It's an apartment building, and Sam walks into an empty unit. As he peers in one bedroom, he flashes to it, filled with a child's belongings. Through a torrent of flashbacks -- including that running woman in the red dress we've seen before (from the waist down) -- Sam makes his way over to a corner, pries loose a baseboard, and finds a Thom McAn box. More flashes, then Sam opens the box. We see a family snapshot of an African-American girl standing with her parents, and a box full of doll heads and hair fasteners. Sam studies the photo, and we get a flashback to a little girl playing in the park. His reverie gets interrupted by Annie. Sam haltingly says, "I saw the diamonds. I came in. Loose baseboard ... I found this picture. This looks just like a place I remember living. I even found this box, right where I thought it would be, but look! No G.I. Joes. Wait! Don't you see? This case brought me to this apartment building so I could see this box. I think this is where I lived. I think this was my bedroom." Annie puts on her soothing-the-crazy-person tone and says, "Maybe. And maybe it was just a coincidence." Sam says, "I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in the curliqued whimsy of fate." Annie is more willing to believe in the possibility of lingering brain trauma following a head injury. Sam insists, "Everything is connected!" He looks down at his matchbook ...

And now we're at the bar, Along Come Marys. Gene is looking at two men slow-dance with a mix of disgust and anthropological curiosity, and when his whiskey finally come along, he clicks his glass to Sam's with, "This proves I'd go anywhere for a drink." I like Gene -- he's a resilient old reptile. Sam lays out the case that Reeves used to visit here. Gene's impassive. Sam continues his one-man tolerance crusade with "A lot of people are gay and you can't tell?" Gene demands names. Sam says, "Rock Hudson." Gene groans, "Tyler, you sicken me. The Rock was doing things with Doris Day you could only dream of. What's the matter with you?" Sam prudently decides not to bring down everyone's mood in the bar by foretelling AIDS and Rock Hudson's terrible final days; instead, he calls for the bartender's attention. After a bit of badinage, the bartender says bitterly, "So they finally killed one of us, and now you guys care. Who's the dead guy -- a Congressman?" Sam bites back any quips he had concerning Barney Frank, and the bartender provides backstory on Robert with, "He's one of those guys who just figured out who he really was." Sam asks if Robert was seeing the accountant Jones, and the bartender dismisses that possibility with "Larry's so deep in the closet, he passes out business cards hoping to get rich, not lucky." Oh, that was just weak. Why not "Larry's so deep in the closet, he's got cedar paneling to prevent moth damage" or "Larry's so deep in the closet, he's replaced his aftershave with lavender sachets?" In any event, the bartender helpfully backstories on how the drunken bigots at the bar across the street like to get lit up and then go gay-bashing, since nothing says, "I like women!" more than engaging in vigorous, close physical activity with men. Sam insists to Gene that "Reeves' murder is looking more and more like a hate crime." Gene asks, "As opposed to an I-really-really-like-you crime?"