Andy won't leave Nancy alone about where they're going; nobody understands that Nancy is being as straightforward as she can possibly be when she says "North" or "Destination: Away from where we were." When her parents got sick she just ran, it didn't matter that she went to ballet school, she could have gone anyway. When Judah died she went crazy and it didn't matter how, exactly, she was just going. When it was time to burn down Agrestic she just ran, it didn't matter where they were going. And so on. She runs at least as often as random acts of violence save her ass.
As Nancy (poorly) scrapes the road off the van's windshield -- it's shaped like a mallet; it'll never get completely clean -- Andy changes the subject to the horrific murder she witnessed the other day. "Did she scream? Was there lots of blood? Are you totally freaked that the fruit of your loins is a killer fruit?" Nancy's not really into talking about that either. Andy picks up her ringing cell phone and asks if she'd prefer to talk about Audra, whom he terms the "love of [his] life," which earns him a hilarious, if harsh, snort from Nancy.
He whines about that as he shows her the phone -- Esteban's left like eight messages -- but it's clear what she means: Audra wasn't the love of Andy's life because Andy's not really old enough to love or have a life ("Be the baby!") and even if he could, she considers it an open secret anyway that it certainly wouldn't be anybody but her. She is not wrong but damn, Nancy Pants. You gotta at least pretend boys have feelings.
Inside the convenience store Shane's looking for news of his big murder, but so far nothing. Silas is still schizing out about how Shane malleted a lady in the head, and hopes against hope that maybe she didn't really die. Shane snorts just like his mother and says it's possible, but only before the part where Nancy turned the key on the automatic pool cover and confined Pilar to a watery grave.
Back out at the pumps, Andy's gotten himself into an Aha Moment with a lady named Deb, whose fiancé is a seasonal logger and has perhaps grown distant. "If he's off felling and swamping six months a year, that's a message: He's not ready." Nancy shouts at him to change Stevie Ray, whipping the entire bundle of diapers at his chest, and stalks off to finally listen to the messages from her husband. They are predictable: He wants to know where she is, when she'll be back, and where his son is. She gets, I think, confirmation of Pilar's death, although we don't hear it. Which means she's fucked. She hangs up on voicemail, and mourns a little also, I think, for her third marriage.