Dexter's returning home from a long night of sewer dwelling, and he VOs, "I feel like a jigsaw puzzle missing a piece, and I'm not even sure what the picture should be." As he reaches his front door, Rita comes from around the corner with a somber look on her face. "I've been calling you for hours." "I kinda pulled an all-nighter." "Dexter, I called the station." The husky voice is back. Dexter explains that he was "off the clock," and that it's a huge case that's taking him places he's never been before. He gestures to his own fouled clothes as evidence. Rita seems unamused, and just stares at him. "What?" he says evenly. "I've been thinking a lot about Paul's death, and how I'm going to deal with it." How 'bout you just get on and deal with it, missy? He was a fucking cock-ass. Let him go! "First of all, I'm not going to let the county bury him. I'm using the insurance money to give Paul a proper funeral. It's in an hour." Well, that's pretty short notice. "Rita, Paul was such a...destructive force. Why can't you just put him behind you?" Rita says it's about saying goodbye to him and "the grip he had on my life. It's called moving on." Yeah, it actually sounds more like dwelling on an abusive shit-heel to me, but hey, what do I know? Rita tells Dexter to go clean up because the kids are expecting him, and Dexter says he's just going to make them late. "Dammit, Dexter! I need you there, too. You have no idea what this feels like." Dexter looks down at his doll head, and tells her to give him ten minutes.
"I can't wait to get another door slammed in my face," Deb tells Angel. "If I lived in this neighborhood, I wouldn't tell the cops, either," Angel replies. "It's about survival. These people have families, kids. It's not easy to be talkative when you got The 29th Street Kings playing Whack The Witness." Good call, Angel. "It just takes one, right?" says Deb. "That's it! Put that out into the universe." Oh, Jesus. I really hope he cuts that out soon. Deb just looks at him. Angel knocks on another door, and the lady inside tells him to go to hell. "Look at the bright side: karmically, we're batting a thousand." Angel...knock it off, dude. You dress too cool to act like a hippie. Deb walks away, frustrated, and sees the same kid from before spray-painting their police cruiser. "Goddamn it!" yells Deb as she starts running after the kid. All that working out has definitely paid off, though, because she's like a cheetah chasing a gazelle. After about five seconds, she's on top of the kid, asking him if he really thinks he can get away with spraying a gang sign on a police car. "Get off me, lady, unless you wanna fuck me like you fucked the Ice Truck Killer!" This sends Deb completely over the edge, and she draws her pistol and slams it into the kid's neck. "No! Please! I'll tell you where the shit is, the drugs and shit! Please don't shoot me, miss!" Angel's finally caught up, and yells, "Morgan!" She gets off the kid and starts pacing back and forth with her hand in her hair, looking distraught. Angel looks down to see that the kid has pissed himself.