“Maybe if we go around in circles for long enough, we’ll start making sense to one another.” He laughed dryly and shook his head.

Ippolit Rakitin would have to wait in a very long line for his chance, should Dmitry ever slip. There wouldn’t be a lot left to kill by the time Polya’s number came up.

Dmitry finally let go of Rakitin’s coat, but didn’t drift too far. “It’s cold.” He offered, both of the dark night and the pathologist’s unusual disposition. “Where will you go?”