Meanwhile, at a little fleabag hotel in Mack, Colorado -- 10 miles from the Utah/Colorado border, the caption informs us -- Peter Murphy croons about being under the milky way tonight and I wonder why on Earth we're getting old-school Goth classics in a scene involving Tweener. He probably thinks Goth is what you play with a ball and some clubs. Anyway, we are witness to what is presumably the tender post-coital chit-chat. Debra Jean is whispering dreamily, "I don't want to go home. I think we should just keep driving." Tweener opines, "I don't think your pops would go for that." Debra Jean doesn't want to think about Colonel Dad: she wants to talk about the two of them taking off for Hawaii. Tweener points out you can't exactly drive to the Aloha state. Anyway, their tender musings in re: road trips not taken are interrupted by a knock on the door. As Debra Jean rolls out of bed to see who it is, Tweener's all, "Don't get it. Stay here." Yeah, that is not suspicious AT ALL. She looks out the window and reports, puzzled, "It's a cop." Tweener's exit from the bed is a Wile E. Coyote moment: his little legs are cycling and he's doing one of those horizontal-running-across-the-room-in-a-puff-of-smoke things as he heads to the bathroom. Either this is a drearily common occurrence in Debra Jean's love life, or she's sort of dense, because she does not even blink. She's also ignoring Tweener's pleas, most of which fall along the lines of: "You should really not open the door to the cops."
Too late! She's opened the door, and a cop apologizes for disturbing her before whipping out Tweener's mug shot and asking her if she's seen the aforementioned con. Debra Jean's eyes go wide, and in the bathroom, the spying Tweener begins to panic.
Naturally, this is when we go to the credits. I would then tell you what the commercials are, but in keeping with the recapping-in-odd-places streak I've inadvertently sustained (my mom's wedding reception, a garage sale I threw, a friend's dining room), I'm currently reviewing this episode on my laptop at an Athletics game. Go A's!
Enough about me. We're back to the show and Debra Jean is pretending to study the photo while the cop apologetically says that a few people called last night claiming to see someone who looks like Tweener in the area, so they're going door-to-door. In the bathroom, Tweener sighs. Debra Jean then asks why the police are looking for her swain; the cop breaks it to her that Tweener's no inexplicably idiotic college student, but an inexplicably alive escaped convict. The cop asks, "Have you seen him?" and after a long, tense moment, Debra Jean steadily lies, "No. He doesn't look familiar." When the cop leaves, Debra Jean heads for the bathroom. Tweener comes out. He's unsure what he should be panicking over more: the relentless manhunt, or the fact that in the Lying Olympics, his new girlfriend could easily hold her own against T-Bag. He then does some extremely fast talking, "This is not what it looks like. All I stole was a baseball card, a'ight? I'm not like those other fools." Tweener gives Debra Jean the full puppy-eyes-trembling-lips treatment. She stares back, still backed against the door. She finally says, "I'm going to go for a walk, okay? I'm going to leave my keys [on the table], okay? And when I come back, my car will be gone. I'm sure, in a few hours, they'll find it somewhere, abandoned." Tweener is looking unexpectedly solemn at this. Please don't tell me he was entertaining Bonnie-and-Clyde fantasies about he and Debra Jean criss-crossing the countryside on their ill-gotten gains. Right as Debra Jean reaches the door, Tweener implores her to wait, then says sincerely, "I wish it could be different." "I have to go," she replies. I personally am still amazed that she's helping Tweener along like this. The man must be a tiger between the bed sheets. Perhaps removing the steady servings of Avocado from his diet improved his appetites considerably.