A woman happens by him on the way to her car. Perhaps she's new to the big city, or perhaps she's just an intensely trusting soul, because she stops to help him. Me, I'm jaded enough that I'd think he might be faking it. I'd help, but by calling someone from the other end of the parking lot, rather than getting between two cars with him, hidden away out of view, which is what this nice lady does. She shouts for help, but Frank pulls his gun on her. He tells her to get down. "Please don't shoot me," she cries. "I'm a cop, I'm not gonna hurt you," he says. This does nothing to allay her fears, nor should it. "I have kids," she says. "You're gonna see your kids," he tells her. He glances at his watch again, and gives up on making his flight. He could probably pay a little extra and get put on the next flight, but then the episode would be over. "Which car is yours?" he asks. She points him to a gold-ish brown station wagon. "Give me your keys and phone," he says. "Don't move for five minutes." He drops a wad of cash on the ground, enough to cover maybe two whole sessions of the therapy she's going to need.
Next thing you know, Frank is in Ann Arbor, according to the radio in his stolen car. He's parked outside the house from the beginning of the episode, just sort of lolling about in the aftereffects of his heart attack. He watches as a blue Prius leaves the driveway, then runs up to the house. He pounds on the door like a madman, because that's what he is. "Who is it?" a woman inside asks. He pounds on the door again. Maybe she sees his distinctive silhouette through the curtain, or maybe she just recognizes something in the way he knocks, but she does recognize him. "You can't be here," she says, fear apparent in her voice. "I just need five minutes!" he shouts. "You're not allowed near here," she says. She says her husband is home, but Frank just saw him leave. He threatens to kick the door down, so the lady of the house relents and throws it open. In a continuity gaffe, the street behind Frank is now sunny and dry, even as the sound of pelting rain and thunder fills the air. "I'm in trouble," Frank says. "You have a restraining order, Frank!" she reminds him, but lets him in.
He follows her into the living room, where she proceeds to yank from a cabinet a series of boxes like the one he just sent from the knockoff UPS store. He's been sending her packages for years now. She hasn't opened a one. "They're just some records and books," Frank says. "They scare me," she says. "They show up at the door and they ruin my day! They take me hostage, Frank! Do you understand that?" He doesn't even seem to hear what she's saying. He starts talking about the pool he visited earlier, even as she tells him she's been hiding the packages from her husband. Guess he never looks in that cabinet. But seriously, as distraught as she is, you'd think she would have refused delivery, or tossed them in the trash. Frank tells her there's one last package coming, and then picks right back up with his pool story. They used to go there together when they were dating. She tries to tell him there is something seriously wrong with him, but he just keeps talking. "I'm calling 9-1-1," she says, going into the kitchen for the phone. Frank takes out his gun. Off her terrified reaction, he puts the gun away, saying, "I didn't mean to do that, I just wanted to see you." This doesn't lessen her terror much, or at all. "I just wanted to see you," Frank pleads. "I won't say anything, just sit across from me. Do that, and I'll go." She gives a shaky little nod and leads him back to the living room.