Dearly Devoted Dexter
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Life’s tough for Dexter Morgan. It’s not easy being the world’s only serial killer with a conscience, especially when you work for the Miami police. To avoid suspicion, Dexter’s had to slip deep into his disguise: spending time with his girlfriend and her kids, slowly becoming the world’s first serial killing couch potato. Then a particularly nasty psychopath starts cutting a trail through Miami — a killer whose twisted techniques leave even Dexter speechless. When his sister Deborah, a tough-as-nails cop, is drawn into the case, it becomes clear that Dexter will have to do come out of hiding and hunt the monster down. Unless, of course, the killer finds him first. . .
hangman and Miller Lite sounded like my cup of tea, I would have been forced to confess that Dexter Oolong was somewhat darker. But as the days piled up and I slipped further into the reality of my disguise, I had to ask myself: Was I enjoying the life of Mr. 25 of 147 Suburban Householder just a little too much? Still, it was very comforting somehow to see the predatory zest Cody and Astor brought to something as harmless as hangman. Their enthusiasm for hanging the little stick figures
Deborah,” I said. “What on earth has gotten into you?” This time her laugh was a bit longer, but just as happy. “The usual,” she said. And then she laughed again. “Anyway, what’s up?” “Oh, not a thing,” I said, with innocence blooming from my tongue. “My only sister disappears for days and nights on end without a word and then turns up sounding like she stepped out of Stepford Sergeants. So I am naturally curious to know what the hell is going on, that’s all.” “Well, hell,” she said. “I’m
happy, and one thing led to another and somehow I ended up in Rita’s bed once again, witness to some exceedingly unlikely and undignified events. And once again I found myself wondering, as I drifted off to stunned and unbelieving sleep: How do these terrible things always happen to me? Waking up after a night like that is never very pleasant. Waking up in the middle of the night and thinking, Oh God—Deborah! is even worse. You may think I was guilty or uneasy about neglecting someone who
your third anniversary?” “When I know how it happened,” I said. “I still don’t really believe it.” She snorted. “I don’t either.” She stood up. “Come on. I’ll take you back to work. Then you can go wait with your fiancée,” she said. I left some money on the table and followed meekly. Vince Masuoka was passing by in the hall when Deborah and I got off the elevator. “Shalom, boy-chick,” he said. “How’s by you?” “He’s engaged,” Deborah said before I could speak. Vince looked at her like she
over the water in the stillness of South Florida’s subtropical morning. It is far more beautiful when that great yellow full moon hangs so low on the opposite horizon, slowly paling to silver before it slides below the waves of the open ocean and lets the sun take over the sky. And it is even more beautiful still to watch all this out of sight of land, from the deck of a twenty-six-foot cabin cruiser as you stretch the last knots from your neck and arms, tired but fulfilled and oh-so-very