Jeff Lindsay Dexter 1 Darkly Dreaming Dexter

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discover anything except that the man in the picture looked like me.
I just could not get a clear impression of anything, even his clothing. He
wore a shirt that could have been white, or tan, or yellow, or even light
blue. The parking lot light that shone on him was one of the bright Argon
anticrime lights and it cast a pinkish-orange glow; between that and the lack
of resolution in the picture it was impossible to tell any more. His pants
were long, loosely cut,light -colored. Altogether a standard outfit that
anyone might have worn including me. I had clothing just like it several times
over, enough to outfit an entire platoon of Dexterlookalikes .
I did manage to zoom in on the side of the truck enough to make out the
letter A and, below it, a B, followed by an R and either a C or an
O. But the truck was angled away from the camera and that was all I could
see.
None of the other pictures offered me any hints. I watched the sequence
again: the man vanished, reappeared, and then the van was gone. No good
angles, no fortuitous accidental glimpses of his license plate and no reason
to say with any authority that either it was or was not deftly dreaming
Dexter.
When I finally looked up from the computer night had come and it was dark
outside. And I did what a normal person almost certainly would have done
several hours ago: I quit. There was nothing else I could do except wait for
Deborah. I would have to let my poor tormented sister haul me away to jail.
After all, one way or another I was guilty. I really should be locked up.
Perhaps I could even share a cell with McHale. He could teach me the rat
dance.
And with that thought I did a truly wonderful thing.
I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 24
IHAD NO DREAMS, NO SENSE OF TRAVELING OUTSIDEmy body; I saw no parade of
ghostly images or headless, bloodless bodies. No visions of sugarplums danced
in my head. There was nothing there, not even me, nothing but a dark and
timeless sleep. And yet when the telephone woke me up I knew that the call was
about Deborah, and I knew that she was not coming. My hand was already
sweating as I grabbed up the receiver. Yes, I said.
This is Captain Matthews, the voice said. I need to speak to Detective
Morgan, please.
Page 117
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She isn't here, I said, a small part of me sinking from the thought and
what it meant.
Hmmp.Aahh , well, that's not When did she leave?
I glanced at the clock instinctively; it was a quarter after nine and I fell
deeper into the sweats. She was never here, I told the captain.
But she's signed out to your place. She's on duty she's supposed to be
there.
She never got here.
Well goddamn it, he said. She said you have some evidence we need.
I do, I said. And I hung up the telephone.
I did have some evidence, I was terribly sure of that. I just didn't quite
know what it was. But I had to figure it out, and I did not think I had a
great deal of time. Or to be more accurate, I did not think Deb had a great
deal of time.
And again, I was not aware of how I knew this. I did not consciously say
tomyself , He has Deborah. No alarming pictures of her impending fate popped
into my brain. And I did not have to experience any blinding insights or
think, Gee, Deb should have been here by now; this is unlike her. I simply
knew, as I had known when I woke up, that Deb had come for me, and she had not
made it. And I knew what that meant.
He had her.
He had taken her entirely for my benefit, this I knew. He had been circling
closer and closer to me coming into my apartment, writing small messages with
his victims, teasing me with hints and glimpses of what he was doing. And now
he was as close as he could get without being in the same room. He had taken
Deb and he was waiting with her.Waiting for me.
But where?And how long would he wait before he became impatient and started
to play without me?
And without me, I knew very well who his playmate would be Deborah. She had
turned up at my place dressed for work in her hooker outfit, absolutely
gift-wrapped for him. He must have thought it was Christmas. He had her and
she would be his special friend tonight. I did not want to think of her like
that, taped and stretched tight and watching slow awful pieces ofherself
disappear forever. But that was how it would be. Under other circumstances, it
might make a wonderful evening's entertainment but not with Deborah. I was
pretty sure I didn't want that, didn't want him to do anything permanent and
wonderful, not tonight.Later, perhaps, with someone else.When we knew each
other a little better.But not now. Not with Deborah.
And with that thought of course everything seemed better. It was just so nice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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