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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 35 из 160“I'd like to check here and see if they need me.”
“Don't you have a beeper?”
I gave her my best Friday-night smile. “They don't always know they need me,” I said.
I might have stopped anyway, to show off Rita. The whole point of wearing a disguise was to be seen wearing her. But in truth, the small irresistible voice yammering in my ear would have made me stop no matter what. It's him again . And I had to see what he was up to. I left Rita in the car and hurried over.
He was up to no good again, the rascal. There was the same stack of neatly wrapped body parts. Angel-no-relation bent over it in almost the same position he'd been in when I left him at the last scene.
“ Hijo de puta ,” he said when I approached him.
“Not me, I trust,” I said.
“The rest of us are complaining that we have to work on Friday night,” Angel said. “You show up with a date. And there is still nothing for you here.”
“Same guy, same pattern?”
“Same,” he said. He flipped the plastic away with his pen. “Bone dry, again,” he said. “No blood at all.”
The words made me feel slightly light-headed. I leaned in for a look. Once again the body parts were amazingly clean and dry. They had a near blue tinge to them and seemed preserved in their small perfect moment of time. Wonderful.
“A small difference in the cuts this time,” Angel said. “In four places.” He pointed. “Very rough here, almost emotional. Then here, not so much. Here and here, in between. Huh?”
“Very nice,” I said.
“And then lookit this,” he said. He nudged aside the bloodless chunk on top with a pencil. Underneath another piece gleamed white. The flesh had been flayed off very carefully, lengthwise, to reveal a clean bone.
“Why he would do like that?” Angel asked softly.
I breathed. “He's experimenting,” I said. “Trying to find the right way.” And I stared at the neat, dry section until I became aware that Angel had been looking at me for a very long moment.
“Like a kid playing with his food,” is how I described it to Rita when I returned to the car.
“My God,” Rita said. “That's horrible.”
“I think the correct word is heinous ,” I said.
“How can you joke about it, Dexter?”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “You kind of get used to it in my line of work,” I said. “We all make jokes to hide our pain.”
“Well, good lord, I hope they catch this maniac soon.
“Don't you have a beeper?”
I gave her my best Friday-night smile. “They don't always know they need me,” I said.
I might have stopped anyway, to show off Rita. The whole point of wearing a disguise was to be seen wearing her. But in truth, the small irresistible voice yammering in my ear would have made me stop no matter what. It's him again . And I had to see what he was up to. I left Rita in the car and hurried over.
He was up to no good again, the rascal. There was the same stack of neatly wrapped body parts. Angel-no-relation bent over it in almost the same position he'd been in when I left him at the last scene.
“ Hijo de puta ,” he said when I approached him.
“Not me, I trust,” I said.
“The rest of us are complaining that we have to work on Friday night,” Angel said. “You show up with a date. And there is still nothing for you here.”
“Same guy, same pattern?”
“Same,” he said. He flipped the plastic away with his pen. “Bone dry, again,” he said. “No blood at all.”
The words made me feel slightly light-headed. I leaned in for a look. Once again the body parts were amazingly clean and dry. They had a near blue tinge to them and seemed preserved in their small perfect moment of time. Wonderful.
“A small difference in the cuts this time,” Angel said. “In four places.” He pointed. “Very rough here, almost emotional. Then here, not so much. Here and here, in between. Huh?”
“Very nice,” I said.
“And then lookit this,” he said. He nudged aside the bloodless chunk on top with a pencil. Underneath another piece gleamed white. The flesh had been flayed off very carefully, lengthwise, to reveal a clean bone.
“Why he would do like that?” Angel asked softly.
I breathed. “He's experimenting,” I said. “Trying to find the right way.” And I stared at the neat, dry section until I became aware that Angel had been looking at me for a very long moment.
“Like a kid playing with his food,” is how I described it to Rita when I returned to the car.
“My God,” Rita said. “That's horrible.”
“I think the correct word is heinous ,” I said.
“How can you joke about it, Dexter?”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “You kind of get used to it in my line of work,” I said. “We all make jokes to hide our pain.”
“Well, good lord, I hope they catch this maniac soon.