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DEARLY

DEVOTED

DEXTER

C H A P T E R 1

It’s that ht, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter’s hypothetical soul

That rascaldown across the eht rounds Calling, in fact, to that er-striped with h as he waits for just the right moment to leap fro to the terrible whispered suggestions that co place

My dear dark other self urges s into the oh-so-vulnerable flesh on the far side of the hedge But the ti cautiously asvictim creeps past, 2

J E F F L I N D S A Y

eyes wide, knowing that so that I ae I could so easily slide out like the knife blade I aic—but I wait, suspected but unseen

One long stealthy ht tilee as I see the terror spread across the face of my victim—

But no Soht

And now it is Dexter’s turn to feel the queasy prickling of eyes on his back, the flutter of fear as I becothe sharp interior drool as he watches ht

And like a sleeful hand colihbor boy

“Gotcha! One, two, three on Dexter!” And with the savage speed of the very young the rest of the at me as I stand in the bushes humiliated

It is over Six-year-old Cody stares at ht God has let down his high priest Astor, his nine-year-old sister, joins in the hooting of the kids before they skitter off into the dark onceme so very alone in my shame

Dexter did not kick the can And now Dexter is It Again

You ht hunt be reduced to this? Always before there has been so the special attention of D E A R LY D E V O T E D D E X T E R

3

frightful twisted Dexter—and here I auilty of nothing worse than bland sauce Here I aame I have not played since I was ten Even worse, I am IT

“One Two Three—” I call out, ever the fair and honest gamesman

How can this be? How can Dexter the De the entrails, slicing the life froe of Dexter’s keen judght for the Cold Avenger to refuse to take the Dark Passenger out for a spin?

“Four Five Six”

Harry, ht me the careful balance of Need and Knife He had taken a boy in who that—and Harry had molded him into a man who only killed the killers; Dexter the no-bloodhound, who hid behind a huhty serial killers who killed without code And I would have been one of them, if not for the Harry Plan There are plenty of people who deserve it, Dexter, my wonderful foster-cop-father had said

“Seven Eight Nine”