Devious and Daring Dexter

Devious and Daring Dexter

Devious and Daring Dexter

“You know, this was a good idea,” I mumbled to myself as I sat in my car and awaited my quarry. I had recently switched jobs, moving to the Miami-Dade police department to work under Lieutenant Horatio Cane. The switch had provided more than new surroundings and new coworkers, but also a mess of new criminals to appease my dark passenger; some of which were the one’s I had never expected.

It had all started when I reported to Lieutenant Cane’s office for my first day. I had found him gazing out the window; his sunglasses perched on his nose. When I knocked, my eyes caught a nervous twitch to his fingers as he turned to face me. Once we had started talking, and he began explaining the lab and offered to show me to my office, the sunglasses came off.

And I kept my eyes on his hands as he fidgeted with them.

That was what woke my dark passenger, what set me thinking. I felt it stir in the confines of my mind as Horatio left me to settle in, but I pushed it aside. Horatio was a cop, Harry’s laws set him off limits.

As I mused over my start in this new County, my target emerged from the diner he had stepped into a short while earlier. I slipped from my car and quickly moved to stand behind his. It was easy, he drove an SUV. That’s about all those gas-guzzlers are good for.

I watched as he slipped his key into the lock and in moments was behind him, one hand on his mouth and the other filling him with tranquilizer. He fell limp in my arms, and I smiled. The dark passenger was pleased. I hoisted him into the surprisingly spacious trunk of my new car and set off towards the building I had set aside as my work place: the Miami-Dade Forensics Lab.

As I drove, I mused over Harry’s laws. He would understand this, though, I reminded myself. I had done my homework, because with this man I could make absolutely no mistakes. If I slip up, it’s all over.

The first few days at the lab, people were friendly to me. Ryan Wolfe and Calleigh Duquesne wasted no time introducing themselves, and I was called down to the morgue my second day so Alexx Woods could size me up. Eric Delko was more wary, but he soon warmed up to me; must be my boyish good looks and natural charm.

Or maybe he just likes monsters.

I was soon corrected in my decision to be formal with Lieutenant Cane; every one of my new coworkers, as well as the Lieutenant himself, told me to call him “H.” And, slowly, they began to tell me stories. Explaining why it was that every Miami-Dade Criminalist liked Horatio. Tales of how they stood behind him no matter what, even those numerous times that he was set up to take the fall for a crime he had had no part in.

The dark passenger liked this fact. Nudging at the thoughts in the back of my mind, making me think that maybe Horatio Cane’s obsession with his sunglasses was more than an OCD tick.

And the more I heard, the more I liked what the dark passenger had to say.

I heard a thump come from my trunk as I pulled into the parking lot, and I climbed from my car quickly. After a quick glance around I opened the trunk and saw that Horatio had stirred and shifted position, but he was still under the influence of heavy sedatives.

I was still in the clear.

I carried him into the building and up to his office, where I had set it all up. All of my months of research and spying had paid off, especially the numerous trips to his home. Pictures and articles lined the Saran-Wrap covered walls, staring down at me as I secured Horatio to his desk.

It was ready.

It had been a long hard road, and finally I was here. Every snag in my research had made me think that maybe the dark passenger was over eager, maybe he was a good, clean cop. But I had been right. Letters and hidden documents had proven my hunch. I stepped back to admire my work just as a groan escaped Horatio Cane’s lips and his eyes blinked open.

“What is this?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

How is it that every one of my victims says the same thing?

“Hello, Lieutenant Cane,” I replied, bending down behind his head and making the customary cut on his cheek.

“Mr. Morgan?” he queried incredulously as I let some of his blood drip onto a slide. “Are you insane?”

“You know, H,” I said as I picked out my tools of choice. “Confucius once said ‘Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it,’” I turned to him, holding the knife before his face. “I guess you just don’t see the beauty in this.”

“Beauty?” he scoffed. “You’re holding a knife to a police officer, you could go to prison for this.” I laughed. It was funny.

“If I go to prison, it will be for more than this, and the price for it all will be my life,” I corrected him. “And you, Lieutenant, you deserve the same fate.” I gestured to the proof lining the walls, the light glinting off of the knife acted as a spotlight and directed his attention where I wanted it to go.