Chapter 3

I entered leisurely, looking for Abriella. She was sitting at the back, near the exit door. Did she plan that? Her bruises looked darker than before and her hair was cut short, hiding that it had been ripped.

As I crossed the room she looked up and held my eyes. There was fear in her eyes. That's when I knew she'd chosen this seat by a door for a fast escape if she needed it. At least we had the same amount of trust in each other.

I sat down, our eyes never leaving the others until a teenage waitress came up.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"A cola."

"And to eat?"

"Nothing. Thank you."

"You, ma'am?"

"Just water, nothing to eat." Abriella didn't sound scared. Her voice was steady and rich but all I remembered of her voice was her scream. I would remember that scream forever.

The waitress left us alone. Our eyes returned to each other's.

"I've never lied while breaking the law. I don't know what to tell this lawyer."

"You haven't lied."

"I told them I don't remember after I got away and I do."

"That's not a lie, that's omitting details. Abriella, you have a concussion and were severely beaten; no jury in the country would fault you for not being able to remember things."

"But—"

"No, Abriella. Don't change your story. If you start changing it now, people start asking questions and doubting your honesty."

A tear slid down her face and she dipped her head, turning it toward the wall. She was embarrassed to let people see her cry. She didn't like to show weakness, something I hadn't expected to see in her.

Instinctively, to get her attention, I reached out and put my hand on her arm. I felt her immediately tense. Her eyes instantly turned from fear to hate. She jerked back both arms and put her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that, but you have to trust me Abriella."

"Trust you?" She leaned in. In a whisper that should have been a yell, she asked again, "TRUST YOU!? I caught you chopping up one man, and watched you decapitate another! How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?" More tears. This time there was no shame. "I'm scared to death of you!"

That was a logical and appropriate rebuttal.

The teenage waitress returned with our drinks. I smiled, but it didn't change her hesitant look. She could sense something was happening, even if she didn't know what. She sat the drinks down and quickly left. I saw her stop another waitress, whisper something, and both looked at us. I had to get Abriella under control before people came to help her, and expose me.

I leaned on the table, holding her gaze with mine.

"Did you know your husband was accused of murdering two women before you?"

She stared. She slowly shook her head.

"And the list of assaults on his previous two wives and multiple girl friends has to be at least ten pages. He also had been under investigation for the disappearance of two girlfriends. He would have killed you. I saved your life by killing him."

Now that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say.

"What about the man on the table? What was he guilty of?"

"Sexually assaulted and murdered eight girls under ten. Got away because he always said he was at work and logins and cameras showed it, but there was an exit not covered by cameras or security. He had opportunity."

She pulled napkins from the dispenser and wiped her tears. We sat for several minutes after that while she stared at the napkin, perhaps debating what to do about me.

"No one should be murdered," she whispered. "There isn't an exception to the commandment."

It sounded more like she was telling herself than me, so I didn't reply. What commandment was she talking about?

With her tears dry, she collected herself some and looked back at me. "They weren't your first."

There was no question in it. She knew without me answering. Miguel had known. Lila had known. My father had known. We were entering dangerous, dark territory now. Was there about to be a request?

I didn't answer.

She nodded, looking at me. "You had the place covered in plastic. That would have taken time. You'd planned on that guy on the table. Carter was just a bonus, wasn't he?"

I nodded. She knew me. There was no need to lie right now.

"Why were my clothes changed?"

"You had Carter and Gregory's blood on you. Usually I'm the one that tests that, but I didn't want to take the chance someone else might – like a prosecuting attorney. I changed your clothes, nothing else. I'm not a sexual predator."

She glared at her napkin again. "That makes me feel all better."

"It wasn't meant to. It's a fact."

"Are you sure what I've told people so far will stick?"

"Yes. If you don't change it in any way. If they press charges, you'll need a lawyer."

"I know."

I took out my wallet and dug out a business card. Batista had given me this man's card right after Doakes had attacked me in the lab, in case I needed it. I never did. That problem went away with a stroke of fate. I sat the card down on her side of the table.

"Call this man. Tell him Detective Batista sent you."

She just stared at the card.

I leaned on the table and she looked up at me.

"I've read your police record. You haven't hurt anyone. You are safe."

"I guess I have o believe you. Thank you for meeting with me, Dexter," she said.

That's my cue to leave. She was done talking to me.

"If you need anything, just call."

She picked up the card, but didn't say anything. I got up, putting two dollars on the table for the drink. I turned to leave.

"Dexter."

I turned. She was looking at me again. There was no fear, or anger, or any emotion on her face. Why was that?

"Thank you for coming and pretending to sympathize. I appreciate it."

"Pretending?"

She stood up next to me. "Serial killers rarely feel emotions. It's all just a ploy to fit in."

Who the hell was this woman? How did she know about serial killers?

She walked around me, leaving first. I was very confused by her. What did she want? What was it going to cost me?

#

Rita stopped in front of the large house, watching movers leaving it with a couch. She got out, pulled Harris and his carrier out, and headed inside. Four more muscular men were loading up boxes and furniture, heading for the two moving vans waiting outside.

"Excuse me," she said, stopping one. "Have you seen Abriella Juen?"

"In the kitchen."

Rita walked around them, heading in the direction he'd pointed. She came in finding Abriella packing dishes and crying.

"Hi," Rita said.

Abriella looked up at her and quickly looked away. She was searching for something.

"Hi," Abriella said.

She pulled a tissue box from a box and ripped several out to wipe her eyes and nose.

"You're moving?"

She nodded. "I can't stay here. I keep thinking about…" Abriella burst into tears again.

Rita sat Harris and his carrier on the counter and wrapped her arms around Abriella. She sank to the floor with her.

"He hasn't come back, has he?" Rita asked.

"He's not… No."

"I doubt he will."

Abriella nodded. She sat up, sitting back against a cupboard. Rita gave her hand a squeeze.

"I know he won't come back. Dexter said he wouldn't."

Rita was surprised by that. "Dexter said that?"

Abriella nodded. "He told me that if he was going to come back, he would have already."

"I didn't know you and he were talking."

Abriella looked up at her. "Oh… He… He didn't mention it?"

Rita lifted her eyebrows, shrugging slightly.

"Probably didn't think about it. I've called him at work a few times to ask how I should handle things. Like with Carter's family's lawyer trying to pin his disappearance on me. Dexter didn't know who to help me with it, but he knew a lawyer who could help me. Rita…" Abriella looked up at her. "Please don't be upset. I don't think I would have made it through this without him helping me. He's been an amazing friend through all this."

Rita smiled. She squeezed her hand again.

"My husband is a wonderful man, and he doesn't make friends very easily. I'm perfectly okay with you being his friend."

Abriella smiled.

"Ma'am."

The two looked up at the mover standing in the doorway. "You didn't pack the baby's room. What do—"

Abriella broke down again. Rita looked up at him.

"Leave that room. Just get everything else."

He nodded and left. Rita got up and picked up Harris from his carrier. She sat down next to Abriella, putting her arm around her. Abriella cried against her shoulder.

"We'll get you through this, Abriella," Rita assured her.

#

Sitting near the elevators gave Debra a view of who came and went. When she looked up from her computer and saw Nina Batista walk off, and then past her, she felt trouble brewing.

Nina walked up to her estranged husband's desk and slapped a thick packet of papers down. He looked up from the case file he'd been engrossed in at her, and immediately put on his fighting face. He stood, grabbing the papers.

"I told you never to come to work."

"Sign them."

He grabbed her elbow to lead her to the conference room. She jerked her arm away, stepping back.

"Sign them."

"No," Batista snarled. He grabbed her hand and slapped the papers in it. "Get out of her and don't ever come to my work again."

"If you don't sign them, I will force you."

"Oh? How?"

"I'll prove you're incompetent."

"You have nothing against me."

"I have plenty. Sign the papers."

"Get out."

"Sign the papers, Angel!" she yelled.

He didn't look around the room. He grabbed her elbow and held on when she tried to pull away. Batista marched her back to the elevator, tapping the button.

"We are going. You can't stop me."

He turned, pointing a finger in her face. "You take my daughter across the state line I will file kidnapping charges, Nina. I won't hesitate. Don't ever come to my work again."

The elevator dinged and he escorted heron, and then backed out. The two glared at each other until the doors closed. He turned and walked back into the squad room. He stopped, looking around him.

Everyone quickly ducked his or her heads, going back to work or pretending too. He met eyes with LaGuerta. She motioned him into her office and he obeyed. The blinds went closed. Quinn and Debra exchanged a look, and then went back to work on The Artist case.

#

I walked into a trap.

Opening the door the children ran to great me, healthy, happy, full of energy. Then came Rita with a kiss and hug, and Harrison being passed off to me. He greeted me with a happy laugh and some unintelligible burble. I hugged him. They moved away and I found Abriella sitting at the table. Her hand was wrapped around a glass of iced tea. Her bruises and cuts had faded some, but it was still obvious her husband had wanted her dead. She wasn't looking at me; she was staring at something on the floor.

"Abriella moved out of her house but hasn't found an apartment yet. I invited her to stay with us until she can find one."

My secret keeper was going to be sleeping in the next room? This had to be a twisted joke. "Oh. Okay," I told Rita. "You're always welcome here, Abriella."

Abriella looked up at me. She offered a fake smile, which I returned with an equally fake smile. At least we both knew the other was doing this to continue the charade and appease Rita.

"She made dirt!" Cody told me excitedly as he and Astor ran into the kitchen with Rita.

I sat down next to Abriella.

"You made dirt?" Who makes dirt?

"It's, uhm, a dessert." Abriella explained looking at her lap. She held her glass in her lap with her hands tightly wrapped around it. Even quieter she added, "It's good, but you don't have to have any."

I saw Rita out of the corner of her eye. She was giving me a look that screamed 'You're being rude!'

"I'll try it. Anything once, right, kids?"

"Look what she brought it in," Astor said.

I turned some, staring at the new blue flowerpot Astor held up. It had a bright colored flower sticking out of the top and two gummy worms sticking out of the 'dirt' dessert.

"Maybe we should get a garden spade to serve it?" I asked.

The entire kitchen went silent. The kids and Rita stared at me as if I'd just exploded with a line of cussing. I had no idea what I'd done wrong.

Luckily the oven timer saved me. Rita began directing us and the awkward moment was forgotten.

#

The kids were outside. The neighbor children had instigated a two-block game of hide and seek. They would play until we called them, but since it was a Saturday night, and the children were happy, engaged in physical activity, untethered from their computers, televisions, and video games, that would be well after dark.

We sat in lawn chairs on the front lawn in a half circle around a plastic table, sipping margaritas. Rita had set up Harris' 'corral' and he was busy picking at grass and trying to catch bugs. She sat between Abriella and me – perhaps she didn't trust Abriella as much as she claimed. Did she feel this other woman was a threat?

"I never got to ask you. How was group yesterday?" Rita asked.

"It was upsetting."

Rita leaned toward her. "I thought you liked the group."

"I do. They're really great. It's just that a couple days ago this woman there came in with fresh bruises. Last night she came in with a broken nose and arm. We tried to talk her into going to a shelter, but she wouldn't go. I saw on the news this morning the police found her in an alley, beat unconscious. She's in the hospital now, scared but still planning on going back to him." She shook her head. "This guy is such a good liar and the police believe that he didn't do this." She looked right at me, adding, "He's going to do it to her again, maybe this time kill her."

Was she asking what I thought she was asking? My pulse picked up when I thought of killing this man.

"You can't do anything about it, Abriella," Rita told her. "I know you want to, but you can't."

Abriella let out a soft sigh. "I wish the police would. I wish they could dig around in his past, find his skeletons – I know there's got to be something on this guy that could get him arrested for at least one night." She lifted an eyebrow. "Someone needs to give him his due."

The time had come, hadn't it? Like everyone else who learned my secret, she was expecting payment for keeping it. But if this man was a murderer, and met the Code, was that a bad thing?

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Does it really matter?" Rita asked. She was giving me her 'You're being rude!' look again. I was not earning points with her tonight.

"I could ask Deb to dig around in his past. If there's something there, she might be able to get him arrested for a night," I lied, "but I have to have a name for that."

Rita's look vanished into a smile that spoke of how she appreciated taking interest in Abriella's problem. She would let me get the name now.

"Devin Eskew," Abriella told me.

I gave a nod. Devin Eskew was about to become a problem of the past.

#

I found Devin as he left work. He was manager of inventory at a factory outside of town. I followed him to a bar on the seeder side of town. He parked his SUV on a street with a broken streetlight and walked to the front to meet his twin brother. Twin? I didn't see that coming.

While he was getting drunk, I had time to think. I'd pulled up Abriella's records again, this time with her maiden name. The woman of that lifetime had one speeding ticket, and just barely at that. The cop that pulled her over must have been having a bad day – who gives a ticket to someone doing three miles over? Something about Abriella bugged me.

"You're thinking of Abriella again," Harry said, appearing in the passenger seat next to me.

I nodded.

"She accepted who you are awfully fast."

"It's more than that."

"She hasn't given your secret away and she asked you to do this. She might be like Miguel, wanting to get blood on her hands. Then ask you to teach her, and then break the Code, forcing you to kill her, too."

"She told Rita we were friends. Why would she do that?"

"Trying to lure you into a false sense of security."

I sighed. "Maybe."

Devin walked out of the bar with his brother. They parted at the door. His brother headed down one way; Devin toward his SUV.

I got out and moved stealthily toward him. He pulled out his keys, dropped them, fumbled to pick them up, almost fell over, and finally hooked the ring on a finger. He was in no shape to be driving, but I would take care of that, too. He found the right key just as I plunged the needle into his neck and pushed sedative into the vein. He gasped, briefly, and then passed out. I smiled a little, already feeling euphoria for what was to come.

#

I spun around on the bar stool, waiting for Devin to wake up. He lay pinned to a pool table in a deserted bar. Over the last six months the bar had been given numerous health code violations, but selling to minors was the last straw that shut them down. It had been looted, but they hadn't been able to move out the pool table that was bolted to the floor.

Displayed around Devin were pictures of his victims: the man whose throat he'd slit, the woman whose head he'd indented, the girlfriend he'd put in the hospital. They were there to watch his execution, and judge him for his sins.

Devin turned his head and woke up suddenly. He pulled against his restraints – they weren't going to give.

"Hello, Devin," I crooned as I got up and approached the table.

"Who… What… Where am I? Who are you?"

"Who I am doesn't matter to you. They do." I pointed at the photographs.

He turned his head, staring at them.

"Did that fucking bitch send you after me?" He must be referring to the girlfriend he'd beat; the same one that still wanted to go back to him after he'd broken her nose, arm, and ribs. "I'm gonna—"

"Kill her?" I interrupted. I hopped onto the pool table next to him. God I loved this job! "I'm afraid you won't be around long enough for that."

"I can pay you three times what she paid you to kill me."

I stood and began circling him. "This is a charity case. Devin," I leaned over him. "What's it like to bash a person's head in?"

Before he could answer I crouched, sliced his cheek, and with a pipet, pulled out a few ounces of blood from the incision.

"What the fuck!?" he screamed.

In front of his face I added a drop of blood to a slide and dropped a coverslip over it. The blood bloomed out – a sight that never failed to thrill me.

"I'm feeling generous today, Devin," I told him, smiling.

He looked hopeful. He misunderstood what I meant by that. What a wonderful game!

"Anything you want, it's yours."

"Anything I want?"

He hesitated.

I interrupted him before he could answer, "I want you to disappear. I'm going to get exactly what I want."

I jumped off the table, grabbed a cleaver and a thin blade knife. I held one up on either side of his head. "I'll give you a choice. A quick death," I shook the cleaver. "Or a slow death." I looked at the thin blade for a second. "Which do you prefer?"

"FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!" Devin screamed.

I grinned again. "Slow. Good choice." I dropped the cleaver and gripping the knife with both hands, lifted it over my head.

"No! NO! Fast! I want fast!"

"Too late." I plunged the knife into his heart.

He gasped and gurgled on his own blood. A fine mist of blood expelled from his lips and blood began frothing on the corners of his mouth.

And then he did something none of my victims had ever done. He whispered, "I'm… Sorry."

He was gone, and I was stunned.

Harry appeared next to me. "He wasn't really sorry."

"You don't know that."

"They are never sorry. He would have done it again."

"We don't know that."

"You can't let that stop you, Dexter."

I looked at him. "Ever since I met Abriella, strange things have happened. One after the other."

"Coincidence. She's not your friend."

"Maybe." I looked at Devin before I retrieved my bone saw. I flicked it on and went to work.