We returned to Beacon House, where a suspicious Holder could barely stifle his disgusted smirk at Pastor Mike’s sanctimonious lecturing about the failed system. A less amused Linden noted that Pastor Mike had a lot of pictures of teen girls on his wall but not so many guys. PM did himself no favors by noting that the “girls like getting their picture taken… they’re more vulnerable than the boys,” displaying an all-too-easy access to three-year-old pictures of street girls, and noting in a husky voice, “Nobody misses them. Or goes looking for them. They’re the throwaways of the world.” Said the pervert killer. Okay, yeah, I know he probably isn’t the one, but still… you’re being questioned by police about a serial killer with a hard-on for lost young girls, man! At least try not to sound like one.
Back at the SPD, Holder and Linden weighed the possibility that that “coward” Pastor Mike was the killer. Holder had fully shifted over to the “He did it!” camp, citing that 80 percent of the vics had shuttled through Beacon House at some point. Linden remained skeptical and suggested they rest for a few hours. But when she returned to Vachon, her ex Cody ambushed her. He was suddenly all kinds of menacing – free-and-loose with the nasty remarks and far too ready to manhandle Linden when she told him the plain truth: she’d been pretending to be someone else their entire relationship. She just didn’t have the happy person gene in her. What she did have? Plenty of moxy! She stood her ground, talking in a “I’m so serious I am whispering tone” as she told him to back the eff off. Meanwhile, Cody just stepped onto the suspect list, no? It feels so inorganic that everyone who arrives on the scene – especially such a minor, seemingly dismissed character – has to be considered but c’est la Killing.
While Linden gave Cody a verbal beatdown, Holder hit the beat. He ran into Bullet and some other ragamuffins out in The Jungle, and they volleyed trash talk back and forth. (Holder definitely won with swaggering statements that his suit was “getting pressed by Versace, seeing as he’s the one who fabricated it,” and saying the whiff of “pork” the hooligans mocked was actually the aroma of “salary and purpose.”) Though the kids started clearing out on account of Holder, Bullet didn’t mind sticking around as she told Lyric “it’s just Bugs.” Lyric insisted they leave, and Holder immediately picked up Bullet had gotten a girlfriend. He teased, “What’s her name? Delilah? Jezebellll?” Between chest-puffing about their respective skills as lovers and Holder’s reminiscences over his “stable” of ladies when he was younger, Bullet told Holder there was no way Pastor Mike was the perp: “He’s, like, the one guy in Seattle who’s not a pedophile.” As Holder left, he advised Bullet to keep Lyric safe because “[the streets] ain’t no type of crib.” Love. Those. Two.
Meanwhile, Becker returned to the prison. Seward immediately started in, accusing him of negligence and being cuckolded by his wife. (We learned later the latter was true. Point, Seward.) Becker struck right back, noting that the hammering and buzzing in the background was the sound of the construction on Seward’s gallows. He spoke threateningly of all the variables that could go wrong to lead to a slow, painful death… “but either way, you s— yourself. … Ain’t that a hell of a way to check out?” Real charmers, those two…. As Becker walked off, Seward’s cellmate whispered beguilingly, “Ray, Ray! It’s still up to you how you exit this world. You get to decide how you go out.” Given the on-the-nose-ness of it all and Hill’s very recent death, I’m beginning to wonder if that guy is actually there or just some spooky manifestation of Seward’s psyche.
NEXT: A lead and a slice