Deeply shaken by the near-miss thrust of Greer's interrogation, Amy fails to note, on leaving the cafe, that she is being stalked. Proceeding blindly, then distractedly, then unsure of her direction she equivocates, slows her steps, seems on the verge of doubling back (maneuvers troublesome to the 'shamus' on her trail).
(Spotted me; duck! Or did she? Whoops; she's
reaching for her cell. It's nine-one-one; the jig is up... unless
that's just an iPod. Whew; it is. Or if it's not, she put it back.
Can't make her mind up. What's her problem? Got me acting like a
spastic, with her fickle fits and starts.)
Unaware, a pensive Amy heads for home, then once more shifts her destination; reaching Fillmore she turns left instead of right. She climbs the hill. Her pace, more purposeful, would suggest that she, at last, has plotted course (pursued with an amateurish zeal by the self-styled Private Eye).