...Please don't shoot! Okay, so I might be amore than a little late with this update. I just moved across state and the internet people took forever to get here...I was mostly writing at the local McDonald's which has free internet.
So, Dexter's thinking about getting help for his "problem", George is about to get more involved with the case if possible, and Lundy has begun combing the department for the BHB...we'll see how this goes.
George's POV
I flicked my pencil across the desk. I was horribly, completely B-O-R-E-D. So far, progress on the BHB was zilch and looking to stay that way. Happy Time was the same as usual, which is to say that as of yet, NOTHING besides a paper cut (The moment of near excitement was almost too much) happened this morning. I looked at my sticky note again, even though I had the words memorized.
Donald Gengurt
ETD-8:32 PM
Narcotics Anonymous Basement
It was 4:34 PM. Only five hours and fifty four minutes to go.
It occurred to me then, that since almost all the BHB cases went through Miami Metro Homicide, that quite possibly one of them was the Butcher. I shook that notion off. The police would know if they had a deranged serial killer under their roof, wouldn't they? But the Butcher was sneaky...in any case, Agent Lundy knew all that I knew, so it was in his hands. It was just my job to do the field research and get out of here.
Well, it couldn't hurt to check under every rock. I began writing down the names of every person I had met at the police department when I went to talk to Dexter.
Vince Masuka- Definitely not the Butcher. He didn't look like he could lift two women, let alone stomach cutting a person into pieces with power tools.
Sergeant Doakes- Angry enough. But he seemed like his sense of justice and loyalty was to the cops. He was strong enough to carry a car, and his gun and excessive force showed that evidently he could stand hacking away at cadavers.
Detective Angel Batista- Didn't seem like the type. He was too laid back and friendly to want to commit murder most foul. It was quite possible however he was carrying a deep, dark built in rage against the "ones who got away".
Laguarta- She was a focused, single minded career political woman. She would hardly take the time from her day to do something that wouldn't advance her career in one way or another, and as far as I could tell, murder usually landed you in prison, not a promotion.
Deborah Morgan- An alright woman. Again, not the type. I couldn't see her slight frame, barely recovering from the Ice Truck Killer case, hunting down and killing criminals. It was possible, just not probable. Besides, I had the feeling that the BHB was a guy.
Dexter Morgan- The man was creepy enough. He seemed happy and content, but it all seemed like an act. While he might not be a killer, Dexter definitely is hiding something in those dark eyes of his.
I wracked my brain for any more information. Nope. I'd have to work with this. My head had begun to pound, whether from boredom or stress I couldn't tell. I just wanted to get out of this dinky hell hole I call work.
I decided to clock out early. Life was too short (I'm currently below zero in years I have left to live.) to waste it on boredom. I headed for my car and reached for the map I carry in the glove compartment. While I may know my way around the local tourist destinations and about 74% of the city, I did not know where junkies went to talk about their problems and work through them in a warm, friendly atmosphere.
Great. On the complete opposite end of town. I rested my hands in my head and tried to forget the price of gas these days. After picking out the shortest, most efficient route, I started the car and headed off to get there about two and a half hours ahead of schedule. Yay.
Dexter's POV
My first NA meeting is tonight. I don't really want to go, but Rita's been very much into helping me work through my "problems". I'm all for that, I just don't think the poor people at these meetings are ready for what dark, devious Dexter has really been up too in the wee hours of the morning. But here I am, trying to forget about all my problems and looking for an escape route. I pulled into a parking space, right next to a red Cadillac. After locking the car I headed downstairs to the basement, where this meeting was supposedly being held.
The room was about half full when I got inside, most people were sitting in the fold up chairs that had been set up for the meeting. There was little chatter going on and I spied a table of what seemed to be an ancient coffee pot that deserved to be put down and some crusty cookies on a plate beside it. I decided not to take my chances and made my way to a chair in the back row.
As soon as I sit down I spot my mistake. To my immediate right in flesh and blood was one George/Millie. I tried not to react and could tell she was holding back a bit of surprise as well. George stiffened and attempted not to look my way at all throughout the entire meeting. It had started at eight, but at about halfway through she got up and making a point not to see me, wandered over to another man, supposedly to ask him a question. She brushed his shoulder as she leaned over and then calmly walked back to her seat. I was a tad tense during the exchange and more than a bit fascinated. This young woman was just as obviously here for drug rehab as I was. I was about to witness another kill by a master.
Suddenly, for no visible explanation, the ancient coffeepot next to the man exploded, with pieces impaling themselves in his head. Cookies went flying and the population of the room dove for cover. George/Millie calmly sank low in her seat and grabbed another chair for cover. That chair happened to be the one I was using to deflect the burning coffee that was raining down. Our eyes met and I suddenly saw the face of a much more startled young woman, one who looked identical to the deceased George Lass. She released the chair and crawled away. The counselor for the group attempted to calm people down, and on failing, dismissed the meeting and called for police. I tried to slip away and follow George, but all too soon I lost sight of her. I arrived in the parking lot in time to see the red Cadillac pull away.
I wanted to scream, through a tantrum, and most definitely kill somebody. I needed a kill and soon. And though I would love for Ms. Lass to be on my table, tied down with plastic the Code did not allow it. I couldn't prove her guilt yet. I resorted to punching the brick wall repeatedly and ended up with some bloody knuckles for my actions. Growling and cursing under my breath, I yanked the door of the minivan open and slammed my head into the driver's wheel. Damn. Damn. The only living witness to a kill and I couldn't kill her. She was too much trouble. I just needed to find out how she killed, that was all I really needed.
Think Dexter, think. Each kill has a different M.O. All the kills look like accidents and no evidence is left behind, besides a few fingerprints. The only consistency was the touch. Right before each kill she put her hand on the victim by shaking their hand, touching their shoulder, or something of that kind. It couldn't be a poison...maybe it was a signal to someone she was working with. She would touch the victim, and someone else, a partner, activates whatever accident has to occur. An exploding coffeepot in this case.
But there was no other recognizable person in any of the other cases. And if I only killed George, the unnamed partner would have a chance to get away, or possibly kill me. I couldn't risk it.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I started the minivan and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the apartment.
When I get back all the lights are shut off and it's completely dark inside. I sigh as I pull out the key and try to make as little noise as possible. The second I get inside however, is probably the most unpredictably sight I've ever laid eyes on. George Lass is sitting on my couch and glaring at a spot on the carpet clutching a baseball bat with a warrior's ferocity.
So, kind of short, I apologize. This was sitting in my laptop all summer and since school is starting for me, I decided it was best to get it out even if it was a tad short, because it probably wouldn't get done until November otherwise. Just a few questions for people who are reviewing then...
1. Were character's in character?
2. Did this chapter flow easily or did it have a choppy feel to it?
3. Does it connect with previous chapters easily?
4. In one word, describe this chapter-
