Jeff Lindsay - Dexter's Final Cut

For several long and bright seconds the anger took me over and I shook with it, grinding my teeth and pulling against the ropes that held me. I rolled over once, twice, and yanked my limbs furiously, and of course, nothing at all happened, except that I was now three feet away from where I had been, and my head was throbbing even worse.

All right then, brute force was not the answer. And clearly thinking was not our strong suit. That left prayer, which is really just Talking to Yourself, and Myself had not been very helpful lately. Was there anything else left?

And strangely, happily, just in time, it turned out that there was one last thing: pure, stupid, unearned Luck.

And Luck came slithering into the room where I lay.

“Dexter!” a soft voice whispered, and I turned my head to the door with great and painful effort.

Astor stood there in bright silhouette, the light from the next room behind her. She was wearing what looked like a white silk negligee, with a pale blue bow holding it closed below her throat. She tiptoed in and squatted down beside me.

“You moved,” Astor whispered. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said. “My head hurts and I’m tied up.”

Astor ignored that. “He hit you really hard,” she said, still speaking very softly. “With a baseball bat. He hit Mom hard, too. She hasn’t moved for a while.” She put a hand on my forehead, then took it away and nodded. “I didn’t know he would do that,” she said. “I thought you might be dead.”

“I will be,” I said, “and you will be, too, if you don’t untie me.”

“He won’t kill me,” she said, and there was a bizarre, alien smugness in her voice. “Robert loves me.”

“Astor, Robert doesn’t love anybody but himself. And he’s killed a couple of people.”

“He did it for me,” she said. “So we could be together.” She smiled, a little proud, a little pleased with herself, and a bizarre and unexpected thought popped into my throbbing head: She was actually considering leaving me tied up, for Robert’s sake. Unthinkable-but she was thinking about it.

“Astor,” I said, and unfortunately, a little bit of Disapproving Dad crept into my voice. It was the worst possible tone to use on Astor, and she shook her head and frowned again.

“It’s true,” she said. “He killed them because he really loves me.”

“He killed Jackie,” I said.

“I know. Sorry,” she said, and she patted my arm. “He kind of had to. She came busting into his trailer, yelling at him, and we were … together,” she said, looking smug and a little shy. “She was yelling about how the computer says he killed Kathy, whoever that is. But she sees us there, you know. I let him … kiss me, and … and she sort of, whoa, just stopped there. And Robert jumps up and he’s totally, ‘No, no, wait a minute; I can explain.’ And she looks at him, and says something like, ‘Okay, you can explain it to Sergeant Morgan.’ ” She grinned briefly. “Aunt Deborah,” she told me.

“Yes, I know,” I said.

“So anyway, Robert jumps up and says to me, ‘Stay here,’ and he’s gone out the door, chasing Jackie.” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to miss anything. I followed and I see them go into Jackie’s trailer, and by the time I get there he’s running out again, carrying this really nice MacBook Air.” She nodded. “He says I can have it,” she said. “When we get away someplace safe.”

“Astor, there isn’t anyplace safe,” I said. “He’s killed two people. They’re going to find him, and they’re going to put him in prison for a long time.”

Astor bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said.

“I do know,” I said. “There is nowhere he can go where they won’t find him.”

She didn’t look convinced. “People get away with murder all the time,” she said, and she looked at me with a kind of knowing, challenging smirk.

“But Robert killed somebody famous , Astor. The cops have to catch him or they look bad to the whole world. They’ll give this everything they’ve got, and they’ll catch him.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Definitely,” I told her. “They will try their very hardest-in fact, the only thing that could make the cops try any harder is if Robert also kidnapped somebody. Like an eleven-year-old girl with blond hair.”

“He didn’t kidnap me, Dexter,” she said. “I went with him. He loves me.”

“Do you love him?”

She snorted. “Course not,” she said. “But he’s going to get me into movies.”

“He can’t do that from prison. Or if he’s dead,” I said.

“But he says we can get away!” she said. “We can hide from the cops!”

“And how will he get you into movies if he’s hiding from the cops?”

She put her lower lip between her teeth and frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. And I thought I might have convinced her at last.

“Astor,” I said. “Robert’s acting career is over. His life is over. And yours is, too, if you stay with him.” I wiggled closer to her and held my wrists up as far as I could. “Now untie me.”

Astor looked at me, and then turned and looked at the door. Then she looked back at me and shook her head. “I better not,” she said. “Robert might get mad.”

“Astor, for Christ’s sake!”

She put a hand across my mouth. “Shhh,” she said. “He’ll hear you.”

“I already did,” said a voice from the door, and Robert came into the room. He flipped the light switch beside the door and the ceiling light came on. It was a lot brighter than I remembered it, and I had to squint. So I didn’t see anything until Robert knelt down beside me, his head blocking the light. Then I could see, but I wished I couldn’t; Robert was carrying a very large butcher knife, and he looked like he knew what he wanted to do with it.

Robert studied me for a moment, head cocked to one side. Even in the glaring light of this room, his tan looked great, his skin seemed smooth and soft, and his teeth were still perfect as he peeled his lips back to give me a brief automatic smile. He hefted the knife and there was no doubt what he was thinking, but he was still the most unlikely executioner I could ever imagine. “You shouldn’t have come here, Dexter,” he said, rather sorrowfully, as if it was all my fault.

“You shouldn’t have killed Jackie,” I said.

He grimaced briefly. “Yeah, I hate that,” he said. “I just don’t have the stomach for it. But I had to,” he said, and he shrugged. “It gets a little easier each time.” He looked at me like he thought I would be easiest of all, and I could see I was running out of time. “Anyway,” he said, “I had a good reason. I did it for Astor.”

He turned and looked at her, and to his credit, if that is the right word, the look he gave her was either genuine abiding affection, or he was a much better actor than I’d thought. Astor looked back at him, but she didn’t look quite as smitten, and I thought I saw one small chance to save poor Dexter’s bacon.

“If you like Astor so much,” I said, “you never should have lied to her.”

Robert jerked his head back around to face me and frowned. “I didn’t lie to her,” he said. “I would never do that; I really love her. She knows that.” And he smiled at her again, putting the knife down on the floor beside him so he could take her hand reassuringly.

“You lied to her,” I said, and it was the only card I had to play, so I pushed it hard. “You told her you could get her in movies, and that’s a lie.”

“No,” he said, “I have a lot of connections and-”

“Your connections will run from you like the plague,” I said. “Just as soon as they find out you’re a lying, murdering pedophile.”