Disclaimer: I do not own Dexter or any part of it.

Do note that this Dexter is a mix between the book and television Dexter, the story takes place after season four and before season five. A major season four spoiler is mentioned, so please avoid if you haven't seen season four yet.

Sorry this update took forever, I kinda forgot that I posted the thing... and what makes it even worse is that this thing has been sitting for months now, just waiting to be read by someone other than my creative writing teacher XD

Chapter Two

Eddie

Ah, there he is, Eddie Adder. He had been under my radar for a few weeks now, I began the investigation when the feelings of my need began to slowly pick at my skin, and as I sit here watching him I feel like I'm a lion stalking his prey, that's how it should always be, hunter and prey. But the difference between me and a lion is that I can't pounce yet, I have to watch and wait.

Patience Dexter, the relief will come soon. The Dark Passenger whispered within.

I watched Eddie intently as he climbed into his old banged up black Pontiac, he was heading out to Freddy's Bar, his typical Tuesday and Thursday night activity. From 8:50 pm to midnight Eddie would be at Freddy's, giving me the opportunity to finish my snooping.

He veered left as he pulled out of the driveway. The moment his vehicle was no longer in sight, I slipped out of my SUV that I had discreetly parked on the opposite side of the street only one house away. I pulled the leather gloves onto my hands as I approached his doorway; this place was a mess. I stepped up to the green front door and gave the rusty handle a little twist, and as I expected, locked. But no worry here, a locked door is never a problem for Dexter. Out of my back pocket emerged two little pins, two little pins that in the right hand could unlock any door, and luckily I had the right hands. I slipped them into the keyhole and fumbled with them a bit till I heard that magic click, the one the signaled the door was now unlocked, free for me to enter.

With a grin I stepped inside the house, I expected it to be a reflection or even a exclamation of the outside, the overgrown yard that was like a jungle, rusty hinges and handles, chipped paint, a hideous house indeed. But the inside only revealed that the outside is nothing but a façade, a mask hiding what's under, and in a way like me. The house was immaculate, everything was organized and in its place, the paintings were hung perfectly, not a hair out of place. The place was pristine and spotless, I couldn't help but admire the neatness, he was like me, a neat monster in hiding, but that is where the similarities end.

I have a code, Eddie does not.

You see, Eddie has a thing for teenage girls, especially 15 years old. He'd rape them and then kill them, each victim would be found with the right side of their sleeve gone, it was his trade mark and the sleeves became little trophies. An odd choice for a trophy, but hey, whatever floats your boat. But those sleeves are what I'm on the hunt for tonight. I find his little collection and Eddie's fate is sealed.

Now, where would a monster like Eddie hide his collection of trophies? The bedroom perhaps? Most normal people keep personal stuff in the bedroom, then again, Eddie isn't normal, but it would be worth a try anyways.

His bedroom was an easy find, out of the three doors in the hallway it was the only open door, it was a modest room, nothing too luxurious. The walls were covered in a bleak blue paint and a few pieces of art, the majority of the art in his house was just a bunch of shapes organized into a pattern or just randomly placed, it was all color block art. On each side of the bed is a simple white nightstand, a lamp on one and a clock on the other, on the right wall was a white dresser, directly across on the left wall was a small closet, and above the bed was a window with the curtains drawn. I started my hunt in his closet, rummaging through the little that occupied it, just a few suits and shoes, no secret compartments, no sleeves. Next came the nightstands, then under the bed and under the mattress, and then the dresser, absolutely nothing. Before I left the room I checked to make sure everything was in place and as I found it, getting caught was not a part of my agenda. I then moved to the hallway closet, I stripped the thing apart, removing and checking through everything and once again, no such luck. Oh Eddie Adder, where might your little collection be?

I was starting to run out of time, it was now eleven o'clock; I only had a little less than a hour left before Eddie would pull back into the driveway, and I was still evidence-less. We were growing irritated as we took a quick glance around the bathroom, now to the living room. I decided to start at the bookshelf, I had to start somewhere, as I began to pick it apart piece by piece a painting to the right caught my eye. All it was just a bunch of blocks of all sizes and colors, abstract art that caught my eye, or the Dark Passenger's. I set down the book in my hand and moved towards it, I felt gravitated to the piece of art, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

No, it couldn't be, it was too obvious, but I had to give it a try. I wrapped my fingers behind the painting, slightly lifting it from the wall, with another tug it was now off the wall and being grasped by leather covered hands. I gave the wall a glance, no secret shelf or safe here. I gently flipped the painting over, bingo.

There it was, right in front of my face, hiding in almost plain sight, his sleeve collection. The sleeves were arranged on the back of the painting to mirror the painting on the front, there were only five sleeves here and I was aware of at least seven victims, where were the rest. With a grin I placed the painting back onto the wall and went across to a similar painting, the same sight greeted my eyes. Except the fact that this painting's mirror was completed on the back by nine sleeve, fourteen trophies, that's double of what I was aware of. The bedroom. My Dark Passenger whispered, yes the bedroom, it had a similar painting. I checked the painting in the bedroom to find another completed mirror; this one consisted of seven sleeves. So in total that makes twenty-one victims, twenty-one dead innocent teenagers, the thought of it is quite repulsing, but what makes my stomach turn is the thought that I could have been just like him. If it wasn't for my cop-foster father Harry and his code, I might have turned out just like him. But I had Harry and his code, and that's all that matters.

I hung the painting back up and headed out of the house with a smirk, your fate has been sealed Eddie.

"You're mine now."