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.