Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Jeff Lindsay

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0307277887

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The Basis for a New Showtime® Original Series Starring Michael C. Hall

Meet Dexter Morgan, a polite wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’s handsome and charming, but something in his past has made him abide by a different set of rules. He’s a serial killer whose one golden rule makes him immensely likeable: he only kills bad people. And his job as a blood splatter expert for the Miami police department puts him in the perfect position to identify his victims. But when a series of brutal murders bearing a striking similarity to his own style start turning up, Dexter is caught between being flattered and being frightened–of himself or some other fiend.

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the railing would hold my weight, as if I might simply pass straight down through the hard wood like a mist. Even from the railing I could tell. He had taken the time, he had done it right, in spite of what must have seemed like a very close call on the causeway only minutes before. Or had he known somehow that I meant him no harm? And since I brought it up anyway, did I, in fact, mean him no harm? Did I truly mean to track him to his lair and come up on point all aquiver for advancing

word that the pimps were laughing at them on the streets. It seems the vice cops, mostly male, were picking the outfits for the women operatives who worked in the sting operations. Their choice of clothing was showing an awful lot about their preferences in kinkiness, but it did not look much like hooker wear. So everybody on the street could tell when the new girl was carrying a badge and gun in her clutch purse. As a result of this tip, the vice cops began to insist that the girls who went

Their bodies: I glanced around. There was no sign of them, no telltale stack of carefully wrapped packages. There was only the pyramid of heads. I stared some more. After a few moments Vince Masuoka swam slowly over, his mouth open, his face pale. “Dexter,” he said, and shook his head. “Hello, Vince,” I said. He shook his head again. “Where are the bodies?” He just stared at the heads for a long moment. Then he looked at me with a face full of lost innocence. “Somewhere else,” he said. There

like— “Dexter . . . ?” Deborah said, in a sort of hushed and strangled croak. Yes indeed. Just like Dexter. CHAPTER 23 I AM PRETTY SURE THAT DEBORAH TOOK YOUNG MR. Bad Hair Day back to the lounge, because when I looked up again, she was standing in front of me, alone. In spite of her blue uniform she did not look at all like a cop right now. She looked worried, like she couldn't decide whether to yell or to cry, like a mommy whose special little boy had let her down in a big way. “Well?”

whispering, Do it—do it now—do it and everything can change—the way it should be—back with— “Mommy?” someone said. “Dexter, come on,” said Mommy. I mean Deborah. But the knife was moving. “Dexter, for Christ's sake, cut the shit! It's me! Debbie!” I shook my head and of course it was Deborah, but I could not stop the knife. “I know, Deb. I'm really very sorry.” The knife crept higher. I could only watch it, couldn't stop it now for anything. One small spiderweb touch of Harry still whipped at

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