So, guilt trip over, leaving Walter in his psychological hellhole dispensed with, Peter says Joanne Ostler must have been using someone's name if she's actually been walking around for the past ten years. Olivia says they didn't get any hits on an alias search, and Peter asks what they based the search on. Now, if it's me, that means a wasted weekend at home with a couple of seasons of Alias, but that's probably not the FBI's method. Olivia tells Peter it's an anagram search, and combinations of different family names: "It's what most people use if they want to change their identity." Peter says he knows that, having done it once or twice himself ("Why doesn't that surprise me?" smirks Olivia) and suggests doing a search based on variations on the last name, since it's easiest to remember a lie that's close to the truth; his last name is Bishop, so he would become Peter King, or Peter Knight. Snicker. "Peter Knight"? Michael Knight's kid brother, I imagine. Olivia says, "Well, that's a great idea if your last name is as simple as Bishop. What do you do when it's Ostler?" Peter asks if he can use a computer, and then goes to work, typing in "Joanne Ostler: Derivation" in the FBI's all-purpose magical search engine. And while Olivia's on the phone looking for records of stolen cars from the last thirty-six hours, figuring Joanne's switched cars, he also tries typing in "Joanne Hyatt" and "Joanne Ritz" and searching the addresses. He pulls up a "Joanne Ritz" which doesn't have a picture and has a whole lot of "unknown" answers to various entries like "Marital status" and "confirmed address." He asks some guy where the computer prints, and then sits back and checks on his fantasy football team.
Olivia's still on her phone when Peter gives her the printout and tells her Ostler is Middle English for "innkeeper." Olivia's skeptical, but Peter explains how he then cross-indexed last names that matched hotels with her first name, and came up with this mystery woman in Clarksburg with just a P.O. box: "Criminals don't really like people like you knowing where they live," says Peter. Then maybe they should come up with aliases and that don't take two minutes to crack! Dunham asks the person on the other end of her phone to expand the grid search to Clarksburg.
Ben's sitting and playing the piano with his mom, who's smiling and swaying slightly, listening to the music. He stops, and Joanne, standing nearby, asks him what's wrong. "I ... I just don't see it," he says. His mom tells him he's doing great, so he starts up again, but stops before too long. Joanne stares at him. Then, suddenly, there's blood dripping on the keys. Ben looks up to see his mom's scar is a bleeding wound. She touches her fingers to it -- well, now it's going to get infected, too! -- and she says to Joanne that she doesn't want to go away. "Well, that's up to Ben, isn't it?" Yikes! The only thing I can ever remember riding on a performance was ice cream after the recital, and I always got that, whether I screwed up the piece or not, and whether I made my mom bleed or not. Ben yells at Joanne to stop it, and she says, calmly, "If you lose her again, you'll only have yourself to blame," and now Abby actually starts bleeding from the mouth, and Ben screams.