"I'll Be Back."
Before heading out on the town, Ginger checks the messages on a microwave-sized device in the living room, while Sarah looks for her pet iguana (Pugsley), who is sliming all over the place. Bad news: Sarah's date is canceling. "That bum," says Ginger, all pouty solidarity. "So what if he has a Porsche? He can't treat you like this. It's Friday night, for Chrissakes." Sarah declines Ginger's offer to break the guy's kneecaps, and opts to go to a movie instead.
In the parking garage, Sarah gets on her scooter, and looks around apprehensively, wondering perhaps if any time-traveling killing machines are lying in wait nearby. Satisfied she's safe, she drives off. Biehn, shrouded in darkness in his sedan, starts his car up and follows her, so the tenant at 229 can finally use his spot now, thank you very much.
Back at the police station, the press corps are shouting questions at the detective and the lieutenant. They just let the reporters in the station like that? I don't think so. One of the reporters asks if the police are aware the murders happened in the same order as their names in the phone book. The cops ignore the press, and head into another room, where we find out that the police have been calling "the other girl" and even sent a unit over there, and have gotten no answer.
That's because there's a different sort of unit getting a workout right now: Matt and Ginger are in bed and are ignoring the ringing telephone (Ginger's voice on the tape does the annoying "Hello? ...Ha, ha, fooled you" thing that has never fooled anyone, ever, not even in the early '80s when we all looked upon new technologies as some kind of wicked magic).
Back at the station, the detective hangs up. "Same shit," he says. "I can hear it now. He's going to be called 'The Phone Book Killer,'" says the lieutenant, who needs to worry a little more about women being murdered and a little less about what the press will write about women being murdered. Then it occurs to the lieutenant that if he can get on the news, the last Sarah Connor might call them. Luckily, as he opens the door, there's a cameraman standing RIGHT THERE with a camera in his face. Because police stations usually let reporters have the run of the place.
After a movie alone, Sarah has decided on having dinner alone. More antiquated concepts for you: smoking indoors in a bar, and a television tuned to the news instead of a game. Sarah overhears that a second Sarah Connor has been murdered, and takes it about as well as you'd expect. (Unless you'd expect her to say, "Whoa. Freaky!" and go back to chowing down).