Previously on Miracles: all the "God is nowhere/now here" crap.
There's some kid with a bad haircut sitting in a car while it rains, and he says, "Look, I think what we're doing is wrong," and you might think this kid is Catholic and he just had sex or something, only since the shot is of just him, you know he's crazy and is going to turn out to be talking to himself. "People are starting to get hurt!" he wails. Sure enough, the camera pulls around to reveal that this nutbar is by himself in the car. But apparently the voice in his head is very convincing, as he starts saying, "You're right, you're right!" and "Just tell me when to go." The spirit voice apparently says, "Go now, you idiot," as the kid pulls his hood up, grabs a toolbox and heads out into the rain, and walks up to the front door of a house. He knocks.
"Who is it?" "Angel of Death, ma'am." "Just a second, I'll get my purse."
Well, what actually happens is that he pretends to be the landlord's nephew and explains that he's here to install low-flow showerheads. "No charge to you!" he says helpfully. "What about my dishwasher?" she says, and starts whining that the dishwasher's been broken for a month and that if he's coming in, he's fixing her damn dishwasher. Essentially.
Let's see. Strange kid shows up at your door in the middle of the night in a torrential downpour, ostensibly to install low-flow showerheads, then comes in to fix the dishwasher, then appears clueless as to how to actually fix said dishwasher. At what point might one become suspicious? As the woman blathers on about not getting a call back from her landlord, the boy says "what?" as if the voice is speaking to him again. He turns toward the woman, tape measure pulled out (yes, really, a tape measure), and he's holding it like one would hold a garrote or some other strangulation instrument. "I'm gonna need some help," he says.
Cut to woman lying dead on the floor while cops mill about, and one says, "She was strangled with a tape measure," while another struggles to come up with a Lenny Briscoe-esque witticism like, "Give 'im an inch…" or "Looks like she just didn't measure up." You know. In that vein. The cop whose job it is to ferret out cryptic non-clues has found the woman's journal, and he finds a page with "God is nowhere" scrawled on it. So of course he calls over "Detective Krantz" because he "better see this." Krantz comes over, has a look, and gets an arrest warrant for Jean-Paul Sartre. I mean, what the hell? Flipping through the journal, they come across a rough sketch of Skeet, entitled "The Skeet Face." "So who the hell is Skeet?" asks Detective Krantz.