Dexter pulled up in front of the restaurant in his pickup-truck, a vehicle in good repair but not shiny or new. The Waystation was a large, weathered, wooden building with its name on the front and neon beer signs in the windows. He climbed out and went inside. The interior was more bar than restaurant but served both purposes. There was a pool table in one corner with a couple of men playing pool.

He walked to the bar and the bartender looked up at his approach greeting him, "Roger."

"Jim," Dexter returned the greeting with a nod.

The bartender reached under the counter and came up with a beer, popped the cap off and slid it across to Dexter. "I'll have Sue get your steak."

"Thanks," Dexter said and strolled to a table next to the wall taking a drink from his beer. He sat with his back to the wall and surveyed the restaurant.

The crowd was typical, a bunch of lumberjacks and other workers, a sprinkling of women, some young, some not so young. The overall impression was of jeans and flannel. On the far side of the 'dining' area were a couple of tables full of men on the young side of middle age who ostensibly were dressed the same as the rest of the patrons, but their clothes were newer, the colors not so faded. They didn't look like they spent their days in hard labor.

"Hunters from Seattle, staying at the lodge," Harry commented at his side.

Dexter glanced over, took a drink of beer and nodded, "There are still a few. The season will be over soon."

"They think they're hunters," Harry said with a slight hint of pride, "you could show them a thing or two about real hunting."

"But they don't fit the code," Dexter objected, "and I don't feel the need. The whole idea just makes me tired. It's cost me too much."

Sue, the waitress, came from behind the counter carrying a plate. She looked to be in her mid forties, friendly and confident. "Here's your steak, Roger," Sue said putting the plate containing a steaming steak in front of him. "Can I get you another beer?"

"Still working on this one," Dexter said, "but thanks".

She smiled at him and headed back toward the kitchen. Dexter focused his attention on his plate and cut off a bite of steak.

"Steak and beer, the traditional Morgan dinner," he heard Debra's voice and looked up, seeing her in his mind across the table from him.

Dexter gave her a smile and slightly raised the fork with the bite in salute, "I miss eating it with you."

"What the fuck, Dex," She leaned forward.

Dexter looked puzzled, "What?"

"What's this fucking Nanook of the North thing you've got going? You're supposed to be with Harrison." She glared at him.

"It's not safe for Harrison to be around me," Dexter explained. "It's not safe for anyone I love to be around me. It's better to live up here by myself."

"So you left my nephew with fucking Hannah McKay? She's a fucking serial killer," Debra complained. "I understand you going off with her, you two shared a common thing, but sending your son off alone with her? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I couldn't go, Deb," Dexter said, "Not after I killed you."

"You didn't fucking kill me, Dexter," Debra said, "That bastard Saxon killed me, it wasn't your fault."

"I should have taken care of him, Deb," Dexter said, "He was my responsibility."

"The fuck he was, he was my fucking responsibility. I was just too slow. I was the one with the fucking badge."

"I was still supposed to take care of him, even if I just had a laminate," Dexter disagreed, "It's what I do."

"The fuck you were, you were supposed to take care of your family. Leaving the fucker to me was the right thing to do. You finally made the right choice."

"I don't think I did," Dexter said miserably. "It cost you your life."

"In the fucking line of duty," Debra said, "I'm a fucking hero – it's a hell of a lot better than I really deserve. You and I both know that. They'll probably give me a fucking bench next to fucking LaGuerta. There's fucking irony for you."

Dexter looked down at his steak and sighed.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Dexter looked up and saw a good looking blonde woman in the ubiquitous jeans and flannel, with an extra button unbuttoned in her cleavage. He'd seen her on previous occasions but didn't know her name. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed her approach.

Yes I do mind.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say to discourage her. She took the pause as permission and pulled out the chair across from him and sat in it, setting her beer down. "I'm Darlene," she said holding out her hand.

"Roger," Dexter said, awkwardly reaching out to shake hands as he tried to get control of the situation.

"I notice you here every night," Darlene said, "You always sit alone. Jim told me you work at the logging operation."

"I drive a truck," Dexter explained.

"I work the desk at the lodge," Doreen said in return.

"I heard there wasn't much business this time of year," Dexter offered struggling for something to say. Small talk was not Dexter's forte.

"It's down from the summer season. We're going to close the cabins in a couple of weeks."

"I didn't know the lodge closed for the winter," Dexter said.

"Just the cabins, they're too hard to keep warm. We keep the main lodge open. We're down to one cabin rented this week, the rest are staying at the lodge. That's pretty much our whole guest list sitting over there," Darlene gestured with her bottle toward the tables of hunters. She turned back to Dexter and took a breath, "So, tell me about yourself."

I kill people and put their body parts in plastic bags.

"I'm not very interesting," Dexter said, "I just drive a logging truck."

Darlene leaned forward, "I think there's more to you than that. There's something in your eyes that I find fascinating."

Dexter looked away.

Has she seen my Dark Passenger?

Noticing his embarrassment she sat back, "Anyway, I thought it might be nice to get acquainted – it's not like there's a lot of nightlife out here."

"It is pretty quiet," Dexter agreed.

"So, we have to make our own nightlife," Darlene leaned forward with a little smile.

I came here to avoid my night life.

"I can't," Dexter held up his hand using Rita's ring as a shield.

"Oh," Darlene's smile faded. "Jim didn't tell me you were married. He said you were never with anyone."

"She's a long way away," Dexter explained.

A very long way.

"So, are you separated?" she asked.

"I'm just up here for the work," Dexter said.

"It must get lonely," Darlene observed.

"I like the quiet," Dexter said.

Darlene shrugged, "Can't blame a girl for trying." She took a drink from her beer and gave him a little salute, "I'll let you get back to your steak. Nice finally meeting you." She got up and turned from the table.

"That was dangerous, Dexter. You can't let someone like her get close to you," Harry warned.

"I don't intend to let anyone get close to me," Dexter agreed. "That's why I came here. I wonder what she saw in my eyes?"

"They say 'eyes are a window to the soul'," Harry quoted.

"Do I even have a soul," Dexter wondered.

"Of course you do, you jackass," Debra added her voice to the discussion.

"I just want to finish my dinner," Dexter complained, glancing from his image of Deb to Harry. He looked down to cut off another piece and when he looked up he was sitting alone again.

I don't think I want to have a soul. To have a soul would mean that I might face even greater punishment than I already have. And if I have a soul, what of the other monsters I have killed? Did they have souls too? Could someone with a soul do what we do?

Dexter finished his steak and beer in his customary solitude. As he ate, his eye was drawn involuntarily to Darlene as she moved around the room chatting with various people.

"She is a good looking woman," Harry commented appreciatively.

"A lot of the men in here think so," Dexter agreed. "A number of them have their eyes on her."

At that moment I saw it – in the eyes of one of the hunters as he watched her. It was something dark and primal. A look I had seen many times before, one I knew well. His Dark Passenger was on the hunt!

"Finally, a target," Harry said with satisfaction.

"We don't know that," Dexter disagreed, "I could be mistaken."

"But we know you're not," Harry said.

I wasn't, I knew that look.

"I still have to do the research," Dexter said. "The code requires that I be sure."

"And you will be," Harry said, "you have to find out more about him."

I had thought that my Dark Passenger had been sleeping, that perhaps I would find peace in the gray numbness that my life had become. But the moment I saw the look in his eyes my Dark Passenger awoke and filled me with energy. I was alive again.