...one "Dr. Cara Roberts," going by the name etched onto her door, who's just now popping a couple more aspirin to strangle the mild hangover she's enduring after last night's festivities with a person or persons unknown, which she confirms when Darling Sammy eases his remarkably broad-shouldered frame into her office to wonder, "Rough night?" "Fun night," Doctor Cara corrects. "Rough morning. Can I help you?" The LYING LIAR WHO LIES identifies himself as "Special Agent Stiles of the FBI," takes a seat, and proceeds to pepper the good doctor with questions regarding the recent spate of wife murders in Taylor County. Turns out Doctor Cara knows everything about everything, you see, because Taylor County's so small that she ends up performing autopsies and drug tests for the sheriff's department when she's not running surgical services over at the only hospital for miles around. So yeah, she can answer Sam's questions, but there's not much to tell. The causes of death were all pretty clear in each case, and none of the wives had anything unusual in their bloodwork. "What about the husbands?" Sam quite reasonably inquires. Doctor Cara hesitates and, after reconfirming Sam's credentials by peering at his fake badge one more time, admits there was "an anomaly" in each of the three murderers' lab reports: Unusually elevated levels of oxytocin in the blood. The good doctor more or less correctly describes oxytocin as "the love hormone," but that's not important right now, because what is important is the fact that the good doctor's using the discussion as an excuse to flirt blatantly with Darling Sammy, and I can't say I blame her in the least, despite the massive zit that's been lingering just below the right-hand side of his mouth these last two weeks. Unfortunately, Dean barges in at this moment to throw the good doctor off her game, but she gets back at him for it, and in the most casually and entertainingly bitchy way imaginable. When Sam introduces his brother as his partner, "Agent Murdock," Dashing El Deano turns on the charm, extends his hand, and smiles, "Please -- 'agent' sounds so formal. You can call me Dean." "Doctor Roberts," she curtly replies, grasping his hand for the briefest of shakes before freezing him out entirely and refocusing all of her attention on Sam. Hee! Sam's only remaining question has to do with those elevated levels of oxytocin -- does the good doctor know of any circumstances in which that particular hormone could ever reach the quantities she found in the murderer's systems? The good doctor does not, so Our Dear Boys rise to leave, but not before Darling Sammy offers her these sage words of advice: "Try a greasy breakfast. Best thing for a hangover." Doctor Cara giggles and sasses something flirtatious, because she knows that remarkably healthy ass of his is hers before this evening is out. Ooops. Spoiler! "You naughty little man!" shrieks Raoul, all faux-appalled. "[Titter!]"