Dexter's testing different blood cast-off patterns with power tools in a big white room. "No memory flashes here. No little lost boy in blood. Maybe he went back to hiding in the dormant reaches of my cerebral cortex. Here's to hoping." Man, that looks like fun. Rudy walks in from behind one of the white sheets of paper covered in blood. "Yo, Dex!" "Hey!" "So, this is what you do for a living." Dexter explains that he's trying to match castoff patterns, blah blah. "Here's your phone." Rudy mentions that in his line of work, he hears a lot of horror stories. "This seems like something you'd see with a chainsaw." "I hear that, but this power tool was plugged into a socket." "Guess you haven't heard of an electric chainsaw," says Rudy like a know-it-all, which he is, because...he did it. What's his deal? How is he connected to Dexter? He must have something to do with these flashbacks Dexter's having about the boy in the blood.
"Come on, people, we're coming up empty," says a displeased Doakes. "Those numbers mean something: one, zero, three." Deb looks over and sees Dexter and Rudy shooting the shit by the elevators as Doakes continues to explain the importance of the numbers like a madman. She gets an annoyed look on her face.
Now Deb's in Dex's blood spatter room, and Dexter asks what she's doing there when he enters. "How do you always do it?" "Do what?" "Make me feel like I'm six years old all the time?" Whoa, Deb. That's your bullshit, not his. "If this is about Rudy, he was just picking up his cell phone." Deb gives him the third degree about why he had Rudy's phone in the first place and is a general buttwipe about the whole thing. Dexter tells her they were just having steaks and beers. "And...?" "Talking." "Talking. You talked." Yeah, they fucking talked, Deb. "On the same night that I wanted to talk to you, but you shut me out." Oh. "Oh." "Yeah, 'Oh.' You don't talk to me, Dex," she says, starting to whimper a little. She goes on to say that she's his sister, but she barely knows him at all, and that if anyone gets the privilege of his company, it should be her. Dexter cuts the conversation short by pointing out that he's late for Rita's deposition, and Deb shakes her head like the selfish little asshole she is. "Deb, it's hard for me. You know that." She just walks out without a word, making me hate her even more.
Speaking of Rudy, Angel's over at his prosthetic shop to ask him some questions. Rudy shuts the door after checking to see if anyone saw Angel come in. "So, does this have to do with a case?" "You could say that," Angel replies. "Well, fire away," says Rudy as creepy music comes on the soundtrack to tell us we should maybe start getting a little scared for Angel's life. As Angel tells him about the amputee woman he spoke to, and her "amputee devotee," Rudy grabs a big, wood-handled filing blade. "Do you have a lead on this client?" Rudy asks, and when Angel says he doesn't have a clue, the music goes away and Rudy puts the file back down. "I was hoping you could steer me towards some of those weirdos," says Angel, referring to the devotees. "I'm afraid I got into this business to help people get better, not help people get off," says Rudy. He tells Angel he could talk to some of his colleagues and put together a list. "Hey, how often does someone get a chance to help catch the bad guy, huh?" he says with a smile. Angel points at him in agreement. Rudy asks if he's in a rush for this info, and Angel says he's not. "Just chasing a long shot, really. But give me a call at the station when you've got something." They shake hands as a thunderous noise acts as an unsettling score. Rudy opens a drawer with many different colors of nail polish in it and tosses in Angel's card.