Darkly Dreaming Dexter | Page 3

ght , all t he sam e, a ll t he w ay i t ha d to be done . It woul d be
ri
ght . N
ow . F
athe r D onova n walke d t ow ard hi s c ar a gain. H e t urne d onc e a nd c alle d s om ethi ng. T he jani tor
w
ave d from the doorw ay t o the orpha nage, the n s tubbe d out his c iga rette a nd di sa ppe are d i nside the
bui
ldi ng. G one. L
uc k. L uck a gain. F
athe r D onova n fumbled for hi s ke ys, ope ned hi s c ar door, got int o hi s c ar. I he ard t he ke y go i n.
H
eard t he engi ne turn ove r. And then— N
OW . I s
at up i n his ba cks ea t a nd s lippe d the noos e a round hi s ne ck. O ne qui ck, s li ppe ry, pre tty t wis t a nd
t
he coi l of fi fty-pound-t est fi shi ng l ine settle d t ight . He m ade a sm all ra tc he t of pa nic a nd t hat w as
i
t. “
Y ou a re m ine now ,” I t old hi m, a nd he froze a s ne at a nd pe rfect a s i f he had pra ctic ed, a lm os t l ike
he
he ard t he ot her voi ce, t he laughi ng w atc he r ins ide m e. “
D o e xactl y a s I s ay,” I s aid. H
e ra spe d ha lf a bre ath a nd gl anc ed i nto hi s re arvi ew m irror. M y face w as t he re, w aiting for hi m,
w
ra ppe d in the w hite s ilk m ask t hat s how ed onl y my eyes. “
D o you unde rsta nd? ” I s aid. T he silk of t he m ask fl owed a cros s m y lips as I s poke . F
athe r D onova n said not hing. S ta re d a t m y e yes. I pul le d on t he noos e. “
D o you unde rsta nd? ” I re peate d, a lit tle s oft er. T
hi s t im e he nodde d. He fl utte re d a hand a t t he noos e, not sure what w oul d ha ppen if he tri ed t o
l
oos en i t. H is fa ce w as t urni ng purpl e. I l
oos ene d t he noos e for hi m. “ Be good,” I said, “ and you w il l l ive longe r.” H
e t ook a deep bre ath. I c ould he ar t he air ri p at hi s t hroa t. H e c oughe d and bre athe d a gain. But he
s
a t s till a nd di d not try t o esc a pe .

T
hi s w as ve ry good. W
e drove . Fathe r D onova n follow ed m y di rections , no t ricks , no he sit a ti ons . W e drove sout h
t
hrough F lori da Ci ty a nd t ook t he Ca rd S ound Roa d. I could tell t ha t roa d m ade hi m ne rvous , but he
di
d not object. H e di d not try t o speak t o m e. H e ke pt bot h ha nds on t he w heel, pa le a nd knot te d
t
ight , so t he knuc kles s tood up. T hat w as ve ry good, t oo. W
e drove sout h for a nother fi ve m inut es w it h no s ound but the song of t he tire s a nd t he w ind a nd
t
he gre at m oon a bove maki ng i ts m