- Jane: Hey.
- Alan: [hands her a folder]
- Jane: [looking through the pages] Where did you get these?
- Alan: Somebody from the archives delivered them.
- Jane: [continues to look through the pages, getting upset] That's not possible... My foster parents would have told me.
- Alan: Jane. These files just... didn't appear out of the blue... You ordered them.
- Jane: When?
- Alan: You tell me.
- Jane: [through her teeth] I can't remember.
- Alan: You own that house.
- Jane: [Slams her hand on the table and shouts] NO!
- [takes a deep breath]
- Jane: I forget "little" things, like appointments, birthdays, pick-ups...
- [starts hyperventilating]
- Jane: Not...
- Alan: [squats down to face her] I'm sorry.
- [looks away]
- Alan: I shouldn't even be here; I should have picked her up.
- [when Jane doesn't answer]
- Alan: The trust fund has been paying the property tax. It's managed by a... Patrick Ryer? I think you have an uncle. That explains why you keep trying to photograph the place.
- Jane: [doesn't say anything, looks at Alan helplessly]
- Alan: Jane hey... Hey.
- [puts her hand on her cheek]
- Alan: We're gonna figure this out.