[rain pattering]
[thunder rumbling]
[thunderclap]
[somber music playing]
[distant door opens]
[thunder rumbles loudly]
[thunderclap]
[siren whoops]
- Jake. - Dutch.
Hey, you're not gonna like this one, Jake. Trust me.
Don't examine the body until the lead investigator is present.
Understood. But you're half an hour late.
The priest said that he'd never seen this woman in the church before.
Just because he's a priest don't mean he can't lie, Mary.
Sage.
Jake!
Wait here.
I already spoke with Dr. Loesch.
The Artist is right where he should be.
Just wait till CSI finish this report.
Can't start jumping into conclusions here.
What were you guys talking about?
Just some old demons.
[door opens]
St. Joseph's called again today.
The doctors are giving him one week, maybe two at the most.
You should go see him.
- I can't handle that. - Mary, this is your dad.
Can we please just not talk about this?
[rain pattering]
[man over podcast] The important thing is God created the world.
He first created the Heavens.
And inside the Heavens,
He created the cherubim, the angels, and the Archangels.
The Archangels were essentially the highest rank of angels
and the chief messengers of God himself.
Among those Archangels was a being known as Lucifer.
[suspenseful music playing]
[Sheriff Owings] Both women were coated in a resinous substance.
The lab confirmed it's the same compound used on previous victims.
- Previous victims? - I think it's pretty safe to assume
- we have a copycat on our hands, folks. - Sir?
One with a rather intimate knowledge of his predecessor--
- Uh, excuse me, Sheriff? - Yes, Detective Kelly.
I didn't realize that there were other murders connected to this case.
I'd assumed Jake filled you in.
It must've slipped his mind.
Okay, here's the Cliff's Notes version.
Five years ago, serial killer Arnaud Lefeuvre aka "The Artist"
abducted and murdered six women.
Prostitutes, sex workers.
First, he poisoned and preserved them using ricin, extracted from castor beans,
then he'd arrange and decorate the corpses in lifelike poses using metal frames,
leaving them to be found in various places around the city.
He called them his "masterpieces.”
I do actually remember that. It was before finals,
so the details are a little fuzzy. How did you guys end up catching him?
Damn fine detective work is how.
Done by damn fine detectives, one of whom is sitting right beside you.
[unsettling music playing]
[tools clattering softly]
[flame torch hissing]
[soft music playing]
[siren whoops]
Hey. You might want to ease up on the caffeine there.
It's the only thing keeping me vertical.
Sleep hasn't been very restful for me lately.
Ah.
A railroad worker found her about an hour ago.
[officer] Maybe get some photographs around here.
[indistinct radio chatter]
[Sheriff Owings] The city is still trying to recover
from what happened five years ago.
Last thing we need is some damn copycat reenacting this nightmare.
Well, you're preaching to the choir, sir.
Yeah. That's why I'm considering every option.
No way. Absolutely not.
You gotta think objectively here, Jake. He's our best chance, and you know it.
Nobody would do this, sir.
- Dutch has already volunteered. - Dutch?
Okay, sorry. Volunteered for what?
The Artist.
He wants to send Dutch in there to see The Artist.
Well, that's a bold move, um, but worth a shot.
I think that if you appeal to his ego,
he would resent the fact that another, lesser artist is copying his work.
But I think Dutch needs some finesse.
I would send someone else.
Who do you have in mind, Detective?
Um, you're looking at her.
- My background is in psychology, so... - I've read your file, Mary.
Then what do you say? You won't regret this.
Sir, she's not ready for this.
You know what? I'm actually very capable of making my own decisions.
Thank you. I won't let you down.
I'll call Dr. Loesch, set it up this afternoon.
Thank you.
I still deserve to be here, you know.
So don't even think about monopolizing the conversation.
I get to ask some of the questions.
All of them actually. I'm not going in with you.
What do you mean?
Well, The Artist is only going to play ball if we could somehow win his trust.
That would be impossible with me in the room, considering our history.
You mean what? Other than the arrest, or...?
People will remember The Artist
for the way he murdered and preserved six women.
But he actually took seven lives.
What are you talking about?
Zeke Anderson. My partner for 15 years.
And a good friend.
The night we finally tracked down The Artist, Zeke was killed.
Jake, I'm so sorry. I... I had no idea.
There's more.
That night, we were pursuing The Artist in a patrol car.
We collided. Our vehicles flipped.
I must have lost consciousness for a moment
because I don't remember Zeke getting out.
I just seen him standing next to The Artist and...
And what?
Zeke doused himself in gasoline
and set himself on fire.
- [insects buzzing] - [birds chirping]
[crows cawing]
[soft musical instrument playing]
[Dr. Loesch] Mr. Lefeuvre is monitored around the clock.
He's actually the only resident of a psychiatric institution
scheduled for execution.
The court declared him sane.
Yes, I read the mental evaluation presented at his trial.
- And you disagree? - My opinion's irrelevant.
The Artist was transferred here to prevent any further self-harm.
Self-harm?
Slashing his wrists and painting on the walls in his own blood.
Thank you.
[chair slides]
[chains rattling]
Mr. Lefeuvre? My name is Detective Mary Kelly.
I know who you are.
I'm sorry. Did someone tell you that I was coming?
Yes. A winged friend told me.
Well, I'm sure someone like you has much better use of their time
than conversing with birds.
And who said anything about a bird?
The reason for my visit today is actually because--
Regarding the copycat, no doubt.
I presume you'd hoped to pick at my brain on the matter.
Yes, I was.
I was hoping that you might familiarize yourself with the case.
If you saw some photos of the victims,
maybe you would notice something that could help us.
And if I notice something, what would be in it for me?
I just assumed a man like you
wouldn't want his legacy tarnished by an imposter.
That's semi-clever, Mary.
I'm afraid you'll have to take a different tack with me.
Okay, then, I will talk to Dr. Loesch.
See if I can get you some better meal options.
Two weeks before my execution, you think I'd be swayed by a new menu?
Extending the time in the yard, then?
I abhor physical exertion of any kind.
"No" again, I'm afraid.
But let's cut to the chase, shall we?
I want my death sentence commuted to life in prison.
I'm afraid I don't have the authority to offer you that.
You will have once we show the authorities something.
May 1?
[uneasy music playing]
Photographs of my art macabre
can still be seen on the internet if one knows where to look,
and then used to replicate my work.
So the suspect could be literally anyone.
No, not anyone.
The preservative was a match.
Your formula was sealed by court order. It was never released to the public.
So this copycat, he knows far more than he should.
Maybe it was someone that you knew from your past
and one that you confided in?
Could you leave the file with me tonight? I'd like to study it in detail.
I'll have Dr. Loesch bring it to your cell.
In the meantime, I have prepared some questions
that might help refresh your memory.
That won't be necessary. My memory is absolute.
But I would like your help with a different matter.
- What is that? - My art supplies.
They've been in the Sheriff's Department storage since my arrest.
I want them back with permission to use them in my cell.
I must have my art supplies first or we can't proceed.
It's non-negotiable.
Reminder that my hour of death is fast approaching. Thank you, Mary.
I'll see what I can do.
Should you find anything, Dr. Loesch will provide you access to a phone.
Mary, are you familiar with the Archangel Samael?
Yes, but I outgrew fairy tales.
I never thought you'd come as Mary.
[distant crow cawing]
He knew I was coming.
Someone on the inside must be feeding him information.
What about our case? Is he willing to help?
Uh...
What does he want?
[sighs] He wants his sentence commuted.
- No damn way! - Okay. He might know something.
Don't be naive, Mary.
- He only said what you wanted to hear. - Naive?
- Wow. That was uncalled for. - I'm sorry.
But two weeks from now, that bastard is gonna fry,
and the world will be a better place for it.
[car engine revs]
[soft unsettling music playing]
I think we both could use a coffee.
Look, I'm okay. Thank you.
[tablets rattle]
- [banging on window] - Fuck!
Sir, step away from the vehicle right now. I'm not going to ask you again.
[knocks on window]
- Mind unlocking it? - Yeah. Sorry.
[car door unlocks]
Thank you.
[car door closes]
[foreboding music playing]
Not a single print, trace of DNA.
Same as the others five years ago.
[paper rustles]
[distant chattering]
[man over intercom] Yeah, what is it?
Tell Dr. Loesch I need to speak with Detective Kelly.
You have two minutes.
[wall socket clicks]
Did you see that tattoo on her left shoulder?
The Sigil of Baphomet?
An inverted pentagram with a goat's head at the center.
It represents carnality, I think.
You're familiar with that stuff?
Well, I'm familiar with The Piper:
a brothel five minutes' drive from where her body was found.
All the women working there have tattoos just like that.
She was a hooker, Mary.
[phone vibrating]
Detective Kelly.
Thank you for reuniting me with my old paints, Mary.
Very much appreciated.
Prove it.
Oh, I will.
But first I want to make something perfectly clear.
Whatever help I provide is for you and only for you.
Not for your police friends nor anybody else. Understood?
Understood.
Well, the copycat's latest victim, the crucified girl...
do you happen to know if the coroner clipped her wings?
Why would that matter?
Because she's going to need them.
Why does she need them?
Mr. Lefeuvre, why does she need her wings?
For her journey to the afterlife.
[suspenseful music playing]
Forget something?
Yeah, I need to look at these wings.
What exactly did he say?
Something about the wings. He implied that they were important somehow.
[feathers rustling]
There's something in here. I think it's glued.
[feathers snapping]
[Jake] What the hell is that?
It's a nail polish brush.
This shade was discontinued years ago.
You could tell all that just by looking at the cap?
No, this is the exact shade that I wore in high school.
My father hated me for wearing it.
I'm gonna need to take this, okay?
That brush was in there, sir.
And you can confirm this?
Still wondering about the coroner, though.
Dr. Reed? What-- what about him?
Well, are you aware of him ever coming into contact with The Artist, sir?
What if he knew the brush was there all along and never said anything?
Why-- why would he do something like that?
Jake, I've known Dr. Reed for five years.
Look, I think it's important that we just keep The Artist talking
and I honestly think that we need to consider his commutation request.
We're gonna need more than a brush to approach the governor, Detective.
But if you feel you're onto something, you keep going.
You'll get all the support you need.
How about we focus on catching the copycat so they both can fry?
[exhales]
Hey, can I ask you something?
The night The Artist was arrested, what happened, exactly?
Jake and Zeke were pursuing at a high rate of speed when Jake lost control.
They crashed. Vehicle caught on fire.
Jake made it out, Zeke died at the scene.
Jake suffered bad burns to his left arm, but he still made the arrest, Mary.
[soft music playing]
[The Artist] Hello, Jacob.
I suppose a firm handshake is out of the question.
I'd rather shake hands with the devil.
Careful what you wish for.
You-you realize how bat shit crazy you are?
This is such misguided thinking, Jacob,
especially from a person who's witnessed what you've witnessed.
It's a pity, really. I do take comfort in one thing.
Not only did Zeke finally see the light, he became it.
[thuds]
Oh, yeah?
I didn't lay a finger on him. Your partner set himself ablaze.
Jake.
Put your firearm down.
Now.
We need to have a talk.
- [animal howling] - [insects chirping]
[suspenseful music playing]
Victim ID'd as Desiree Washburne, age 26.
Affiliated with the sex trade, by any chance?
Says she worked for several online escort agencies.
Three dead in three days.
I really want to hurt this guy, Mary.
[dark music playing]
[man over radio] I need you to back up.
[indistinct chatter on radio]
Sniffer dogs are working the woods,
and Dutch is on foot and tire print duty,
so we should have the entry and exit points in no time...
unless this guy can fly. Yeah.
He's getting reckless.
No. More confident.
[tense music playing]
[fly buzzing]
There's something underneath the nail.
Uh, do you have some tweezers?
This is a needle from an antique compass.
My partner Zeke had a compass just like it.
Never saw him without it, Mary. Not once.
But the day after he died, his wife came to collect his effects.
No sign of the compass.
No, you don't actually think that--
First your nail polish, now Zeke's needle?
You tell me.
[paper rustling]
How do you know it's not an act?
[Dr. Loesch] He's suffered episodes like this since childhood.
Do you have any theories as to the cause?
At age ten, he sustained a blood clot on the brain after a fall.
He spent the next two years in a wheelchair.
The damaged regions of his brain
were likely re-aggravated at the time of his capture
due to use of excessive force by Detective Doyle.
No, I read the arrest report. There's no mention of any misconduct by Jake.
It also doesn't mention he spent the next three months in therapy afterwards.
- Lefeuvre? - No. Jake Doyle.
I thought you knew.
[Jake] Before he lit the match, Zeke looked right at me and laughed.
And that laugh, a sound I never wanna hear again,
it was pure evil.
A pure evil laugh?
Jacob, do you hear yourself? An evil laugh?
I sincerely hope you did not put this into your incident report
because it makes you sound unreservedly insane.
[thumping music playing, muffled]
["Good Girl" by Zarah Mahler & Leo Z playing]
[indistinct cheering]
[chain rattling]
["Good Girl" continues playing]
[chain rattling echoes]
[song fades]
Detective Kelly.
[scoffs]
You knew-- you knew about the nail polish brush.
Nail polish brush?
You told me to go and look, and you said--
I told you where to look, not what you would find.
So why the nail polish brush, Mr. Lefeuvre?
What is the significance?
Because it's something I used to do.
I would place some personal possession next to each body,
and forensics missed it every time.
It's an ancient burial practice.
An object to accompany the dead on their journey to the afterlife.
But you don't believe in the afterlife, do you, Mary?
[scoffs] You know, a petition to commute your sentence has been drafted.
I just doubt it ever reaches the governor's desk.
By the way, Mary, you were correct.
The copycat does know my work well.
Maybe too well, which makes me wonder...
If truth be told, Mary,
I have a number of admirers.
And I may have even met some of them before my arrest,
and I may have even divulged some of my secrets to them.
So it is possible that among these letters,
there is a likely suspect.
Oh, I'd be very happy to come help you look at those.
Nobody looks through my correspondence except me.
I'll need your word on that.
You have my word on that.
Mr. Lefeuvre, what do you know about a missing compass?
I know nothing about a compass, all right?
A needle for one was found under the fingernail of the last victim.
Photograph?
Hm.
So a compass missing its needle...
or a needle missing its compass.
And what might that represent metaphorically, Mary?
What?
Disorientation.
Or a lost soul struggling to find their way.
Can you excuse me?
I have some reading to do.
[cooing]
[chains rattling]
[lighter lid snapping]
[objects clanking]
I don't wanna die.
[feathers rustling]
[thunder rumbling]
[Dale] About your dad, they're giving him one week, maybe.
[The Artist] You don't believe in the afterlife, do you?
Or a lost soul struggling to find their way.
Hey. [sniffs] Ooh, what's that smell?
- Smells like there's something burning. - Oh, that's the sage.
The sage?
Thank you.
Um, so what's with the sage?
Expels negative thought.
Dale, I'm not getting into it about my dad again, okay?
I wasn't gonna say a word about your dad.
[sighs] Sorry. It's just, the-- the case has been getting to me.
Let's eat.
[exhales]
[dog barking]
[woman] For my next demonstration,
I'm going to need a volunteer.
[eerie music playing]
Ah.
Please. Sit down.
[audience clapping]
Please, sit.
Sit.
Now, you are going to be what I wish you to be.
[whimpering]
[bones cracking]
[body thuds]
- [groaning] - [bones continue cracking]
Hey, are you sure it's okay we're not taking that trip to Rome?
Yeah. I know your work takes priority.
[distant glass shattering]
What was that?
[gun cocks]
[intense music playing]
- [grunts] - [thuds]
[Jake] You sure it was the same guy?
Yeah, positive. He was--
He just seemed really crazed, like he's under the influence of something.
Could this be the killer that you're after?
[phone ringing]
He's struck again.
Get some rest, Mary.
I'm coming with you.
[car door closes]
[helicopter whirring]
The museum security says
five hours are missing from the dome security footage.
He took his time with this one. Wonder why.
Jake.
Is that what I think it is?
Yeah. It's Zeke's compass, all right.
Don't move it.
This is Doyle. Evidence room.
[soft tense music playing]
[camera shutter clicking]
[whirring]
What is that? German?
Uh, Dutch, I believe.
"Het Helse Landschap..." "The Infernal Landscape."
Wait... what?
You okay?
Before Zeke died, he texted me this.
[Mary] It's an art book.
"The newly discovered work by 16th-century master Hieronymus Bosch."
It says it's out of print.
I know where we could find a copy.
The Inferno Landscape.
I read it a couple of times,
but never figured out what Zeke was trying to tell me.
Samael.
The Artist mentioned that name before.
Samael was a fallen angel cast into hell. But he's better known as--
Lucifer, yeah. I'm familiar with the story.
[foreboding music playing]
[crowd clapping]
We thank Father Linares for his testimony.
The exorcisms he participated in during his final mission to Ethiopia
provide us with a better understanding of the phenomena of possession.
What are we doing here?
I want you to meet an old friend.
Enjoy.
Thank you, Father.
Allow me to introduce my partner, Mary Kelly.
Father, I was wondering if you could look into Mary's etheric aura.
- I believe she may need a healing. - What are you talking about?
She's been exposed to a negative force.
The evil man at the center of our investigation.
My God, I'm out of here.
- Mary, wait. - What was that back there?
- Look, I was only trying to help. - You're trying to help how?
[sighs] Look, I've been studying, learning new things.
I wanted to share them with you.
I thought you were different than Dutch and all the others,
- but I guess I was wrong. - No, no, no.
I am trying to catch a serial killer.
You're wasting our time.
Jake, you can believe whatever you want,
and what you read in your own time, that's your business, okay?
But when superstition starts interfering with the work, then I have a problem.
Well, if you want to be reassigned, just ask the Sheriff.
I'm sure Dutch would welcome you with open arms--
That is not what I'm saying.
Jake, this is not healthy, especially for you, okay?
- Hey, car's this way. - I'm taking a walk.
Mary.
[exhales]
[dramatic music playing]
[exhales]
[birds chirping]
[machines beeping]
[horse whinnying]
[dove cooing]
[intense music playing]
[beeping]
Is he all right?
Pulse and breathing are normal. He's fine.
Yeah, you filed numerous reports to extend his stay.
And I've read your reports on his supposed "self-harm.”
It's a little overstated, in my opinion.
Do you have a medical degree?
Just a masters in common sense.
Do you want to level with me, or should I go to the Board of Directors instead?
[exhales] His mind fascinates me.
I'd been studying him ever since he arrived.
At any rate, we both want him here for now.
[distant dog barking]
[train horn honking]
[ominous music playing]
[over radio] Dispatch controller Reynes SD751.
Groundskeeper's truck used in It. Governor's abduction
was just found outside Parrie reserve.
Located the vehicle. In standby and awaiting CSI.
[whistling]
[knocking on door]
Come in.
[door opens]
- These were just dropped off. - Thanks.
Uh, ten minutes ago, sir.
Yeah. Yeah, I saw the photos myself.
I forwarded them to your private email.
Yeah, yeah.
Uh... Yes, I believe that's our only option, actually.
I mean, look, [chuckles]
there's no guarantees here but time is not our friend.
Of course, Governor.
[sighs] I had to inform the Governor of all our options...
including The Artist's request.
Dammit!
You know, Jake, maybe you ought to think about sitting the rest of this one out.
You know? Take a little break. Take some time for yourself.
It'd be totally understandable.
Well, It. Gov. Diaz doesn't match the profile of any of the other victims.
Are we sure that this is our guy?
He abandoned his truck a couple blocks away.
Inside, we found trace amounts of chloroform and--
And the dove feathers. All matches.
And then, there are these.
Delivered to the psych institute via courier service,
addressed to Arnaud Lefeuvre.
He's trying to prove himself to the master.
Or...
Or he's showing off...
Boasting he can do better.
I mean, The Artist never targeted
such a high-profile victim like this, Detective.
Regardless, I'm convinced,
I'm convinced they've been communicating since the very beginning.
Maybe using code to get past all the inspections. I don't know.
We're gonna know shortly, though.
What are you talking about?
Uh, Dr. Loesch has agreed to help us take a closer look.
No, I gave The Artist my word. I'm not going to risk losing his trust right now--
Don't worry. He'll never know.
Sure. Yeah.
[muffled whimpering]
[muffled whimpering continues]
No, please!
No!
- [rain pattering] - [thunder rumbling]
[creature growling]
[panting]
[creature continues growling]
[gasps]
What are you doing?
Couldn't sleep.
Your commutation order, signed by the governor,
effective under one condition: It. Gov. Diaz must be found alive.
- What is this? - Medical checkup.
[door closes]
Bullshit.
[intense music buildup]
- You have 45 minutes. - Yeah, that's plenty.
[intense music playing]
[camera shutter clicking]
- Something familiar about that mug. - Stay on task, Detective.
[keys jingling]
- He's struck again. - Hmm.
I'm revisiting a childhood favorite.
The Ecstasy of Santa Teresa by Bernini.
By the way, your friends were here.
It wasn't my idea.
And they left empty-handed.
I tried to stop them. |--
Do you remember I told you, Mary, that I would help you but not them?
Oh, I took all my letters and burned them
and flushed the ashes down the toilet.
But not before committing them to memory.
Mr. Lefeuvre, please. Tell me what you remember.
You tell me something first, Mary.
You tell me if you believe that a man who is free inside his own mind
can truly be confined behind the bars of a prison?
I don't follow.
The sketch.
- [dog barking] - [siren wailing]
- [train horn honking] - [knocking on door]
Boy, let's go. Come on.
My two o'clock's here.
Keep quiet.
[distant dogs barking]
[light switch clicks]
[soft music playing]
[The Artist's mother moaning in background]
[moaning in background continues]
- What are you doing? - What the hell'd I tell ya, boy?
Why did you do that?
- No more religious shit! - Stop!
Ain't nothing but brainwashing.
- Stop! - I won't tolerate it!
But I like the old masters' style.
You wanna draw something, draw a dog. Or a real live person, for once!
[dramatic music playing]
In the subsequent two years,
I was confined to a wheelchair.
But...
Jake, you know all about that, don't you?
Jake!
[over radio] Come out! Come out, wherever you are.
Mr. Lefeuvre, I am sure your childhood was very difficult,
but time is of the essence right now.
I need you to talk to me about the copycat. Please.
I'm nearly out of sculpting clay.
I'll replenish that. Please talk to me about the copycat.
The gentleman you seek is a forger of Renaissance paintings,
primarily religious in theme.
I used to frequent a quaint little antique store called Langdon & Sons.
And they, more than occasionally,
displayed some of his counterfeits there, Mary.
[door closes]
[suspenseful music playing]
[door bell ringing]
- We're not open yet. - We're not customers.
- Well, you just can't barge in here-- - Without a warrant?
[clock ticking]
Jake.
What about it?
When The Artist referenced a painting, he made a...
Who painted this?
He wished to remain anonymous.
I paid him in cash, and I never saw him again.
We're gonna need to seize it as evidence.
Hey, when did you get a search warrant?
I didn't. I always keep a blank one handy.
No one ever reads them. [scoffs]
[gunshot]
If you knock on the Devil's door, he'll answer.
It's the freak who broke into my house!
Mary, wait!
Wait!
[suspenseful music playing]
[homeless man] You should've listened to me, Mary!
Put your hands behind your head.
- It's too late now, Mary. - Back off!
- I will shoot. I will shoot! - Pull that trigger, Mary!
You don't have the guts to pull that trigger.
I tried to warn you.
No!
[body thuds]
[crow cawing]
[Sheriff Owings] Javier Salazar,
the man who assaulted you, was employed at the institute until last year.
Worked there as a nurse.
We're comparing his DNA with the salivary DNA found on the envelope
that contained It. Gov. Diaz's photos.
What we know already, he was in daily direct contact with The Artist.
He was the RN in charge of drug administration.
I've already checked Salazar's record.
He was let go due to his mental condition. Acute bipolarism, according to Dr. Loesch.
Look, he sounds psychotic so it's really hard to believe
that he's capable of such elaborate murders.
Except we won't know for sure until the DNA comes back,
but I'm pretty damn confident he was our guy, Mary.
We still have a missing woman, sir.
The lab's running soil traces on Salazar's shoes.
We want to pinpoint exactly where he's been.
Any results on that painting?
There.
Thumb must have brushed the wet paint.
- [rain pattering] - [thunder rumbling]
I offered Zeke a full confession
and all I asked for in return was for him to sit for his portrait.
In fact, I would like to make the same offer to you.
Of course, I'm perfectly capable of drawing from memory.
Would you care to sit for me?
[indistinct chatter]
Got a print on the painting, Detective.
Did you run it through AFIS, confirming it's Salazar's?
Belongs to a woman, actually.
We had her print on file from a prostitution arrest years ago.
- Name and address? - It's all in there, Detective.
- Hey. - What's going on?
I'll bring you up to speed en route.
Take some backup.
[sirens wailing]
[siren whoops]
[car door closes]
[dove cooing]
[metal clanking]
[indistinct chatter]
You might want to see this.
[suspenseful music builds up]
[Mary] No, it can't be her. This body's been here for far too long.
This level of desiccation would take years.
[fly buzzing]
[Mary] He must have been testing the preservative on her.
Turned this whole apartment into an art studio
to measure the rate of decomposition.
- I wouldn't touch that if I were you. - Poison?
It's probably ricin extracted from castor beans.
Same toxin he used on the other girls.
A single drop can kill a horse.
So the Bosch wasn't a Bosch at all,
but a forgery painted right here.
Gotta be crawling with Salazar's DNA.
I don't think so.
Welcome to The Artist's home, Jake.
He's playing games with us.
He turned his own mother into a guinea pig.
[phone vibrating]
Salazar's DNA...
not a match.
[crickets chirping]
[soft music playing]
[police siren wailing]
You knew that painting would take us to the apartment,
and you wanted us to find your mother.
Why?
Because I wanted you to understand who I truly am.
I have read every single public record with your name on it,
including the court cases. I have a very good grasp on who you are.
Did you ever think there may be truths about me, Mary,
that are not contained in those files?
This all began when I was working on a piece
called The Infernal Landscape.
And then I heard a voice
and that was the voice of the Archangel Samael.
Why am I listening to this?
And that voice opened my ears and my eyes to who I really am.
You've given me nothing on the copycat.
I'll let the Governor know.
Too bad for you. I can tell you exactly where to find him.
Why should I believe you?
What choice do you have?
By the time I finish, you'll have his exact address.
I promise you.
Finish what?
Sculpting.
Sculpting you.
You are a sick man because you don't realize something.
If the It. Governor dies, you're going to the chair.
You don't care.
- What are you doing? - Waiting.
You can't be serious right now.
Deathly.
Make yourself comfortable...
If you want that address.
Here's the deal.
You have ten minutes and not a second more.
At the end of those ten minutes, you're giving me the address.
Agreed. Shall we?
The human form is a defined work of grace and proportion
but the same cannot be said, however,
[over radio] for the human mind, which is weak and corruptible.
To create a sculpture is to solve a mystery...
every contour, a destination,
every gaze, a road map...
every expression and hollow,
the hidden address of the soul.
Did you know, Mary, that when I first glimpse a person,
their story is already revealed to me?
And that yours is the tale of a young woman
plagued by terrible scars from her childhood.
We all have old wounds.
Wounds are the trademark of warriors, wouldn't you agree?
And God could have healed your wounds.
But you turned your back on him. Why, Mary?
My father.
A man you haven't seen in many years.
Who you still, in fact, refuse to see.
And all he wants to do is to be able to say goodbye to you.
You're not guessing anymore. How do you know that?
Why won't you see him, Mary?
You don't know what he put me through.
What did he put you through?
Did he abuse you as my mother abused me?
No, no. You and I are not the same.
That man, he never touched me. He...
He would put his hand on the stove, and...
he would say, "This is what happens to flesh in Hell."
And I couldn't stop him.
And you could smell his burning skin?
I still can.
So he made you responsible for the torment he was suffering.
That is truly the stuff of nightmares, Mary.
Tell me about them.
They begin with falling.
Falling where?
Into flames.
The burning was so real
that I could still feel it when I woke up in the morning.
Do you still have those nightmares, Mary?
[inhales] No.
The moment I stopped believing in Hell, they went away,
and my father couldn't scare me with them anymore.
But that made him try all the harder,
[over radio] didn't it, Mary?
[Mary] He said I was possessed,
that I needed help.
And that's when he started dragging me to confession.
And that's where you first seduced him?
Right in the confessional booth?
Seduced who?
The priest who took your confessions: Father Dale.
The one who now shares your bed.
Who are you talking to? Who told you this?
Do you know why he shares your bed, Mary?
Do you?
- I don't need to answer these questions. - Would you like me to tell you more--
Stop! Stop!
- We fell in love. - Love?
You fell in love?
He chose a different life with me.
Ah. So it was true love? Correct?
- Yes. - Uh-huh.
And when you tell yourself that, Mary,
- do you believe it? - Yes.
- Do you actually believe that? - Yes.
- I don't think you do. -Yes, I do.
[sobs]
Or didn't you, in fact, do it merely to spite your father?
Thank you for sitting for me, Mary.
It's very much appreciated.
It's your turn.
The address. Now.
The address is 1522 Lola Court.
Was that loud enough? Or shall I repeat it for your colleagues?
1522 Lola Court. Come on, people! Let's go!
[sirens wailing]
Mary, you're forgetting something.
This is for you.
And always remember, Mary,
that the truth is only ever found within ourselves.
[door closes]
Need a lift?
Why didn't you go with the others?
I figured those apes could handle an arrest without me for once.
Yeah, but it's our case. One of us should've...
I'd rather be here right now.
Come on, Mary.
[siren wailing]
[muffled crying]
[sobs] Oh, my God. Oh, my...
[continues sobbing]
[wings flapping]
[police siren whoops]
[suspenseful music playing]
[distant car honking]
I just... I don't understand how he knows all those things about my life.
It's stuff that I've only ever told one other person.
And... [exhales]
No. No, it can't be.
He's just putting things in my head, right?
"Truth is found within oneself." That's what he said.
Who said what?
Wait, what are you doing?
[suspenseful music playing]
Archibald, have you lost your mind?
[old lady gasps]
[sighs] Son of a bitch!
I'll be damned.
265 Opal Street. It's the right address.
- Do you know where this is? - Yeah.
[tires screech]
[exhales]
[suspenseful music playing]
[door hinges squeak]
Anyone home?
[flies buzzing]
What the hell is all this?
It's me. It's...
It's my entire life.
"Infernum."
It's... Latin for Hell. [inhales]
Come on, Mary.
- We really need to call this in. - Go ahead.
I'm just gonna take a few pictures. I'll catch up, okay?
[exhales]
Car 252 to Dispatch.
[phone vibrating]
[voicemail] Hi, you've reached Dale. Leave a message.
[woman crying]
[floorboard creaks]
[hinges squeak]
[dove cooing]
[clattering]
[woman crying]
- Governor Diaz? - [gasps] Yes. Who are you?
I'm the one who's getting you out of here.
Okay. [pants]
- How do you unlock this? - The devil man. He has the key.
- Where is he? - He's right there.
[sobbing breaths]
[approaching footsteps]
[breathing heavily]
Step out with your hands above your head.
Slowly.
[The Artist's voice] Mary.
Jake?
[The Artist's voice] Well, yes. And, no.
I promised to help you find the killer, Mary.
And here he is.
Jake, what's wrong with you?
Oh, Jake's not here right now.
No prison can hold a man who's free inside himself, remember, Mary?
[breathing heavily]
Lefeuvre...?
That's right.
[panting]
You still need to hear the rest of my story, Mary.
[children playing, distant]
[The Artist] Mother had destroyed all my art books,
forcing me to find new subjects to draw.
[sparklers crackling]
That's when I discovered my power.
After capturing someone's likeness in a drawing,
I can leave my own body and temporarily enter theirs.
I kept it a secret for many years, fearing it to be a curse.
Until the Archangel Samael...
revealed it was a gift bestowed upon me.
When his Spirit entered my body...
[gun cocks]
I was born an Angel, Mary.
[intense music buildup]
Angel of Death.
[muttering] Please, please, Jake, come back.
Come back, come back, Jake, please.
Jake, come back. No, no, no!
[clattering]
[panting]
[laughs, pants]
I have honored the contract.
The It. Governor lives,
and the killer will soon be dead.
And I couldn't have done it without you.
Now, finish the job, Mary.
One more...
right here.
Don't be afraid.
[breathing heavily]
[paper rustling]
[gasps] Mary?
[Jake panting]
Where am I?
[Jake groaning]
I'm so sorry.
Jake, I'm so sorry.
Jake, it was you.
You were the copycat all the time.
[grunts]
You gotta stop him, Mary.
[agonal breaths]
[distant sirens wailing]
Now you're free to join your old partner, Jacob.
Go up.
Go.
[flames crackling]
The city can breathe easier, thanks to Detective Mary Kelly,
whose courageous actions
ended the killing spree of her former partner, Jake Doyle,
and saved the life of It. Gov. Diaz.
- [clears throat] - You, uh, wanted to see me, sir?
I know it's not the happy ending we all wanted, Detective.
But you did save that woman's life.
Psychologists are saying that Jake suffered
from some kind of dissociative identity-type psychosis,
possibly triggered from the... from the first case.
That's why he thought he was The Artist.
Well, they are the experts.
What do you think, Mary?
You were there that night.
What I think won't bring him back, sir.
The Jake I knew wasn't capable of this.
And I knew Jake for a long time.
I just can't wrap my head around it.
[priest] "Whoever believes in me
should not abide in the darkness."
May the Lord look kindly on you,
Elias Kelly.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
[foreboding music playing]
I'm glad you saw your father before he passed.
Yeah. Me, too.
[Mary] Um...
can you give me a minute?
Yeah.
[Dr. Loesch whistling]
Dr. Loesch.
Let the earth rest lightly on him, Mary Kelly.
Did you know my father, Dr. Loesch?
No, I just wanted to see you. No visits, no calls,
not even a letter, Mary Magdalene.
I was wondering when you'd show up.
I've missed you, too, Mary.
You never intended to Kill the It. Governor, did you?
Very perceptive.
I was only giving her boss extra incentive to sign.
- [paper fluttering] - No, Mary.
It's you who's going to be next.
Why the games?
You could have just sketched a guard and wheeled yourself out.
You could have escaped at any time.
To spend the rest of my life hunted like an animal?
[scoffs] I think not.
Escape has never been my intent, Mary.
In fact, there couldn't be a more ideal place
for me to continue my necessary work.
As I'll soon be returning the favor
when I purify your soul, Mary.
Today would have been the day.
Of my execution. Ironic, isn't it?
I think a little bit more than you realize.
And what's that supposed to imply?
I have a question for you.
Did you happen to sketch Dr. Loesch with a black pencil?
I'm sorry?
A black charcoal pencil. It was part of the art supplies
that were delivered to your cell yesterday.
I think you might have thought that they were from some deranged fan,
but, no, they were from me.
See, I noticed you had this habit of chewing on the ends of your pencils.
Just added a couple drops of your special ingredient,
the same one that you used on your own mother.
You're bluffing.
I probably should have filed it with evidence, but...
I guess Jake taught me a few bad habits after all.
Have a good day.
[chokes softly]
[exhales]
[breathing heavily]
[coughing]
[gasping for breath, coughing]
[continues coughing]
[objects clattering]
[groaning]
Oh, no. [breathing heavily]
[groaning]
[birds chirping]
You know, I was thinking about that trip you wanted to take.
- To Rome? - Yeah, let's do it.
[uplifting music playing]
[solemn music playing]
["Eclipse the World" by Laura Loriga and Leo Z playing]