Darkness. Then, Light. Then Darkness. Light again. What was this experience. And a Smell, smell that was familiar.
"Are you awake yet, I'm getting bored over here." A voice, raspy and confident.
"Ghuh?" a different voice. My own voice, yeah that's it. "Whos there?" there it was again, my very own voice out there solving mysteries.
"A renewed soul." That other voice again, and the smell… cigarette. The smell was of cigarette! And the light and the darkness, my eyes, out there being wild independent sports, opening and closing, these rascals.
"Where am I?" my eyes do more than blink now, the look around, try to make sense of this odd encounter. The room is small and dark, but smells strongly of cleaning product, and yes cigarette.
"A very special place, at least in my heart, and I'm sure yours won't mind either." My eyes then drift where their buddies my ears direct them. There's a person face slightly obscured by the dark room and the smoke that rolls around the face in lazy loops. I grunt and I see eyes flashing in the dark, looking at my own, trying to read me. I moment later there's a cigarette in my own mouth.
I inhale deeply as the end is lit and I feel smooth smoke in my lungs, I had been trying to quit on and off for the longest time, and it was a welcome friend in my predicament. I went to grab the light and flick its ash when I realized my hands were bound down near hips, and my legs, head and torso all seemed to be in a similar state.
"Look where the hell am I, and what in the hell am I doing here?" I try shout over the tobacco clamped between lips.
"It's all going to be clear soon."
"God is this Trish's doing?Tell that fat slut her money's on the way." I feel cool sweat trickling down my body which I now know, embarrassingly enough, is naked.
"See if you weren't so goddamn demeaning to everyone all the time maybe we wouldn't be here in this situation huh smartass?" The voice was, being mean. I realized then I was stuck in a very uncomfortable position because of this dumb voice.
"You listen here now asshole," the more I came off of whatever drug this, uh, this this, person put me on the more hornet angry I got. "I'm gonna fuck you up when I got out of this. You hear me? FUCK YOU UP!"
"Someone's moody!" the voice said in a sing-songy tune, "Let's fix that, ay?' Pain then, Burning hot pain. When I move my eyes down to see, someone seems to have taken a cleaver of some sort against my poor leg.
"Ah fuck," that's my silly voice again, out there in the world making a name for himself. The same pain again, deeper this time. My poor thoughts, they can't seem to catch u p. Ma n thi s su r i
The figure looked down at the bleeding corpse as the eye lids flashed for the last time. The figure, a woman in fact, started to whistle as she grabbed the half smoked cigarette from the table where it fell and dropped it, right into her victims mouth before grabbing a different knife and getting to work. Dismembering and placing a body was becoming a lot harder than she expected. She growled frustratedly at the knife lodged in the man's thigh.
"Sloppy, sloppy work," she muttered to herself as she pulled from the leg and set it to the side. She grabbed a different knife then, long silver and with a wicked looking curve, and brought it to the flesh around the victims shoulder and started to cut.
"Ah fuck," she hadn't expected the blood to spray out after she had made sure they were dead, another thing she had overlooked when she decided it was time. She glanced for a moment at the tape recorder she had running before cutting further into her victim, it was going to be a long night if she was going to have it prepared and ready for the morning, ready for the start of something amazing.
She was jogging, hard heavy breathes puffing from her chest into the chilly, early morning air. She saw her work exactly as she had left it and let out a convincing scream.
9-1-1 what is your emergency
"Please," she sobbed, "Come quick! Someone's been murdered!"
Ma'am did you saw someone's been murdered? Can you give a location please?
"Ghuh! Um, I was running down along the bay, an ghuh, Jesus, um, I don't know the address I think I'm near Palm Terrace a-apartments or something?"
Remain calm ma'am officers are on their way, it's going to be okay.
She sniffed and hung up the phone then, wiping away her convincing tears and slowing her breathing, she gave one last good look at her work and walked towards the road, catching sight of a police car. It gave a tentative "woop" of it's sirens when it saw her and she waved it down.
"Ma'am did you call this in?" they asked the teary eyes young woman.
"Uh yes I did," she said in a quiet voice and led them towards the body of the young man. She gave a wonderful performance of what a person cringing a butchered corpse would do and she felt the arm of one of officers wrap around her as the other one called it in on his walkie.
She rubbed her eyes as she was patiently sat on the back of the police car, a blanket around her shoulders for the shock, which she did feel. She'd finally done it, she killed her first victim, and she was, of course the only one worthy enough of being the one to find her marvelous work. Before long however, the peaceful scene was crowded with more police men and woman as the sun began to rise, and with it, the vise that hid her work form the world, now she was truly, truly, validated.
The first person not to arrive dressed in the garb of Miami Metros finest was a man, ginger, with stubble running up his tanned cheeks and a doey look in his green eyes. Those greens eyes met my own blue ones, and just for a second, I felt a low hiss from the Something Inside. I could tell her heard it too, from the way his eyes focused, and his head tilted just the slightest.
Dressed in a light blue button up he moved to talk to one of the uniforms, probably to ask who I was, as his eyes never left mine, but on his way over, his thoughts, and eye contact, where stolen by a young woman with long brown hair and… cowboy boots. She pulled him and own internal growling down towards my work.
I smirked happily to myself as they moved away, and I pulled my blanket closer around my shoulders.
"Whadaya have for me Dex?" The voice of his sister, Deb, pulled him from his thoughts, and the woman he had seen on the back of the police car.
"Um," he said, taking a breath and inspecting the badly butchered body in front of him. "Some really amateur work." he spoke with confidence as he bent down to get a better look. The young man who had been laid out neatly on the grass, but they cuts were harsh, messy, and honestly just sloppy work. The hacks were found at every major joint, and across the waist, dismembering the body into sixteen bloody pieces.
"What does that mean Dexter? Amateur? You saying this our guys first kill?" Deb inquired further as he took pictures of the ragged stumps.
"Yeah I'd say so, our killer didn't quite realize how much of a task it is to kill and cut up a human being is." he looked up at Debra with confidence in his gaze before glancing back over at the police car, back at the woman, the person who had made the call and found the body. The look in her eyes, combined with the small whisper of the Passenger let him know that this Woman, this Bystander was more than she seemed.
"Why these fuckers gotta always do shit like this so early in the morning, at least let me get half a coffee in first," that was Sergeant Angel Batista, dark circles hung around his eyes and his buttons aligned wrong implied he'd had quite the time himself himself, most likely an alcohol inspired night out.
"I feel you on that one Angel," Dexter smiled at the older man but he just groaned and took another sip of his steaming drink.
"God, how can the press get here faster than the goddamn detectives, holy fuck." Deb spouted off as she surveyed the scene, her gaze barely landing on the woman that had found the scene. Dexter noticed something odd then, there appeared to be something in the young mans mouth. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of tweezers before pulling a half smoked cigarette from the guys mouth.
"Holy fuck, Dex what is that?"
"It's a cigarette, partially smoked, looks like it was placed into the mouth still lit, by the burns on the tongue."
"Who the fuck? The last thing the department needs right now is some twisted game playing motherfucker."
"Ah see now you've jinxed it," the ever intruding Detective Quinn contributed.
"Yeah fuck you too," she shot back.
"Well looks like our vic was killed somewhere else and dumped here, I'd say maybe an hour ago, and he couldn't have been dead much longer than I'd say, six hours?" he said looking at his watch. He stood up and yawned. "I don't really see any game playing though, looks to me like it uh, was probably personal, see the emotional, jagged wounds," he pointed to the rough cut elbows and hips and knees, "That and these two additional slices along the upper thigh here shows a kind of first timer vengeance, probably an ex that got wanted to get even for cheating or something. That's what I'd look for, an ex of some sort."
"Thanks Dex," Batista chimed in while Deb and Quinn bickered over something or else.
"Anytime, look I'm gonna run back to the station, do some testing, you guys'll be fine," sniffed as he stood up walked over to the first responder.
"What can you tell me about her?" he asked. The young hispanic man looked bored as he rolled his eyes up to Dexters.
"Ay yeah she was out for her morning jog, found the body, called it in."
"Do we have a name for her?"
"Sure," the Uni replied as he looked down at his notes. "The one and only Samantha Pine, just moved here a month ago and lives by herself in the apartment complex nearby." Dexter blinked and looked over at her, she lived in the same building as her, maybe that's what caught the Passengers eye, but no, he felt it saying something else.
"Ah alright thank you," the officer muttered something back as Dex walked over to her, this Samantha Pine.
She looked up at him from a round face and dark red hair, all neatly put back in a ponytail. Her blue eyes had heavy bags under them and she gripped her gas station coffee with trembling hands.
"Can I help you...Detective?" she asked in a small voice, but the calling behind her eyes was a much larger force, she was a killer Just Like Him.
"Just forensics," he said in a friendly voice holding up his laminate for her to see.
What do you mean she's a killer Dex? She's just a poor young woman who stumbled along something awful. Ah the ever helpful voice of his father, Harry Morgan. You know what I mean, his smile said as he put his identification back in his pockets.
"Mind if I check your hands and clothing for blood?" He asked politely, lifting his camera.
"Oh not at all, I'll do anything I can to stop whoever could do such a thing," her tone of voice was almost convincing. Nearly as good as his own impression. He took snaps of her hands and clothing and took a closer look himself but could see no trace of blood anywhere on her or her dark running clothes.
"That'll be all thank you," he said as turned away and went to get in his car. Who was this woman, this Samantha Pine, and how hard was it going to be to get her on the table.