Deb's at home, obsessing over Trinity files and chatting animatedly with Lundy. Anton returns home and, after getting shushed by Deb, finally voices his displeasure over Deb spending all her time with her ex. Deb halfway convincingly assures Anton he has nothing to worry about when it comes to Lundy, but she can't keep that convincing mug up for too long.

Sunset in Miami. Dexter stakes out Zoe's house while she hosts poker night with her fellow cops. Between the fuzz in her living room and the alarm system sticker on her window, a break-in tonight is out of the question. But the realty sign advertising an open house tomorrow gives Dexter the opening he's looking for.

That night, Trinity stalks in the shadows of an alley behind a pool hall. He thinks better of advancing on the first guy he sees when his wife exits close behind him. No wife on the next guy, though. He moves out from the shadows behind the fairly beefed-up fortysomething and hisses "Cunt!" Beefy Forty plays the "You say something game?" but even when Trinity repeats, "You're a cunt!" the guy brushes him off as a crazy old man. Which...yeah. "Fucking pussy!" Trinity fires back when the guy turns to leave. This time Beefy shoves him into the dumpster. Now, Trinity looks scared right now. Whimpering and cowering. But again he retaliates: "Faggot!" So Beefy pounds Trinity down, all the while he's whimpering, yet still repeatedly calling Beefy a faggot. It's not like masochism is such a rare trait in serial killers, but watching Lithgow play it is all kinds of unsettling. Finally, as Beefy stomps off, Trinity calls after him, "It's your fault!" Obviously, this is just another part of the ritual, like Happy Hour with Mom's Ashes from last week. I expect some deliciously sordid explanation to tie all these loose ends up together.

The next day, Dexter shows up to the Kruger open house and finds a realtor whose jacket had just had a Captain Morgan ad explode all over it. Somewhere in Miami, LaGuerta just got a twitch in her neck and is seething with jealousy, but she has no idea why. He manages to give this perky fashion victim the slip so he can case the house in private. He's looking for evidence from the gloves -- obviously they're long gone, but they may have left trace evidence behind wherever she stashed them before the EMTs arrived. He retraces the steps of the crime scene via the photos on his iPhone. Did she burn the gloves in the fireplace? He checks underneath the grating for residue but finds it pristine and brand new. "It's just for show," says Zoe from behind him. She's friendly, attractive, and very young for a woman who killed her husband and daughter. She introduces herself, and Dexter covers nicely. There's an odd sexual tension that develops whenever neither of them are speaking, I should mention that up front.