Darkly dreaming Dexter   ::   Lindsay Jeffry P.

He screamed, “NOOOO!”

I yanked on the noose. His scream was cut off and he fell to his knees. He made a wet croaky whimpering sound and covered his face. “Yes,” I said. “It's a terrible mess, isn't it?”

He used his whole face to close his eyes. He could not look, not now, not like this. I did not blame him, not really, it was a terrible mess. It had bothered me just to know it was there since I had set it up for him. But he had to see it. He had to. Not just for me. Not just for the Dark Passenger. For him . He had to see. And he was not looking.

“Open your eyes, Father Donovan,” I said.

“Please,” he said in a terrible little whimper. It got on my nerves very badly, shouldn't have, icy-clean control, but it got to me, whining in the face of that mess on the floor, and I kicked his legs out from under him. I hauled hard on the noose and grabbed the back of his neck with my right hand, then slammed his face into the filthy warped floorboards. There was a little blood and that made me madder.

“Open them,” I said. “Open your eyes. Open them NOW. Look .” I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “Do as you're told,” I said. “Look. Or I will cut your eyelids right off your face.”

I was very convincing. And so he did it. He did as he was told. He looked.

I had worked hard to make it right, but you have to use what you've got to work with. I could not have done it at all if they had not been there long enough for everything to dry up, but they were so very dirty. I had managed to clean off most of the dirt, but some of the bodies had been in the garden a very long time and you couldn't tell where the dirt began and the body stopped. You never could tell, really, when you stop to think about it. So dirty-

There were seven of them, seven small bodies, seven extra-dirty orphan children laid out on rubber shower sheets, which are neater and don't leak. Seven straight lines pointing straight across the room.

Pointing right at Father Donovan. So he knew.

He was about to join them.

“Hail Mary, full of grace-” he started. I jerked hard on the noose.

“None of that, Father. Not now. Now is for real truth.”

“Please,” he choked.

“Yes, beg me. That's good. Much better.” I yanked again. “Do you think that's it, Father? Seven bodies? Did they beg?” He had nothing to say. “Do you think that's all of them, Father? Just seven? Did I get them all?”

“Oh, God,” he rasped out, with a pain that was good to hear.