Thatâs what the police are for, right? Minnow didnât smile back, when the man did. He reached into the car, and pulled out a battery, and lay the camera down on the front of the car. Minnow stared as he pulled one out, like he was gutting a deer, and replaced it with another. The cops werenât there to protect people. They were there to watch them, to judge them, and find a reason to lock them up away from the outside world and throw away the key. Thatâs what the Prophet said. Heâd been to jail. He didnât like to talk about it much, but the Kevinians all knew. She realised she hadnât replied for a few seconds, so she said, âThe police are here to watch people.â And she just stopped herself from saying Thatâs what the Prophet says. This man was a cop. He didnât deserve to know that.
Instead she stood in silence, watching as the man closed the open back of the camera. When he mentioned the press conference, she shook her head, stiltedly. âIâm not going to the press conference,â she said. She knew, without checking with the Deacons, that they would have gone back to the clearing by then. It wasnât safe to be away from Charlieâs land for this long. Already, she felt like this was the longest conversation sheâd had with a Gentile in months. But that was what the Prophet had told them to do. Gather information, and report back.
And she seemed to be doing well, because the stranger said he looked for patterns, and pressed a button on the camera, and suddenly, Minnow could see photographs of a body, lying on the forest floor, surrounded by blood. She blinked at it. The man pointed at the blood stains, the splashes of red, and the large pool of it, and he explained what it meant. As he spoke, she frowned, taking the information in. She could feel it soaking in, the way the Prophetâs teachings did. Learning. But, unlike when she learnt from the Prophet, she could see what this cop was talking about for herself, and put it together. When he said it raised more questions, she looked up quickly. âQuestions like what?â she asked. âShe died there, so someone killed her there.â She looked down at the photograph again, and she spotted something.
âBut the bloodâŚâ she said, slowly. âIt doesnât look like someone slit her throat.â She raised her hand, and drew her finger across her own throat, gently. âWhen you slit a deerâs throat, the blood goes psh ââ She gestured a spray out of her neck, spreading her fingertips like a starfish. âAnd it flies out onto the floor. But thatâs not what this looks like.â She tilted her head to the side a little, like an inquisitive dog, and then blinked and realised how close she was to the Gentile â so close that she could smell him. She stepped back quickly, and wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress without thinking. What would the Deacons say, if theyâd seen? But she looked their way, and they were still talking to the officers. She let out a slow sigh of relief.
Dexter raised a brow. âI... guess youâve got a point,â he said. âBut only people whoâve done bad things. Trust me, they donât get paid enough to watch everyone all the time,â he said, with a casual grin. He didnât think sheâd return it. It didnât seem like she smiled much. He wondered which was worse. A plethora of fake smiles or an honest lack of them?
Maybe there wasnât much of a difference.
âOkay,â he said. âWell, uh...â He followed her gaze towards the two men sheâd come with. âIf you give me your name and contact information, I might be able to get back to you when I know more,â he offered. He couldnât help but wonder about her, about her situation. There was something very strange there -- but was it his curiosity or the Dark Passengerâs that had been piqued?Â
He didnât really have the authority to make such an offer, or to show her the pictures, but he wanted to gauge her reaction. Wanted to know more about her, to understand what was happening here. (As much as he could understand. He was, after all, just a monster.) âDoes it?â he prompted. âJust because she died here, that doesnât mean she was attacked here.â But she barely seemed to hear him, she was deep in thought. He nodded as she spoke again. His mind filled in the red splashes to her pantomime. âExactly,â he breathed.Â
Dexter blinked when she stepped back. Right, he thought. Standing that close, it wasnât normal. Except for couples, and that was something Dexter was not ready to attempt just yet. âYouâre smart,â he said, after an awkward moment. âYou ever think about a job with the police? We could always use more forensic techs.â