'The light of the full moon was the only illumination I needed. I am at peace on the water, the gentle motion of the current in tune with my thoughts as I prepare to dispose of the trash. Jeremy Staten. Telemarketer. Used his job to acquire personal information for a series of break-ins. One of his victims, an elderly Korean War vet, caught him and Jeremy beat him to death with a crowbar. Normally someone like Jeremy would be a low priority for me, but he'd continued his burglaries even after the murder, so he had the potential to kill again, Miami Metro wasn't even close to apprehending him, and it's been a slow week.'
'Now Jeremy Staten was contained in several neatly wrapped Hefty bags soon to make his way to the bottom of the ocean.'
Dexter dropped the first bag into the water. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.
"Hey, socio! What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
Dexter's eyes snapped open. He had to be imagining that. There was no way he had just heard Angel's voice.
He looked around, and slumped. There, not thirty feet away, was Angel Batista waving at him from a leisurely approaching boat.
"Dexter? Man it's good to see a friendly face."
'Maybe he didn't see me dump the bag.'
"What was in that garbage bad you just dumped?"
'Fuck. Think Dexter think. Don't get caught.'
"It was the severed leg of a guy I just killed. A bad guy."
'What the fuck was that?' he thought. Dexter looked over and saw Harry sitting on the edge of the boat, eyes wide, gaping at him.
Dexter looked at Angel, who seemed completely unsurprised at his confession. 'I've got to think of something fast.'
"I'm the Bay Harbor Butcher."
'Not that.'
He looked at Angel, who now looked a little surprised.
"Wow," said Angel, so shocked he took off his hat, "in retrospect, this is not that surprising at all. How did we all miss this?"
Dexter was uncomfortable with the turn the discussion had taken, "Are...you going to arrest me?"
Angel slowly nodded, "I probably should. I should...but..."
"But?" Dexter inquired.
Angel pointed to a pile of garbage bags on his own boat.
"Huh", 'did not see that coming', "Who's in yours?"
Angel looked guilty, "Quinn."
"Finally!" Dexter laughed.
"Muy, tell me about it. Only reason I waited this long was I didn't want to upset your sister. I thought she might still have some feelings for him."
Dexter shook his head sadly, "Not her finest hour. Not to worry Angel. She's...actually...in love with...me now." Dexter admitted sheepishly.
"You?" Angel mulled that a second. "That's...different."
"You're not horrified and disgusted?" Dexter asked.
"Are you kidding? I'm only a little more surprised by this than I am finding out you're a serial killer. And again, that wasn't surprising at all."
"Really?" Dexter thought he'd been so careful.
"Well, I'm a little surprised by your being the Bay Harbor Butcher- if anything I was expecting you to turn out to be some kind of closeted sexual deviant."
'That's insulting', "You know, I'm surprised that you and Debra have never gotten together. You're a good guy and the two of you get along great. I mean, if this were a story, you're the kind of guy the author's mom would have a crush on."
"Me and Debra?" Angel was stunned, "Nah amigo, that'd be weird. We work together and everything."
Dexter points at the bags containing Joey Quinn.
"Well yeah," Angel admits, "but I'm like fifteen years older than her."
Dexter nods, then points out, "Frank Lundy was twenty-five years older than her."
"She's like a sister to me," Angel protested.
Dexter scoffed, "She actually is my sister and she wants to jump my bones."
"Somebody mention bones?" a voice asked from Angel's boat, followed by a perverted laugh. Vince Masuka walked out on the deck of Angel's boat. "Hey Dexterous. I thought I heard you out here. What's going on?"
Angel turned to Masuka before Dexter could stop him, "Did you know that Dexter is the Bay Harbor Butcher?"
Masuka looked between Angel and Dexter for a moment, before answering, "Of course I know. It's all he ever talks about. 'Murder this' and 'I don't have real feelings' that."
They both looked surprised at Masuka, who let out a frustrated sigh. "Dex-man, you don't actually have an internal voice. That creepy monologue thing you're always doing? You say that stuff out loud. We can all hear it. I thought everyone knew. Well, except for the hot Morgan. She has a really big blind spot where you're concerned. Why do you think no one says anything when you 'take off early to run some errands' twenty minutes after coming into work?"
"I didn't know!" Angel exclaimed.
Masuka gave Angel his serious face, "Angel, I love you like a brother, but you're also the guy who thought marrying LaGuerta was a good decision. You're just not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, amigo."
'Come to think of it, Debra was the only one who ever gave me a hard time about constantly disappearing' "Wait. If I say everything I think out loud, how come Doakes was so shocked when he found out I was the Bay Harbor Butcher?" Dexter demanded.
Masuka explained, "Doakes hated you. Because he hated you, he never listened to a word you said. It's ironic, he spent all that time trying to figure out what you were up to, while you were walking around telling him the whole time." Vince shook his head sadly.
Dexter was in shock, having to reevaluate years of his life. Everyone knew he was a serial killer and no one cared?
"We really don't care." Masuka replied. Seeing Dexter's look, Masuka answered his obvious question, "I told you. You don't have an internal voice. That stuff you think you're thinking, you're actually saying out loud. That's why Jordan Chase was able to finish your sentences all the time. He wasn't telepathic. He was just a rude asshole."
Dexter was too shocked to respond.
"...and speaking of assholes, that really hurt when you stabbed me in the neck with a pen, asshole."
Now Dexter was just confused, "...I thought I imagined that."
Masuka shook his head, "You don't actually have much of an imagination either."
'That's ridiculous. For years I've been holding imaginary conversations with Harry'
Angel looked at Harry, "What's he talking about sir?"
Harry scratched the back of head, having the decency to look contrite. "This is kind of embarrassing. For years I've had Dexter and Debra convinced that I was dead."
"But you're standing right there," Angel pointed out.
"Yeah," Harry admitted, "But I've convinced Dexter that I'm just a figment of his imagination- the psychic manifestation of the code I taught him."
"Why would you do that?" Angel asked.
"I teach my troubled foster son to be a murder machine, yet this surprises you?" Harry replied sullenly.
Dexter had to sit down at this revelation. Absently, he asked Masuka, "Angel's dumping Quinn's body. What are you doing out here with him?"
"It's my boat. I live on it," Masuka shrugged.
Dexter looked at him oddly, "I didn't know you owned a boat. Or lived on it."
"Do you know for a fact that I don't own a boat, or live on it?" Masuka asked.
"No," Dexter shook his head.
"How about you? Or you?" Masuka looked at Angel, then at Harry. They both responded in the negative.
"Can anyone say with certainty that Vince Masuka does not own a boat, or live on that boat?" he asked the sky, as if to some unseen audience. Taking the silence as a no, he added, "Then it is entirely plausible."
"I suppose it is." Angel added with a mystified grin.
Masuka slapped him on the shoulder, "Now hurry up with Quinn's body. You said you'd help me dump those three underaged transexual escorts I strangled. They're heavier than they look."
"No problem," Angel said as he began tossing the bags full of Quinn's body into the ocean, "I'll help you dump your dead hookers."
"Escorts!" Masuka insisted indignantly, "I'm a classy guy."