Best Man Wins [Episode Part 3]

EXT. HIGHWAY 5 – LATE AFTERNOON

The sun's hanging low, smudging gold over the hills. Long stretches of nothing roll by, dusty fences, gas stations that look like they're stuck in the eighties, and the odd broken-down billboard kind of apologizing for a motel that's long gone.Inside the car, it's quiet.

INT. QUINN'S CAR – MOVING – CONTINUOUS

Charlie's kicked back with her feet up on the dash. Her booted toe's tapping along to some soft FM station Quinn finally stopped arguing about. There's a faint loop of some old Fleetwood Mac song playing in the background.

Quinn's got a steady grip on the wheel, eyes straight ahead. The way she drives tells you a lot, patient and aware, but ready to take the next exit if things start getting weird.

Charlie watches the road, then glances sideways.

CHARLIE

You know you drive like you don't really trust the car, it's frightening me.

QUINN

I don't. It's a rental.

CHARLIE

You pick it out yourself?

QUINN

Technically, yeah... you could say that. I just went for the cheapest one that didn't stink.

But I drive way better than how you used to drive. Remember that stretch between Palm Springs and, well, hell? You tried passing a semi at ninety in a car with a busted radiator.

Charlie grins.

CHARLIEIt made it... mostly.

QUINNIt caught fire.

CHARLIEIt was like a tiny fire pit come on.

Quinn shakes her head, but she's smiling too. Small. Tight lipped. Like the memory's got thorns on it.

QUINNYou ever think about that summer?

Charlie doesn't answer right away. She's still playing with the wrapper, tighter now, twisting it into a coil.

CHARLIEYeah. Sometimes. Usually when I smell cheap sunscreen or bad gas station coffee.

QUINNMan, we were such idiots.

CHARLIEYeah, but we were good at it.

That lands heavy between them. The music's faint something soft and old. Maybe Tom Waits. Or maybe it's just static trying to pass off as music.

Charlie glances at the dash.

CHARLIE (CONT'D)You still drink it black?

QUINNYeah. Still wrecking yours with five sugars and a bit of milk?

CHARLIEDown to four sugars now. It's practically growth.

Quinn just hums. They pass a faded sign: NEXT EXIT – DINER ¼ MILE. No name. Just a shape on the side of the road. Like it's always been there, waiting.

CHARLIELet's stop...I uh need something warm.

EXT. ROADSIDE DINER – NIGHT

The diner's got this low buzz from the fluorescent lights and the sound of cutlery clinking around. There are just two other booths that have people in them. In one, there's a guy with a hat, eyes glued to a tiny TV behind the counter showing a baseball game. The other has a couple sitting there, not saying a word to each other.

Charlie and Quinn settle into a booth by the window. The waitress doesn't bother with menus—just drops off two mugs and a pot of coffee.

Charlie pours a ton of sugar into her cup

QUINNDo you ever take it easy?

CHARLIEYou mean like, physically or just in general?

QUINNBoth.

Charlie looks out the window.

CHARLIELast time I took it slow, I found myself in Arizona with this guy Donny who sold fake Rolexes from his trunk and was convinced aliens were messing with his cable.

QUINNWas he right?

CHARLIEHonestly? Maybe. The TV was acting kinda weird around midnight.

Quinn stirs her coffee, doesn't drink it.

QUINNHonestly, I didn't think we'd ever see each other again.

Charlie looks back at her.

CHARLIEDid you want to?

QUINNWow, that's a tough one.

(beat)Sometimes I did. Sometimes I hoped I wouldn't.

CHARLIESame.

Their eyes meet for a beat too long.

CHARLIE (CONT'D)But here we are.

QUINNYeah. We're chasing someone else's secrets on the same roads we used to run away from our own.

Charlie takes a moment to let that sink in. She looks worn out.

CHARLIEYou really think he was murdered?

QUINNYeah. And I think he was scared.

Charlie nods slowly. She picks up her mug, drinks, and grimaces.

CHARLIEBurnt.

QUINNTold you not to put that much sugar in.

CHARLIEIt's not the sugar. It's the way this place traps time. It kinda feels like we've talked about this before.

QUINNWe probably have. Just a different booth, different coffee, and another dead guy.

Charlie huffs out a quiet laugh.

CHARLIEYou're a bit colder than I remember.

QUINNNo. You just used to be the colder one.

That stings a little. Charlie swirls the coffee in her cup.

CHARLIEI didn't mean to disappear back then.

QUINNYou didn't disappear. You faded. You got quieter. Stopped calling. Stopped needing me.

CHARLIEThat's not true.

QUINNIt felt true.

Charlie doesn't argue. She stares into the coffee like it might offer an answer.

CHARLIEMaybe I thought I was protecting you.

QUINNFrom what?

Charlie finally looks up.

CHARLIEFrom the mess I make. From the way everything I touch burns out eventually. I didn't want that to happen to you too.

QUINNYou didn't get to make that choice.

Another long beat.

CHARLIEYeah. I know that now.

Quinn leans back. She's not angry, not even bitter anymore. Just... tired.

QUINNYou wanna help? Help me find out who killed him. Then maybe we can figure out who we are now. If that's even something worth doing.

Charlie nods.

CHARLIEDeal.

They sip their coffee. Outside, night thickens. The waitress refills the pot without asking. A train rumbles past in the dark, low and distant.

EXT. TWO-LANE HIGHWAY – LATE AFTERNOON

The lake's out there somewhere, just beyond the trees. The road twists through the pines and cedars, almost like it's lost its way. Sunlight sneaks through the canopy in thin, slanted rays. Dust kicks up behind Quinn's old black sedan.

INT. QUINN'S CAR – MOVING

Quinn's got a tight jaw. she's gripping the wheel with both hands. Charlie's slouched in the passenger seat, gazing out the window like the blur of trees is more interesting than anything happening in the car.

The silence between them is heavy, like static.

CHARLIE(quietly)You think I'm reckless, huh? Is that it?

QUINNI'd say you treat the world like it's your own test kitchen.

Charlie scoffs, dry. Keeps her gaze out the window.

CHARLIEOh, sure. And you're the responsible one, right? Running after murder leads across state lines without any backup.

QUINNDon't turn this around. I brought you along 'cause you're useful, not 'cause I needed a lecture on instincts from someone who ditched hers for five years.

Charlie flinches.

The quiet that follows is even heavier. The road narrows. A wooden sign flashes by: LAKE MARLOW – 1 MILE.

EXT. LAKE HOUSE – MINUTES LATER

The lake house is big. Too big. It's all cold wood and way too much glass. No warmth. Feels like it's just about the money. The lawn's empty, sloping down to the still water. Tall trees line the perimeter, almost like they're keeping watch.

A sleek car...the described is parked crooked near the front. Something about it looks... staged. Like someone messed it up on purpose.

Quinn kills the engine. They sit there a beat longer than they need to.

CHARLIEYou armed?

QUINNWhat?

CHARLIEIf the killer is here, you better be cause that's the car.

Quinn doesn't answer. Just steps out and slams the door harder than necessary.

EXT. LAKE HOUSE – FRONT PORCH

The front door's ajar.

Charlie follows Quinn up the steps. The air smells like pine and something faintly Incense? Sage? Detergent??

QUINN(knocking)Hello?

No answer.

They step inside.

INT. LAKE HOUSE – FOYER / LIVING ROOM

The place feels open, with high ceilings. There aren't any signs of a struggle. No blood, no body. Just feels... off. You can hear a faint echo, almost like the sound's trying to escape.

There's a guy kneeling on the hardwood by the fireplace. Blue latex gloves. White dress shirt rolled to the elbows. A mop bucket beside him.

He looks up.

DORIAN CASS

Dorian's smile stays put, but it falters just a bit.

DORIANI'm sorry?

Charlie steps forward, slow, calm.

CHARLIEYou're an actor, aren't you?

DORIANThat's what I said.

CHARLIEWell, so am I in a way. And you know what you learn after growing up around people who lie for a living?(beat)You learn what a performance looks like.

Dorian meets her stare.

DORIAN

You really think I'm putting on a show?

CHARLIEI think you've been rehearsing.

The three of them stand in stillness. Somewhere outside, birds chirp obliviously.

Quinn breaks the silence.

QUINN You said he messaged you. Can we see it?

DORIAN I deleted it.

That's the moment Quinn feels it too. That cold certainty under the skin.

CHARLIE (quietly, to herself) Bullshit.

EXT. LAKE HOUSE – FRONT YARD – MOMENTS LATER

Best man wins

Charlie walks away first. Quinn follows a few steps behind, their boots crunching against gravel. The wind off the lake hits colder now. The house looms behind them, picture perfect and sterile.

Neither speaks for a while.

Charlie lights a cigarette with hands that don't shake but want to. She takes a drag, breathes in deep

QUINNSo that was... something.

Charlie exhales smoke toward the tree line.

CHARLIEThat guy's a goddamn ice cube in a Gucci coat.

QUINNYou think he did it?

CHARLIEI don't think anything. Yet. But I feel it. You don't walk into your dead friend's house and start dusting baseboards like it's a goddamn Airbnb.

Quinn crosses her arms. The lake ripples faintly behind them.

QUINNI don't know. I mean, it was weird. But some people freeze when things go sideways. Get methodical. I've seen it.

CHARLIESure. You also seen someone clean their own fingerprints off a murder scene before calling the cops?

QUINN(quiet)He didn't say Owen was dead.

Charlie flicks ash at the ground.

CHARLIENo. He didn't. He danced around it like a fuckin' waltz.

(beat)"You know Owen." Like it's a magic spell that makes the incense smell disappear.

Quinn glances back at the house.

QUINNHe said they weren't close anymore. But you heard him he came all the way up here.

I've seen him lie before.

That catches Charlie off guard just enough for her to glance sideways.

CHARLIEYou talking about Dorian?

Quinn nods.

QUINNLittle stuff. Press junket stuff. Smile for the camera, act like you slept. Tell Variety you're "grateful to be in the conversation." That kind of lying. Not...(trails off)...not incense and rubber gloves lying.

Charlie exhales smoke out her nose.

CHARLIEYeah. There's a difference between PR damage control and sanitizing a crime scene.

QUINNHe said he panicked.

CHARLIEHe said it real calm.

Quinn doesn't argue. Her hands drop to her sides, then slide into her coat pockets. She rocks back on her heels.

QUINNYou know what's funny?

Charlie waits.

QUINN (CONT'D)The first time Owen told me about Dorian, really told me, not the industry gossip, I think we were sitting on the curb outside some party. One of those fake-casual "everyone's invited" things with four guest lists and a bouncer who only liked cheekbones.(beat)Owen was buzzed, but not drunk. Just loose. And he said, "Dorian's gonna win everything one day, because he can make you believe anything."

Charlie blinks slow.

CHARLIEPoetic.

QUINNIt wasn't meant to be. I think it broke his heart a little, saying it out loud.

(beat)They were inseparable back then.

They loved each other. In some way.

Charlie looks off toward the lake now.

CHARLIESo what happened?

QUINNFame. Envy. Something dumb.

She rubs her hands together.

QUINN (CONT'D)Owen stopped mentioning him at all, after the second award season. Just shut it down. And Dorian stopped showing up where Owen was. They made it look like a scheduling thing. But you could feel it.

CHARLIESo uh what changed? Why's Dorian here now?

QUINNI don't know. I don't even know if Owen called him.

Charlie turns to look at her, brows pulling.

CHARLIEWhat do you mean?

Quinn shrugs, but it's tight. Defensive. Like she's trying to fold into herself.

QUINNHe didn't say he was expecting anyone. He never mentioned Dorian once, even yesterday. And if he did call him... why not tell me?

CHARLIEMaybe he didn't get the chance.

The silence creeps back in.

Charlie flicks ash off her cigarette. Watches it disappear.

CHARLIE (CONT'D)He didn't look surprised to see us, did he?

Quinn shakes her head slowly.

QUINNNo. He didn't.

Charlie's jaw sets.

CHARLIEHe didn't ask anything about Owen.

Quinn doesn't respond right away. Then—

QUINNHe's an actor. Maybe he thought pretending would look worse.

Charlie narrows her eyes.

CHARLIEOr maybe he didn't ask because he already knows.

Quinn closes her eyes. Just for a second. Her throat works like she's swallowing something bitter.

QUINNIf he did this... if he—Jesus

Cut to next scene

INT. LAKE HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – DUSK

The inside of the house hasn't changed. Still too clean. No trace of panic. If anything, it looks like someone tidied up for company.

Charlie steps in first, eyes moving across the space like she's trying to memorize it all. Quinn lingers in the doorway, her gaze catching on the coat rack where Owen's jacket still hangs. Black leather. Worn in at the elbows.

DORIAN(from the kitchen)Coffee's on. Still remember how he liked it, two sugars, splash of cream. That's how you took it too, right, Quinn?

His voice is smooth, friendly, low-volume like he's trying not to spook a wild animal. Quinn exchanges a glance with Charlie, who just shrugs slightly.

QUINNSure. Thanks.

She moves into the room with practiced calm, like stepping into a negotiation. Charlie stays close but quiet, letting her talk.

DORIANOwen always said agents were under-caffeinated. Said it like it was a character flaw. You remember that?

Quinn nods faintly. She remembers.

QUINNYeah. He always got dramatic when I missed breakfast.

Dorian chuckles, pours three mugs. Hands one to Quinn. Then to Charlie, who takes it but doesn't drink.

DORIANI'm glad you're here. Really. It's been a long time.

QUINNYeah. It has.

There's a pause. Just long enough to notice it.

CHARLIESo when exactly did you get here?

Dorian blinks. Just once. Not startled — calculated.

DORIANThis morning. Around ten. Owen and I had planned to spend a few days out here. Catch up. Talk things through. Try and mend old fences, I guess.(beat)We got in late last night. He took the upstairs room. I crashed early.

Charlie nods slowly, like she's heard a bedtime story that doesn't quite add up.

CHARLIERight. And now he's... where?

Dorian looks toward the back door, past the curtained window.

DORIANWent out hiking. Said he needed air, needed space. You know how he gets.

beat)He left a note. Just "Back soon." That was around noon. I figured he'd pop back before sunset.

Quinn's fingers tighten on her mug. The ceramic creaks.

QUINNAnd the bleach and incense?

Dorian's smile flickers for the first time.

DORIANThat's not... look, there was broken glass. Owen dropped a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen last night, and it got everywhere. I panicked a little, didn't want the smell sticking. Wiped down the floor, the backsplash, even the sink. Habit, I guess. I clean when I'm anxious.

CHARLIEWith bleach?

DORIANWe were drinking. I didn't want either of us waking up to that kind of mess. It felt... respectful.

There's a long beat. Charlie watches him, trying hard to not call bullshit on everything he says.

CHARLIESure. Respectful. That's a nice word.

DORIANYou think I'm lying?

CHARLIEI think you're a good storyteller.

DORIANYou think I hurt him?

Charlie shrugs. Noncommittal. But her eyes stay locked on his.

CHARLIEI think you've had time to get your story straight. That's all.

Dorian looks away, but not out of guilt.

DORIANLook. I know what this looks like. But I didn't come here to fight ghosts.

He stops. Lets the sentence hang.

QUINNWhy now?

Dorian looks at her. The softness in his voice is new — worn and genuine, or pretending to be.

DORIANBecause I missed him. And I thought maybe he missed me too.

Quinn opens her mouth — then shuts it. There's something inside her pulling in two directions: the part that knew Dorian once, and the part that's only hearing Owen in past tense now.

CHARLIEYou mind if we look around a bit? Not accusing you of anything, just... I'm not the type who waits for phone calls.

Dorian lifts his hands.

DORIANBe my guest. You want to call the cops, go ahead. I've got nothing to hide.

Charlie gives a small, tight nod. She steps away, already heading for the back hallway.

Quinn stays behind a second, looking at Dorian.

QUINNIf he doesn't come back by nightfall, I am calling the cops.

DORIANYou should. I'd want you to.

QUINNIf this is you trying to put things right...

(she shakes her head)

Don't lie about it. Just don't lie.

Dorian holds her gaze.

DORIANI'm not.

Quinn doesn't answer. She walks away.

Dorian stands alone in the kitchen, his hand tightening around his coffee cup just slightly. Behind him.

The lake house was too still.

Charlie moved ahead of Quinn, her boots silent on the hardwood, eyes tracing the edges of the room again. Something about the air was off.

Quinn stood near the bookshelf, gaze scanning. Her hand drifted to one of the photo frames perched there, a shot of Owen and Dorian, years younger, squinting into sun. Beach day. Arms slung around each other. She frowned.

Charlie crouched by the fireplace. Something shiny caught her eye under the grate, not fire tools, something smaller. She reached in.

It was a bracelet.

Gold, scuffed. A flat ID tag style,cheap, familiar. She turned it over.

OWEN VANCE

She stared at it, the skin prickling under her coat.

Quinn's voice, behind her, too soft: "That's his."

Charlie didn't look up. She turned the bracelet over in her fingers, once. Twice. Then she set it down on the mantel like it was hot.

"Quinn."

"Yeah."

"Call the cops."

A beat. No movement.

Charlie didn't turn around. "I said—"

"He's behind us," Quinn whispered, barely audible.

Charlie closed her eyes once, tightly.

She rose slowly, heart jackhammering in her chest.

She could feel him before she saw him. The hush behind them, breathing not their own. The creaking floorboard. And then the shape of him, there in the entryway between the kitchen and the den. Still. Watching.

Dorian's face didn't shift. Not a twitch of surprise or guilt. He stood like a statue, holding something, not a weapon, not yet.

He moved first.

There wasn't even time to scream.

A blur, the sound of struggle, something crashing. A dull crack behind her, Quinn's knees giving out. Charlie turned, but Dorian was faster, already on her.

Then it was just black.