Down on the ground, Lundy talks Trinity with Dexter. The sequence of his kills and victims are this: 1) Young woman in a bathtub; 2) a mother falling to her death; and 3) a man getting bludgeoned. Lundy's mapped out 15 cycles, but now that they've uncovered the 30-year time span, he's sure there are more. Dexter can't contain his admiration and says how "impressive" it all is. "...In a very evil way," he amends. "Why do you think he's so successful," he then asks, practically pulling out a notepad and pen. Lundy attributes it to his lone-wolf status, and Dexter wistfully contemplates that and all it implies about his own life. Because he's BURDENED. By having a FAMILY. In case you've been in a COMA. Taking a bit of a turn, however, Lundy says the solitary, obsessive nature of Trinity could just as well apply to himself as well. Maybe that's why he's suited to track the guy. He's a hunter, same as Trinity. "I'm sure you can't relate," he says to Dexter, in that way he has where you wonder if he's not laying down these provocative lines on purpose. Lundy's also intrigued that Trinity's returned to Miami. "He's come home," says Dexter. Lundy's not sure if "home" applies. "People like us," he says, "don't really belong anywhere." Oh, go tell it to Harry.

At home with Trinity and Family. The house (or apartment, or hotel room, you can't tell) is completely dark except for a small light in the corner of the room. Trinity's set out a bottle (scotch?) and two glasses. Also a rather flowery and decorative urn and a framed photo, let's just take the Freudian shortcut and assume it's his mother. Into the rather flowery and decorative urn, he dumps the contents of that vial, and so we see that he had spread a finger full of his mother's ashes on the ground next to his victim. If that was a part of her end-of-life wishes, I think we can safely blame the entire litany of Trinity killings on a lack of Death Panel consultations, right? Feel free to use that observation around Washington, Rahm. So Trinity pours a glass of water and a glass of whiskey, then pushes the latter over to Mother's side of the table. "Drink up," he says, somberly. "You're next."