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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 57 из 160He stared after me, watching me with an expression that said I had to be guilty of something and he would very much like to examine my entrails to find out what. I'm sure he would have been happier someplace where the police were permitted to break the occasional tibia or femur. I circled away from him, moving slowly around the rink to the nearest place where I could get in. I had just found it when something came at me on my blind side and hit me, rather hard, in the ribs.
I straightened up to face my assailant with a certain bruise and a strained smile. “Hello, dear sister,” I said. “So nice to see a friendly face.”
“Bastard!” she hissed at me.
“Quite probably,” I said. “But why bring it up now?”
“Because, you miserable son of a bitch, you had a lead and you didn't call me!”
“A lead?” I almost stuttered. “What makes you think-”
“Cut the crap, Dexter,” Deborah snarled. “You weren't driving around at four AM looking for hookers. You knew where he was, goddamn it.”
Light dawned. I had been so wrapped up in my own problems, starting with the dream-and the fact that it had obviously been something more than that-and continuing on through my nightmarish encounter with LaGuerta, that it did not occur to me that I had wronged Deborah. I had not shared. Of course she would be angry. “Not a lead, Deb,” I said, trying to soothe her feelings a bit. “Nothing solid like that. Just-a feeling. A thought, that's all. It was really nothing-”
She shoved again. “Except that it was something ,” she snarled. “You found him.”
“Actually, I'm not sure,” I said. “I think he found me.”
“Quit being clever,” she said, and I spread my hands to show how impossible that would be. “You promised, goddamn you.”
I did not remember making any kind of promise that might cover calling her in the middle of the night and telling her my dreams, but this didn't seem like a very politic thing to say, so I didn't. “I'm sorry, Deb,” I said instead. “I really didn't think it would pan out. It was just a… a hunch, really.” I was certainly not going to attempt any explanation of the parapsychology involved, even with Deb. Or perhaps especially not with her. But another thought hit me. I lowered my voice. “Maybe you could help me a little. What am I supposed to tell them if they ever decide to ask what I was doing driving around down there at four AM?”
“Has LaGuerta interviewed you yet?”
“Exhaustively,” I said, fighting down a shudder.
Deb made a disgusted face. “And she didn't ask.” It was not a question.
“I'm sure the detective has a great deal on her mind,” I said.
I straightened up to face my assailant with a certain bruise and a strained smile. “Hello, dear sister,” I said. “So nice to see a friendly face.”
“Bastard!” she hissed at me.
“Quite probably,” I said. “But why bring it up now?”
“Because, you miserable son of a bitch, you had a lead and you didn't call me!”
“A lead?” I almost stuttered. “What makes you think-”
“Cut the crap, Dexter,” Deborah snarled. “You weren't driving around at four AM looking for hookers. You knew where he was, goddamn it.”
Light dawned. I had been so wrapped up in my own problems, starting with the dream-and the fact that it had obviously been something more than that-and continuing on through my nightmarish encounter with LaGuerta, that it did not occur to me that I had wronged Deborah. I had not shared. Of course she would be angry. “Not a lead, Deb,” I said, trying to soothe her feelings a bit. “Nothing solid like that. Just-a feeling. A thought, that's all. It was really nothing-”
She shoved again. “Except that it was something ,” she snarled. “You found him.”
“Actually, I'm not sure,” I said. “I think he found me.”
“Quit being clever,” she said, and I spread my hands to show how impossible that would be. “You promised, goddamn you.”
I did not remember making any kind of promise that might cover calling her in the middle of the night and telling her my dreams, but this didn't seem like a very politic thing to say, so I didn't. “I'm sorry, Deb,” I said instead. “I really didn't think it would pan out. It was just a… a hunch, really.” I was certainly not going to attempt any explanation of the parapsychology involved, even with Deb. Or perhaps especially not with her. But another thought hit me. I lowered my voice. “Maybe you could help me a little. What am I supposed to tell them if they ever decide to ask what I was doing driving around down there at four AM?”
“Has LaGuerta interviewed you yet?”
“Exhaustively,” I said, fighting down a shudder.
Deb made a disgusted face. “And she didn't ask.” It was not a question.
“I'm sure the detective has a great deal on her mind,” I said.