Max original film Gone Girl was released October 3rd, 2014.
#Gonegirl hauled in $369.3M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 88%
metacritic: 79
imdb: 8.1
oscars: 1 nomination
golden globes: 4 nominations
SAG awards: 1 nomination
Amy Dunne
Children’s author Amazing Amy tries to frame her husband for murder in North Carthage, Missouri.
Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role
1 nomination: 2015
Best Actress – Motion Picture – Drama
1 nomination: 2015
Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role
1 nomination: 2015
“I’m so crazy, stupid happy. I met a boy. A great, sweet, gorgeous, cool-ass guy. Might attract some desperate characters. They already relieved me of my artisanal meat platter. ‘Meat?’ I prefer men whoa re funny, not ‘funny.’ What type are you? Missouri? Cute. World ends at the Hudson. Amy. A. I’m an award-winning scrimshander. B. I’m a moderately influential warlord. C. I write personality quizzes for magazines. And you? Who are you?” — Amy Dunne
“Oh, so you write for a men’s magazine. God, does that make you an expert on being a man. How to bullshit. Ha, ha. It’s hard to believe you. I think it’s your chin. Yeah. It’s quite villainous. Okay. What? Is that right? Hmm.” — Amy Dunne
“Nick Dunne… I really like you. Amazing fucking Amy is getting fucking married. That’s how the night started, with me, regular, flawed, real Amy, jealous, as always, of the golden child, perfect, brilliant, Amazing Amy, who’s getting fucking married. When I was ten, I quit cello. In the next book, Amazing Amy became a prodigy. I got cut freshman year. She made varsity. She got the dog. Puddles made her more relatable. We can’t stay long. This is why I have my brownstone. My trust fund. I know I can’t complain. No, they improved upon it and then peddled it to the masses. I thought that’d be creepy. Oh, I’m on it. I love having strangers pick at my scabs. Correct. Amazing Amy has always been one step ahead of me. It’s you. Two magical years. And understandable mistake. He thinks Velveeta is a cheese. ♪ These bag of bone shoes… ♪. And matching stapler. I’m not. And then… the night wasn’t so bad anymore.” — Amy Dunne
“Everyone told us and told us and told us marriage is hard work. And compromise and more work. ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter.’ well, it’s not true, not for me and Nick. With us, two years, it’ just good. Well, technically, we are supposed to fuck at the next stop. But I might be willing to bend the rules this once.” — Amy Dunne
“Year two. Cotton. It’s… we had that joke that our sex was too good for ordinary, so these are 2,000-thread… ah. We’re so cute. I want to punch us in the face.” — Amy Dunne
“Although this spot couldn’t be any tighter, it’s a cozy room for my favorite writer. After-school meeting, don’t mind if I do. Maybe I’ll teach you a thing or two. Picture me– I’m a girl who’s very, very bad. I need to be punished, and by ‘punished,’ I mean ‘had.’ It’s where you keep goodies for anniversary five. So, open the door.” — Amy Dunne
“Want to test your marriage for weak spots? Add one recession, subtract two jobs. It’s surprisingly effective. Promise me we’ll never be like them. All those awful couples we know. Those wives who treat their men like dancing monkeys to be trained and paraded. We’re in a recession. If it happens, we’ll deal with it. I’ll probably be next. We have each other. Everything else is background noise. My turn. My parents’ publisher dropped them, and they’re in debt up to their ears. And they need to borrow from my trust fund. Almost a million. This is where you say, ‘everything else is background noise.’ I said I’d do it. Well, it’s… their money technically. Hmm.” — Amy Dunne
“Hey. More games? What’s the laptop for? You are spending a lot. What are you talking about? Why are you throwing that in my face again? Nick, I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re daring me to be someone I don’t want to be. The nagging shrew. The controlling bitch. I’m not that person. I’m your wife. You’ll get another job. And suddenly, I knew everything was about to get worse.” — Amy Dunne
“So here’s a strange new sentence: I am a Missourian. Bye, Dad. No money, no jobs, no prospects. And then we heard from Go. Mama Maureen, stage four breast cancer. So we moved to Missouri. I don’t mind. I… I just wish he’d asked. Nick is happy to be home. But I don’t know if he’s happy I’m with him. I feel like something he loaded by mistake. Something to be jettisoned if necessary. Something disposable. I feel like I could disappear.” — Amy Dunne
“My husband has come undone. We moved to Missouri to save Maureen, but as it turns out, we couldn’t. We took a hit on the brownstone, and I used the last of my trust fund to buy him a bar. So far, it’s just costing money. Nick uses me for sex when he wants. Otherwise, I don’t exist. That’d be nice. Last night, I went from desperate to pathetic. I became someone I don’t even like. The kind of woman I used to mock. You’re out so much. Stay home. Well, then, can I come? Hmm. Do our code. No bullshit. Hey, I’ve been thinking… something positive. Maybe it’s time. Well, it’d be a new start for us. And for me, I would have a real purpose here. Not a hobby. An inspiration. I didn’t know it was gonna be a fight. Save? And you’re gonna walk out the door now? You’re a fucking coward. No, you can’t go on like this. I won’t. It’s not even close! What scared me wasn’t that he’d pushed me. What scared me was how much he wanted to hurt me more. What scared me was that I’d finally realized I am frightened of my own husband.” — Amy Dunne
“For Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d buy a gun. That is how crazy I’ve become. Nick wants me gone, but he won’t ask for a divorce. In his mind, I’m the owner of his bar, his only line of credit, the bitch with the prenup. I could go home to my parents, but I’d have to tell them the truth, and I don’t even know if I believe the truth. Can I really think Nick would hurt me? I’m being paranoid. Crazy. It’s just… I’d sleep better with a gun.” — Amy Dunne
Nick Dunne
“When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling he brains, trying to get answers. The primal questions of any marriage. ‘What are you thinking?’ ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘What have we done to each other?'”
“His Majesty prefers not to be moistened. I got you a present. You loved it. You loved it. Can you pour me a bourbon? I like that one. Who was also named Monica. It’s great. I’m just having a bad day. It’s our anniversary. Five years. And furious.”
“Excuse me, miss? Yeah, I just want you to be careful where you put down that, uh, monk-brewed Belgian wheat beer, ’cause the party’s down to, like, three Beast Lites and a bottle of Pucker. Could. I mean, the Amish are on Rumpsringa. Finally, someone tells me how to pronounce that word. Yes, ‘meat,’ one syllable. Thank you. Who’s beer am I about to drink? Don’t tell me. Let’s see, who’s your type? I don’t see you sitting quietly while he bloviates on his post-grad thesis about Proust. Uh-uh, is that him? Ironic hipster so self-aware the makes everything a joke? Mmm. Corn-fed, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. Mm-hmm. Hmm. Native New Yorker. What’s your name? Well, Amy, who are you? Hmm. Okay, well, your hands are far too delicate for real scrimshaw work, and I happen to be a charter subscriber to Middling Warlord Weekly, so I’d recognize you. I’m gonna go with C. I’m the guy to save you from all this awesomeness.”
“No. It’s, you know, what to wear, what to drink. Never with you. No, I mean it. Why? My chin? Okay, how’s this? A hundred percent true. No bullshit. We all move to New York and we end up living in these little cubby holes, and that’s not it. Come outside. Then you’re in it. You have to see this. Hey. How we doing, guys? Hey. I have to kiss you now. I can’t let you go through a sugar storm unkissed. Oh, wait a sec. There you go.”
“You mean the forced march designed to prove what an oblivious and uncaring asshole her husband is? Life. I don’t remember the point. ‘When your poor Amy has a cold, this dessert just must be sold.’ I still don’t know the answer. Go. Few years ago, it was fun. Year one, the traditional gift was paper. She got me a beautiful notebook, told me to go write my novel. A kite. She’d never flown a kite. Year four, flowers. She led me outside to the dying rosebush in the backyard. Yeah. Wood. There’s no gift for wood. Hey, Walt. What’s going on? Oh. Thanks very much. I’ll be right there. All right, bye-bye. Hey, buddy. What are you doing out here? Thanks, Walt! Ame? Amy!”
“Come on in. Hey. Hi. I don’t know where my wife is, and I came home to this. Now, I don’t… panic easily, but… it’s weird, right? Please. Two years in September. Used to live in New York. Yeah. I was a writer. We were both writers. My mom got sick. She’s dead. My sister Margo and I own The Bar downtown. Thanks. Stay. My office here. It’s our anniversary. It’s a guest bedroom there. Cat’s room on the end. I checked up here. This is the kitchen, obviously. This is the, uh… this is my wife’s office, Amy’s office. Yeah. Should I be concerned. Yeah, she is.”
“Did you play volleyball? When did you have a dog? Wow. I love your parents, but… they really can be assholes. Sir. No problem. Your parents literally plagiarized your childhood. Hold up. I know how this ends. Don’t-don’t tell me. It’s… what’s the saying? Excuse me. I’m sorry, I just…have a few questions. Well, I’m here strictly journalistic capacity. Now, you had the distinct pleasure of dating Nick Dunne for how long? Two magical years. In the course of that time, you’ve had the opportunity to perform such gracious gestures as not correcting Nick when he pronounced ‘quinoa’ as ‘kween-o-a.’ He also thought it was a fish. You also managed to appear shocked and delighted when Nick’s elderly mother breaks into an impromptu rendition of ‘New York, New York’ every time she sees you. That’s just frightening. You also bought Nick his very first pair of scissors. Amy Elliott, you are more than amazing. You are brilliant, yet entirely un-snobby. You challenge me, your surprise me, and… fun fact for the readers, you have a world-class vagina. Now, my colleagues tell me that you are not yet married. Is that correct? Isn’t it time we fixed that?”
“Okay, good. Uh, yeah, I could stay at my sister’s. You’re gonna have a press conference? Yeah, just… all of a sudden, I feel like I’m in a Law & Order episode. Absolutely not, just want to help. I own… The Bar. And I teach creative writing at MBCC. Not yet. Well, she keeps busy. I mean… she’s a voracious reader. So she’s always got a book in her hand. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not it. Um… no, not really. She was very close with my mom before she passed away, and, uh… you know, we have a pretty serious homeless problem in our neighborhood. I think maybe you guys should check that out. Well, I was home. I left at 9:30. Got a cup of coffee, newspaper. I went to Sawyer Beach and read the news. Well, I mean, I kind of go to Sawyer Beach for the solitude. She’s from New York. She’s… got very high standards. God, I don’t know. I’d have to look it up at the house. I-I… maybe it’s type O. Yeah. Tomorrow? I-I have no idea. I haven’t talked to them. I mean, you can’t get a signal in this building. I’ve been in here talking to you. Fine.”
“I apologize, Marybeth. I didn’t know what was going on. I… you know, now I’m… I’m at the station, and the cops are at the house, and it’s serious, and I’m calling you. There’s a lot of things that are being juggled right now. I-I’m standing right next to Detective Rhonda Boney, who’s the lead investigator on this, and she’s ju… my mother-in-law would like to speak with you. Dad? What? This is my father. What’s going on? I’ve just… been right there. My wife is missing. Don’t. I don’t get a call signal in this building. I’ve been sitting 20 feet away from you with two other police officers. You guys… Dad, stop. I think that’d be wise. Thanks.”
“Ah… fuck. Thanks. ‘When young Amy’s hope did wane, she wandered here… …in search of Jane.’ Austen. Hmm. You were an alienated teen, and only Elizabeth Bennet understood you. Look at that. You… you naughty minx. Yeah. In keeping with tradition, yeah. God bless Jane Austen.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Now me. I got a… I’m enthusiastic. Look at that. It’s confirmed by the… oh. Thank you. That’s pretty great. I mean, that is pretty great.”
“I don’t need a lawyer. Here, I’ll do this. You know, they asked, like, why didn’t she have any friends? I said she was complicated. Thanks. Drama? You can say it. It’s just me and you.”
“I have to take a shower. That’s a weird thing to say. Please don’t say ‘like Dad.’ Perfect. I’ll balance on the exact fucking edge of your emotional razor. Myself?”
“Yeah. Hi, Rand. I know, Marybeth. I am really sorry. We didn’t have a lot of choice. Should I go first, and then you guys can say something? Yeah. As you know, my wife Amy Elliott Dunne disappeared from our home on the morning of July 5th under… suspicious circumstances. If anyone out there, uh, has any information, please come forward. Thank you. Should I have said my name?”
“Yeah, definitely. Yeah, I know all about Desi Collings. But to be fair, he is from St. Louis. I didn’t know this. Not that I know of. Yeah? Yeah. That’s… for our anniversary. My wife does these… treasure hunts. You want to solve Amy’s treasure hunt? Of course. Okay. Uh, ‘although this spot couldn’t be tighter… it’s a cozy room for my favorite writer.’ I know this one! ‘Clue two.’ ‘Hey, handsome man, let’s go undercover. You’ll be the spy, and I’ll be his lover. Let’s head on over to the little brown house. We’ll play hot, doting husband, sweet, loving spouse.’ No. You read the first clue. I have no idea.”
“Hello? Uh, Nicholas Dunne. Under my father’s name William Dunne. My wife’s first pet… is this necessary? Can you just turn the… the bell off? Yeah, no, I know. It’s, um… it’s-it’s, uh, uh, uh, it’s Puddles. Right? Or is it Poodles? Are you following me? Like you said, it’s my dad’s house. I come by once a week, make sure the place hasn’t burned down. But it looks okay. I’ll walk you out. Nope. Still blue.”
“‘So, open the door. And look alive.’ Bitch!”
“Like who? Husbands who treat their wives like the highway patrol, to be outfoxed and avoided. I think I’m gonna be laid off. You are exceptional. That’s terrible. How much? That’s almost all of it. Amy, if you’re laid off and I’m laid off… without talking to me? Your call. You know what? You’re right. Everything else is just background noise.”
“Yeah. I just wanted to shoot some folks. Laptopping. Oh, I see. You can give your parents $879,000 without talking to me. But God forbid I buy a video game without without getting your permission. You don’t trust me. You don’t trust my judgment. You certainly don’t trust my intention. Well, that’s the basic tenet of a prenup, isn’t it? Because it’s easy to throw. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to do this. I’ve never not had a job. I flipped burgers, I painted houses. I don’t… hi, go. What? Hold on. What? Slow down. What is it? Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Thank you. Father. Hey, Tom. Mayor. Good to see you. Hey, guys. Hey. Hey. Jodie. Thanks for being here. Oh, we’ll find her. It’s gonna be all right. Thank you. You ever see that guy in the glasses before? Do-gooders? I’ve never heard the name Noelle Hawthorne. Oh. Yeah. I mean, we might say hi to them on the street. But ‘best friend?’ No. Excuse me, one sec. You want these two right here. Thank you. That’s kind. Well, a lot of cold cuts. That’s very kind and very unnecessary. Um… you know what? I-I’m gonna… would you delete that picture for me? I know it is, but it’s… just do me a favor, will you? Would you go ahead and please delete that picture? You just press… could you please not share that with anyone?”
“Yeah? Why? Marybeth? It was important to my mother that I be polite, I be considerate, I be a gentleman. I am in a nightmare! All I’m trying to do is be nice to the people who are volunteering to help find Amy.”
“Terrific. She’s a wreck. Awesome. Course. Why would you even ask me that? I am off. Everybody’s examining me and projecting their shit on me. All I want is to come over here, have a beer with you and not be judged. Can we do that? If Mom were here? Love you.”
“Oh, my God. Okay, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. Shh, shh, shh. Yeah, I know. She’s just gone. Well, where have you been? I called you 100 times. You gotta pick up your phone. What? My sister’s asleep in the other room, okay? I know. This is a bad idea. I do love you, but we have to be really careful right now. Between rehearsals. I know. We need to stop. Oh, stop it. Stop it. Okay. Come here. Sit down. Okay. Did you, by any chance, tell anybody anything about us? Even in texting, or on Facebook… I know, sweetie. Did you leave a pair of red panties in my office? Sweetheart, think. Andie, I need you to take this seriously, okay? This is the last time we’re gonna see each other until… until it’s safe. Never say that out loud again. Andie… oh, oh, please. I can’t. Real quick. But then you have to go.”
“It means a lot that you came. Thanks for coming.”
“We should go to Outback tonight. I know. I can’t. I’m already late. You would hate it. It’s a bunch of my dorky high school friends. I thought we weren’t gonna be that couple. Okay, bye. Yeah? Now is literally the worst time. A child is not a hobby. We could’ve had this fight four hours ago. I’m late. You really want to be the couple that has a baby to save their marriage? I… reboot, retool, rekindle, whatever! Yeah! I… yeah. Oh, really? You won’t? You won’t? What, it’s not good enough for you? You stupid bitch!”
“Oh, shit. Wake up, baby. Wake up. My sister’s gonna come out here. You gotta go. Sorry to rush you. Here. Let me help you. Just get that… careful. Very careful. All right. Here you go. Here you go. Okay. We will. Promise. Don’t go crazy. I’m sorry. She’s in her early 20s. Year and a half. Go, if I told you, you would’ve made me stop. She’s one of my students. Well, I’m not a writer. Look, it wasn’t like that, okay? You have no idea how shitty it was with Amy, how fucking terrible she made me feel. Flyover boy. I would get knots in my stomach just coming home, knowing she would be sitting there, dissatisfied, before I even walked in the fucking door. Boney found a pair of panties in my office, where, occasionally, Andie and I… I don’t know what the fuck it means. Her name is Andie. She’s not entirely sure. If they’re not Andie’s, that means that they’re Amy’s and she left them there for me to find. Some fucking tragedy groupie. I don’t know. She was trying to give me a casserole. I am so sick of being picked apart by women. I don’t deserve that.”
“Hey.”
Detective Rhonda Boney
“Hello? Mr. Dunne? I’m Detective Rhonda Boney this is officer James Gilpin. We understand there are some concerns about your wife. Mind if we look around? How long you two been here? Why’d y’all move back here. Oh, I’m sorry. How is she? I’m so sorry. What do you do now for work? Oh, The Bar. Love the name. Very meta. Pretty things. Beautiful dress. Date night? Hmm. Wow. Impressive gal. I remember these. I loved these books. Wait a minute. Your wife is Amazing Amy? Wow.”
“And it’s done. Crossed off the list. Now, normally, we would not treat this as a missing persons case so quick, but given the scene at your house, and given our spike in violent crime of late, we are gonna take this very very seriously. So we’ve got forensics over at your place. You got somewhere to stay? Okay. We’re tracking Amy’s phone, her credit cards. We will organize searches, put up flyers. We’re gonna hold a press conference tomorrow. Yeah, want to get the word out, right? Now, uh, time is of the essence in these cases, but that said, you want to wait and call a lawyer? Okay, so you and Amy have been here two years. You tend bar. No kids? So, what does Amy do most days? Woman with all those degrees, what does she do? Doing what? Well, days can get long. I mean, I know a few housewives, that evening glass of wine starts coming at noon. Or prescription pills. Ever since that mall went bust, half the town out of work, we cannot keep up with the drug problem. Has Amy got friends we can talk to? No friends? This whole town? So, you got to The Bar around 11:00 today. Where were you before that, just to cross that off? Did you visit with anyone there? So, your wife has no friends here. Is she kind of standoffish? Ivy League rubs people the wrong way? Type A? Boy, that can make you crazy if you’re not like that. You seem pretty laid back. Type B. Speaking of which, Amy’s blood type? You don’t know if she has friends, and you don’t know your wife’s blood type? Where are her folks? New York? Can they get here in time for the press conference tomorrow? You haven’t called your wife’s parents yet? Well, call them, please, Nick. Now. No.”
“This is Detective Boney. Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, I know. Yes, I know. You want to drive him home?”
“Well, great. Where do you live, Noelle? Wonderful. I would love to talk to you. Can I come by in half an hour? I’m sorry. I got guys on the clock in here, but you give me 30 minutes. Well, we’ll talk in between shampoos. All right. So, what do you got? Well, okay. What’s that? I don’t know that that’s so surprising. What you got? Well, we have our first clue.”
“Your in-laws made it. I’m Detective Boney. That’s all for now. Thank you. This would be high school? 20 years ago? What was the charge? Sexual assault, threat, battery, what? Okay. Thank you. Uh, anything more recent? Hey, Nick? You got a minute? Imagine our confusion. A missing persons case, and in your wife’s dressing room, we find an envelope marked ‘clue.’ I’m hoping you can tell me what this means. It’ll help me track Amy’s movements before she disappeared. Well, well. What’s it say? These yours? Randy professor, naughty student. I blush. Me and my ex just swapped cards. Where’s this little brown house?”
“We’re good. Hello, stranger. Fancy meeting you here. It’s your dad’s house, right? What you doing? You know, I thought maybe this was the little brown house. From the clue.”
“Don’t worry. We videotape everybody that comes in and out of these things. I mean, you… you tend to get a lot of… freaks. Hey, I meant to ask you. Noelle Hawthorne? She lives on your street. Amy’s best friend? She and her husband have triplets? He acted like Noelle was a complete stranger. Oh, you really don’t like him, do you?”
“In your searches, did you find any golf clubs, real fancy? How about a brand new Stratocaster? Well, all right. How big’s that TV? It’s not 65-inch. Okay. Kibble? He asked me to feed his cat. Would you please escort Ms. Hawthorne and her children back out to the street? Just remind her it is a possible crime scene.”
“Nah, I’ll protect you. Seems like folks are trying. Cross it off the list. Hey, Jason. You seen this girl around here? She was reported missing. You sure this is her?”
“We’re not gonna arrest anybody just ’cause some blonde dunce says so. One, I am conducting an investigation, not a witch hunt. And two, don’t talk to me that way ever. We don’t know who or what was scaring her, Gil. Give me the update. Thoughts on a weapon? Mmm. Amy’s medical records come in? Well, if Tiffany says…”
Margo Dunne
“Well, the Irish prince graces us with his presence. Aw, I hated this game. Thank you. I’ll add it to the collection. What’s up, jitters? Well, if you’re not going to talk, I’m gonna have to fill the silence with another excruciating story by Margo Dunne. Let’s see, I could tell you about my recent customer service experience changing internet service providers. Or how about the time I saw that woman who looked exactly like my friend Monica, but it wasn’t Monica, it was a total stranger who… made it kind of interesting. Amy? Five? That came fast.”
“So, is Amy gonna do one of those anniversary… treasure hunts? Wow. Deep Hasbro thoughts. Spin. What was the clue last year she got so mad about? The answer? Few years ago, you’d have known. What did you get her? Hmm. Okay. Ugh, that’s symbolic. What’s the gift for five. So what did you get her? I know. Go home, fuck her brains out, slap her with your penis, ‘there’s some wood for you, bitch.’ The Bar. Why, yes. Hang on one second. Hey, it’s Watchful Wally.”
“Did they ask if you wanted a lawyer? Well, did they ask personal stuff about Amy? What did you say? Nick! Everyone knows ‘complicated’ is code for ‘bitch.’ Oh, God. I feel sick. It’s so bizarre. It just… it seems like the kind of thing that would happen to Amy. She always attracts… just because I don’t like to be around Amy doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. Anyway, whoever took her is bound to bring her back.”
“No, don’t. You’ve been up all night. You want to look like you’ve been up all night. Hey, be careful today, okay? Well, when you’re upset, you bottle up. You can seem angry like… or else you swing into your mama’s boy charm offensive, and that can feel glib, so… okay. Just be…”
“I’m the twin. Margo. You look like hammered shit. Dude. Marybeth is pissed.”
“How are you doing? How’s Marybeth? And you? Hey. Have you told me everything? Everything? Ever since you walked into The Bar that morning Amy went missing, you seem, like… off. Of course. You know what I keep thinking? Yeah. Like I’m 12. Nick, Mom would fix it. I’m gonna go Benadryl myself to sleep. Love you.”
“You fucking idiot. You fucking asshole! You fucking lied to my fucking face! How old is she? How long? You lied to me for over a year? It’s so fucking small. You’re a liar and a cheat! You’re just like Dad! How did you even meet her? I thought writers hated cliches. ‘Oh, boo-hoo, I got laid off. I guess I’ll fuck a teenager.’ This is so bad. If anybody finds out, you’re totally fucked. Are they Super-Twat’s? So we are dealing with a 20-year-old who isn’t sure where she leaves her undies? Nick, I was scared for you before, and now I’m fucking petrified. We’re having a vigil tonight for your missing wife, and this morning, your kissing your college girlfriend goodbye! Can you imagine? Have you watched television lately? Cable news is all over your shit. Who is that? Who the fuck is that? You need to hire Tanner Bolt. That’s exactly what you deserve. Go home, Nick.”
“Hey.”
Officer Gilpin
“City? Just last week, we had a soccer mom, nice lady, got her teeth kicked in over some OxyContin. We’ll look into that. Sure y’all are married? Should I know my wife’s blood type?”
“Hmm. Interesting. House in rented in her name. Car’s in her name. Credit cards, utilities, phone bill– all in her name. Even his bar is in her name. No. But it is humiliating.”
“Of course he did. Oh, look. He’s being a good guy. So everybody can see him being a good guy. What’s to like? You want me to call for backup? Jesus. They ought to burn this place down. You really think this is anything? What’d she want? Weed, pills?”
“I can’t believe we haven’t arrested this guy. Why you going so easy on him? You got a crush? She was trying to buy a gun. No drug angles panned out yet, so cross that off the list. Talked to the nurses who care for Nick’s father. Guy’s a bastard, but he’s weak as a kitten, so cross that off the list. Hey. Whoa. Whew! No, we’ll have ’em later tonight. My wife says he’s a killer.”
Missouri
“I want to ho home. I don’t know why I have to be here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. Bitch. Stupid, dumb, ugly bitch. Aw, get your fucking hands off me.”
“Really? You’re Nick Dunne? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon. Your father wandered out of Comfort Hill after lunch. We found him walking Route 79, disoriented. We’ve been trying to call you for the last three… sir, please don’t take that tone with me.”
“Detective, excuse me? I’m Noelle Hawthorne. I’m Amy’s best friend. Five doors down. 1032. Y’all know anything yet? But that’s usually bath time.”
“Hey. Well, that was definitely blood splatter you saw in the kitchen. Normally, kitchen, knives, food prep, not that weird, but that… is awfully high, so I’m gonna order a luminol sweep.”
“It’s with her, uh, unmentionables.”
“Louder! Mr. Dunne!”
“All search and rescue coordinators, we have a briefing in 30 minutes. 30 minutes. We’ve got ten groups signed up to help in the Blue Rock Springs Road area. We’re going to be heading out in about five minutes. Bless you. We’re here for you. Nick, good to see you.”
“Nick. We’re gonna be heading out in about five minutes. If you can settle by the front door, we’d really appreciate it. Thank you. uh, Blue Rock Springs Road team is going to be heading out in 15. Yeah, that’d be correct. We, uh, are going to be leaving in about five minutes. I’ve got a couple more teams for you, too. Yeah, I’ll make sure I do that. I have 15 with me, just to give you a head count, let you know.”
“Nick? I just wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Shawna Kelly. I am so sorry for your… troubles. Are you remembering to eat? I’m gonna fix you up my world famous chicken Frito pie. You have to keep your strength. Would you…? Say ‘Chicken Frito pie.’ No! It’s a nice photo. What is wrong with you? I will share it with whomever I please.”
“The buses are leaving for Sawyer Beach… all right, everyone, remember to keep a straight line.”
“No. No, nothing like that. No, it’s nowhere near that. Excuse me? Oh, uh… I saw some in the pantry.”
“Detective Boney? Officer Gilpin? Noelle Hawthorne! Now I know y’all are there. Detective, I got to give you some pertinent information. Detective Boney? No, do not… no!”
“Look at that pie-eating grin, from a guy whose wife is missing.”
“Come on, let’s go. What’s up, Rhonda? Yeah. I remember her. She wanted a gun. I told her it’s not my thing. I felt bad, though. She seemed really desperate. Said it needed to be small so she could keep it close. You don’t forget a girl like that in here. She was all in pink. It was Valentine’s Day.”
“I mean, what is wrong with this barkeep? His wife’s nowhere to be found, and here’s Nick Dunne for you, flirting. Cute pic, huh? On the show today, we have a defense attorney Tanner Bolt, patron saint of wife killers everywhere. Tanner Bolt, would you consider defending Nick Dunne?”
“Well, let me just say, as always, Ellen, thank you for such a warm welcome. Mm-hmm. But of course, I’ll defend Nick Dunne. Listen, just because this guy isn’t walking around weeping, that doesn’t mean that he’s not hurting. Tanner, the hallmark of a sociopath is a lack of empathy. But the truth is, you’d have to be a sociopath to behave normally in this situation, because it’s the most abnormal situation in the world. Whoa. No, no. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Excuse me. Tanner, Tanner. Are you trying to tell me that this photo is remotely in the realm of acceptable behavior? Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Hey. So, luminol lit up the kitchen like the Fourth of July. Yeah. The blood is profuse. It is Amy’s, type B, and we should have DNA soon. Trajectory indicates blunt force– maybe a club, two-by-four. Yeah. She fell there, but I doubt she got back up.”
Andie Fitzgerald
“I saw you on TV. It’s so crazy. She just vanished? I’ve been so worried about you. Rehearsals. Godspell. I needed to see you. Can you at least tell me you love me? Well, I’ve been so scared. You told me I needed to have my own life. I need you. Touch me. Facebook? I use the disposable phone. You buy my presents in cash. I’m not stupid, Nick. I don’t know. Maybe. They better be mine. I don’t know. I’d have to check my red panty inventory. Until when? You were going to get a divorce. Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. I just want to be with you. I just really want… it’s our last time together. Let’s make the most of it.”
“Hmm? All right. It’s okay. Okay. Promise me we’ll talk every day. Every day, Nick, or I’ll go crazy. Okay.”
New York
“Doing good. Hey. Good? Yep.”
“Nick! Hey. Thanks for coming, man. Hey, sweetheart. Big night for your mom. It would mean so much if you would talk to a few reporters, bloggers, give them a little Amy color. People want to hear from you. Fantastic. 15 minutes, tops.”
“I thought you were gonna wear white to match the wedding theme. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing… you’re very cute, Nick. Amy, you know what would make Dad’s night?”
“I’m curious whether it’s difficult for you to see Amazing Amy heading down the aisle. And this big party celebrating this fictional wedding? Because it’s my understanding you are not married. Is that correct?”
“Hey, man. We played tennis yesterday, Nick. I just can’t get over it. I knew you never should have moved back here. We are all worried. We are all scared. But we are all here now. And we will find Amy. Together. Good. I’m, Rand Elliott. My wife Marybeth Elliott. Amy is our only child. She’s bright, she’s beautiful. She’s kind. She really is Amazing Amy. And, you know, there are millions of people out there who grew up with her and care about her. We care about her, we love her, and… we just want her back. Amy is a decorated scholar. She forged a successful career in journalism. She returned here to her husband’s hometown, and she made a life in her adopted home. Now… Amy needs your help. We’re establishing a volunteer headquarters at the Drury Lodge. We have a hotline– 1-855-4-AMY-TIPS. And our website is www.FindAmazingAmy.com.”
“Amy is the kind of girl who attracts admirers. Right, Nick? And we’ve had a few instances where things got… scary. Do you know about Desi Collings? He was obsessed. He attempted suicide after Amy broke up with him sophomore year. We had to file a restraining order. But he recently moved to St. Louis. That’s just two hours away. We also have Tommy O’Hara. This is only eight years ago in New York. She broke up with him, he got very physical. She filed charges. I only know it was bad. Thank you so much…”
“It’s like… you’re the goddamn homecoming king. Well, it looked like you were having fun. You’re right. And I’m sorry. My God, this place literally smells like feces.”