Hey everyone, I hope you're doing well! As always, thanks for the feedback. I really really really appreciate it, you have no idea how happy it makes me to read your reactions. And even to the few of you who choose not to leave reviews *cough cough* lol, I really do appreciate that you're bothering to read and follow my story at all!
I have a few more comments, but i'll save those for the end of chapter 8 because I don't want to say anything spoiler-y. Hope you enjoy!
It's only been a few hours since I last saw Deb, but I've already found myself starting to miss her. This morning, I managed to convince her to call out sick from work for one last day; but sitting in my lab doing tedious blood work has made me regret that decision. I know that no matter how brave a face Deb thinks she'll be able to put on for everyone at Miami Metro, she isn't ready to come back and deal with LaGuerta's absence. Still, I selfishly wish she were here, peeking into my lab to flash me a quick smile through the blinds like she used to. More than anything, I miss the closeness that we shared a few hours ago. I crave it.
I'm running purely on coffee and a couple hours of sleep because most of last night was spent lying awake and working out my feelings for Deb. While I watched her sleep, I finally came to terms with feelings that I should have realized existed long ago, and I feel…liberated. I once thought that crossing that line with Deb would ruin her; but now we're closer than I ever thought possible, and I'm truly grateful.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach down to grab it shamelessly fast, anticipating the soothing sound of Deb's voice on the other line. Much to my disappointment, her picture doesn't flash onto the screen. The number looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place it.
"Hello?" I answer, probably coming off more hostile than necessary.
"Who is this?" A man's voice asks.
"Who is this? You did call me, you know."
"I was hoping to talk to Lisa…wait; you're that guy from last night, aren't you? Not cool, man." Marv replies.
"Don't ever call this number again." I say coldly before ending the call.
Frustrated at the fact that I have nothing to do besides wait around for Deb to call, I decide to enter Marv's phone number into the police database and see what I can find out about the guy. He rubbed me the wrong way last night, and something in my lizard brain is telling me that he could be a good candidate for my table.
My dark passenger isn't aching for a kill right now, but taking this guy out would be gratifying to say the least. I didn't like the way he was eyeing Deb at the bar, and the fact that he had the gall to call and ask about 'Lisa' as if he actually has a shot with her irks me. Deb is mine and no one else's.
I'm pleased when I actually find a record of Marv in the police database. His full name is Marvin Lee Sturgis, and he has five previous arrests. Four of them are for rape, though he was only convicted in one case and sentenced to a measly two months in prison. The final charge is what really catches my eye, however. Three years ago, Marvin was arrested for the murder of a prostitute. Of course, he managed to walk in that case too, because the evidence against him was largely circumstantial. This menace to society being free to roam the streets doesn't reflect well on Miami's finest, but that's okay with me. I definitely see sheets of plastic in his future.
My lab door suddenly swings open, and I rush to close the webpage in case my unexpected visitor gets curious about what I was looking at. I relax when Angel enters the room and lightly closes the door behind him. He still isn't looking like himself. If I were a normal person in his situation, I don't think I'd bother coming into work at all, but Angel Batista has always been a dedicated man. It's one of the qualities I admire most about him. He's still convinced that we haven't done all we can to find justice for Maria, and although his refusal to accept the scene I set isn't good for Deb and I, I actually respect the fact that he won't give up on her. If I were in the same position as he is in now, there's no doubt in my mind that I would do whatever it took to avenge Deb; though I'm not sure that Angel will be dishing out my specific brand of conflict resolution any time soon.
"Hey Dex," he begins. "I just wanted to give you the information for Maria's funeral. It's scheduled for this Friday."
He hands me two funeral programs, and I assume the second one is for Deb. On the front of the pamphlet is a large photo of Maria, and 'Maria LaGuerta, a fallen hero' is printed underneath in bold. I remember the day that the picture was taken; it was during the ceremony where she was unexpectedly promoted to captain a few months ago. She's wearing her decorated police uniform, and her deep brown eyes are staring back into mine. I decide against giving the extra program to Deb. There's no doubt in my mind that being forced to look into Maria's eyes again will bring her right back to that night, and there's no way that I'm going to risk her falling back down the rabbit hole. I almost lost her once, and I can't go through that again.
"Thanks Angel, Deb and I will definitely be there. We wouldn't miss it."
I reach out and place my hand on Angel's shoulder, hoping that he'll appreciate the supportive gesture.
"Thanks Dex. I know she wasn't exactly fair to you in her last days, but I know that your forgiveness would mean a lot to her if she was still here." He replies.
"There's no need for forgiveness Angel. She just got a little carried away with trying to clear Doakes' name. It's understandable. No one wanted to believe it. A lot of us still don't; but Maria was a friend, and I'll always remember her that way."
"I appreciate it Dexter. By the way, what happened to your face, bro?" He asks with hints of his former, happier self returning as he flashes a slight smirk.
I raise my hand to my cheek and rub the small cut Deb gave me this morning, grinning as I muse over what came after our confrontation.
"Oh, it's nothing. Harrison was just playing a little rough." I lie.
Angel simply nods, and then walks out the door.
I watch through the blinds as he hands programs out to every other solemn looking employee in the department, and a weird feeling comes over me. I think it might actually be regret.
I originally planned on going straight home to Deb and Harrison after work, but another call from Marv had put me on edge. This time, he left a voicemail practically begging for me to give him Lisa's number. He also mentioned that he would be back at the bar at 8:00 PM tonight in case she wanted to 'pick up where they left off', and I decided that now would be as good a time as any to get rid of him for good. It wouldn't be as neat as I usually like, and I would have to rush, but it would be worth it.
I change into the backup kill suit that I keep in my car and quickly make sure that I have enough M99 with me before heading to the bar. Halfway there, I realize that I haven't set up a kill room. It's risky, but I decide to set one up in an abandoned warehouse near my apartment. It isn't very secure, but I've used it before and it'll have to do.
As I'm arranging the plastic wrap around the room, my phone vibrates. I irritably snatch it out of my pocket, fully expecting to hear Marv's grating voice yet again. My heart races when I see Deb's picture on the screen.
"Hey Deb." I answer, doing my best to mask the excitement in my voice.
"Hey yourself." Deb replies.
It sounds like she's smiling, which makes me smile, too.
"Are you working late? I thought maybe we could toss back a few beers and watch a crappy movie together." She suggests.
I hesitate, unsure of what to tell her. It's getting harder and harder for me to lie to her, but I decide that she doesn't need to know what I'm up to. Surely she wouldn't think that killing Marv is a great idea, no matter how big of a creep he is.
"I don't know Deb…you see where alcohol got you last night. You sure you want to go down that road again?" I ask flirtatiously.
"Maybe, maybe not. Get your ass over here and you'll find out." She responds.
"I just have to finish up some blood work first, and then I'm all yours."
"Okay, see you soon. I love you."
"I love you too." I answer.
I end the call and finish covering the rest of the area with plastic wrap, then drive the rest of the way to the bar.
I spot Marv sitting alone behind the counter, polishing off what looks like his third or fourth drink of the night. Perfect. No one will find me leading a drunken man to his car at all suspicious. The bar isn't the least bit crowded, probably because it's a Wednesday night, and that reassures me further. The fewer witnesses there are, the better.
I nonchalantly sit down next to Marv, but he doesn't notice me because he's too preoccupied with ogling at a bartender's exposed cleavage.
"Hey, Lisa told me to give you a message." I whisper.
Marv turns around, and there's a look of disgust on his face when he realizes who I am.
"Fuck off." I hiss, injecting him with the M99 before anyone even so much as bats an eyelash.
"You picked the wrong girl to proposition, Marv." I say tauntingly as the man regains consciousness.
He struggles to free himself to no avail, then stops fidgeting for a second to hurl a glob of spit in my direction.
"Classy." I add in a monotone voice.
"What the hell is wrong with you, dude? I'll leave that bitch alone, I swear. I swear!" Marv screams. His eyes look like they're going to bulge right out of their sockets, and I fight the urge to laugh.
"I'd love to stay and chat Marv, but I've got somewhere better to be. And quite frankly, you bore me."
I raise my knife into the air and plunge it into his chest rather unceremoniously. He doesn't even scream, and I instantly find myself wishing that I had treated him to a much more painful end.
I lift my hacksaw from the table beside me and start to dismember the body. I successfully separate one leg at the knee, and just when I'm about to turn my attention to the other leg, I hear a loud thud. I register that the noise must have come from a few feet away. It sounds like someone tripped over one of the many crates scattered throughout the warehouse.
"Holy shit." The person mumbles.
I see a shadow and take off in pursuit of the male figure. I stop chasing when the man escapes across the street and hops into a dark-colored vehicle, quickly peeling out of the parking lot and speeding down the street and out of my sight. I couldn't see a face because of the oversized hoodie he was wearing; but that voice…that voice sounded oddly familiar.
I head back into the warehouse and decide against finishing the dismemberment of Marv's body. I know that it's precarious to just leave him here, but it's even riskier to finish the job and dispose of him the way I usually do. Whoever it was that had been here was clearly following me, and he could very well still be close by, waiting for me to make my next move. Waiting to catch me in the act.
I remove the plastic wrap from the body so that when it's eventually found, nothing looks too out of the ordinary, minus the one severed leg of course. LaGuerta publicly accused me of being the Bay Harbor Butcher in front of the entire department. How would it look if mere days after her death, another victim fitting the profile is discovered minutes from my house? Suspicious, to say the least.
I don't need any more eyes on me. Eyes on me mean eyes on Deb, and I can't risk her going down for me.
As I gather up my tools and leave the warehouse, I convince myself that everything is going to be alright. I'm sure that my colleagues at Miami Metro will peg this as some random killing, or maybe even the work of a new serial killer in town. As for the mysterious intruder, I tell myself to just let it go. Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. This is one secret that I don't think I can keep from my sister.