Dexter suddenly found himself in his kitchen, siting at the kitchen table. Harry was also siting at the kitchen table, opposite to him.
"Dad?", Dexter asked.
"That's me", Harry nodded.
"Why... why are you here?"
"I believe you already know that, son."
Dexter tooked a deep breath and bend his head.
"Dad... I'm... I'm sorry. I truly am. I don't know how... I will do everything I can to stop that, to forget..."
"No. You can't do that. It's simply... impossible. You probably think it is impossible to compare those two things, even in your case, but love is really like your dark passenger, your urge to kill. You can't defead it."
"Dad... I... I don't love her. That's not even close to seriousness of real love, this what I feel towards her isn't even close to..."
"Not yet. But we both know that it will become that. Sooner or later. Because you may not love her in real sense of word yet, but you are closer to that than you think. You crossed the line, somewhere, somehow, inside yourself you did when you wete close to her in such confusing and stressful time, when she was the only ome close enough to you and other way around. You didn't even know that you did till you did, but you did, and now, there is no going back."
"But, if I couldn't prevent it and didn't even know how it happened, and it makes me feel good, and nobody gets hurt, in sense of geting killed and that, then... then there is nothing wrong with that... right?"
Harry remained silent.
"Dad? Dad?"
Before he could get his answer, Dexter woke up in sweat, followed by sound of his alarm clock.. He caught a quick glimpse off it. Six am. Frustrated, he turned alarm clock off.
Is this dream true? He means, that about love and that. Dreams are product of his subconscience, after all.
He knew he should made serious thoughts about that, but he decided not to do that for some time. He knows that is cowardly and weak way used to escape serious problem, but right now it is six am and he didn't fall asleep till four am so why not?
He puted bloody blanket on wash in bleach and tooked a quick shower. He got dressed and walked into kitchen. Debra was olready there, dressed in her casual work clothes. She was siting at kitchen table, eating breakfast-scrambled eggs, toast, coffee-and reading newspapers. On other side of the table, there was also the plate with scrambled eggs and bacon on it, smaller plate with toast on it and blue coffee mug filled with coffee. He was so surprised that he was staring at the table till she raised her head and looked at him. She smiled, obviously amused by his confusion.
"Good morning, Dex", she said, tryng not to laugh.
He finaly moved his eyes away from the table and looked at her.
"Good morning", he nodded. He sat down and tooked a sip of coffee.
"I woke up earlier", she explained. "So I decided to do something useful."
He nodded and started eating.
"Is it good?", she asked. He nodded, still too tired to continue conversation. She smiled and continued reading while eating her breakfast.
"Did you have a good sleep?", she asked, without moving her eyes from newspapers.
Dexter stopped eating when he felt cold chill hiting his body.
"Oh... you know... as usual", he said and continued eating.
After breakfast, he briedfly read the newspapers and brushed his teeth. Soonly after, blanket washing was over. He didn't have time to put it in the drier, so he simply puted it in empty laundry basket and left it there. He pressuned that it will get dry till time when he comes home from work. Debra sat in her car, he in his, and they started driving, heading for their workplace.
#
He quickly sat at his desk in his office and got on work, tryng to keep his mind off that dream and... whole this situation. Luckily for him, he really had lots of work to do.
However, that work was soonly interupted, when Debra walked towards his table to inform him about new case.
"Dex, I... we need you. Elm street 54. Double murder."
He immediately headed there. He arrived there after less than half an hour.
Crime scene was two-store suburban house, with big yard and white fasade. Murder occured inside. He walked in, wearing white latex gloves and white plastic shoe covers, holding his metal forensic briefcase in his hand.
Debra and Batista were already there, also wearing gloves and shoe covers. They lead him upstairs.
"Victims are twenty-five year old Lucy Fowler and twenty-five year old Gina Benes", Debra explained. "Some fuckhead came in through back doors. It was easy: sliding doors, no lock, no alarm. Cuted the phone lines, maybe with same weapon used to kill them, and sneaked upstairs. He turned on Lucy first. She was asleep. He stabbe her in the right eye. She woke up, started screaming. He stabbed her in the throat, twice, and once in heart. Gina woke up, screamed, grabbed the phone and tried to call police. Nothing. He jumped on her, pinned her on the floor and slit her throat. He punched her in the face, then stabbed her three times in the... reproductive organ. She bleed out. There are no signs that anything was stolen. No murder weapon left on scene."
First victim was still lying on the bed, partialy covered with white, blood stained bed sheet. She was Caucasian, about 5'8, average weight, with long blonde hair and blonde eyes. Second one was about 5'10, average weight, with long curly black hair and black eyes. Both were completely naked.
"They are both naked...", Dexter noticed. "One bra under the bed... panties on the pillow...
"They were girlfriends", Debra said. "We olready know that. Neighbours told us. They lived together for six months."
"They heard screams at about seven thirty am and called 911", Batista said. "One of them saw man runing away from the crime scene, but he can't provide detail description."
Dexter started studyng bodies and crime scenes, slowly, carefully. As always, blood quickly caught his attention and send shivers down his skin, while he was looking at it's strong red color over white walls, when he felt it's smell. While he was studyng crimes scene, bodies, and especially blood.
"He killed her first", he said, gesturing towards body, "but she was an actual target", he said and walked closer towards Gina's body.
"So, second girl killed was an actual target?", Debra comments.-What the fuck?
"You can see because there are much more stabbing wounds and those on Gina's body are obviously more severe. Also, Lucy's body is partialy covered. That is sign of remorse. Gina's body is left in plain sight. Sign of remorse also points out that this is his first murder. And you can forget all theories about homophobia, burgulary gome wrong and other random acts of violence. Motive for this crime was definitely personal. Did you checked knives in the house?"
"Yes", Batista said. "There are no signs that any of knives are missing and there are no traces of blood on any of them."
Dexter kneed next to Gina's body, looking at partial shoe print in the blood.
"It looks like partial shoe print", he said, "but there is no thread pattern. This was premmeditated", he concluded. "He brought murder weapon with him, used tool he prepared to cut the phone lines, wore shoe covers to avoid leaving shoe prints and to avoid transporting blood on his shoes. He also wore gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints and palm prints and to avoid geting blood on his hands. You can see because there is bloody palm print on bed frame, but there is no papilar lines. This is actually bloody glove print. He's smart."
He photographed and measured blood splatters on wall and bed frame.
"By position of that partial shoe print, I would say he was down on his knees while stabbing Gina. And there is other simmilair partial shoe print without thread pattern, on the wall, which mean that part his legs under his knee eria is about fifteen feet long. So, judging by that and blood splatters on the wall, he is between 5'10 and 6'1 tall. Most of the stabbing wounds are on right side of her body and bloody glove print is on right side of bed frame, so he is probably right handed."
He tooked samples of blood found on crime scene and stored them. After some more brief examination, he got back on his workplace.
#
At about 4 pm, his work was finaly over, and so was Debra's. It was pretty hard, perhaps even stressful day for him. Sure, that double murder was pretty brutal, but it left him more work than he ever imagined. And he really hopes that guy won't kill again, because he really doesn't want to bother with another serial killer right now.
While he was preparing to leave, she stood near his desk and signed. He glared at her.
"Though day, huh?", he asked her. Only after he did, he started asking himself why he did that? Did he really cared? Or he just followed social protocol, which he was doing and faking so much for such long period of time that it almost became automatic, like reflex, for him? Strangely, he discovered that real reason for that act is actually irrelevant for him.
"I interogated over thirty people in neighborhood and ten sex offenders in closer eria around the crime scene, tryng to found anything that may be usefull for investigation. And so far, nothing. Fuck."
He didn't know why, but he felt it would be good, since they both found themselves in simmilair situation, to make something about it, together, something that will make them feel better.
"Maybe we could... take a walk?", he suggested.
She glared at him, obvously surprised.
"Really?", she asked.
"Yes. That can be...pleasant. Relaxing."
She was still looking at him in surprise, probably stunned by the fact that he wants to do such... human-like thing with him, but after few seconds, probably fighting that she has nothing to loose, so she simply nodded and said "OK".
#
They were walking down the street, close to the sea. Warm wind was slowly blowing through the air, causing shivers to spread through it from time to time.
"So... how is Harrison doing?", she asked.
"Pretty good. He wasn't sick lately. He enjoys playing outside. I always look after him, of course. I think... I think he will grow up in great person."
"I'm glad to hear that", she chuckled, then sighed. "You probably won't believe this, but... I always knew you will be the great father."
"Really?"
"Of course. And also great husband, boyfriend, friend... and great brother, like you are. Because, despite to your condition, you are able to feel something towards other persons-rare, carefully choosed persons-and when you do, you are the best at it."
He was surprised. Plesantly surprised, but still surprised. Maybe even positively shocked. She would almost never show that she likes something about him, or talk with him without at lest two swear words in every sentence. Is this just isolated incident? Or something new and permanent? He secretly hopes for second solution.
After some time, they stopped in front of the black metal hedge. They were just standing there, looking at the sea and wawes, while Miami sun was lightining the sea surface and their faces.
After short silence, she said:
"You know, this is... surprisingly good. It really helps... with stress and all. I... I never felt that way before, although I was here plenty of times, alone or with someone, when I had problems and when I had no problems, doing this plenty of times; walking slowly, talking about both important and non-important things... Strange."
"Maybe now you feel that way... because you're with me here?", he whispered, like he was afraid that she will hear him. She did, however, and glared at him. His eyes staid focused on the sea, he felt he may went too far too soon and he tried to avoid making eye contact with her.
"That's probably it", she said, in unusualy soft tome of voice, almost in whisper. Although he still didn't dare to look at her, he managed to catch a quick glimpse of her face, and he was almost sure that her lips formed a small smile when she said that. She gently touched his right hand. He felt warm, pleasant shivers going through his body. He dared to slowly move his head towards hers and make eye contact with her.
"Thank you", she said. Now, there was no doubt; she was smiling when she said that.
He nodded. It tooked him few seconds to make courige to say something.
"You're welcome", he said, tryng to be strong, to keep eye contact with her. "We... we should do this more often."
She nodded and smiled.
"Sure-she whispered, softly. "It's a deal."
Then they walked back to parking lot in front of the police station, together.
#
Meanwhile, young man was standing in his house, burning big paper grocery bag filled with bloody black shirt, bloody black pants, bloody pair of yellow rubber gloves and bloody pair of white plastic shoe covers. Bloody knife was already lying on the bottom of the ocean. He smirked as he watched evidences of his cruel deed dissapearing. He knew that nobody will link him with it, and that next time will be as perfect as first time.