Miranda limps home without her shoes, still clad in her hospital gown and apparently unconcerned that most such garments don't close in the back. Lou follows, forever unaware of the proper time to quit. He tells her that she doesn't need to be brave. "I'm never brave," she spits. "And I may not always know what I'm doing, but I do tonight." Lou anxiously begs her to let them examine her with a proper rape kit to facilitate catching the culprit, but Miranda again fends him off. "You're new in town, so let me just clear some things up," she says, stopping and facing Lou. "Things like justice... [and] equal rights -- those are all for folks on the Hill. Down here, justice is not only blind, she's deaf, dumb, has a flabby ass and walks around on one leg." Which means she's in bed with Tyler right now. Donner pulls up in his swanky SUV and sprints over to Miranda, worried. "I'm all right," she demurs. "Nothing three or four tons of makeup can't cure." Wrapping his jacket around her shoulders -- which is more than Lou offered -- Donner gently loads Miranda into the car so he can drive her home. I'm sure Lou would've given her a lift if his Fisher-Price "Look At Me, Mom, I'm Three!" Motorcycle could fit more than just one person. As Donner looks worried, Lou complains that they'll never have a suspect if they don't have an official victim.
Bruce parks his wheelchair on the diner floor and croons "New York, New York" into a shot-glass-qua-microphone. Lou barges in and eavesdrops on a few bars until Bruce opens his eyes, aware he's been busted. "I'd trade it all for perfect pitch," he says, aiming for charming yet sounding drunk. He says indulging his fantasies like this is the biggest perk of being a manager. Lou introduces himself, but it's completely unnecessary because he's the only outsider who's set foot in Wolf Lake since the '60s, when that whole free love/orgy thing went horribly, horribly awry. "You're the guy who's looking for my brother's daughter," Bruce says, so that we know exactly where he fits into this warped, shallow town gene pool. He commends Lou on persevering in the hunt for Ruby. "I've made an informal study of weakness," Bruce self-pities. "Take me, for example. Who'd blame me if I hung it up?" Basically, he blathers that he's triumphed over adversity, blah blah blah gets all the good parking spotscakes. Lou cuts to the chase, asking whether Miranda hung out there on That Fateful Night and, if so, whether Bruce noticed something unusual. "Everything about Miranda is unusual," Bruce muses. Lou wants to know who Miranda was with that night. "Miranda's not with anybody," Bruce explains. "Everybody's with Miranda. She's one of those 'people of the world.'" Or, she's a slut, in layman's terms -- no pun intended. Bruce wants to wax poetic, though, because he wants to get another acting job. "[She's] a jump-start on a frosty night, [or] the flame that makes all the shadows dance," Bruce sighs. In the interest of confidentiality, Lou doesn't want to reveal anything about Miranda's not-yet-official case, so instead he just announces that Miranda got raped that night. "That bastard," mutters Bruce. "Who?" Lou asks. "Tyler Creed," Bruce answers.