibes.

The carpet. Look at this carpet.

I am looking at it. I hate how much I'm looking at it.

Marguerite, Amy, please come in.

Hi, Marion. Thanks for seeing us so late.

Of course. It's so lovely to have visitors. Please sit.

I haven't been here since the depositions.

Oh my, that's right, isn't it? You were both so young then.

That lamp was here back then, too.

Oh, you know, not in a bad way. I just, consistency is nice.

It's fine. I like what I like. Why change it? Oh, before we begin, I have something for you both.

Oh, what? No. Oh, you shouldn't have. That's...

It's nothing, really. Just the slightest of things.

Gifts and wraps, too. Wow.

My God, where did you find the time?

Oh, you know, in my line of work, it pays to be prepared. Here, please open them.

Marion, you didn't have to...

I wanted to. Go on.

Oh, it's a vintage compass? It's beautiful.

I thought it felt appropriate for investigators.

A leather-bound notebook. Marion, this is beautiful.

For your notes, of course. Every good detective needs one.

This is so thoughtful. We didn't bring anything.

We didn't even think to bring you a cruller. We had crullers. We ate them.

The gifts are my pleasure, really. So, local history. That's what you wanted to discuss?

If that's okay.

I'm delighted, though I should say, I'm not an expert, just enthusiastic.

That's perfect.

I've lived here my whole life, 54 years, and after a while, between cases, deeds, disputes, you start noticing patterns.

We're looking into some things related to Dylan Holt's murder.

I assumed as much.

Is this okay, legally?

You're both my clients. If you'd like this to be privileged, it is.

Because a lot of what we're finding ties back to the originals, the Holt specifically, and the Omnia deal.

That doesn't surprise me. Look, Dee Dee was a close friend as well as a client, and I know she cared deeply for you both. That means something to me, something important. So please, whatever you need from me, it's yours.

Okay. So the Calhouns.

Ah, the Calhouns.

Everyone has a different story about them. Nothing lines up. What's your take?

The Calhouns are our county's favorite ghost story. That's because that's all that's left. A story.

What do you mean?

They were one of the older families in the county. Quite powerful, actually, but they fell during the Great Depression. Financial ruin.

We heard about that.

Families scattered now.

Yes, though, families don't disappear. They redistribute. The name might be gone, but the descendants are still out there.

So, there's also the story about the bootleggers?

The massacre.

Oh, yes. Shock value. That's the story, yes. But stories and facts are different things, especially local legends. Time passes, distance increases, and all you're left with is the story.

And the bootleggers? Is that the story?

One of them, yes. During Prohibition, the Calhounes supposedly ran afoul of bootleggers. The most common version? They threw a large party at Calhoun Manor. The bootleggers showed up and massacred the guests. Very 1930s gangster. Tommy Guns. The whole dramatic affair.

There are other versions?

Oh, of course. The versions are half the fun. Sometimes the Calhounes stiffed somebody. Sometimes they double-crossed Canadian whiskey guys. Sometimes it's outsiders. But when you go looking for the boring parts, the names, the dates, the actual bodies, there's nothing solid.

Someone might say it was scrubbed?

Someone might.

What do you think happened?

I think time is as good at hiding things as it is at erasing them. Unless a true crime show decides to investigate.

Hasn't happened yet.

No. I do love Forensic Files, though. Have you seen that one?

Yeah. Super addictive.

Wonderful show.

Have you ever heard what happened to Calhoun Manor?

No. Probably sold to pay off debts back in the Depression. I'm not entirely sure. Probably in ruins by now. Or torn down completely.

Whereabouts was it located in the county?

Again, no idea. I think people say it was somewhere in or around the Holtwood.

What about Dorothy and Nathan Calhoun?

More ghosts for the ghost story. The Last Calhouns. Either they die dramatically at the party, or they flee to Europe dramatically. Tlaquah County history loves drama. It's allergic to receipts.

Have you heard of the Driftwood School?

Oh, now that I know about. I love art. And the Driftwood School is one of those things that makes you go, wait, here, in Tlaquah County?

What can you tell us about it?

Communal movement, collective authorship. Everybody makes the thing together. It burned bright, and then... You know how the 60s and 70s went, when anything smelled like collective ideology?

So they got shut down.

What happened to them?

For some prison, for others, accidents, and for the really unlucky ones, hospitals.

Force treatment?

That's the legend. And after that, the movement turns into more ghost stories.

Anyone still alive?

Believe it or not, yes, Clement Dreier. He used to teach art history at Pacific Northwestern University. Interesting man. Sharp, strange, like all the good ones. Lives in Holloway now, I believe.

Clement Dreier, Holloway.

Fucking Holloway.

Pardon?

Nothing, nothing. We also wanted to ask about mental health facilities.

Of course, which ones?

Let's see, let's see. Here we go. Pine Ridge Psychiatric Center, Oakmont Sanitarium, Riverside Asylum, Clearwater Rest Home.

Ah, yes. Well, as you can imagine, and have probably already suspected, all had terrible reputations, forced procedures, experimental treatments. Nothing proven or prosecuted, mind you, just scarred people, haunted people.

We also came across a phrase. Does this ring a bell? The original sin lies buried with the fifth.

That sounds like one of those old town sayings, like the Holtz never forgive and they never forget.

We heard a spicier version of that one from an old timer. The Holtz don't forgive and they don't forget, and they don't let you live to regret.

Oh, haven't heard that one before. People used to be so colorful with their language, didn't they? Like it was magic.

What about the original sin? Any idea what that's talking about?

I'm not sure what sin they're referring to, but why come to think of it, there are five towns in Talaqua County, isn't there? Avalon Falls, Cedarbrook, Bearview, Holloway, Talaqua Ridge. Maybe one of those is the fifth?

Which one was founded last?

Holloway, if I'm not mistaken.

Fucking Holloway.

Oh God.

What is it?

It's Miles, 911.

Marion, we're so sorry.

Is everything all right?

We have to go.

Thank you so much for this, sincerely. For the gifts, for your time.

Of course, please come back anytime. I mean that.

Really?

Oh my goodness, yes. We should make it a weekly meeting. I would absolutely love that.

Actually, that sounds pretty great. Avalon Falls History Club, founded.

We'll definitely have more questions.

I'll be here. Just text me first, so I can pretend I'm organized.

Thank you, Marion.

Seriously, thank you.

Be careful, girls. You calling?

Or me?

Better reception outside.

Even going down, these stairs just absolutely suck.

Mags?

Miles, what's wrong?

We're all here at the hospital, and, well.

What happened?

Flowers arrived for Walter.

Very nice flowers, actually, tasteful arrangement.

Okay.

There was a card.

A card?

From who?

Thomas Holt.

What?

What's it say?

I'm reading it now. I was sorry to hear about the accident. Please pass along my best wishes for a swift recovery. Thomas Holt.

There's a PS. Please give my regards to Claire. She's always been very good at helping people move on.

This is a threat, right?

This feels like a threat.

It's definitely a threat.

He knows where we were.

He knows what happened.

Okay, everyone calm down.

He's flexing.

What?

This is a message. I see you, I know what you're doing, and I can reach you anywhere, anytime.

The regards to Claire part? That's him acknowledging she helped cover for you. That he knows the hiking story is bullshit.

So we're in danger?

I don't think so. Not immediately. It's still terrifying.

I'm terrified. I didn't want to say that out loud. I did... I said it out loud, right? The pain medication that's in this IV is quite...

quite potent indeed.

Indeedy do.

Ah, what do we do?

Nothing. You do nothing. Keep your heads down. Act normal.

Define normal.

Just be careful. Don't go anywhere alone. Stay together.

We can do that.

And keep us updated. Anything weird happens, you call immediately.

Weirder than Thomas Holt sending me flowers?

Yeah, weirder than that.

Okay, we'll be careful.

You guys be careful too.

We will.

Fuck.

Yeah.

Thomas Holt is the fixer. That's his role in the family.

By design.

And by reputation. He's done some dark shit. But like everything else in this town...

No evidence. No actual history. We should look into him.

Add it to the list.

The ever-expanding list?

The fucking never-ending, ever-expanding list of things we need to investigate.

You know what bothers me most about that card he sent?

That it was so fucking polite?

Yes, it's so polite, it's disgusting.

That's Thomas. Everything wrapped in civility.

A velvet threat.

I hate it.

Okay, we're here.

Home sweet surveillance shop.

Let's figure out what the hell we do next. You know what I just realized?

What did you just realize?

We haven't taken a break, like, in forever.

That's not normal, right?

Definitely not normal.

We should pace ourselves better.

Absolutely, that's what I'm saying. We usually do. Whoa, that lamp shade again.

Still noticing it?

It's very noticeable.

Okay, round two.

Are we hotboxing the Surveillance Basement?

We are definitely hotboxing the Surveillance Basement.

Cool, just checking.

Oh man, major craving right now.

For what?

Sour Patch Kids.

Ugh, really? Grody.

I know, I know, I'm disgusted with myself, but it's a guilty pleasure.

Sour Patch Kids are not a guilty pleasure. They're a crime against taste buds.

They're sour, then they're sweet. It's a journey.

It's an assault.

Okay, okay, fine. What does fucking Dame Marguerite Park consider a guilty pleasure?

Actually, I have lots of them.

Name one.

No.

Come on.

I don't reveal my guilty pleasures to just any stoned and unstable cryptid.

Mags!

Nope. Please? Ugh, fine. Flamin Hot Cheetos.

Oh, mama, yes.

Honestly, Flamin Hot Anything. They basically said every snack but make it hostile.

Which is brilliant.

Inevitable.

Had to happen.

No notes.

A triumph.

Flamin Hot Doritos.

So good.

Flamin Hot Funyuns.

God's work.

Flamin Hot Mountain Dew.

Whoa, whoa, wait. Is that real?

Real and spectacular.

What?

After we solve the murder. Priorities.

Okay, no, stop. I just learned something evil.

That they sell flamin hot seasoning powder? Yes.

How did you know?

That's the logical conclusion this conversation ultimately arrives at, my friend. Why would you need to add flamin hot flavor to other flamin hot flavored things, of course?

That's hubris.

That's humans playing god.

They were so preoccupied with whether or not they could. They didn't stop to think if they should.

Okay, like five out of 10, and that's being super fucking charitable. Oh, come on, man. But flamin hot, yeah, life finds a way.

I mean, dated reference, but I get your point. Oh, hey, it's the business card, or phone card, phone number card, or whatever it is.

Yeah, it is.

I'm calling it.

Now?

Yes, now.

Amy.

Oh my god, I'm just doing this.

Oh, okay, it's fine, it's fine. This is fine.

It's ringing.

I can hear it.

Wait, wait, wait, what if someone answers?

Then you talk to them?

What do I say? What do I say?

Oh my god, you're the one who fucking called them, fucking figure it out.

Might have to leave a message.

Whoa, what the fuck?

Holy shit.

Is that a pay phone?

And Dee Dee has a camera watching it.

And it fucking turns on when someone calls the number.

Where is that? Where is that phone?

I don't know, Mags. It's night. It's harshly lit. It looks like it's in hell as designed by David fucking Lynch's evil fucking twin, who's better at designing things that are terrifying and in hell. 

Sorry, it just freaks me out.

Oh yeah, me too. 

What the actual fuck?