Heyyy lovely people! For some reason it feels like I haven't updated in ages. I've had Chapter 13 sitting around for a while, so I guess that's probably why. Chapter 14 is slightly longer than usual, I hope you don't mind :) I was going to wait to post it and just put up Chapter 13 for now, but i've been doing 2 chapters every time I update so that just felt wrong to me lol.
AngryHellFish i'm really glad that I was able to trick you because I wasn't sure if I did well or not building up suspense there haha. I'm so happy that you're enjoying this, your review really made me smile :) Guest thanks so much, that really means a lot to me. Season 8 could've been so much better than what we got. I think they really failed with Deb and Dex's relationship. Even if they didn't want to go the romantic route, they kind of just dropped how important they were to each other after the first couple of episodes. Dexter kind of stopped caring about Deb until the finale, which was complete bullshit :l ROSEY cheeks I'm sooo happy to see you back, your reviews never fail to make me smile. I share your feelings about Quinn honestly. I have something planned for him, but i'm not going to give anything away! lol I can't promise you that Dexter and Deb are going to live happily ever after, but i'll do my best give them an ending that they deserve :)
I love you all, and as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!
All I see is red. The blood that trickles behind my eyelids is insidious, and I feel myself gradually starting to lose control. Masuka is still standing in my lab, the spitting image of a wide-eyed puppy that just wandered into the wrong yard. I turn to face him with my fists clenched at my sides, wanting nothing more than to wring his neck right here and now. No, that's too easy; I'll slit his wrists and let him bleed out onto the linoleum floor while everyone stands and watches, shocked into speechlessness. I want to witness the light slowly fade from his eyes. I want to take his life away, just like he took Deb's…but there's no longer any room for sloppiness and impulsiveness. There never was, and I should have realized that long before I got my sister involved in any of this.
Deb. She needs me.
"Get out of my way, Vince." I say after I manage to compose myself.
"Dex, I'm sorry…but DNA doesn't lie, man. You know that."
I ignore Masuka's statement and push past him on my way out of the lab.
"They're going to take the cost of that computer right out of your paycheck, dude!" He yells after me. "I would take it easy if I were you!"
I know that I shouldn't have been so aggressive in front of my co-workers; after all, the Dexter Morgan they know and love is a reserved lab geek. I've done my best over the years to maintain that façade and avoid revealing my true self, but every second that Deb spends in police custody brings me closer to the edge and if things get any worse, I'm bound to fall off. Deb is my lifeline. She's what keeps me grounded. Without her here to keep me in check, there's no telling what I'd do next. If my colleagues think that the destroyed computer was the extent of my rage, they'll be in for a rude awakening if Deb isn't back in my arms soon, safe and sound.
Masuka continues to shout misguided warnings my way, but I ignore his idiocy and break into a brisk jog through the hallway, determined to find Deb before anything earth-shattering has the chance to go down. When I spot the interrogation room that Deb and Batista are in, I turn on the intercom so I can listen to what's being said. I know that as the blood guy I don't have the clearance to listen in on police interrogations, but that doesn't matter to me now. What matters is making sure that Deb doesn't incriminate herself. I'll break this glass and put an end to the questioning myself if it comes to that. I consider Batista a friend, one of my only friends, in fact, but that doesn't mean that I won't take care of him if I become desperate enough.
"Deb, you're going to have to start talking." Angel pushes.
Deb looks up and seems to stare directly into my eyes before answering. I know that she isn't really looking at me; it's a two-way mirror and she can't see anything but her reflection, but a part of me believes that she knows I'm here. I'm glad that she trusts that I wouldn't let her face this alone. How could I? This is all my fault anyway.
When Deb sat in that trailer clutching onto LaGuerta's corpse, the first thought to cross my mind was that she was contaminating the crime scene. I thought that I did my best removing any trace of her, but my best clearly wasn't good enough. Because of my carelessness, Deb might pay the ultimate price. She was right to go off on me yesterday. No matter how apologetic I am, I end up falling right back into the cycle. I'm constantly hurting Deb, constantly forcing the knife deeper and deeper. If Angel manages to see through her lies, this could end up being the fatal wound.
"Doesn't this seem like an overreaction? It hurts that you would even think that I was capable of hurting Maria." Deb finally answers.
She's playing the offended victim card. Good. My darling little sister is stronger than she thinks, but playing dumb is definitely her best option for now.
"I don't want to think that, Deb. It doesn't make any sense. That's why I need you to start talking." Angel presses.
Deb takes a deep breath and hardens her gaze on me.
"You're doing fine, Deb. You're okay." I say, despite the fact that I know my words will go unheard. For once in my life, I have faith; faith that she'll be able to handle herself as she has so many times before.
"Angel, it's me, one of your closest friends," She says. "This is a fucking enormous waste of time. Cases have been piling up on my desk, so I really should be getting back to work."
"I don't care about those other cases right now, Deb. Maria LaGuerta was murdered in cold blood, and things are not adding up. Talk." Angel replies, refusing to back down.
"Her killer is six feet under, where he belongs. There's really nothing left to say here, Angel. I think it would be best for everyone if we closed the case."
"Talk." Angel repeats through gritted teeth, ignoring my sister's plea.
"Maria and I worked in close proximity to each other. We had contact multiple times per day, and hair sheds. My hair is pretty long, so it's very likely that a couple of strands ended up falling on her shirt when I saw her earlier that afternoon." Deb challenges.
Her expression is composed, maybe even confident, and I smile to myself as I place a hand on the glass. She's always been cunning, but as I watch her play Angel like a violin, it's like watching the master at work. We're not out of the woods yet, but this is going much better than expected. The Morgans might be alright after all.
"And what about the couple of hairs found on the warehouse floor?" Angel asks.
There's uneasiness in his voice, and he sounds almost embarrassed to have jumped to this conclusion in the first place. I know that he wants nothing more than for Deb to give him a perfectly reasonable explanation for the evidence found at the scene. Knowing that Hector Estrada murdered Maria will haunt Angel for the rest of his life, but if he were to discover that she actually died at Deb's hand, that would be an even harder pill to swallow. On the surface, Angel's relentless questioning may seem like he's yearning for a confession, but in reality, he wants the opposite. Still, he remains stubborn, not entirely convinced that justice has been served for his late ex-wife.
"Explain that, Deb." He urges.
"The hairs could've easily fallen off of Maria's shirt after Estrada shot her." Deb assures him.
Angel nods, which results in a well-deserved sigh of relief from Deb.
"You know, that's what I thought too at first. But I started looking into some more loose ends from that night, and I found something that can't be brushed off quite as easily as a few hairs."
"Oh yeah? What's that?" Deb asks, sounding genuinely curious.
"I checked with dispatch, and there's a record of you calling about Captain LaGuerta's whereabouts no more than fifteen minutes prior to her death. I didn't think much of it initially, but paired with the DNA test results Masuka passed on to me, it's a bit alarming. I'm sure you'd think so too, if you'd bothered to look into any of this." Angel declares.
"Jesus, Deb." I mumble.
I had no idea that she'd called dispatch. This is bad. How could she not know that they keep records of that? Then again, she didn't plan on being forced to choose between my life and Maria's that night. Once again, it all comes back to me. This is all my fault. Yes, Deb pulled the trigger, but she wouldn't have had to if not for me. I've failed her once again.
This cross-examination has taken a drastic turn, and I know that sooner rather than later, I need to take action. But what can I possibly do? I don't have a key to the interrogation room, and banging on the door to demand that Batista leave Deb alone will do nothing but make him even more suspicious of us both. I hate to say it, but my only real plan is to let Deb fend for herself.
It's pathetic. I can't even protect her when she needs me the most. My heart starts to beat at a dangerous pace as I anticipate how Deb will talk her way out of this one. She's handled herself well so far given the circumstances, but I know that with the already damning DNA evidence, one slip in Deb's story is all Angel needs to take this to the next level.
I have half a mind to yell for her not to say another word until she has a lawyer present, but I know that Deb is well-aware of her rights. The fact that she hasn't officially been placed under arrest or even been read her rights brings me some consolation, but I still find myself holding my breath in anticipation of what my sister is going to say next.
"I remembered you wondering if Maria was going to show up to your party, so I called dispatch to find out whether or not she was on her way." Deb answers after a slight hesitation.
It's an okay save, but is it convincing enough for Angel to call off the witch hunt?
"Why didn't you just call her cell phone?" He asks.
No, of course it isn't.
"I forgot her number and I didn't feel like asking around for it. Calling dispatch was…convenient." Deb answers.
The look on her face tells me that she knows her story sounds like complete and utter bullshit, but it might actually do the job. Batista is hell bent on uncovering the true cause of Maria's death, but he also values Deb's friendship. I don't think he'd throw it away just like that…would he?
"You and Maria were friends. Wouldn't you already have her number saved in your contacts?" Angel asks.
"Why is it that you're so sure this case isn't closed, Angel?" Deb interjects, expertly changing the subject of the conversation. "Believe me, I know how much you're hurting, and I know that it's fucking frustrating that Estrada took Maria away from us, but sooner or later you're going to have to accept it and move on."
"I'm trying to do just that, Deb. You have no idea how much I want this all to be over with, but I can't just ignore all of the signs telling me that something isn't quite right here." Angel sighs.
"What reason could I possibly have to kill Maria? It doesn't make any sense!" Deb asks shrilly.
"You're right, it doesn't make any sense. The reason you gave me for calling dispatch is bullshit, Deb. Your call wasn't patched through to Maria, the operator simply gave you her whereabouts. It's more than suspicious that you were the only person we know of who was aware of Maria's location around her time of death, and a hell of a coincidence that traces of you were found at the scene." He declares. "I need you to tell me why you really called dispatch, and I need it to make sense this time. Please."
"I already told you why, but you're still searching for explanations that aren't there. This case is way too personal for you, Angel. As your boss, I think it's best that you recuse yourself."
"Don't pull that boss shit with me, Debra. You're better than that. I think it's best that you start telling me the truth!" Angel yells, slamming his fist down onto the metal table.
Deb backs away, startled. Her lips purse together the way they always do when she's nervous, and I press my forehead against the glass in a pointless attempt at comforting her.
"I was at your party the entire time. Ask Dex, you know he was with me." She asserts. "I wish I could say something to make you feel better, but nothing I do could ever make this okay. All I can say is that putting the blame on anyone but Estrada will just make things worse. You'll never be able to heal if you don't come to terms with that."
As Angel collects his thoughts, I feel a firm grip on my shoulder. I turn around and see Thomas Matthews standing behind me. I'm usually very observant of my surroundings, but I didn't even hear the slightest peep as Matthews crept up behind me. With Deb's freedom hanging in the balance, the only thing that I could possibly focus on is her. A squad of cops could have descended upon me as I watched my everything being cross-examined behind that glass, and I probably would have let them take me. Nothing matters but Deb. I'd do anything if it meant keeping her safe.
"Dexter, the scene you made back there was unprofessional and irresponsible. I need you to come with me." Tom beckons.
"I'm sorry for that, Tom. I'll clean everything up when this is all over, but I can't come with you right now. I can't, Deb –"I say.
"Your sister is going to be fine for the time being, but this can't wait. I need to speak with you immediately." He replies, cutting me off and only frustrating me more.
"You don't understand!" I snap.
"It wasn't a question, Dexter. Follow me. Now."
I reluctantly separate myself from the window and follow Matthews to his office. Once we're both inside, he locks the doors and closes the blinds. The gravity of the situation is apparent to me, but I don't understand how anything he has to say to me could possibly be more important than what's happening with Deb. I'll replace the fucking computer, but I could never replace Deb. Without her, I'd be lost. I'd be a hollow shell of a person. How could I be expected to function with my heart missing?
"With all due respect, you need to step in and end that joke of an interrogation immediately. Angel Batista shouldn't even have the power to do this! Debra is the police lieutenant. She's his superior!" I rant. "Deb shouldn't be going through this alone. She's shouldn't be going through this at all. She didn't –"
"Dexter, I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely." Matthews begins, interrupting me yet again. "I know."
"You know what?" I ask, doing my best to maintain the illusion of calmness as my heart races. Does he really know that Deb is guilty? Is he about to haul her off to jail himself?
"Your father and I were very close, Dexter. He told me a lot of things in confidence, things that need to remain a secret. Are you following me?" He asks.
"I don't know what you're trying to say here, Tom."
"I'm saying that I know what you are. I know what you do." Matthews replies. He says those words so nonchalantly, as if he were telling a friend about his plans for the weekend, or asking for an extra packet of ketchup at McDonald's. "Before he passed, your father asked me to look out for you and Debra, and I have every intention to keep that promise as I have all these years."
"I…" is all I manage to choke out in response.
My mouth falls open and I know that I probably look like an idiot, because I sure as hell feel like one. Matthews has known about the real me all along. Now, his actions over the years have started making sense.
Deb has always been intelligent, and she's more than capable at her job, but even I thought it was a bit strange that she was promoted to lieutenant at such a young age. Batista was the natural choice for the job; he's older and has put in more years at Miami Metro than Deb has, so it surprised everyone when she was chosen instead. When the Bay Harbor Butcher case was first being investigated, Matthews personally assigned me to handle the forensics, which gave me the perfect opportunity to remove any trace of myself from the evidence and subsequently letting Doakes take the fall for my crimes. Matthews even warned me that LaGuerta had suspicions about me, which allowed me to cover my tracks and orchestrate the (seemingly) brilliant LaGuerta-Estrada double murder.
In many ways, Thomas Matthews has been my guardian angel all along.
"Now's not the time for reflection, Dexter. You need to fix this." Matthews declares.
"How?" I ask. "Batista's evidence against Deb is largely circumstantial, but the damage has already been done. If he publicly accuses her of murdering LaGuerta, then there will be a massive internal investigation, and I don't know how I could protect her if it came to that."
"God, Dexter. I made Deb lieutenant because I knew that if she ever found out what you are, she would protect you. But I never expected her to murder the fucking police captain!" He exclaims.
"She didn't kill anyone…" I lie. "I-it wasn't her fault."
"Cut the crap, Dexter. I don't want to hear any of your excuses." He says with a defeated sigh. "It's time. You know what you have to do."