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really put him through it. And a few years later, one of our guys gets caught
and turns up like that. No arms or legs, the whole deal.Danco is working for
them. And now  He shrugged.  Either they turned him loose or he
skipped.Doesn t matter which. He knows who set him up, and he s got a list.
 Is your name on that list? Deborah demanded.
 Maybe, Chutsky said.
 IsDoakes s ? I asked. After all, I can be practical, too.
 Maybe, he said again, which didn t seem very helpful. All the stuff
aboutDanco was interesting, of course, but I was here for a reason.
 Anyway, Chutsky said,  that s what we re up against.
Nobody seemed to have much to say to that, including me. I turned the things
I d heard from side to side, looking for some way to make it help me with
myDoakes infestation. I will admit that I saw nothing at the moment, which was
humbling. But I did seem to have a slightly better understanding of dear
Dr.Danco . So he was empty inside, too, was he? A raptor in sheep s clothing.
And he, too, had found a way to use his talent for the greater good again,
just like dear old Dexter. But now he had come off the rails, and he began to
seem a little bit more like just another predator, no matter the unsettling
direction his technique took him.
And oddly enough, with that insight, another thought nosed its way back into
the bubbling cauldron of Dexter s darkunderbrain . It had been a passing fancy
before now it began to seem like a very good idea. Why not find Dr.Danco
myself, and do a little Dark Dance with him? He was a predator gonebad , just
like all the others on my list. No one, not evenDoakes , could possibly object
to his demise. If I had wondered casually about finding the Doctor before, now
it began to take on an urgency that drove away my frustration with missing out
onReiker . So he was like me, was he? We would see about that. A jolt of
something cold bristled up my spine and I found that I truly looked forward to
meeting the Doctor and discussing his work in depth.
In the distance I heard the first rumble of thunder as the afternoon storm
moved in.  Shit, saidChutsky .  Is it going to rain?
 Every day at this time, I said.
 That s no good, he said.  Wegotta do something before it rains. You re up,
Dexter.
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 Me? I said, startled out of my meditations on maverick medical malpractice.
I had adjusted to going along for the ride, but to actually have todo
something was a little more than I had bargained for. I mean, here we had two
hardened warriors sitting idly by, while we sent Delicate Dimpled Dexter into
danger? Where s the sense in that?
 You, Chutsky said.  I need to hang back and see what happens. If it s him, I
can take him out better. And Debbie  He smiled at her, even though she seemed
to be scowling at him.  Debbie is too much of a cop. She walks like a cop, she
stares like a cop, and she might try to write him a ticket. He d make her from
a mile away. So it s you,Dex .
 It s me doing what? I asked, and I admit that I was still feeling some
righteous indignation.
 Just walk by the house one time, around the cul-de-sac and back. Keep your
eyes and ears open, but don t be too obvious.
 I don t know how to be obvious, I said.
 Great. Then this should be a piece of cake.
It was clear that neither logic nor completely justified irritation was going
to do any good, so I opened the door and got out, but I couldn t resist a
parting shot. I leaned in Deborah s window and said,  I hope I live to regret
this. And very obligingly, the thunder rumbled again nearby.
I strolled down the sidewalk toward the house. There were leaves underfoot, a
couple of crushed juice cartons from some kid s lunch box. A cat rushed out
onto a lawn as I passed and sat down very suddenly to lick its paws and stare
at me from a safe distance.
At the house with all the cars in front the music changed and someone yelled,
 Whoo! It was nice to know that somebody was having a good time while I
strolled into mortal danger.
I turned left and began to walk the curve around the cul-de-sac. I glanced at
the house with the van in front, feeling very proud of the
completelynonobvious way I pulled it off. The lawn was shaggy and there were
several soggy newspapers in the driveway. There didn t seem to be any visible
pile of discarded body parts, and no one rushed out and tried to kill me. But
as I passed by I could hear a TVblaring a game show in Spanish. A male voice
rose above the hysterical announcer s and a dish clattered. And as a puff of
wind brought the first large and hard raindrops, it also carried the smell of
ammonia from the house.
I continued on past the house and back to the car. A few more drops of rain
pelted down and a rumble of thunder rolled by, but the downpour held off. I
climbed back into the car.  Nothing terribly sinister, I reported.  The lawn
needs mowing and there s a smell of ammonia.Voices in the house. Either he
talks to himself or there s more than one of him.
 Ammonia, Kyle said.
 Yes, I think so, I said. Probably just cleaning supplies.
Kyle shook his head.  Cleaning services don t use ammonia, the smell s too
strong. But I know who does.
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 Who? Deborah demanded.
He grinned at her.  I ll be right back, he said, and got out of the car.
 Kyle! Deborah said, but he just waved a hand and walked right up to the
front door of the house.  Shit, Deborah muttered as he knocked and stood
glancing up at the dark clouds of the approaching storm.
The front door opened. A short and stocky man with a dark complexion and
black hair falling over his forehead stared out.Chutsky said something to him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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