Chapter 3 third chapter

Before four-thirty in the morning, I had cleaned up the priest's body, and I was in a much better mood.In fact, I always have a very pleasant feeling after doing such a thing.Killing would remove the lumps from dear Dexter's dark plans.It was a sweet release of energy, being able to loosen those little hydraulic valves in my body and put me in a good mood.I like this feeling very much, if you feel disgusted, then I have to say sorry to you.I'm not a homicidal maniac.I'm all about taking the right approach, choosing the right moment, targeting the right subject - it's very complicated, but very necessary.

It was exhausting work, and I was tired, but the tension that had haunted me for weeks was gone, the cold voice of the Night Walker was quieted, and I could go back to my old self.I could be that weird, funny, carefree, inner-dead Dexter again, no longer the knife-wielding Dexter, no longer the Avenger named Dexter. I took all the bodies out to the garden, cleaned up the dilapidated house, packed it into the priest's car, and then I'm going to make the car disappear.I drove the priest's car to a little river where my boat was moored.This is a five-meter-long pointed-tail longboat with a very shallow draft, but the horsepower of the engine is not small.I hooked the tow rope of the Priest's car to the boat, climbed aboard, and started the boat's engine.The car sank to the bottom of the water with a thud, and all the sins were washed away by the river.Then I drove slowly away from the creek and headed north across the bay.

At 6:30 I returned to my apartment in Coconut Grove, my private secret base where all my treasures are kept.I took out a glass slide from my pocket. It was a small piece of very ordinary and clean glass—a drop of the priest's blood was carefully preserved in the center.This drop of blood is beautiful, clean, and now dry, ready to put it under the microscope whenever I want to recall the experience.I placed the slide with thirty-six other dried drops of blood, which I kept with great care and cleanliness. I took a long time in the shower.The warm water washes away the last traces of tension and my muscles relax, and the current washes away the last traces of smell and traces left by the priest's body and the garden in which it was buried.

He kills children.I should have killed him twice to get rid of the hatred. I like children.I am a person who is sexually insensible, so I will never have children.When you think about all that stuff about sex—how can you do that?Where does self-esteem go?But children are different.Father Donovan's death was well deserved.I obeyed Harry's code of conduct, and I granted the wishes of the Nightcrawler. At a quarter past seven I feel clean, and I'm back to my everyday Dexter.I drank a cup of coffee, ate a few slices of pastry, and headed to work. My office is near the airport, modern, big and bright.The laboratory is at the back of the second floor, next door is a small office.In fact, it can’t be called an office, it’s just a small square room next to the blood laboratory, but it’s for my personal use, and no one can share it with me.There is a table, a chair, and a small chair in the office for the guests. If the visitor is too big, it will not work.In addition, there are computers, bookshelves, filing cabinets, telephones, and answering machines.

The light on the answering machine was blinking when I came in.Only one person would come to me, and that was my adoptive father's daughter, Deborah Morgan, who was a police officer, like her father. This message is hers. As soon as I pushed the button, Deborah's voice came out: "Call me back as soon as you come in, Dexter. I'm at the crime scene right now, at the Chiefs Motel on Tamiyami Lane." Pause After a while, I heard her covering the microphone with her hand and talking to someone else.Then she started talking again. "Can you come right now, Dex?" Then she hung up.

I wouldn't say no to Deborah.I have no family and my adoptive parents have passed away.Nobody in this world cares if I live or die except Deborah.If I had any affection, it must belong to Deborah. I set off for Tami Yami Alley.Every major city has such areas.If a dwarf with spots and advanced leprosy wanted to have sex with a big seventeen or eighteen-year-old church choir girl, he could come here and get a room.Afterwards, maybe invite all the buddies in the next room over for Cuban coffee and midnight sandwiches.As long as he is willing to tip, no one cares. Deborah has been spending too much time here lately, perhaps because her mission is to fight prostitution.She has her ideas, but I don't agree with them.A beautiful young girl fighting prostitution in Tami Yami alley can only stand outside in excessively nude clothes, acting as bait for criminals, so that her male colleagues can arrest those who come to seek sex.Deborah hates this job, she thinks it's too boring to deal with such cases, her ideal is to be a policeman, but she looks like a sexy girl.Of course it can't blame her.