A/N: I promise that I'll make Dexter more Dexter-like in future chapters.
Week passed.
There was no usable leads in that double murder case. There was no forensic evidences on crime scene. Police also interrogated Lucy's ex-girlfriend, but she had an alibi. There was no signs that killer will strike again.
Debra continued living with Dexter, because deratization of her home somehow turned out to be much more complicated than it seemed. They continued living their lives and doing their jobs like before.
However, something was different since then. When they would finish their work at the same time, or when they would met at home after work, they would talk, usually twenty-thirty minutes, about usual stuff: their work, their plans, etc. She felt like everything will be OK and that she will always have somebody who could understand her, help her, be there for her; someone to lean on.
When she first realized that, she shivered. It felt wrong; she felt she needs to feel that toward person with whom she'll spend rest of her life, have children and all that stuff. Not toward her brother.
She concluded that's probably because she has no boyfriend right now, she just recovered from all that stress following LaGuerta's murder, and because everything... changed so fast. She believed it will pass over time, that it is nothing serious.
Dexter pretty much felt the same, only he didn't think a lot about it; he didn't want to. He didn't know what to think, actually: all that things with emotions and feelings were pretty new for him. He simply let the matter drop and let things to progress on it's own.
That day, exactly week after, also started like any other. They arrived at work. She went in her office, he in his. He started working on one of the older, still unsolved cases, in hope to found some new evidence, when Debra informed him about new case, just ten miles away.
They both arrived there quickly. Victim was found killed in her car, black SUV, parked on parking in front of her workplace, local grocery store. She was Caucasian woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing usual working clothes. There was blood everywhere.
"Victim is Alysha Brando, twenty-one", Debra was explaining while Dexter was puting on gloves and shoe covers, preparing himself for his work. "Grocery store was opened at seven am. Few employees who were there already heard her screams, they ran outside and saw masked man stabbing her. When he saw them, he ran away."
"Over twenty stabbing wounds", Dexter concluded. "In face, chest and genitals. Sharp knife. Stabbing wounds were deep, by marks around some wounds it seems knife was struck all the way to the handle."
"She was attending local college, studying literature", Batista said. "Her parents live almost fifty miles away. She lived in rented apartment only five miles away, with roomate, Kimberly Parr, also literature student. She was working there to pay college education."
"I would say that killer is right handed", Dexter concluded while marking and photographing blood splatters. "Most of the stabbing wounds are on right side of her body. Doors are opened... there is cuting mark on driver side doors, from outside, and few small pieces of black paint on her clothes and inside her wounds. He ran to her car and opened driver side doors, accidently cuting them and transporting black paint on it's blade, and stabbed her. He surprised her. It was blitz attack. I don't think she knew him. At least not good enough to open him doors or to let him in the car."
"Witnesses described killer as "likely male, between 5'9 and 5'11 tall, average weight, strong, dressed in black clothing with partially transparent, blurry plastic mask over face"", Debra said. "They are pretty sure that he wore white latex gloves and white plastic shoe covers over shoe bottoms during murder. They couldn't provide detail description of a knife, they only remember that it had long blade and dark handle."
"Bloody glove print on car window confirms that he was wearing gloves", Dexter said while swabbing traces of blood. "There are no blood splatters leaving away from crime scene. He probably hid knife somewhere."
"If he did, witnesses didn't notice that", Batista said. "Store has security cameras, but not outside."
Dexter then left, leaving other forensics and police officers to do their work.
#
Debra knocked on the door of Kimberly's apartment. Soonly, she opened. She was Caucasian woman, in early 20's, about 5'5 tall, average weight, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was still in her white pajamas, redish around her nose and eyes. She looked kinda sick.
"Hello...", Kimberly said, obviously confused. "Uhm... who are you? What do you need?"
"I'm Debra Morgan from Miami police department", Debra said while showing her badge. "I need to speak with you... it's about Alysha."
Kimberly remained silent, obviously very surprised.
"Can I come in?", Debra asked.
"Oh... sure", Kimberly nodded, alouding Debra to come in. Then she closed the doors behind.
"Is... is she in trouble?"
Debra took a deep breath.
"Ms. Parr... I'm s sorry to tell you this... but Ashley is dead. Murdered."
Kimberly glared at her, in shock and disbelief.
"What?", she asked. "No... this needs to be some sort of mistake..."
Debra took Ashley's photograph from right pocket of her pants and showed it to Kimberly.
"Is that her?", she asked.
Kimberly's eyes filled with tears. She tried to say something, but she only managed to let out the gasp and then she ran in kitchen, trying to avoid eye contact with Debra. Debra followed her there. Kimberly sat at kitchen table, trying to calm herself down, breathing heavily. Debra sat at kitchen table, opposite to her.
"I know this is hard for you", Debra said compasionately, "but I need you to answer some questions."
Kimberly nodded. Debra waited for few seconds, then she started:
"Did Ashley had any enemies? Did she seem scared or out of ordinary lately?"
"No. I only know that she broke up with her boyfriend... Neil Wilson... I don't know where he lives... but nothing more than that."
"Where were you today at about seven am?"
"I was here, alone. I'm sick."
Kimberly tooked a deep breath, trying to hold back upcoming tears.
"I... I loved her, you know. Not asa friend, I mean, not only as a friend, but also..."
Debra nodded, realizing what Kimberly is trying to say.
"I... I planned to tell her... and now she is gone."
Then Kimberly raised her head and looked at Debra.
"Did that ever happen to you? Did you love someone, but kost that person because you missed your chance?"
"I don't think it did", Debra said. "But I know I won't let that happen."
#
It was pass five pm when Debra returned at Dexter's place. Dexter was already there, siting on couch in living room, playing with Harrison.
"Hi", he said when he noticed her.
"Hi", she said. She staid standing there for few more seconds before walking in kitchen.
Dexter realized something is wrong. He presumed it is nothing serious, that she is probably just tired or something, but for some reason that kept bothering him, so he found something that will keep Harrison busy for a while and walked in kitchen. Debra was siting at kitchen table, drinking.
"Uhm... you OK?", he asked, having no better opening line.
"Sure", she said without even looking at him, before taking another sip of beer. "Never better."
He just glared at her, realizing that she is lying. Although she was still avoiding eye contact, she noticed that, and decided to tell it just to get over it.
"Ashley's roomate... was in love with her. She planned to tell her, but before she could...", she stopped and looked through kitchen window, still avoiding making eye contact with Dexter.
"This... this is stupid... I shouldn't be upset because of that. Just, I guess, lately...", she glared back down, at the table. "Nothing."
"I'm sure that won't happen to you", he said. And thing that almost shocked him was that he, apparently, didn't only believe in what he said, but he also said with true intent to comfort her.
Emotions, feelings, those were still big mysteries for him, but he was pretty sure that, till now, he felt that way toward one person in his life.
#
Patrick sat back on couch in his living room and turned on the TV.
He could still hear washing machine in the bathroom. His bloody clothes was on wash, in bleach. His knife was already cleaned up, hidden in air vane in his room. Bloody gloves, shoe covers and mask were on bottom of the ocean by now.
He barely managed to escape. That was risky, way more risky than first time. But now, it feels good. Even better than feeling he felt while he was stabbing her mercilessly while she was cowardly crying for help and screaming in pain. It feels good because now he knows nothing can stop him. It's good to know that, because there are still plenty of names left on his list.