Dexter's POV

Deb took another pull of beer and glared at the bottle as though it was the cause of her problems. "Can you believe it, Dex? That little shithead actually walked."

The little shithead in question was a man by the name of George Mulligan. He'd been arrested after his wife's disappearance. Actually, the arrest hadn't come until they found her head buried in his garden. But Mulligan had a good lawyer, and friends in high places with low morals. Apparently in Miami, you can buy your way out of a murder conviction.

I wanted to tell my sister that Mulligan would get what was coming to him. He was about to stand trial in an entirely different court. One that didn't acknowledge any of Florida's legal loopholes. It was highly efficient. Judge, jury, and conviction were all covered in a matter of minutes. The execution, however, would take much longer.

"Fuck," Deborah continued. "For the first time I almost understand why he did it."

I snapped out of my thoughts. "Who, Mulligan?" I asked, confused.

"God, no. I meant…Doakes," she admitted, sounding slightly shamed. "I mean, what he did was seriously fucked up. And I know you hated his guts. But our so-called justice system isn't exactly perfect either. And Mulligan's wife…Dex, he cut off her fuckin' head. Guys pull shit like that and get away with it, and it makes me so mad…If he was standing here right now, I'd probably shoot him."

I stared at my sister, enthralled. I'd never seen this side of her before. For a wild moment, I contemplated going to get the letter I'd written and hidden in my desk drawer. The one that explained everything. Maybe Deb was ready for the truth.

Then she spoke again with a humorless laugh. "God, what would Dad say if he could hear me right now?"

Rule number one: Don't get caught.

No, I couldn't let Deb know. It was one thing for her to almost speak well of Doakes now, when his supposed "reign of terror" had been over for months. But would she still stand by that position if she knew the real killer was standing in front of her? The risk was too great. "He might actually agree with you," I ventured cautiously. "You remember how mad he'd get when someone got away."

My sister snorted. "There's a big difference between getting pissed off and going off to murder someone," she pointed out. "And anyway, Doakes wasn't doing it to make the world a better place. He was completely fucked in the head. You saw what he did to those bodies. He enjoyed it. Chopping people up was his goddam hobby."

Slightly more dangerous than bowling, I thought. But Deborah didn't understand after all. I considered the people who'd seen behind the mask. The ones who got to see my inner darkness. Harry understood it to a point, but it had ultimately destroyed him. Doakes had never understood. As if he'd needed another reason to hate me.

Rudy—Brian—had understood. And Lila. Ultimately, what they couldn't handle was how I could be so human. In the end, I'd had to destroy them. I was too human for the other monsters, and too much of a monster to ever be understood by the humans.

It was almost enough to make me feel lonely.

But there was no time to worry about that now. I had bigger fish to fry. It was time for some Mulligan stew. "Mulligan will get what he deserves," I said absently.

"Don't tell me you believe in all that karma bull-crap," Deborah pleaded.

I snapped my head up. I'd almost forgotten she was still here. "Well, everyone's gotta die sometime, right?" I explained lamely.

"Was that optimism?" Deb jabbed. I flashed her the appropriate smile: acknowledging her humor, slight embarrassment. "Whatever. I hope Mulligan burns in hell."

A question sat on the tip of my tongue: Do you think Doakes is burning in hell right now? But I didn't ask it.

All things considered, I'd rather not know.

A/N: I'm not sure exactly how to classify this story...potentially these earlier chapters could all be taken as one-shots, but they definitely all tie together. And I do have a plot in mind. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed! Coming in chapter 3: Dexter kills Mulligan--but who else is watching?