Martin races home to find the police already in his empty apartment. The police are perturbed by the amount of knowledge Martin has about this non-case. Martin is perturbed by the fact that it's after 4:17 and the killer hasn't broken in yet. And that his poor almost-dead wife isn't home. The police promise to do a few sweeps of the neighborhood, and prance off, promising Martin that they're only a phone call away. Martin looks dejected, and calls his father-in-law, Al, asking if his poor almost-dead wife is with him. No. Martin hangs up on him. A lesson for you kids: don't hang up on your in-laws. They may later shoot you as you're being transferred to a maximum-security prison.

The door to Martin's apartment swings open. He waits, with a knife, in the corner. Of course, it's his poor almost-dead wife, who screams that he's scaring the hell out of her. Martin hisses that they have to get out of there right that second. Right that second, however, the door opens, again. Martin smushes his poor almost dead wife into their daughter's room and tells her to call the police. He gets back in position with the knife, but sees that the front door to the apartment is already open a crack. In other words, while he was pushing and hissing, the killer entered the apartment...