Dexter
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
By A. Rhea King
Chapter 1
Author's Note: Following the climax of season 4, Rita is no longer alive. This could change later too, depending on whether Dexter ends up with her children. I left V1 up for fans who would rather read stories with her in it...
...
I stopped my car outside the shack and killed the engine. I'd prepared this place hours ago for Gregory Hewitt, a pedophile serial killer. He got away with it because he had an alibi – logs showed he was logged into his work computer at the time of the murders. But I knew he wasn't at work. He'd slipped out where there were no cameras, he'd killed the children, and now he had to be killed.
I climbed out of the cool interior of my car into the muggy, humid Florida night was a slight shock to the system. It made me grab a breath and inhale another deeply. I walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. I paused to enjoy the sight of my helpless victim. He would be out for another thirty minutes. That was plenty of time to prepare him for his final moments. I hefted him up on my shoulder, closed the lid and carried him inside, shut the door behind me.
#
Abriella Juen struggled against the duct tape that bound her hands behind her back. She felt around the trunk until her hand slipped across some sharp corner. She moved the tape over it and sawed until it tore free. She felt around the small, enclosed space, tried to find the emergency handle. But it was too dark for that. She remembered she had duct tape over her mouth and ripped it off. There was a sharp pain as the sticky backing tried to pull skin away with it. She searched again for the emergency handle.
The car came to an abrupt halt, tossed her against the back of the trunk. She rolled over, in a panic to find the lever. The lid opened and the snarling face of her husband stared down at her. He grabbed her wrists, lifted her out of the trunk, and dropped her on dirt but didn't let go of her left wrist. She hit and punched and kicked as he pulled her to her feet. He grabbed her hair, yanked back hard, and put her in an awkward position that made it impossible to fight.
"Did you really think you'd get me arrested?" he asked her.
"BASTARD!" she screamed as she yanked her head forward.
A fistful of hair ripped off in his hand.
The action caught him off guard and he stepped back. She turned and in a quick motion slammed her knee into the soft, warm spot of his groin. It jammed his testicles against the pelvic bone. He lost his grip on her to grab his crotch. Abriella bolted toward buildings in the distance.
"I'M GONNA KILL YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he screamed behind her.
She didn't look back. She focused on her breathing, the rhythm of her legs as they pumped, like she did on the five-mile run she took Monday through Friday. This sprint for her life took her through deserted factory buildings where there was nobody to save her, and nothing she could use to defend herself.
She heard her husband behind her, his long strides shortening their distance.
He too was a runner. It was what brought them together in a park one day when they'd collided at a blind corner.. There had been a connection, dates, a proposal, marriage, abuse, and a son.
Abriella shook the memory of her son out of her head. She had to stay focused if she wanted to stay alive. She ran out of a building and saw a maintenance shack. Light escaped through the cracks in the wood panels. A newer mini-van was parked outside.
She zoned in on it.
#
The kill had been a good one. Satisfying. Greg threatened me until I plunged the knife through his aorta. With precision, I dissected him. The feel the bone saw cut through the muscle and bone relaxed me.
I was focused. Centered. At peace.
(In hindsight, perhaps I was a little too focused, too centered, and too at peace.)
I didn't hear the approaching footsteps bringing change.
When the door busted open, I spun around in surprise. The light outlined a figure. I judged from the height and the chest to hip width, it was a woman. In a few days I would learn her name: Abriella Juen. Right now she was a stranger about to see the real me.
She pawed at the plastic, found the opening, and charged head first into my world. She was average built and wore a dirty night shirt. Her straight waist length brown hair was tangled and disheveled. Her bare feet were covered in her own blood that was oozed into Greg Hewitt's blood.
She stared at the half dismembered corpse of Gregory Hewitt for five seconds, but it felt like hours. Then she let out a blood curdling, night of the living dead scream!
Then her eyes found me. I must have looked like a monster holding a bloody bone saw and my apron and face shield coated in blood, muscle, and Greg Hewitt's insides. Her next scream was louder and higher and longer than the last.
Someone else entered the shack. The outline was fuller, but not obese, and taller than the woman. The physique told me this was a man. Had he been waiting for her? Had he come to rescue her? Was I going to have to break my Code to protect myself?
Later this man would have a name too: Carter Juen.
He found the opening much faster. If the body and I hadn't distracted her, perhaps Abriella would have had time to run from him or brace to fight back. She didn't have time for either. The man lunged and slammed her to the floor. He grabbed her head and began to beat it against the floor.
It was rare for me to be so stunned that I couldn't think of a reaction, but for a few moments that's what happened. What could this woman have done to deserve be beat so violently?
His eyes found my tools. One large hand moved to her throat and he dug his fingers in. She gagged, grabbed his wrist, and tried to rescue herself. He rocked forward and grabbed a knife with his other hand. He moved so I could see his face. I knew that look in his eyes. He was going to murder her. He was going to enjoy it. She wasn't his first.
"NO! NO!" she screamed and tried to get control of the knife.
He plunged it into her stomach. She screamed from the pain. He gave it an extra shove and twist. Her agonized scream raised in octaves.
"I AM NOT GOING TO JAIL AGAIN!"
Over my shoulder, Rita whispered, "Save her, Dex. Save her."
My shock was gone. I had to take it on gut instinct that Carter Juen fell under my Code. I dropped the saw, grabbed another knife, and drove it into his back, slid it between his ribs and punctured his left lung. The man screamed, dropped his knife, and tried to grab for the one in his back as he stood. I discovered he was much larger than I was but that had never stopped me before.
He saw me now.
He picked up a cleaver from the shelf and lunged at me. I bowed my body, compressed my abs, and the blade sliced air.
In a fluid motion I grabbed the bone saw, and moved into his next swing. With a quick, even action I cut through his throat, vertebrae and out the other side. The man looked surprised for half a second before his head fell away and then his body thumped to the floor at my feet.
Spontaneous murder. It always surprised me how much more I enjoyed it.
A soft sob reminded me I wasn't alone. I had another problem to figure out a solution to. I turned off the bone saw, sat it down, and walked around the table. On her stomach the woman crawled for the door. Her body and nightshirt were soiled with blood and guts. She bit on her bottom lip in attempt to keep quiet so I didn't hear her.
My shadow fell over her and she looked back. I reached out to the shelf where my tools sat.
"Please. Please don't kill me," she begged.
Kill her? Why would I kill her? Had I misunderstood what I'd heard? My hand closed around the small syringe next to my tools, one filled with a sedative. She tried to lunge for the door. I leapt, landed on her back, and drove her to the floor. I sank the needle into her neck, injected the sedative. She fell asleep.
I stood and stared at her. She would bleed out if I left her there. She needed a hospital, but I couldn't take her to one. There would be questions I wouldn't be able to lie my way out of. I remembered there was a fire station a few miles from here.
I guessed it was just after midnight. If they weren't on a call, the firemen would be asleep. I could leave the emergency phone outside off the hook and one of them would come down to investigate. That was an ideal plan.
"She could destroy you, Dex," Harry's voice said. He appeared across from me and stared at her with me.
I told him, "She doesn't meet the Code."
"I'm proud you're sticking to the Code, son, but this is dangerous."
Rita appeared beside me. "He's saving her life. He's doing the right thing."
"This woman could destroy him. Destroy his and your family."
"Dexter, you have to save her. You've gone this far to do it," Rita told me.
"No. You have to kill her too. She will ruin everything you have," Harry argued.
"I'm taking her to the firehouse. That's it," I informed the voices.
They said no more.
I picked her up and carried her to a bench lined with plastic. First I had to get all trace off her.
#
Nina Batista looked at the door when someone knocked. She got up from the couch and opened it. Angel glared at her.
"Forget it," were the first words out of his mouth.
Her jaw tensed with anger.
"Angel, it's a good job. A great job. It'll provide for both of us. And it doesn't mean anything. It's just a piece of paper."
"Doesn't mean anything?" he snarled. "You're asking me to say I don't want to be my little girl's father! That means a lot, Nina. She's my baby. I'm not about to give up custody just because you found a better paying job. You two have enough with your income and my child support."
"Angel, with this job we don't have to do just fine. I can pay for everything with my income and put all the child support into her college fund."
"I am not giving up custody, Nina, and you are not taking her out of Miami. That's the end of the conversation."
"Angel—"
"That is the end of the conversation." Angel turned and stormed back into the night.
Nina sighed as she leaned on the door handle.
"Mom?"
She turned. Ally stood in the hall.
"Did I hear dad?" Ally asked.
She nodded.
"Were you two fighting again?"
Nina looked down. She didn't look up when Ally ran back to her bedroom. She shut the door and could hear her child bawl. Nina leaned against the door, bawling herself.
#
The elevator opened and I pushed off the back with one hand, kept a box of donuts balanced on the palm of my other hand. I'd arrived home two hours before the children would get up, but I was still charged from the double kill and sleep was the last thing on my mind. It left me in a cheerful mood and I'd bought donuts for the office.
Except…
I stopped inside homicide. Batista was the only person in the room.
"Where is everyone?" I asked.
He looked up. He stood and grabbed his hat.
"Everyone else is out on cases. Put your donuts down and grab a forensic kit."
"You mean my blood kit?"
"No. I mean forensic. Masuka left us with two days notice for Las Vegas and doesn't get back until tomorrow. We got a call about a woman dumped at a fire station last night. She was beaten pretty bad, stabbed, possibly raped, she's married, and no one can find the husband. Could be murdered. I need forensics and right now you're all I've got."
And you never will find her husband, if that's who I killed last night.
I glanced back. Henry sat on Debra's desk with his 'I told you so' frown. Rita leaned on a doorframe with her 'I'm so proud of you' smile.
I have to talk my way out of this.
"Angel, I can't. I have—"
"Do I look like I'm asking? I'm you're fucking supervisor. Stop stalling and get your fucking kit!" He stormed out to the elevators.
There goes my good morning…
#
Hospitals smell like death and disinfectant – not a pleasant combination. I followed Batista through the double doors of the emergency room. He flashed his badge at the nurse closest to the door.
"We were called about a possible rape and attempted murder."
"They're just finishing the rape kit. Wait here and I'll come get you when they're ready." She left the central 'staging area' and went into a room.
This hospital had taken lead from many across the country. Instead of curtained areas there were individual rooms. They did it to help reduce the noise, but in truth, it didn't help much. Pain and misery weren't two human conditions that could be silence.
"What are you doing Friday?" Batista asked.
"I don't know. Why?"
"Maria and I would like to…" He stopped when the nurse came to the room door and motioned for us.
I almost hesitated. I wanted to make up an excuse for why I couldn't go in, but that would raise suspicion.
The nurse stopped us at the door. "She's really freaked out, guys. And men aren't high on her list of people to trust. Take it easy."
We went in and I stopped at the counter at the end of the room to set Masuka's forensics kit down. I'd processed four rapes during his other spontaneous vacations and knew what was needed.
"Hi," Batista said behind me. "I'm Detective Angel Batista, but you can call me Angel if you like." He paused.
I looked back.
It was the woman I'd saved last night.
Her face was bruised and cut. There were dark bruises on her neck where the man had dug his fingers in to strangle her. Her wrists had bruises from where he'd them tight enough he could have broken them. She laid on her side, her hands pressed against her stab wound. Her eyes were fixed on an infinite spot on the wall. She seemed catatonic. If she were, my problem was solved. She could remain like that for years.
"Can you tell me your name?" he asked.
In a tiny, slight voice she answered, "Abriella Juen."
I looked away when Batista smiled. "It's good to meet you."
I found a comb and piece of collection paper. I walked along the opposite side of the bed, watched her head turn so she could see me. Her eyes widened. Her whole body began to tremble. Silent tears began to flow. She remembered last night. She remembered me. Was this how my world ended? Would one loose end I had chosen not to kill bring my Dark Passenger and me to the attention of the world?
"Shhh. Shhh. This is Dexter Morgan. He works with us. He won't hurt you."
I stopped and offered a smile. "I'd never hurt you." At least not with Batista in the room. "I'm going to comb your hair for trace." Even if I knew there wouldn't be any.
She jumped when Batista touched the top of her hand and looked up at him. I slipped the paper under her hair and combed through her long, dark brown strands. I could tell without a microscope she didn't dye her hair, this was its natural color. I noticed an uneven patch that looked like it had been ripped. Had he done that to her too?
"The firemen said someone left the call box receiver off the hook and left you outside. Was it your attacker that left you there? Do you remember?"
With a slow roll of her head, she looked back at me. I kept working.
"I remember running from my husband." She looked back at Batista. "Carter was going to kill me."
"Why?"
"He'd smothered our son when he wouldn't stop crying and I walked in on it. I told him I was going to call the police on him. Before I could get down the hall, he grabbed me and hit my head against the wall. I woke up in the trunk of his car." She closed her eyes. "He stopped somewhere and pulled me out. I got loose and ran and… Then he caught up with me. He attacked me and started beating me, and… Then…" She opened her eyes, stared at the wall. "And then…"
"And then what?"
She cried harder. "And then I don't remember. I can't remember. I don't know how I got to the firehouse."
But she did remember. She wouldn't have looked at me with such terror if she didn't. Why wasn't she giving me away?
"Do you know where Carter might have gone?"
She shook her head, looked up at him. "No."
He's in six biodegradable trash bags in the Gulf Stream, a feast for sea animals and bacteria alike. In a few weeks, not even a DNA test would identify him.
"Abriella, where is your son's body?"
The question made her cry harder. I pulled the paper away before it slid off and folded it. I returned to the kit and took out an envelope, wooden fingernail scraper, and another piece of paper. I'd scrape, but again, there was no trace.
"I don't know. He might still be in his crib. I don't know what Carter did with him."
Even my empty emotions were stunned by that answer. I turned and stared at her. Batista leaned close, his hands cupped around her hand.
"Okay. Okay. We'll go take a look and take him to the morgue if we find him, okay?"
She nodded. Batista stood up.
"Dexter, are you about done?"
"Haven't scraped under her fingernails. And I don't know where her clothes are."
"I'll go ask the nurses." Batista patted Abriella's hand. "I'll leave them my card. If you think of anything or just want to talk, you call me, okay?"
She nodded.
Batista's phone rang. He looked at the screen and for a moment his face went dark with anger. Then he smiled at the woman and patted her hand.
"I'll be right back."
He left us alone. Even closed the door behind him. I took a deep breath and walked up the bed again. I slid the paper under her hands and began to scrape under her nails. She stared at me.
"I swear I won't…" she began. "Please don't kill me."
I paused.
"If you haven't killed anyone, then there's nothing to worry about," I told her. What? Why did I tell her that? Why had I just revealed the most sacred rule of my Code to her?
She nodded. She glanced at the closed door.
"He is dead… I saw… His head… You did… Didn't you?"
I nodded.
She turned her head to press half her face into her pillow. "He killed his son. My baby. He killed him just because he wouldn't stop crying. He was colicky. Jason. His name was Jason after my father. He was so smart and…" She broke off to sob into her pillow.
I finished and folded the paper into the envelope. I watched her cry. I wanted to leave her, but I couldn't. Why couldn't I leave her?
I sat the envelope on a chair and pulled off my gloves. I reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. She latched onto my arm with both hands. Had I gone from monster to hero? I had to take a closer look at this couple.
My father appeared on the other side of the bed. "She knows your secret and she kept it."
"Because I killed a man that wanted her dead and she's terrified of me."
"Perhaps she's a Lila."
"A psychotic bitch out to control everyone around her?"
"Perhaps."
I looked down at Abriella. I leaned over and she looked into my eyes.
"I take my secret very seriously," I told her.
The fear snuck back into her face. "I swear to take it to my grave."
I nodded and squeezed her shoulder. "Make sure you do."
She nodded.
Batista opened the door. He smiled at me; was he happy to see I was connecting with the victim?
"We gotta go. Are you done?"
I started to pull away. "Yes."
She grabbed my hand and I looked back at her.
"Will you… Leave your card too?" she asked me.
"I don't have one."
"His number will be on the back of mine," Batista said.
Thanks, Angel. I didn't trust anyone who knew the real me. They took advantage of it, used me, and made me kill them.
"Thank you." She let go.
I collected the envelope and kit, and we left. I didn't look back. I didn't want to encourage her to contact me.