Twisted

I can hear your heart beating.

Sounds like a little animal

in your chest trying to get out.

Sounds like blood.

Sounds like flesh.

No.

Most of all, it sounds like love.

- What's this?

- Well...

What is this?

- It's my gun.

- Your gun?

Don't hurt me.

Give me your hand, Culter.

- Get on your knees. Get up, Culter.

- I'm trying to.

- Jess, I'm here.

- I've got Culter.

Wilson, I need backup.

23 Ralston, the old Battery.

10-4. Backup units rolling.

I got your back, Jess.

- Get on your knees.

- I'm on my f***ing knees.

- Get up.

- I'm up. I'm up.

- Hold him there, Jessica.

- Come on.

Come on.

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

- Hey, Shepard.

- What?

Do that thing again.

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

Do it! Do it! Do it...

Inspector Shepard, Homicide.

Yes.

Who wants a beer?

- I do.

- I second that.

- Another round, Peter.

- You got it.

- All right, big guys.

- Pass them down, boys.

Thanks for being

on the phone, Wilson.

You and me?

You and me are like this.

You're drunk.

No, seriously, serious,

serious, serious.

Look, just because you're

moving up to Homicide,

don't take me off

your speed dial, OK?

No, no, no. I mean,

any time you press that button,

any time you push that button,

I'll be there to pick up.

OK?

- I'm gonna miss you.

- Here's to you.

OK. Don't forget about me.

Give me some.

I'll miss you too, Wilson.

Look, I'm telling you,

these Homicide guys, they're mental.

And they get turned on

by f***ing corpses, remember that.

Now, that's interesting.

What the f*** is this,

the peanut gallery?

Shot of rye, please.

I was just wondering, do you mean

they're turned on by f***ing corpses,

- or by f***ing corpses?

- God.

- Mind your business.

- A lot of beers here.

Let's spread them around.

Another shot of Jack, please, Pete.

What?

Oh, nothing.

Oh, I was just thinking

how awkward you look...

...even though you are a cop.

What precinct?

Have it your way, stranger.

- Congratulations, inspector.

- Hey.

Hey, sexy. Come on, let's dance.

- You wanna dance?

- You gonna be cool, Jimmy?

What do you mean,

am I gonna be cool?

Like I'm here to fight with you

or something?

Hey, he made it!

- Hello, commissioner.

- Hi.

- How you doing?

- Hey, how you doing?

Back up, boys,

you're breathing my air.

- Hey, look who showed up.

- Good to see you.

- What's up, commissioner?

- Hey.

Leo, how you doing?

If my mentor were

police commissioner,

I think I'd be getting a promotion too.

You know what I mean?

- Yeah, is that right?

- Yeah.

I got ears like a cat, son.

So let's see what we can do

about getting you that promotion.

Test. There's a man sitting

at the end of the bar,

looks like he's been sitting there

for a while.

I want you to describe him.

And I want details.

Well, you know what? I'm just here

to have a good time, man. That's it.

Oh, so talking to me is not

your idea of a good time?

Or is it that you just can't do it?

- I could do it.

- OK, so go ahead,

get yourself a promotion.

Look at me.

He's a white guy.

And...

He's got, I don't know,

a dark sports jacket. I don't know.

- You know what? I'm off duty, man.

- Yeah, I know.

Shepard?

Go.

White male, late 40s, 6 foot, 200

pounds, thinning gray hair, glasses.

He's wearing two gold chains

with some sort of medallion.

He's drinking shots and paying cash.

And that's why she's an inspector,

and you're not.

The good inspector's never off duty.

My office.

Inspector Shepard.

Making an old man proud.

So...

- You pass the written?

- Yeah, of course. How could I not?

- Trained by the master.

- Really, Grasshopper?

Well, the master is amazed

at how badly you almost f***ed it up.

- What?

- Well, a moment ago,

you demonstrated you still know

how to process a room.

So tell me this,

how did that psycho get

a knife to your throat?

No. Let me tell you.

You went there alone without backup.

And you didn't tell anybody.

You didn't follow procedure

and you almost got yourself killed.

You know, you're lucky you're not

being brought up in front of

a disciplinary committee

instead of being promoted.

You're right. I f***ed up.

Listen, it was an honor for me

to raise you,

to raise my partner's child.

I'm just glad you made it through.

But you're Homicide now.

There's no more room for mistakes.

Copy that?

Copy.

Nice kick.

I mean, what kind of moron

tries to flush body parts down a toilet,

especially when he's got

a perfectly good furnace out back?

- I'm gonna head out.

- Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Where you been hiding?

This is your night.

Hey, the first female chief of police

of San Francisco right here.

- Mark my words.

- Oh, yeah.

- To the chief.

- To the chief.

You remind me so much

of your father.

God, he would've been proud of you.

All right. I want you to go

straight home

- and get some rest.

- I will.

- Everything all right?

- Yeah. Everything's all right.

Knob Creek, neat.

Do you live around here?

What?

Any nightmares?

Insomnia?

Anxiety? Panic attacks?

Nothing.

OK, here's the deal.

This session is mandated.

It's standard procedure

for any cop

who's been through

a traumatic experience.

Plus, in this instance,

the suspect got a little roughed up.

Really?

Let's get something straight.

I do not have a dog in this fight.

I am not the enemy. Anything

you tell me goes right into the vault.

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