Disclamer: I own nothing...

Chapter 1

I've always enjoyed driving. Usually I find it soothing to launch myself into the mayhem of the Miami freeways, but on route to the marina I'm gripping the wheel, unable to relax into the rush hour madness. I love to eat when I am driving, and with the sun low in the west I would usually be thinking of food; but I'm not. Looking back over recent events I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I have no appetite. My life of late has been a rollercoaster rocketing between hope and despair, and just as dizzy Dexter believed the ride to finally be over, there was an unexpected turn and a sickening drop. I think if I asked her my dear sister would describe my current predicament, in her usual succinct way, as 'utterly fucked'. Of course she may find it hard to give an opinion as she is currently in the trunk, unconscious, gagged and securely trussed with duct tape.

I had been keen to arrange an impromptu playdate with the lascivious Lila. Despite her assistance with the timely deduction of Doakes, she had made it to the top of my list of prospective playmates. She had murdered an innocent man, and I had good reason to believe he was not her first. In addition, she knew about my hobby and that was not a situation I could allow to continue. I have to admit to a certain pleasure knowing that the path that Harry had set me on as the Dark Avenger would meld so seamlessly with his number one rule; don't get caught.

But I had been rash. Buoyed by the reprieve brought by the Doakes' death I had not taken my time or made my usual careful plans. Grabbing the slim, dark haired woman in Lila's apartment I had slipped my needle into her neck. When she swung around and Deb's wide, panicked eyes met mine, I was so stunned I almost didn't catch her as she crumpled into my arms. Cradling her lithe frame I could almost feel my carefully constructed life crashing down around me. I pride myself on seeming harmless and innocent, a perfect model citizen; but I think even I would have some difficulty explaining away stabbing my sister with a hypodermic.

I had never entertained the idea of involving Deb in my hobby. I admit for a while I had toyed with the idea of bearing my lack-of-a-soul to her, but that time had passed. If I believed in any kind of deity, I suppose I would find this situation indicative of some kind of divine judgement for my nocturnal antics. Since I am unencumbered by such ideas however, the only higher power I can blame for this awful mess is myself.

After making the last turn, I pull into the parking lot at the marina. I seemed to be alone, but sitting behind the wheel I take my time to make sure the long shadows cast by the setting sun aren't concealing any late afternoon boating enthusiasts. The sounds of rigging jingling in the breeze and the smell of oil remind me of weekend boating with Harry. All through my formative years he would take us out so we could have privacy for the special education he gave me. I know that if he was here, and knew of this evening's planned denouement, he would be very disappointed.

Not willing to chance being observed moving Deb, I make a few trips between car and boat carrying this and that, carefully checking what I have on board, while keeping an eye out for any movement on land or water. As the sun scrapes the horizon, I am finally convinced I am the only one lurking about and head back to the car for the last of my cargo. Opening the trunk, I look down at my peacefully prostrate sister and can't help but regard her with a certain fondness. I know dear Deborah loves me, although I can't imagine how an otherwise intelligent woman could make such a gross error of judgement. Despite being quite incapable of any kind of familial affection, I have to admit I would definitely prefer Deb to be a part of the world than not. With I sigh, I sling her slight body over my shoulder, wrapped in one of Lila's curtains, and carry her to the boat.

As we putter out into open water the sun drops below the horizon and is replaced by a pale and sickly moon, it's yellow light reflecting off the sea as we reach our final destination. I kill the engine and, after removing the tape from Deb's mouth, sit opposite her. Usually when I am waiting for someone to regain consciousness I have things to do – blades to check, plastic sheet to hang – but tonight all I have is a knife in my hand and my sister at my feet. With a sigh bordering on the theatrical I accept that there is nothing else for it but to be patient. Toying with the blade I watch Deb and realise just how little I am looking forward to what is going to happen when she wakes up.