Small Time
EXT. ROSE VALLEY - DAY
A wide shot of a sleek sedan driving down a winding hillside road. The landscape is pristine, California beauty. The car passes a sign: ROSE VALLEY.
INT. SEDAN - CONTINUOUS
KEVIN (early 30s, eager, a little soft around the edges) grips the steering wheel with careful intent. He's dressed in a perfectly pressed suit—the kind a man wears when he's trying to matter.
In the back seat: DAVE (late 20s, brilliant and naive, glasses slightly crooked) sits next to KAYLEE (mid-20s, beautiful and calculating, wearing a white wedding dress). DAVE stares at her with the kind of wonder that men get when they've convinced themselves they've found the answer to everything.
KEVIN (unsure) Are you sure you want to do this? I mean... are you sure you want to come to Rose Valley?
DAVE (lost in love) Can you imagine a more exquisite beauty?
Dave reaches for Kaylee's hand. She takes it, eyes still on the window. Dave pulls out a small laptop, types something quickly, taps Kaylee's shoulder to show her the screen.
The words say: "I'm going to ask you the most important question of my life today."
Kaylee reads it. A brief smile crosses her face. Then she turns back to the window.
Dave's smile widens. He looks at Kevin in the rearview mirror. Kevin smiles back—the smile of a friend who's been waiting twelve years for something good to happen to his best friend.
The car comes to a stop at a lake shore. Next to them, an outstanding blue car sits parked and empty.
Kevin gets out and opens the rear passenger door, ever the dutiful chauffeur.
Kaylee steps out immediately, walking a few feet away to examine the trees. She's already disconnecting from this moment.
DAVE (to Kevin, nervously) Did you remember to pack the napkins?
KEVIN (laughing) In the past twelve years of knowing me, have I ever let you down?
Dave moves to the trunk and retrieves an inflatable raft. He looks back at Kaylee with genuine adoration.
DAVE (nervous whisper) Do you think the wine is too much?
KEVIN (reassuring) She'll love it, Dave.
Dave stares at Kaylee while pulling supplies from the trunk.
DAVE She will, won't she?
KEVIN Yes.
Dave begins to pump up the raft. Once it's inflated, he drags it to the shoreline. With an awkward gallantry, he tries to scoop Kaylee up to carry her to the boat, but stops when he realizes his shoes will get wet.
He sets her down gently. Kaylee checks herself over as Dave removes his shoes and socks, rolls up his pants legs.
Dave hands Kevin his wallet, watch, and cell phone.
DAVE (demanding) If anyone calls, I'm out in a meeting.
Kevin nods, pocketing the items. Dave scoops Kaylee up again and carries her to the raft. They push off into the calm water, drifting deeper into the lake.
Kevin watches them go, then pulls out a joint and settles into the back seat of the car, legs dangling out the open door. He gets lit.
INT. SEDAN - LATER
Kevin, relaxed and buzzed, begins examining Dave's wallet. He pulls out a business card: DAVE RIVERS, CEO, with a company logo Kevin doesn't immediately recognize.
Kevin chuckles at this.
He opens the leather wallet further and finds photographs.
First: ANN (early 50s, sharp eyes, Dave's mother) sitting at a desk, phone to her ear. She's working. She looks tired.
Second: KAYLEE at a cubicle. She's younger here, in an earlier photo. She's staring at the camera with something that isn't quite a smile.
Third: Kevin and Dave together, both in business attire at some corporate function. They're genuinely happy. Kevin's arm is around Dave's shoulders.
Kevin stares at this photo for a moment, something flickering across his face.
He puts the photos back and notices something else: Dave's laptop, sitting on the front seat.
Kevin glances back at the lake. Dave and Kaylee are barely visible now, just a small raft drifting among overhanging branches.
Kevin reaches for the laptop and opens it.
He clicks through the files, casual at first, then with growing focus. He finds a folder labeled "ALGORITHMS."
Inside, a scanned image of a handwritten page—mathematical notations, formulas, diagrams that look both arcane and significant.
He opens a document titled "PROJECTIONS_CONFIDENTIAL."
His eyes scan the numbers: "Initial market assessment: $500M - $2B within 5 years if implementation succeeds."
Kevin sits back. That's a lot of zeros.
Then he sees it: A memo in the files, dated that morning. Subject line: "CUTBACKS."
MEMO TEXT (on screen):
"TO: Kevin, Kaylee, Ann FROM: Dave SUBJ: CUTBACKS
Due to last year's earnings, we are having to make crucial decisions to better further the company. As of today, your wages are severed and your services are no longer needed."
Kevin reads it three times. His jaw tightens.
He closes the laptop slowly, then grabs it with both hands and hurls it out the open car door. It flies across the parking area and lands hard on the pavement.
Kevin sits in the silence of the car, breathing heavily.
EXT. LAKE - RAFT - DAY
Dave and Kaylee drift in the inflatable raft. Kaylee has prepared food, using a small knife and fork to cut and serve. Dave smiles at her—a smile full of love, remembrance, and desperate hope for forgiveness.
Kaylee stares at him while cutting the meat. Her smile mirrors his, but it's a smile full of love, remembrance, and absolute unforgiveness.
DAVE (carefully) I know things have been... different. Between us. And I know it's my fault. I got caught up in the company, in the vision, in all of it. And I wasn't there. Not really.
Kaylee doesn't respond. She continues cutting.
DAVE (CONT'D) But I'm here now. I want to be here now.
Kaylee looks at him directly. In her eyes: the accumulated weight of every slight, every broken promise, every night she watched him choose work over her.
Dave reaches into his jacket pocket—carefully, reverently—and pulls out a small velvet box.
DAVE (CONT'D) I know I don't deserve a second chance, but—
Kaylee stands in the raft. Not to accept the ring. To move.
She positions herself behind Dave as he kneels in the raft, box still open, the diamond catching the sunlight.
Dave starts to turn around.
In one motion, Kaylee draws the knife and plunges it into his back—through the interior jacket pocket where the leather notebook sits—and directly into his chest.
Dave drops like a sack of potatoes, the ring box falling into the water.
He's still alive, but struggling. His eyes are wide with shock and pain. He tries to speak but can only make wet, horrible sounds.
Kaylee looks at him with hollow eyes as she paddles the raft to shore, each stroke accompanied by a small smile.
EXT. LAKE SHORE - CONTINUOUS
Kaylee steps out of the raft into the water, not bothering about the dress getting dirty. She leaves it soaked and heavy.
She approaches the sedan where Kevin is sitting in the driver's seat, staring at nothing.
Kaylee gets in the passenger side without a word.
Kevin starts the engine.
They pull away, leaving behind the outstanding blue car, the shoes and socks on the shore, and Dave's raft drifting further out into the lake.
INT. SEDAN - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
For a moment, neither speaks. Kevin is processing something. Kaylee is focused on the road ahead.
KAYLEE (eventually) Did you get rid of everything? The wine bottle, the—
KEVIN Yeah. Yeah, I got it.
KAYLEE (touching her bodice) I got it too.
KEVIN Got what?
KAYLEE The notebook. It was in his jacket.
Kevin stares at her. His mind is working through something.
KEVIN You have it? Right now?
KAYLEE (patting her chest) Right here.
She allows herself a small smile—the first real one since they left the lake.
KAYLEE (CONT'D) We did it, Kevin. We actually did it.
Kevin's face does something complicated. He grips the steering wheel.
KEVIN The laptop...
KAYLEE What about it?
KEVIN I threw it out. The laptop. I threw it in the lake.
KAYLEE Why would you—
KEVIN The memo, Kaylee. The firing memo. He was going to screw all of us. I found it on the laptop and I just... I got rid of it. Evidence.
Kaylee processes this. She nods slowly.
KAYLEE Okay. That's... that's actually smart. Good thinking.
From the back of the empty sedan, there's nothing but silence.
EXT. LAKE SHORE - LATER
A young kid, maybe twelve years old, sits on the shore fishing. He sees something in the distance—the raft, drifting farther out.
KID Hey mister! Are you catching any fish?
No response.
KID (CONT'D) Hey?
An older man, ROB (late 50s, weathered face, ranger uniform) approaches. He'd been watching the kid from nearby.
ROB Sorry about that, son. You can't disturb people when they're trying to rest.
The kid points at the raft.
Rob's expression changes. He pulls out binoculars and looks.
His jaw tightens.
ROB (CONT'D) (to the kid, urgent) Get my first aid kit from the ranger station. Now.
Rob doesn't wait for confirmation. He runs into the water.
EXT. LAKE SHORE - MOMENTS LATER
Rob hauls the raft to shore with Dave still in it. Dave is pale, barely breathing.
ROB (yelling) We need a hospital! Go get my truck!
The kid returns with the first aid kit. Rob works on Dave, assessing the wound. Blood. So much blood.
A WOMAN jogging by notices the commotion.
ROB (CONT'D) Call for help! Police! Ambulance!
WOMAN There's no service out here!
ROB (throwing her keys) Then drive! Get to a road with service! Take the kid!
The woman grabs the keys and leads the kid away. Rob's truck is parked near the blue car.
Rob tends to Dave, applying pressure to the wound.
ROB (CONT'D) (to Dave) Who did this to you? Can you tell me?
Dave's eyes flutter. He tries to speak but can't.
EXT. CLIFF SIDE ROADWAY - DAY
The ranger's truck drives down the hill as Kevin and Kaylee's sedan drives up the hill.
They pass each other.
EXT. LAKE SHORE - CONTINUOUS
Rob hears an engine. A sedan comes into view and pulls to a stop.
Kevin and Kaylee get out, approaching carefully.
ROB (urgent) Do you guys think you can give me a hand? This guy was just stabbed.
KEVIN What?
ROB Yeah, my wife is already on the way to get help, but I don't think he's going to make it. We need to move him. Now.
Kevin and Kaylee look at each other for just a fraction of a second.
They run over to the raft.
Kaylee gasps—genuine shock on her face.
KAYLEE Oh my God!
Dave's eyes are barely open. His breathing is shallow and wet.
ROB (clinical) I think his lungs are filling with blood. We need to get him to a hospital immediately.
Kevin and Kaylee exchange a look. They're calculating. They're panicking. They're two people who just murdered someone standing in front of an authority figure holding the dying body.
ROB (CONT'D) (into his radio) Dispatch, we have a stabbing victim, approximately thirty minutes from the hospital. Police ETA?
DISPATCH (V.O.) (through radio static) Police units dispatched. ETA approximately twenty minutes.
Kevin and Kaylee's faces tighten. Twenty minutes is not enough time.
ROB (to them) We need to use your car. It'll be faster than waiting for an ambulance.
Kevin nods, but he's looking at Kaylee. They're both thinking the same thing: they have to take Dave. They have to look like they care.
They pick up the unconscious Dave and carry him to the sedan. Rob follows, opening the rear passenger door.
They load Dave in carefully.
ROB (CONT'D) When you get to the hospital, tell them he probably has a pneumothorax. Internal bleeding in the lungs. Go. Now. Time is critical.
Kevin gets in the driver's seat. Kaylee takes the passenger seat.
As they pull away, Kaylee looks back to where Ann's voice would be calling out from the back of the car.
But the back seat is empty.
Kevin and Kaylee exchange a look of pure confusion and panic.
INT. SEDAN - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Kevin drives faster, weaving through traffic.
KEVIN How did she get out?
KAYLEE She's going to talk.
KEVIN Ann wouldn't—
KAYLEE She'll talk.
Kevin's hands tighten on the wheel. He approaches the cliffside road.
In the rearview mirror, Dave's eyes flutter open for just a moment.
EXT. LAKE SHORE - CONTINUOUS
The ranger station. A fire is visible in the distance as two walkie-talkies are carefully placed in the back seat of the outstanding blue car.
A length of cut rubber hose.
Then ANN (sharp-eyed, methodical) and ROB (grinning, finally at the end of a long con) get in the car with huge smiles on their faces.
ROB starts the engine.
ANN (to Rob) You did well. You always do what I ask.
ROB Because you promised—
ANN I know what I promised.
She doesn't finish the sentence. The promise was always "someday." Someday never comes for men like Rob.
INT. SEDAN - APPROACHING CLIFF CORNER - CONTINUOUS
Sirens wail in the distance. Getting closer.
KAYLEE (panicked) They're coming. They're coming right now.
KEVIN I know, I'm driving as fast—
Kaylee leans forward. She's looking at something ahead.
KAYLEE The corner. We need to slow down.
Kevin reaches for the brake pedal.
Nothing.
The pedal goes all the way to the floor. No resistance. No friction.
KEVIN What the—
He tries again. Same result.
KAYLEE Kevin!
KEVIN The brakes! The brakes don't—
He pumps the pedal frantically.
Nothing.
The curve approaches. A sharp turn down a steep grade.
KEVIN (CONT'D) Hold on!
He yanks the steering wheel hard to the left, trying to downshift, trying anything.
The sedan doesn't slow.
It hits the curve at seventy miles per hour.
The tires lose grip.
The car becomes airborne.
For a moment, there is a terrible silence—the moment between the earth disappearing and the impact.
Then: explosion of metal and glass and finality.
The sedan tumbles off the cliff and lands in a ravine below.
EXT. CLIFF EDGE - MOMENTS LATER
The outstanding blue car drives slowly past the accident scene.
Ann and Rob don't look at the wreckage. Ann is smoking a cigarette, perfectly calm.
ROB (confused) Are we just... leaving?
ANN Yes.
ROB But we should make sure—
ANN (sharp) We should do nothing. We saw nothing. We know nothing.
The sirens get louder. Police lights appear in the distance.
Ann and Rob keep driving.
EXT. CLIFF EDGE - LATER
Police lights. Ambulances. The sedan, twisted and burning in the ravine below.
INT. ANN'S HOUSE - DAY
A modest home. A kitchen table. Afternoon light through the windows.
Ann sits across from Kaylee, who is still in the wet, dirty wedding dress.
Ann pours tea with the precision of someone who's practiced normalcy many times.
ANN So? Did he do it?
KAYLEE (hesitant) Yeah. He... he did. Everything went exactly like we planned.
ANN And you have it?
Kaylee reaches into the bodice of her dress and pulls out a small leather notebook. It's soaked with blood. The pages are stuck together.
She places it on the table between them.
Ann stares at it for a long moment.
She picks it up carefully, as if handling something fragile.
She opens it.
The pages are illegible. Pencil writing has been obliterated by blood and water. What was once mathematical notation is now just smears of graphite and biological matter.
Ann turns another page. Then another.
Her face remains completely calm.
But something shifts in her eyes.
ANN (CONT'D) (very quietly) This is what he had on him? When you...?
KAYLEE He kept it in his jacket. Always. You know he did.
ANN And you stabbed him...
KAYLEE Right through the heart. Like we talked about.
Ann closes the notebook. She sets it down very gently on the table.
A knock at the door. Ann stands.
She opens it to find KEVIN, still in his suit, looking hollow.
ANN Kevin. Come in.
Kevin enters. Ann locks the door behind him.
She looks at him with the expression of someone evaluating an asset.
ANN (CONT'D) Is it done?
KEVIN Yeah. The accident, it's all over the news. Police think—
ANN I didn't ask what the police think. I asked if it was done.
KEVIN It's done.
Ann nods. She gestures to the notebook on the table.
ANN Kaylee recovered the algorithm. Everything we needed.
She doesn't mention that the notebook is ruined. Let them both think they've succeeded.
ANN (CONT'D) (to Kevin, casual) What happened to the laptop?
Kevin's face tightens slightly.
KEVIN I destroyed it. Evidence. The firing memo was on it.
ANN The firing memo.
KEVIN Yeah. Dave was going to cut us all. I saw it and I—
ANN You destroyed it. Good. That was the right call.
Kevin relaxes slightly.
ANN (CONT'D) (standing, walking to the window) You both did exactly what you were supposed to do. You've both been very useful.
There's something in her tone that makes Kevin glance at Kaylee.
Kaylee is watching Ann carefully.
For a moment, all three are silent.
ANN (CONT'D) (not turning from the window) I think you should both go home now. Rest. When the police come asking questions, you were here. With me. The whole time. Understood?
KEVIN Yeah. Yeah, we understand.
KAYLEE Ann, what happens now? With the company?
ANN (turning to face her) Now? Now we survive. We're the only ones left who matter.
She picks up the ruined notebook and places it in a drawer.
ANN (CONT'D) Get out.
Kevin and Kaylee exchange a look. They stand and move toward the door.
As they pass Ann, she speaks again.
ANN (CONT'D) Kevin?
He stops.
ANN (CONT'D) The laptop had other things on it besides the memo. Didn't it?
Kevin's mouth goes dry.
KEVIN Just... company files. Nothing important.
Ann smiles. It's not a kind smile.
ANN Nothing important. Of course.
Kevin and Kaylee leave.
Ann stands alone in her kitchen, holding a cup of tea, staring at nothing.
She knows. She knows the algorithm they just killed for is destroyed. She knows Kevin destroyed the only backup. She knows they've all murdered for absolutely nothing.
But there's no going back now.
INT. SEDAN - MOVING - NIGHT
Rob drives. Ann sits in the passenger seat, smoking a cigarette out the window.
The outstanding blue car heads north on the highway. Two people who've won nothing, who've lost everything, driving into an uncertain future.
ROB (tentative) So... after this is settled... maybe we could—
ANN (cutting him off) Don't, Rob.
ROB But you said—
ANN I said a lot of things.
Rob's hands tighten on the wheel.
They drive in silence.
EPILOGUE
Dave Rivers' algorithm was never recovered.
His company collapsed within six months.
Kevin Marsh was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
Kaylee Simmons disappeared three months after Dave's death. Her body was found in the desert six years later, cause of death undetermined.
Ann Rivers sold what remained of her son's company for $2.3 million.
Rob Chen remained employed as a ranger at Rose Valley State Park until his retirement.
No one ever found the leather notebook.
No one ever found the real algorithm.
But somewhere, in a small safety deposit box in a bank downtown, a key sat in an unclaimed drawer.
Behind that key: the complete handwritten algorithm.
Worth billions.
Lost forever.