Dexter at Dawn, Chapter 3
by Technomad
A few days later, we went to the airport to see Rita off. She cried a little at having to leave her family, and hugged Cody and Astor before turning to Arya. "Come on, Arya - no hug for me?"
Arya looked very startled at such an idea, but went forward into Rita's arms. At first, she didn't seem to know quite what to do, but after a second, relaxed and hugged her back. This got me to thinking, very hard.
In my job and my hobby, I've run across many abused children. They have some behaviors in common. Arya, in our period of acquaintance, had shown a lot of symptoms of having been abused, or at least, of having had a very hard time for a long time.
` She'd spoken of long, homeless wanderings after escaping the capital city where her father had been executed. Her stories held together and were consistent, and, while I still had trouble accepting that she'd really come from a whole other world, I was beginning to get used to the idea that she was telling nothing but the simple truth.
After we'd waved a tearful Rita off through the TSA security to board her plane, we went off to Cafe Relampango for some lunch. Our usual waitress, Rose, wasn't there that day, but her understudy was just as surly and ugly. I smiled. This was a touch of my childhood.
As we got outside of medianoche sandwiches and Cokes, I told the children how things would have to be for the next few days. I'd got some time off the job, so unless Deborah sent up the Dexter Signal to summon Dauntless Dexter to her side, we'd be having some uninterrupted time together. Time for some frank talk. Time to start explicitly setting their erring little feet on the Path of Harry.
With my stomach purring contentedly (the mighty machine that is Dexter requires frequent fueling) we headed for home. Miami traffic was its usual self, with everybody driving like they had heard there was a new Mad Max movie in preparation, and they wanted to be chosen as stunt drivers.
After maneuvering around several accident sites, speeding through traffic like a bat out of Hell, and trading honks and upraised middle fingers with other drivers, we pulled into our driveway. The children piled out, and I climbed out slowly. Without Rita, the house seemed empty already, and I hadn't even gone in yet.
The kids did their best to make sure the house felt inhabited, though. Astor and Arya got together over some remedial homework Arya had to do, with Astor patiently explaining concepts that Arya had apparently never been exposed to. Cody didn't make much noise, but he stayed close beside me. I wondered if he missed his mother. I wondered what it would feel like to miss one's mother.
My mother died when I was three, a result of a drug deal gone bad. Harry had found me and my brother Brian sitting in a pool of congealed blood, and had taken me home and adopted me. I'd run across Brian again a year or so back, and knew he was out there somewhere. With a Dark Passenger of his own, but no Code of Harry to keep him in control. I hoped he'd manage to stay free, and that the only playmates he selected were people who deserved an early exit.
In Rita's absence, I didn't feel up to replacing her in the kitchen. Rita's a good enough cook to get a job as a chef in one of Miami's finer eateries, but she makes more money juggling figures for her boss. However, that left us with the question of what to do when dinner time rolled around. I asked the children, and soon got an unanimous vote for pizza. The restaurant I suggested got approved, so I called and ordered enough for us all to have as much as we wanted.
Replete after our meal, we went out to the living room. "Gather 'round, Arya, Astor, and Cody," I said. "It's time we have a frank talk."
The younger generation gathered around, all ears. Astor and Cody looked like they already knew what I was going to say, but Arya looked rather puzzled...or as puzzled as she ever let herself appear. She had a poker face most of the time that was nearly as good as Rita's children, which also argued in favor of the theory that she was telling the truth about her background. No matter how weird I, Disbelieving Dexter, had found it at first.
"You children are like me," I said. "You're different. You'll always be different."
"We know," Cody said softly. He was a boy of very few words, but when he spoke, it was always to the point. "We know you have a Shadow Guy, just like ours. And Arya's." Arya gave him a rather strange look, but kept her silence. She didn't talk much unless she had something that really needed saying.
"Your mother doesn't have one," I went on. "Talking to her about this might upset her. It'd be best to keep this between ourselves." I was uneasily aware that this was the sort of thing molesters told their victims..."this is a secret just between us, don't tell anyone," but this was really the sort of secret that could land me in prison, or Old Sparky, and them in mental institutions.
All three of them nodded, solemn as so many young owls. "I was put on the right path when I was a little older than you are, by my adoptive father, Harry Morgan." I went on, explaining how things had to be, and what we could do to train them up so that, when they struck off on their own, they could avoid imprisonment or institutionalization.
I was quite gratified at how well they took to my instructions. Arya nodded every so often, as if I were merely confirming things she had long known. I explained how extremely important it was to appear as normal as they could. "Conspicuousness is deadly to people like us," I told them. "While it's quite possible that the authorities may approve of your activities, especially if you take care in your targets, they will, nonetheless, do their utmost to capture you."
"Aunt Sergeant Deborah does that all the time, doesn't she?" asked Astor.
"She does, and she's good at her job. Never, never underestimate her or her colleagues."
"A girl went through some training at the House of Black and White, in Braavos," Arya put in. "A girl can help her new friends learn what she knows." I gave her a grateful look.
"So when do we start?" Cody asked. For him, that was the equivalent of a long speech.
"We start by concentrating on looking normal. Blending in. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down. You children would be very surprised at what one who looks normal on the outside can get away with." And that was nothing but the truth.
Many of my playmates had seemed, on the surface, to be harmless, normal people. Some of them even passed as pillars of the community, donating to charity, doing work among the homeless and less-fortunate...and all the while, picking out their victims.
Matter of fact, people like me, but without the Harry Code to guide them to only those deserving of becoming playmates, could find charity work a very useful way to get close to, and gain the trust, of their future victims. And when one is working among the bottom layers of society, finding people who won't be missed, or whose nearest-and-dearest don't want to talk to the police even when their kinsman is missing, is very easy.
"So who can a girl legitimately target?" That was Arya. I wondered why she had such an aversion to using "I."
"I go by the Code of Harry." At this, the children looked puzzled. I elaborated: "My late adopted father, Harry Morgan, was a policeman. When he found out what I was, he trained me, and taught me how to avoid capture." At those words, the children's eyes lit up, and they moved a little closer. "He was like many policemen...yes, Astor, including your 'Aunt Sergeant' Deborah. He knew of many very bad people whom the justice system could not punish. Either evidence the courts would accept was lacking, or they had really good lawyers." I could see Arya's curiosity. "I'll explain what 'lawyers' do later, Arya. Suffice it to say, children, that even when these people had done dreadful things...murder, rape and worse...the police were helpless against them." I smiled reminiscently. "But I wasn't!"
"A girl remembers people like that," Arya remarked. Her gaze was far away, looking at things the rest of us could not see. "There were people, where a girl comes from, that could do as they pleased to those of lesser rank, and those of us of lesser rank had to take it." She scowled, remembering something very bad. "Even those of very high rank could have such things befall them."
"So you only kill bad people?" Cody asked.
"How do you find bad people?" asked Astor.
"Basically, I research them. Having access to police records and their computers is of enormous assistance. When I'm convinced that they fit Harry's code, then they go on my list." I stretched, to make sure that I didn't get too sleepy from our meal. "After I've done what I came to do, I cut them up, put the parts into garbage bags, and dump them into the bay. Far enough out that even if they do somehow surface, they're unlikely to be found."
"So when you go out fishing, you aren't necessarily just fishing?" asked Astor. She cocked her head to one side. "I do notice it when you go out in your boat, early in the morning. Is that what you're doing?"
"Sometimes that, sometimes just fishing," I told her. "When you start doing this, you'll also need to find a way to dispose of your playmates once you're through playing."
"'Playmates,'" Arya mused. She gave me a rare real smile. "A girl finds she likes that turn of phrase." Her expression became abstracted. "A girl had a list of playmates all her own, back where a girl came from."
"The point being," I went on, "that you need to make sure that no trace of your activities remains. It's best if your playmates just seem to suddenly, inexplicably disappear."
"That way, the police are less likely to put in a lot of effort," Astor said. "People disappear all the time, and as long as it doesn't look like foul play is involved, the police don't do much."
"Precisely, Astor. Adults are free to move about as they please, and sometimes they leave suddenly. Sometimes it's because they owe people a lot of money they can't pay." I paused for effect. "And sometimes, it's because of someone like me."
"Like us," Cody murmured. Then he yawned hugely.
"And with that, I think we've talked enough for one night. Your mother would skin me alive if she found out I've let you stay up so late. Come on, it's time to hit the bathroom, brush your teeth, and get to bed."
They were sleepy enough to not give any trouble, and soon all three of my predators-in-training were tucked up in bed. I noticed that Astor and Arya had taken to sharing a bed, and smiled to myself. Bringing Arya into our little family had worked out well.
School was in session the next day, so I took over Rita's usual role of getting everybody breakfasted, dressed and over to school. That went smoothly, unlike how I'd heard it was in some of my colleagues' households.
Whatever else could be said of them, nobody could accuse Astor or Cody of being ill-behaved. If anything, they were a bit too well-behaved. Some of the adults that had met them said it was quite eerie, how they never caused anything like as much trouble as other children their age tended to. Oh, Astor and her mother clashed, but it never got anywhere near as bad as what I'd heard about other girls her age and their mothers.
With the junior predators all safely ensconced in school for the day, I headed off to work. I had a backlog of paperwork to get caught up on, so I hoped that Deborah wouldn't suddenly command my presence at the site of some murder or other, or somebody else require me to come perform my blood-spatter magic. Not that Detached Dexter minds looking at gruesome crime scenes (other than, sometimes, a twitch of envy from the Dark Passenger at seeing someone else's excellent work) but there are only so many hours in a day, and Dutiful Dexter does like keeping up with paperwork.
About mid-afternoon, I was getting on top of things when my cell phone rang. I saw it was Rita, so I picked it up. "Rita? How are things in Charleston?"
"Dexter!" Even for Rita, this sounded rather overexcited, and I sat up and took notice. "They gave me one phone call...you're the only one I could think of...I can't believe this happened to me!"
"What? What happened to you?" As usual, trying to make sense of what Rita was saying was not easy, and the crackle that seemed to be interfering with our conversation didn't help any.
"I'm at the Charleston police station! The police say they found five pounds of crystal meth in my rental car, and I'm being charged with possession with intent to deliver!" That got my attention instantly. I sat up, eyes wider than if I'd guzzled a gallon of Cuban coffee.
"What? How in the world did that happen?" I couldn't figure out how this could have come about. Rita's one of the most law-abiding people I know, and unless she's defending her babies (when she morphs into an enraged mama bear) she's one of the mildest-mannered women I've ever met. A bigger contrast to my sister Deborah, who chews nails and spits bullets and shits barbed wire, is hard to imagine.
"I don't know! I don't know! I was coming out of my hotel and as I got into my car, the police came up and grabbed me! Next thing I knew, they were hauling me off to the police station in handcuffs, and they told me that they'd had a tip and found five pounds of meth in my car!"
"Have you said anything to the cops?" I was no policeman myself, but I'd learned enough, both from being around the police all my life and studying to keep myself free in the pursuit of my nighttime hobby, to know that saying anything at all when under arrest other than to ask for a lawyer was to draw to an inside straight.
Police interrogators are very good at getting far more out of their subjects...or should I say, victims?...than those hapless souls commonly realize. It's the amateurs that get caught in the web. Professionals know to clam up and wait for their lawyers, and to say nothing without their lawyers' approval.
"No! I just told them my name and asked for a lawyer. They say they'll have one for me shortly." A sob came over the line. "Please, Dexter, help me! I've got to get off this line! Come get me out of here!"
"I'm on it!" When the phone went silent, I sprang into action. First, I hurried up to my bosses, and explained the situation. They were quite sympathetic. They'd all met Rita, and agreed that she was about as likely to be involved in the drug trade as she was to be the leader of al-Qaeda.
Then I called Deborah, and told her that I had an emergency and was going to be out of town for some little while. When I told her just what had happened, she was aghast. "Oh, my God! There has to be some mistake! I've got some friends in the Charleston PD, and I'll call them and find out what I can! One of them can probably recommend a good lawyer!"
"Thanks, Deb!" While Deborah sometimes irritates me, and I know that I don't always please her, particularly since she found out about my hobby, at seventh and last we always have each other's backs. I've faced off against some very scary people with her, and we know we can count on each other.
Luckily, it was getting on to the time when the children were due to be out of school. I'd already told my superiors that I was a single parent for a few days, and they'd been very understanding about me needing variance in my hours to deal with the exigencies of school-age children's schedules. I was waiting outside the school when Astor came out, hand in hand with Arya. Cody was out a few minutes later, and they made a beeline for my car.
` "Get in, kids, and buckle up. I've got bad news for you. Your mother was arrested up in Charleston. Things are going to be a bit crazy for a while, until I can straighten things up." This got their undivided attention. Astor and Cody knew their mother...she was like a mother to them...and knew she was utterly unlikely to be involved in anything illegal.
"A girl wants to know what Rita did to get arrested," Arya said. Astor and Cody both nodded, as though they'd wanted to ask that question, but let Arya be their spokesgirl.
"She said that the police said that they'd found five pounds of crystal meth...that's a powerful drug, and very illegal, Arya...in her rental car. She's apparently under arrest for 'possession with intent to distribute.'"
"Will they find her guilty?" Arya frowned. "A girl cannot believe that Rita would do any such thing."
"I hope not. She's got a clean record, and with any sort of luck, they'll find evidence that the drugs were not hers and that she had no knowledge that they were there."
"But with no luck…"
"But if things go really, really wrong, Rita will be spending the next few years in a women's prison. Those aren't as bad as the ones men are in, but they're very bad places." At this, Astor, Cody and Arya all suddenly looked very ominous. "But I'm sure that we can get her out of that and bring her back here."
"A girl hopes that is so," Arya said. "A girl likes Rita. Rita was always kind to a girl."
As we pulled into our driveway, I noticed a strange car parked in the street. We got out, and someone came out of the strange car, heading over to intercept us. At the sight of him, I could sense Astor and Cody's Dark Passengers, rearing up in fear and anger. I couldn't see what was wrong, myself. The stranger looked fairly normal. If anything, he looked rather familiar. I wondered if I'd met him before.
When he got close, the stranger stuck out his hand for a shake. "Hi. I'm Paul Bennett. I heard about what happened to Rita, and I'm here for my children."
All of a sudden I knew why he looked familiar. He was Astor and Cody's blood father. He'd been a drunk and drug addict who beat Rita mercilessly, and abused both children until she finally put her foot down and took action. He'd been sentenced to prison, and as far as I knew his sentence had years to run before he could hope for freedom.