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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 51 из 160Then the truck was gone, down the far side of the bridge and back into Miami, far away on the other side of the widening gap as the bridge went up. Gone, hopelessly gone, gone as if he had never been. And I would never know if it had been my killer or just another normal Miami jerk.
I got out of my car to look at the dent. It was a big one. I looked around to see what he had thrown.
It had rolled ten or fifteen feet away and wobbled out into the middle of the street. Even from this distance there was no mistaking it, but just to make sure I was absolutely without any doubt, the headlights from an oncoming car lit it up. The car swerved and smashed into a hedge and over the sound of its now-constant horn I could hear the driver screaming. I walked over to the thing to be sure.
Yes indeed. That's what it was.
A woman's head.
I bent to look. It was a very clean cut, very nice work. There was almost no blood around the lip of the wound.
“Thank God,” I said, and I realized I was smiling-and why not?
Wasn't it nice? I wasn't crazy after all.
CHAPTER 10
A T A LITTLE AFTER 8 AM LAGUERTA CAME OVER TO where I was sitting on the trunk of my car. She leaned her tailored haunch onto the car and slid over until our thighs were touching. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't seem to have any words for the occasion. Neither did I. So I sat there for several minutes looking back at the bridge, feeling the heat of her leg against mine and wondering where my shy friend had gone with his truck. But I was yanked out of my quiet daydream by a pressure on my thigh.
I looked down at my pants leg. LaGuerta was kneading my thigh as if it were a lump of dough. I looked up at her face. She looked back.
“They found the body,” she said. “You know. The rest of it that goes with the head.”
I stood up. “Where?”
She looked at me the way a cop looks at somebody who finds corpseless heads in the street. But she answered. “ Office Depot Center,” she said.
“Where the Panthers play?” I asked, and a little icy-fingered jolt ran through me. “On the ice?”
LaGuerta nodded, still watching me. “The hockey team,” she said. “Is that the Panthers?”
“I think that's what they're called,” I said. I couldn't help myself.
She pursed her lips. “They found it stuffed into the goalie's net.”
“Visitor's or home?” I asked.
She blinked. “Does that make a difference?”
I shook my head. “Just a joke, Detective.”
“Because I don't know how to tell the difference.
I got out of my car to look at the dent. It was a big one. I looked around to see what he had thrown.
It had rolled ten or fifteen feet away and wobbled out into the middle of the street. Even from this distance there was no mistaking it, but just to make sure I was absolutely without any doubt, the headlights from an oncoming car lit it up. The car swerved and smashed into a hedge and over the sound of its now-constant horn I could hear the driver screaming. I walked over to the thing to be sure.
Yes indeed. That's what it was.
A woman's head.
I bent to look. It was a very clean cut, very nice work. There was almost no blood around the lip of the wound.
“Thank God,” I said, and I realized I was smiling-and why not?
Wasn't it nice? I wasn't crazy after all.
CHAPTER 10
A T A LITTLE AFTER 8 AM LAGUERTA CAME OVER TO where I was sitting on the trunk of my car. She leaned her tailored haunch onto the car and slid over until our thighs were touching. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't seem to have any words for the occasion. Neither did I. So I sat there for several minutes looking back at the bridge, feeling the heat of her leg against mine and wondering where my shy friend had gone with his truck. But I was yanked out of my quiet daydream by a pressure on my thigh.
I looked down at my pants leg. LaGuerta was kneading my thigh as if it were a lump of dough. I looked up at her face. She looked back.
“They found the body,” she said. “You know. The rest of it that goes with the head.”
I stood up. “Where?”
She looked at me the way a cop looks at somebody who finds corpseless heads in the street. But she answered. “ Office Depot Center,” she said.
“Where the Panthers play?” I asked, and a little icy-fingered jolt ran through me. “On the ice?”
LaGuerta nodded, still watching me. “The hockey team,” she said. “Is that the Panthers?”
“I think that's what they're called,” I said. I couldn't help myself.
She pursed her lips. “They found it stuffed into the goalie's net.”
“Visitor's or home?” I asked.
She blinked. “Does that make a difference?”
I shook my head. “Just a joke, Detective.”
“Because I don't know how to tell the difference.