"Secret Garden"
Written by: Phil Turner, Linda Ford, and CoronetBlue — Director: Linda Ford
Producer(s): Lea Ames & CoronetBlue — Post Production: Brixius — Creator: Roy Huggins
THE PROLOGUE
OUTSIDE CONCORD, MASS. - A RURAL ROUTE - AFTERNOON
The camera picks out Richard Kimble as he walks along a country road approaching Concord, Massachusetts. It is a sweltering afternoon in early August. Kimble has been on the run for days and new lines of fatigue are etched in his face. Influenced by his stay among the Amish, Kimble has started to grow a beard and mustache. As he stops to rest, a car comes into view. Kimble sticks out his thumb, hoping for a ride. The car passes. The driver is absorbed with his cell phone conversation and does not notice the hitchhiker. Kimble sighs in resignation and keeps walking.
A short while later he comes upon a white GMC pickup stalled on the side of the road with its hood up. He walks up to the truck and sees a lady in her sixties bending over the engine.
"Stupid radiator," the lady says, wiping her brow with
frustration. "Come on—not today!"
Kimble comes alongside to see if he can offer any assistance.
"Engine trouble?" he asks.
Startled by Kimble's voice, the lady jumps. "Oh, you scared me," she says, straightening up. Sensing his genuine concern, she turns back to the pickup. "Yes, it's been causing me trouble all week. But, nothing like this."
"Let's see what's going on," Kimble says, looking under the hood. "I've had my share of car trouble. Sometimes it's not as bad as it looks."
Under the watchful eye of the woman, Kimble surveys the engine "Yup…here's your problem," he remarks. "Your sparkplug wires are loose." He tightens down the wires and checks to make sure they are in good contact. "Now—that should help the engine, but your radiator looks like it's seen better days."
"I knew she'd quit on me one day," the woman concedes.
"What year is your truck?" Kimble asks.
"It's a '68," she says. "My father gave her to me. I've babied her for years, but now I'm afraid she might be on her last legs."
"Trucks like these are built to last, and I can see you've done a good job with her," Kimble observes. The woman scans the road with a worried expression. "How long have you been stuck out here?" he asks.
"About forty-five minutes," she replies. "Long enough to have to reschedule my dental appointment. Oh well, that's life!"
"I'll tell you what, let's give her a try now and see if she'll start," Kimble says. "The radiator should have cooled enough to get you back on the road."
Kimble enters the driver's seat and turns the ignition key. The starter whirs, but the engine fails to kick over. He walks back to the front of the truck to check the wires one more time.
"Get in and see if she'll start now," he tells the woman. She slides in and turns the key. The truck's engine cranks and catches.
"Yes!", she cries in glee.
"Sounds noisy, but I think it will get you where you're going," Kimble says, smiling.
"Hey, can I give you a lift somewhere?" the lady offers, noticing Kimble's road-weary appearance.
"Yeah! That would be great, thanks." Kimble enters on the passenger's side, bumping his wounded shoulder as he does so. He grimaces.
"Where are you bound?" the woman asks.
"Just to the next town," Kimble answers.
"I'm heading into Concord, too," she tells him as the truck pulls noisily away from the curb and gains speed. "My name is Millie…Millie Hodges."
"Nice meeting you, Millie," Kimble acknowledges, glad to be resting his feet. "David Patrick's my name."
"So tell me Dave, what were you doing going it on foot in this heat wave?" Millie speaks loudly, to be heard over the rattle of the engine. "Are you lost, or did your car break down somewhere?"
"Money is tight for me right now," Kimble says. "I'm in-between jobs. I get by, day to day…but transportation is a problem."
Millie absorbs this information. "You know what, Dave," Millie suggests, "I have a friend who needs some help at her nursery not far from here. General labor. You know, helping with horticultural duties, watering plants, carrying purchases out to the cars. Maybe some check-out work. Are you interested?"
"Sure," Kimble says receptively.
"I'm afraid it's not permanent," she warns. "Sue needs an assistant just until her brother returns from Australia in a few weeks. Will that do?"
"That sounds fine," Kimble assures her. Perspiration is trickling down his collar. "Does your truck have air conditioning?"
"She sure does," Millie laughs. "Just roll down your window!"
Kimble laughs and rolls down his window, letting the breeze cool his face as they drive into the old New England town of Concord.
THE STORY
CONCORD - PARKING LOT OF FILAR'S GREENHOUSE AND NURSERY
The truck carrying Millie Hodges and Richard Kimble pulls up in front of Filar's Greenhouse and Nursery. Hodges and Kimble get out. As they do, Kimble glances around at the landscape. Shrubs and young trees for sale fill one section of the nursery lot. Netting shelters a section for shade-loving plants. Beside the shop a bright array of plants are soaking up the sun. The greenhouse is in back, bordered by a high brick wall.
Hodges and Kimble go up the flagstone walk to the nursery store. A bell on the front door chimes as they enter.
INSIDE THE NURSERY SHOP
"Hello," Millie yells out, "anyone here?" Kimble takes in the well-stocked shelves of garden supplies, tools and fertil-izer. Just then a woman in her forties wearing a sun hat and garden apron embroidered with 'Filar's Greenhouse & Nursery' emerges from the back of the nursery. Her face and arms are tanned and she has an outgoing, yet industrious demeanor.
"Why Millie Hodges, how are you?" she asks with a welcoming smile.
"I'm just fine Sue," Millie says, giving the younger woman a hug. "The truck is acting up again, but everything else is grand. You look fit as a fiddle!"
"So do you, Millie," Susan acknowledges. "Hello…who's your sidekick?"
"Sue, I want you to meet a new friend of mine," Millie says. "David Patrick, this is Susan Eckerville."
"Mrs. Eckerville," Kimble says as he extends his palm.
"It's Ms. Eckerville, please," Susan says shaking Kimble's hand. "Any friend of Millie's is a friend of mine, Mr. Patrick."
"David, please," Kimble demurs. His gaze shifts to the empty shop. "Millie mentioned you're looking for an assistant."
"Do you know anything about plants?" Susan asks, immediately interested.
"I know that they need light, water and a lot of TLC," Kimble says. "Beyond that, that I'm willing to learn."
"Come with me," Susan says, leading him through to the back of the shop. The rear opens into the greenhouse. A wave of fragrant, earthy scents greets Kimble's nose as he surveys the rows of young plants. "These are my children," Susan says proudly. Millie, walking more slowly, joins them.
"Don't get her started," Millie says fondly.
"Every plant is different in its own particular way," Susan relates to Kimble with enthusiasm. "Take, for example, these scented geraniums. Each has its own special smell. This variety is my favorite. Here, rub the leaf." Kimble reaches down and rubs the green leaf between his fingers. "Now smell," Susan says, with a twinkle in her eye.
Kimble sniffs his fingers and says in surprise, "It smells like roses!"
"Yes," Susan agrees, "and each variety has a different scent. You can recognize them by their different leaves. This one with the crinkly leaves is rose, this one with the larger leaves is nutmeg, that one smells like lemon. I've always loved the rose geraniums best. They smell just like the real thing, but without the thorns."
"I had no idea," Kimble says, touching the leaves appreciatively.
"Think you'd like to take a quick course in horticulture?" Susan asks, studying him.
Kimble smiles amenably. "I have a feeling I've come to the right place," he consents.
"Okay, you've got a deal," Susan says. "I have two other part-time employees, but what I really need is someone full time until Bob gets back from Australia. Would those hours suit you? Do you live nearby?"
"Actually, I just arrived in town," Kimble admits. "I haven't had time to find a place to stay yet." Susan casts Millie a questioning look.
"I was stranded on the road in," Millie explains, "when David came along and got my engine started." She nods affirmatively. "He's good folks."
"Well, one good turn deserves another," Susan says. "I have a small lounge with a sofa-bed and coffee machine next to the office. There's a shower in the rear. If that will do, you're welcome to stay on the premises, no charge. Of course, that means doubling as night watchman in the evenings."
"That would be terrific," Kimble says, obliged. "I'll be glad to have the work.
"Then I'll show you where to put your gear," she tells him, escorting them back the way they came.
"I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Hodges says, bringing up the rear. "I've got a dentist appointment to re-schedule and I'm running behind on my errands."
"Okay, Millie, thanks. I'm indebted to you for bringing me a new assistant," Susan says, seeing the older woman to the front door.
"Catch you both later," Millie calls gaily, with a wave.
Susan turns to Kimble. "Time for the grand tour," she says, handing him a 'Filar's Nursery' apron. "Then we can begin your first lesson in Plant Care 101!"
Kimble ties the apron on and picks up his carry bag. "Do you need me to shave?" he asks, rubbing his jaw.
"No, you can keep the beard. After all, this is Thoreau country—where the back to nature movement started!" Susan replies. "Walden Pond is just minutes down the road from here. Are you familiar with the Transcendentalists?"
"A little," Kimble smiles, aware of what he's letting himself in for.
CHICAGO - TASK FORCE OFFICES - CONFERENCE ROOM - 7:47 A.M.
Captain Philip Gerard is already at work. He is seated at the conference table examining computer renderings of Kimble in various disguises. Some photos show the fugitive sporting a mustache, some depict him in beards, others with different hair lengths. But the eyes of Richard Kimble stare out clearly from each of them. Agent Eddie Miles saunters in casually.
"You're here early," Gerard observes. "To what do we owe this honor?"
"Actually, I was up late and I just decided to stay up," Miles answers. Eve Hilliard comes in right behind him. The two exchange intimate glances.
"Good morning, Captain," Hilliard says, disguising a yawn.
"I see..." Gerard says. "Well, don't make a habit of it. I need both of you on your toes." He distributes the computer renditions of Kimble. "So far, Kimble has done little to disguise his identity. But since we've received no sightings in weeks, it's reasonable to assume our fugitive has done something to mask his appearance. A new hair color, or a beard, perhaps. I want these computer enhanced photos out there, on the streets." Hilliard and Miles peruse the photos.
"He looks like a beatnik in this one," Miles smirks.
"I think the cropped beard picture is kind of handsome," Hilliard observes.
"This is not a beauty contest," Gerard retorts. Agents Victor Gutierrez and Art Zimmerman arrive and take their seats.
"What have we here?" Gutierrez says. "Are these our new mug shots?"
"Possible updated looks for Kimble," Gerard confirms. "Let's get these shots circulating through the Law Enforcement Information Network. I want every police agency to have them. For all we know, Kimble is right here among us, unrecognized. No news is not good news."
"Will do, Captain," Gutierrez says.
"Meanwhile, on the Ross front, some progress," Gerard continues, opening another folder. "As you know, Kimble's father-in-law has been avoiding us like the plague. Every time I try to get in to see him, it seems he's been taken out of town on 'business'. This man eats, drinks and breathes 'business'."
Miles snickers.
"What was that?" Gerard inquires archly.
"Nothing, Captain, only the same could be said of yourself." Miles answers, looking to the other Task Force members for consensus. Each appears busy studying Kimble's face.
"And my persistence has paid off," Gerard tells them righteously. "I've nailed a meeting with Ross for this Friday. Now, we'll tighten the screws and see if he squirms.
CONCORD - OUTDOORS AT FILAR'S NURSERY - FRIDAY A.M.
"This one here is especially nice," Kimble tells a customer in a bright red blouse and pants set. "It likes a lot of sunshine, and if you keep it watered and fed, at least once a week, it will become a real bloomer with plenty of color. This is a great addition to any garden or walkway."
"I'm not known for my green thumb," the female customer says, hoping to flirt with Kimble. "Would you recommend this plant…for someone looking for companionship?" She smoothes her hair and adjusts the beaded necklace at her throat.
Kimble notices the flirtatious nature of the woman, and begins to feel uncomfortable. "Well, it doesn't really require a green thumb to care for most plants, just a little time and attention. I'm no master gardener, myself, but I can tell you this one doesn't need much special care and it would be perfect for someone, like yourself, who appreciates color."
The customer smiles, flattered.
"And it will bloom until frost and come back up next year," Kimble adds.
"You've sold me," she says coyly, taking the plant.
"Loanne will ring it up for you," Kimble tells her. After the woman has left Susan comes over.
"I overheard that," she remarks. "Well done! That customer visits every month and browses but this is the first time she's ever bought anything. You're a quick study."
"Thanks, I'm really enjoying this...If I ever settle down again, I'd like to put in a garden of my own," Kimble shares with her.
"Only on the job a week and already a convert," Susan grins. The bell in the nursery shop chimes. "That will be Federal Express. I'm expecting a delivery. Why don't you come, too, David, and take a look. I think you'll find this interesting."
Mystified, Kimble follows her into the shop.
FILAR'S - THE NURSERY SHOP
Susan signs for the large package. "It's from my brother, Bob, in Australia. The return address is from Queensland!" she says excitedly, cutting through the strapping tape. "Every year he travels the globe in search of rare and exotic plants. Last year he went to Japan and sent me six crates worth. It costs a bundle to bring the cuttings into the country, but Bob literally lives for this."
She lifts from the packing material a sizeable container designed to transport plants. Kimble is surprised to see inside only one small, homely looking specimen. When Susan caresses one of it's spiky tendrils it curls around her fingers.
"Oh, it's an insectivorous plant!" she cries delightedly.
"A what?" Kimble asks, no less puzzled.
"Like a Venus's-flytrap. She's a rainforest cutie. Let's get her out to the hothouse right away. She'll be happier in the humidity and it looks like she could use a little food to perk her up."
Kimble follows somewhat dubiously.
THE HOTHOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
"Yes, that's what she needed, alright," Susan says, still admiring the new addition.
Walking along the rows of strange, ornamental and fragile looking species, Kimble begins to feel as though he has entered the rainforest himself.
"I haven't really shown you around the hothouse yet, have I?" Susan asks. "This is where we keep our exotics. Once Fall arrives, our New England nights will be too chilly for them. They require a fairly consistent temperature in the 80's. These are Bob's babies. He kind of hates to part with them. I love having them, but they're not easy to sell— though we do have some mail-order customers."
Kimble strokes one with hairy fronds. "I must admit, this is not the kind of thing you buy for a centerpiece on your dining room table."
Susan laughs. "We've actually had a few returned. One customer got rid of a purchase because it was driving her crazy. Literally. She developed a reaction to the rare toxins in the plant."
Kimble wipes his fingers on his apron.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry. Most of these are completely harmless," Susan assures him.
"Most?" Kimble asks.
"Well, it's like poison ivy—not everyone develops an itching rash from it. I'm immune, for instance," Susan confides. "I can walk barefoot through patches of poison ivy. That's because the chemicals in plants affect different people differently. And that holds true for animals. Cats, as you know, respond euphorically to catnip. Dogs ignore it. Unfor-tunately, not all common houseplants are benign. Some are dangerous, even fatal for our pets if ingested."
"There you are!" A young girl with the 'Filar's Nursery' apron enters. "A couple is out front asking for landscaping ideas, and I've got my hands full at the cash register. Can you take them?"
"Be right there, Loanne," Susan says. "I'll show you later how to feed her," she tells Kimble, giving the new exotic a fond pat. After Susan has gone, Kimble bends down until he is eye to 'eye' with the plant.
"Only a mother could love this one," he says.
CHICAGO - OUTSIDE ROSS INDUSTRIES - FRIDAY NOON
Matthew Ross is waiting impatiently on the steps outside his office complex, looking more dour than ever. Gerard pulls up in the Ford Explorer, parks and steps out. He notices a large, unfamiliar man standing with Ross.
"Another Ross protective element?" Gerard asks, coming up the steps.
"You can never be too careful," Matthew Ross says, highly resentful of this latest intrusion. "I trust there's a good reason for your visit and I trust we can keep it brief. What did you need to see me about about this time, Captain?" "Not what," Gerard says, "but who."
"Who, then?" Ross amends.
"I'll have to ask you to step over here, Mr. Ross," Gerard says, motioning away from the bodyguard. "I'd prefer we conduct this conversation in private." Ross shrugs and accompanies Gerard a little distance off.
"The who is Dennis Gagomiros," Gerard says. "Ring a bell?" There is a pause while Ross collects his thoughts.
"That was a long time ago," Ross says with an inscrutable look.
"Not long enough. Gagomiros shot me recently," Gerard says. "I need to know what connection you two had."
"I had nothing to do with your shooting," Ross says and begins walking back to his bodyguard. Gerard steps in front of him and blocks his way. The two men engage in close eye contact.
"I said, what do you know about Dennis Gagomiros?" Gerard asks again.
"I know that he ripped me off," Ross said.
"Can you…fill in the blanks for me?" Gerard asks sarcastically.
"It's personal business, Captain," Ross says. "I don't have to tell you anything more."
"Oh I think you do, Mr. Ross," Gerard says in a low tone. "You need to tell me everything you know about this guy. He's dirty."
"I hired Dennis Gagomiros as a private investigator," Ross spits out. "He only worked for me a couple of months, maybe three. He left because we decided it would be better if he found other work.
"In other words, you fired him?" Gerard surmises.
"He found other work, Captain!" Ross insists. "What he has done since is none of my concern."
Gerard looks at Ross with a quizzical stare. "You want my cooperation, I want yours. I need any files you have on the man."
Ross sighs heavily. "I'll have my secretary get on it first thing Monday. Is there anything else?" "That'll do for now," Gerard says.
Ross nods his head curtly and joins his bodyguard. They mount the steps quickly side-by-side and enter the building without a backward glance. Gerard returns to his car, opens the door and sits thinking for a moment before turning on the ignition.
CONCORD - KIMBLE'S ROOM AT FILAR'S - SATURDAY 8:45 A.M.
Kimble is in his jeans, resting on the bed when there is a knock at the door.
"David? Are you up yet?" Susan calls from the office. "Do you know anything about computers? Mine is down and I need to place my end-of-season orders today."
Hastily Kimble throws on a t-shirt and opens the door. "Good morning, Susan," he says combing his hair with his fingers. "I'll be happy to give it a look."
THE OFFICE
"It's been acting strangely since the heat wave," Susan complains. "Normally I leave it on all day and it doesn't give me any trouble."
Kimble takes a seat and tries the mouse. "The screen's frozen. There are a few things I can do—if that fails, you'll have to turn it off and reboot."
Susan checks her watch. "You know, I've got eighty million things to take care of this morning. If you don't mind, I think I'll leave you to it and get my marketing done before the shop opens at ten." She picks up her purse and keys. "I'll be back before you know it. I still have to place those orders."
"I'll have it up by then," Kimble promises. Susan leaves in a rush. He hears her car start as he keys in Ctrl-Alt-del. The dialogue window opens and tells him that the program is not responding. Kimble closes it and finds he is looking at Internet Explorer. He logs onto the anonymous surfing service for his email, hoping once again to hear from Brixius. He is in luck.
"Dr. Kimble," he reads. "The OAM seems to be lying low. Nothing to report since the last sighting. I've attached two articles that may interest you regarding Haventown. Remember, I'm here for you, should you ever head this way again. Take care. Chuck"
Kimble opens the first attachment.
DIAMOND FIND IN UNDERGROUND VAULT
Millions recovered in smuggled gems
Haventown—This quiet Amish village was shaken last week when a stash of cut diamonds, believed to be imported illegally from Angola or South Africa, were discovered in an underground vault belonging to Perry Alcini. Alcini, now deceased, had a previous criminal record for car theft. How this small-time hood came by a hoard of gems worth millions eludes police. In a further development, the body of missing Haventown resident, Daniel Miller, was found in the rear of the vault. Family believes Miller wandered onto the Alcini property and after an altercation with Alcini, met with his demise. Alcini himself was accidentally and fatally shot by John Miller, who had been trying to locate his brother. No charges were filed against the elder Miller, as police determined that Alcini had fired first.
Kimble's face sags in relief. His eyes redden with the memory of that night. Holding his still healing shoulder with one hand, he opens the second attachment.
SHERIFF'S SALE PROCEEDS GO TO LOCAL FAMILIES
The proceeds from the sale of a new model pickup truck, previously owned by the late Perry Alcini, were donated by the Sheriff's Department to the families of Daniel Miller and Rachel Yoder. Alcini was charged posthumously with the murder of Daniel Miller and with the hit-and-run which resulted in injuries to five year old Rachel Yoder, who has since recovered.
Kimble smiles. "Thank you, Chuck," he says sincerely.
FILAR'S PARKING LOT - 2 WEEKS LATER - MORNING
Kimble is helping an elderly gentleman load his purchases into the trunk of his car. Kimble's beard and mustache have grown in so thickly now that he has had to dye them to match his hair.
"Thank you, son" the old man says, patting Kimble on the back.
"You're welcome, and thanks for shopping at Filar's Greenhouse," Kimble says, closing the trunk. He walks back to the shop as the man steers his car carefully out of the parking lot.
THE NURSERY SHOP
The bell chimes as Kimble enters the store.
"Oh, it's you, David," Susan says, coming in from the back. "I thought we had another customer. Looks like it's going to be slow again, today. But it will pick up when we have our big Labor Day Sale. That always draws a crowd."
Kimble rotates his shoulders and pushes his hands into the small of his back.
"Those heavy bags of topsoil getting to you?" Susan asks kindly. "I hope you haven't pulled anything."
"No, it's just an all-over achy feeling. Maybe I'm coming down with hay fever," Kimble mutters.
"The goldenrod's starting to bloom, that will do it," Susan comments.
The bell rings again. Kimble looks up as two police officers enter. They close the door behind them and approach Susan, grinning.
"Well, long time no see! Hi there, Tony, Rod," Susan exclaims. "How are things downtown?"
"The usual for the season—parking tickets and traffic violations involving tourists," Tony responds, leaning on the counter. He glances about the store. "Isn't Bob back?"
Unobtrusively, Kimble moves towards the rear.
"Bob's still in Australia," Susan answers. "He should be home in a couple of days. You know him and plants…they're inseparable."
As Tony and Susan converse, the other officer idles about the shop.
"So tell me, how's Becky? I don't want to pry, but I gather from my sister that you two have been having..." Susan searches for a polite term.
"Marital disagreements? No, it's more like a miscommunication. Your sister tends to overreact. But, that's why I'm here—I want to make it up to her." Tony pulls out his billfold. "I think some miniature rose plants would do it. How about half a dozen red ones?"
"Half a dozen," Susan says happily. "Well, well. You really are determined to make things right, aren't you?" She turns to the back where Kimble is working. "David, can you come here, please?" Keeping his head down, Kimble complies.
"Officer Madison would like to purchase half a dozen of our miniature red roses," Susan informs him.
"I'll bring them in right away," Kimble replies. He hurries out the side door to the sun-loving section of the lot.
Tony looks after Kimble.
"Who's the new guy?" he asks.
"That's David Patrick. He's been doing a great job filling in for Bob," Susan says.
"What do you know about him?" Officer Madison asks, hooking a thumb into his waistband.
"He was looking for work and came to the right place at the right time," Susan answers. "It was truly serendipitous. Why?"
"We've had a series of break-ins lately," Madison tells her. His partner rejoins them and nods. "No description of the suspects, just the same MO." He says to Susan. "Do me a favor," Tony requests. "Keep an eye on your new employee."
"Really, Tony, sometimes your paranoia gets to be too much," says Susan, exasperated with her brother-in-law. "Now I know what Becky goes through. Just relax, will you?"
Kimble enters with a shopping cart filled with small rose bushes. As he brings them up to the counter for check-out, he notices that Officer Madison is carefully studying him. It is a stare Kimble has been subjected to many times in the past.
"Haven't seen you in town before, Mr. Patrick," Tony says. "Are you from these parts?"
"Tony...please," Susan hushes him.
"I'm just doing my job, Sue," Madison replies. "So tell me, do you live around here, Mr. Patrick?"
"No, I was passing through, and Ms. Eckerville was gracious enough to offer me work," Kimble says, trying to keep his voice even.
"Where are you staying?" Tony questions.
"He has a room on the premises," Susan says, cutting in. "David, I hope you'll excuse my brother-in-law." She laughs lightly to relieve the tension. "He's never met a person he didn't suspect of something."
"It goes with the territory, Sue," Madison states matter-of-factly, keeping his eye on Kimble. "Anyway, how much do I owe you for the roses?"
"On the house!" she says and reaches up to straighten Tony's tie. "Now do me a favor, crazy man. Go home, give Becky the plants, and take the both of you out for a nice dinner. You need to spend some quality time together."
"Thanks, Sue. Good advice." Madison says, giving his sister-in-law a peck on the cheek.
Kimble pushes the cart of roses out the door to the squad car. Susan catches Officer Madison by the arm before he leaves. "And, Tony, don't go scaring off my employees. Rod, tell him to be friendly!" The other officer laughs and holds the door open for Tony.
"We tell him that all the time," Rod says.
"It doesn't hurt to be cautious," Madison insists. "You never know."
FILAR'S PARKING LOT
The two officers amble back to the squad car.
Tony opens the trunk, while Kimble loads. Attempting pleasantness, he says to Kimble, "Ever get up to Maine? I hear that's the only way to beat the heat. Beautiful weather there this time of year."
"No, never been," Kimble says, emptying the cart.
"Well you ought to go sometime," Tony suggests. "That is, if you're thinking of moving on when Bob gets back." Tony slams the trunk closed and gets into the car. "There's nothing like salt air for wanderlust...what do they call it? 'Escaping DownEast'." He chuckles and revs the engine. Kimble watches over his shoulder as the squad car glides out of the parking lot.
CHICAGO - TASK FORCE OFFICES - CONFERENCE ROOM - 9:22 A.M.
The Task Force agents are sitting around the table finishing their morning coffee. Eddie Miles is taking a bite out of an apple cluster donut, when he sees Captain Gerard coming out of the elevator. Miles looks at his watch significantly. Gerard goes into his office, then heads for the coffee and the conference room.
"You're late, Captain," Miles says, enjoying the opportunity to return the ribbing he has received so often for his own tardiness.
"Don't start with me Eddie, not today," Gerard says bluntly. He sits down at the table, obviously tired and out of sorts. After a long sip of black coffee, he stretches his neck to help relieve a throbbing headache.
"Rough night?" Hilliard asks. She drains her cup, spilling some in the process. Miles grabs a napkin and she hastily dabs at her blouse.
"You could say that," Gerard says rubbing his temples. "Sara called. She offered to patch things up if I returned to homicide. Very tempting. But if every law enforcement officer put his personal life first, we might as well close up shop and hand the keys over to every criminal element in this country... Speaking of Richard Kimble, has anyone any news to report?"
Hilliard opens her mouth, then closes it.
"Eve?" Gerard asks.
Hilliard flushes slightly and bites her lip. "Nothing." She shakes her head. "Nothing on my end, Captain."
"No word back from Ross?"
"Not yet. His secretary isn't returning our calls," she reports. "I'll try again this morning."
"Stay on it," Gerard says. "Ross promised he'd look into their records on Gagomiros—and I'd hate to think a man of his stature would break his word."
Suddenly, a man in a suit enters the office. "Gerard!" he yells.
Gerard stands up. "Yes, Sir," he says.
"Into my office, now!" The two men leave and the Task Force members shoot each other enquiring looks.
"What does the Assistant Commissioner want with the Captain?" Gutierrez wonders.
"Walston was in a humdinger of a mood—I hope he doesn't have it out for the rest of us," Art Zimmerman remarks gloomily.
ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER JERRY WALSTON'S OFFICE
"Shut the door and sit down," the Assistant Commissioner says angrily. Gerard complies.
"Sir, please, I have an unusually bad headache," Gerard says. "Could you…"
"I don't care what you've got!" Walston yells. "I've got a problem. Who authorized your team's investigation of Special Agent Dennis Gagomiros?"
"I did," Gerard replies, uncomfortably.
"Oh really?" Walston says. "And you decided to spend our time and resources on this without consulting me?"
"I didn't foresee any objections," Gerard says. "It's part of our case…"
"Your case?" Walston interrupts. "Captain, unless I'm very much mistaken, your priorities are to investigate and capture an escaped fugitive named Richard Kimble. End of story. Am I correct in that assumption?"
"Yes," Gerard says, tasting defeat.
"Then stick to your case, Captain," the Assistant Commissioner commands. "Gagomiros is a matter for F.B.I.'s Internal Affairs. Now, if you want a transfer, I'll be happy to oblige. But for now, if you want to remain in charge of this task force, I strongly advise you to stay away from the Gagomiros investigation. Let the F.B.I. do their job—without your interference. Walston closes the file on his desk. "You know, Gerard, my toes are getting sore from you stomping on them! Dismissed."
THE CONFERENCE ROOM
The Task Force watches as Gerard returns, stone-faced, to the conference room. He sits back down at the table.
"Does anyone have some extra-strength aspirin?" he says, after a moment.
Hilliard rummages in her handbag. "Here you go, Captain.
"What was that all about?" Gutierrez asks.
"We've been ordered to drop the Gagomiros investigation," Gerard says, swallowing several aspirin.
"What!" Hilliard exclaims in disbelief. "Why?"
"Because the Department thinks it's outside of our parameters," Gerard relates sarcastically. "Walston wants us to stay on Kimble and leave the Gagomiros investigation up to the so-called 'experts'."
"So we're off the case?" Miles asks.
"That's the official line," Gerard declares.
"And unofficially?" questions Zimmerman.
"Unofficially I want everything there is on this guy," Gerard reveals. "But keep it on the QT. No one hears about any of this outside this room. As far as each of you is concerned, all queries into Dennis Gagomiros have been dropped. He is no longer our problem." Gerard squeezes his eyes with his fingers.
Miles looks at the others. "We're behind you one hundred percent, Captain," he states unequivocally.
CONCORD - KIMBLE'S ROOM - END OF THE DAY
Kimble is sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. Susan appears in the open doorway and taps the door with her keys.
"David, I've locked up and I'm leaving for home now..." Susan begins. "David? Are you feeling alright?" she asks when Kimble doesn't respond.
Kimble looks up. "Susan?" In a moment his eyes focus. "Yeah, it's just a splitting head-ache I've had—I can't seem to shake it."
Susan studies him and then says, "You've been working too hard. Let me show you what I do when I really need to take a breather."
Kimble stares at her lethargically.
"Come on, follow me," she demands brightly, exhorting him to make the effort.
THE GREENHOUSE, WALL AND GARDEN
Kimble rises and stiffly accompanies her out through the office and into the green-house. "This way," she says, leading him through the length of the greenhouse.
Susan opens a door near the rear and Kimble looks up at a brick wall. "I don't under-stand," he says.
"You will," she says, mischievously. She parts the ivy hanging from above and Kimble sees a wooden door. "Our property was once part of a larger, colonial estate which is now owned by the City of Concord," she says, giving the door a shove. "At one time it had beautiful formal gardens and was open for tourists, but for years it's been allowed to go to seed. There isn't enough money in the municipal budget to maintain it." She tries a good kick and the door scrapes open.
"There!" Susan says. "Welcome to my secret garden
Kimble follows her along a winding path flanked by overgrown beds of flowers. A vari-ety of trees have sprung up, creating an unplanned, natural effect. "I like it," he says.
"It's quite extensive," Susan tells him as they stroll lazily in the solitude of the after-noon. "You could walk forever, if you felt like it. Beyond here is the Great Meadows National Wildlife Sanctuary—3,000 acres of protected land that runs along the Concord and Sudbury rivers. Besides
meadow and woodland, a lot of it is swamp. That's why you see these tall swamp grasses taking root here, and the wind has blown in wildflower seeds, like the black-eyed Susans." She stops to breathe in the sweet smell of unmown grass. "To tell the truth, I think it's more spectacular than anything we sell at Filar's. Mother Nature does it best."
Kimble feels his headache receding. "Thanks for bringing me out here," he says gratefully.
"You're the one I should be thanking," Susan avers. "You arrived when I most needed it and pitched in for us without a word of complaint. You've been invaluable the past few weeks. I don't know what kind of work you're used to, David, but you could definitely make a living in the nursery business...if you'd a mind to."
Kimble smiles. "I now understand why my mother loved working in her flower beds. She said she gained the truest perspective of life when she was on her knees with her hands in the earth."
"Plants are great listeners," Susan comments, bending down to watch the progress of a butterfly sipping nectar from an echinacea blossom. "I spent a lot of time out here when Bob was in Intensive Care after his heart attack. The stress sometimes was overwhelming. I'd read the Bible, but in the end it was only words. Here, in my secret garden those words become real for me." Softly she quotes, "'Consider the lilies of the field - they neither toil, nor spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as one of these. Therefore, take no thought for the needs of tomorrow, what you shall eat or what you shall drink. For if God so clothe the grass of the field, how much more shall he provide for you? For your heavenly Father knows you have need of these things…'"
Kimble's private agony, which he has worn like a mantle, seems to gradually slip from his shoulders.
Immersed in their own thoughts, neither speaks again, as the day lengthens peacefully around them.
THE NURSERY - THAT NIGHT
The nursery shop is dark, lit only by a light over the check-out. In his room in the back Kimble is awakened by the sound of breaking glass. Instantly alert, he lies listening. After a minute of silence, he begins to relax, thinking he
merely dreamed it. Then he hears the bell on the shop door chime.
"Quiet, you idiot!" a voice whispers.
Kimble hastily pulls on a pair of jeans and pads barefoot out into the hall. As he does so, he sees two young men in their 20s entering the nursery with flashlights. Kimble ducks out of sight.
"Here's the cash register," one man whispers loudly to the other.
"Is it locked?"
"Of course, Sherlock. Give me the screwdriver—I'll have to pry it open." Wrenching sounds follow. "It's pay day!" the first man rejoices. "Look at all of this!"
"Wow—a whole day's take!" the second enthuses.
Hidden in the hall, Kimble watches the burglars. Then, through the windows, he sees the lights of a car driving up. The driver parks in the employee area of the parking lot and turns the engine off. He hears a woman's footsteps coming up the flagstone walk.
"Somebody's coming," the second thief hisses. "Hurry—take the money and let's get out of here!" "No—it's only a woman," the first hisses back. "Quiet!"
In the silence Susan Eckerville reaches for the door. Finding it slightly ajar, she pokes her head inside cautiously. Before she can scream, one of the men claps a hand over her mouth and pulls her in, holding her tight. The other shuts the door.
"Lookie what we've got here!" the first man crows. "How about some fun?" Susan struggles to free herself.
"I don't know, Leo, she looks old enough to be my mom," the second observes skittishly.
Kimble appears suddenly beside them. "Let her go. The police are on their way," he lies.
"Who are you?" Leo asks, caught off guard.
"Night security," Kimble answers authoritatively. "I said let her go."
"Or what," Leo retorts, noting Kimble's state of undress. "You got a gun? What you gonna do?"
Kimble walks toward the men and as he does he realizes that they are unarmed. The accomplice points his flashlight directly into Kimble's face, blinding him.
Susan chooses that moment to kick her assailant forcefully in the shins. He cries out and the second thief turns his flashlight on Susan. His focus averted, he is not prepared when Kimble jumps him and knocks the flashlight from his hand. Panicking, the young man grabs the wad of money and bolts for the door.
Susan continues to bite and kick to free herself.
"B..ch!" Leo exclaims, nursing a bloody hand. Kimble punches him in the face, while Susan successfully wriggles out of his grasp. Kimble delivers two blows to her assailant's head. He reels and staggers backwards against a display shelf. It teeters then topples over, bags of vermiculite bursting open and spraying their contents across the floor. The would-be burglar collapses onto some sacks of manure.
"Keep an eye on him," Kimble tells Susan, "I'll go after the other one." He runs out the door, scanning the parking lot for the second thief.
THE PARKING LOT
The second thief is heading for the cover of the woods across the road. Kimble sprints after him and disappears into the undergrowth.
A police car pulls up in front of the nursery. Suddenly the parking lot is flooded with light and Susan appears on the steps.
"Did you know your silent alarm has been triggered?" Officer Madison calls to Susan as he gets out of the squad car with Rod. "We'd better have a look-see, someone may have broken in."
"The 'someone' is lying on the floor of my shop!" Susan calls back, still shaking from the encounter. "But, he's not the one you need to worry about. The second guy ran off into the woods with the money." She points in the direction.
"Is he armed?" Tony shouts as he and Rod run across the street.
"I don't think so!" Susan shouts back, but Madison has drawn his weapon and is out of hearing range.
THE WOODS
Kimble is running through the woods barefoot and shirtless, giving pursuit. He splashes through a stream. The moon-light dances dizzyingly through the trees. As he runs images of his frantic race for freedom the night he escaped from Gerard flash through his mind. He trips over a log and picks himself up. Branches tear at his chest and arms. He tries to shake off desperate feelings from another time and place.
Losing sight of his quarry, Kimble slows to catch his breath. He listens and seems to hear Gerard coming through the woods after him. He puts on a burst of speed, plunging headlong into a small pond and clambering up the embank-ment on the other side. His heart is hammering and he is panting in sharp staccato bursts. He is afraid his loud breathing will give him away.
Then, out of nowhere, he is tackled by the burglar. Kimble rolls onto the ground, the other man pummeling him. Lost in his memories, Kimble fights for his life. The two men thrash and crash in the undergrowth.
Seeing flashlight beams coming their way, the second thief loosens his grip. He releases Kimble and takes off into the swamp.
"Police! Don't move!" a male voice commands. Kimble squints in the glare of two flashlights, as he struggles to rise.
He sees a shotgun and a pistol aimed at him.
"Thought you could get away with it, didn't you?" an officer says, twisting Kimble's arms behind his back and hand-cuffing him.
Kimble tries to protest, but as in a nightmare, finds himself unable to speak.
"Where's the money?" The other officer asks.
Kimble's arms are painfully jerked into his back. "The officer asked you a question!"
Kimble shakes his head to indicate he doesn't know. A night stick is cracked over the back of his neck. Heat explodes inside his skull and Kimble begins to tremble. Sweat and blood run down his chest.
"We're taking you in—you'll talk at the station," Kimble hears Gerard say. A screech owl cries mockingly. Kimble is led roughly through the woods back to the nursery.
THE PARKING LOT
"We've got the other one," Madison announces to Susan as they bring Kimble around to the squad car. Rod opens the door and Tony forces Kimble to duck and enter.
"Wait, wait!" Susan screams, hating to believe her eyes. She comes running up to the car. "That man works for me!"
"He's also your thief," Madison says in a patronizing tone as he locks Kimble in the back seat. "Don't worry, Susan, we'll get all your money back."
"Tony Madison, David is my friend. Un-handcuff him this minute!" Susan says, her face white with rage.
"Rod, get the guy who's still inside. I'll deal with this," Madison tells his partner.
"There's nothing to deal with. You have the wrong man!" Susan maintains furiously. "David was giving chase. The real thief had red hair and was in his twenties. He's out there somewhere making off with my money, while God only knows what you've done to my employee!" Angry tears fly off her cheeks as she sees Kimble huddled in the backseat, beaten, bruised and defeated. "I have to agree with Becky—your paranoia has gotten entirely out of hand!"
"Calm down," Madison says, putting an arm around her. She shrugs it off. "Susan, I can't release him until we know more about what happened. Did you actually see this red-headed thief?"
"Of course I did. They both threatened me. If David hadn't been in the building..." she trails off.
"What were you doing at work so late?" Madison questions.
"I was in a hurry to lock up today and it wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that I realized I had left the money for the nightly deposit in the cash register. Of all the times to have a break-in!" She paces distractedly, wanting Madison to release Kimble.
"I believe you, but the thing is...we have no way of knowing whether or not this Mr. Patrick of yours is an accomplice and let the thieves in himself," Tony explains.
"That's ridiculous! If David let them in, why would they have needed to smash the glass to open the door?" Susan sees Rod bringing the other burglar out in handcuffs. "There's the guy David attacked and knocked out. You don't think I could do that on my own, do you?"
Tony stands with his hands on his hips, perplexed. "Well then, if you're not pressing charges, I guess we have no choice but to release Mr. Patrick on your word."
Susan swears. "Just get him out of the car, Tony!"
Rod seats the first thief in back and, reluctantly, Officer Madison hauls Kimble out, taking off his handcuffs.
"David, I am SO sorry," Susan says miserably. Kimble's head hangs down as he rubs his wrists. "He's in terrible shape! You owe him an apology, Tony," she insists to her brother-in-law.
Tony places a hand on the roof of the squad car. "Perhaps I have been a cop so long I can't trust anyone. Maybe that's something I need to work on," he ad-mits grudgingly to Kimble. "Look, if you want any medical attention for those cuts, we can..."
Kimble shakes his head vehemently.
"I think he just wants us to leave him alone," Susan says. "David wasn't feeling well earlier today, and after all this excitement he should really be allowed to get some rest."
"We'll be on our way, then," her brother-in-law states, getting into the car. "It's too dark to carry out a proper search tonight in any case, and we've got to get this creep down to the station. But, I'll be back first thing in the morning."
Kimble shudders unconsciously.
"I'll find your money!" Tony promises Susan as he backs the car out of the parking lot.
Susan turns and steers Kimble up the walk to the nursery. Then she notices his feet. "Oh, my God, you're not wearing shoes! What were you thinking, going off into the woods barefoot? Take a good shower—that will prevent any infec-tion—and then sleep," she orders him, chattering to allay the fears raised by her own ordeal. "And forget about working. Take the whole day off tomorrow!"
As they come up to the front door Susan gets her first good look at Kimble under the immediate glare of the porch light. She sees the unmistakable scar of a recent bullet wound in his shoulder. Her wide eyes stare up into Kimble's glazed ones.
EPILOGUE
FILAR'S NURSERY - NEXT A.M.
Susan Eckerville arrives for work and unlocks the front door.
"Good morning!" she calls out. There is no response. "Well, he deserves to sleep," she reminds herself.
Susan surveys the mess in the shop—the fallen shelf and its spilled contents, the vermiculite all over the floor. She sighs. Then she goes over to the damaged cash register.
There is a shout from the road and she looks out the window. Three police officers are excitedly running toward the building. Madison is among them. She can hear their voices shouting, "We've got the money!"
Susan smiles in relief. But her concern about David propels her to the back of the shop. She pokes her head into the office. The door to Kimble's room is open, and the bed appears to have been slept in. But, there is no sign of Kimble or his things. A little furrow of worry appears on her brow.
"David?" She calls, heading out to the greenhouse. Still nothing.
She hears Tony entering the shop looking for her. Susan continues through to the end of the greenhouse, perplexed.
Then she steps out the side door and stares over the brick wall. Her eyes fill with speculation. She lifts the ivy above the wooden door.
"Good news!" she hears Tony cry. "Susan...where are you?"
"I'm out here," she says loudly, turning around. Her brother-in-law joins her, waving a packet.
"We've recovered the money! It was there all along, in the area where we apprehended Mr. Patrick. By daylight it could be determined that two people had had quite a fight. The money must have fallen from the accomplice's pocket and then been trampled into the boggy ground, so we missed it in the dark... By the way, you'll need to get that front window fixed—we haven't caught the second thief yet. I doubt he'll be back to bother you again, but better safe than sorry."
Rod appears behind Officer Madison and hands him a flyer. "This just came in by fax this morning, after you left," he says. "Could it be our man?"
Tony considers. "I never really got a good look," he admits. "Susan?" He hands her the flyer. "You worked with him for three weeks. Is this David Patrick?"
The two men watch Susan's expression intently as she studies the photograph of a bearded Richard Kimble. Slowly she shakes her head.
"No, David had a mole beside his left ear, and his ears weren't as well formed as this man's. And there's no way he was as tall." She hands the flyer back. "Good try, boys. But like I said, you're too paranoid. David quit last night. You can't blame him if he felt it was a little crazy working here."
She pushes past the men and enters the greenhouse. "It's just a good thing Bob is due home Monday," Susan contin-ues. "Maybe then things will settle down and we can get back to business as usual. Now, if you're through here, I've got a shop to clean up and a Labor Day Sale to prepare for."
The two men follow after her and Susan closes the greenhouse door.
The camera cranes up the brick wall and over it, providing a bird's eye view of the secret garden and the Great Meadows Sanctuary beyond...an expanse ample enough to hide any man on the run.
THE END