Previously on Dexter...
Oh, God.
Dexter, what the fuck?
Travis was here, he came at me.
When I thought about everything he did,
I wanted him dead, so I killed him.
I have to call this in.
Maybe we should just get rid of the body.
Gasoline, fire...
it'll erase any trace that we were ever here.
I never wanted her to go through this, Dex.
Neither did I.
I found a blood slide
exactly like the ones we found in Doakes' car.
Bad people are still going missing, and Doakes—
Was the Bay Harbor Butcher, end of story.
I have to keep my secret safe.
Otherwise my life—her life— will never be the same.
Are you a serial killer?
I only kill certain kinds of people.
Oh, God. Are you the Bay Harbor Butcher?
Dad taught me. He gave me a code.
Dad knew?
You're like a magnet. Bad shit is gonna find you.
Dexter is a blood spatter analyst,
and Doakes always thought there was something off about Dexter.
What if Doakes was on to him?
The Bay Harbor Butcher. Maria thinks it might be you.
Me?
Hannah McKay. She stabbed a woman five times.
All I can think about is giving her what she deserves.
Do what you gotta do.
Dexter...
You're the only person I don't have to hide anything from.
Maybe you understand me a little better than I understand myself.
I love you.
It's because she's a serial killer?
I feel like if you love me you'll accept this.
If I love you? I'm in love with you!
Wha—
Debra's been in a car accident.
You poisoned Debra.
You were supposed to choose me.
She's my sister.
Good-bye, Dexter.
Security footage from before the fire department
got the call on the burning church.
What were you doing there, lieutenant?
Are we really that fucked?
If all she's got is that DVD, I can handle this.
LaGuerta's an innocent.
She doesn't even begin to meet the code.
It's the only option.
Hector Estrada.
I was three years old when you murdered my mother.
You're Dicky Moser!
Dexter Moser.
I have another kill I have to do.
It's not so easy.
I can't let Deb go down for what I've done.
Dexter, it's Deb.
Whatever you're thinking of doing, please don't do it.
So what's the plan?
I used her gun to shoot Estrada in his puncture wound.
I'll use Estrada's gun to shoot LaGuerta.
- Deb— - Dexter...
You shouldn't be here.
Why—shouldn't I be here?
Shoot him, Debra.
You have to end this. Shoot him.
Stop!
Do it, Debra. Shoot him.
Do it! Shoot him!
This is not who you are. You're a good person.
You're not like him.
Put him down!
It's true. Everything she said.
You're a good person.
Do what you gotta do.
Dex—
I hate you.
There's nothing like a crisis to help define who you are.
A better person would feel bad about LaGuerta's death.
But the truth is it solved all my problems.
It's gotten me back on track.
In the six months since,
I've coached Harrison's soccer team to a championship...
gotten the bowling team back together...
made some new friends.
I'm a survivor.
She chose a career in law enforcement.
And I know for a fact
that she never regretted one day of service.
It's a choice that none of us take lightly.
Is Aunt Deb gonna be here?
Uh, I don't think so,
but we'll get together with her real soon.
Maria was very important to me.
She was a good cop. She was my boss.
Very briefly my wife.
But mostly she was a friend.
I miss you, Maria.
We all do.
Thank you, Lieutenant Batista.
At this time, we would like to dedicate
this beautiful memorial in her honor.
Ladies and gentlemen, fellow officers,
I present to you the Captain Maria LaGuerta bench.
Okay, well, we're off to swim class.
- Say good-bye to daddy. - Bye, daddy.
See you after work, Harrison.
Okay.
A bench. Why a bench?
She deserves more than a place where people park their butts.
It's a nice bench.
It's concrete, very sturdy.
You can buy them at the parking lot at Home Depot.
I'm sorry. Was that insensitive?
No, that's exactly my point.
This all feels so... cold.
You're still hurting, I can tell.
All right, look,
first of all, it's weird when you try to speak Spanish.
Second of all, don't ever touch me.
It's been six months,
and you're having a tough time moving past this.
How am I supposed to move past this?
My dining room is filled with boxes of her stuff.
He's right, you know? It's been six months.
Maybe you should just get rid of it.
And then what? She just disappears?
Hey, uh, Dex, I was kind of hoping
your sister would stop by.
Yeah, how is Deb?
She really wanted to be here, but she's working long hours.
She's better?
- Oh, yeah, she's great. - That's good to know.
She took LaGuerta's death kind of hard.
Even though they didn't seem all that close.
There's no telling how you're gonna react.
When Mike Anderson was killed,
I just wanted to get away from all this.
It took Maria's death to turn me back.
It made me want to do nothing but chase bad guys.
I can't tell you how many times
all I wanted to do is what Deb did—
walk out of here at lunch and never come back.
Yeah, Deb can be impulsive sometimes.
Tell her to drop by sometime.
Place isn't the same without her.
I mean, for a while I heard from her every other day,
asking for some favor.
But I haven't spoken to her in a couple weeks now.
Why is that?
She's out of town.
Right. The Keys.
No, Fort Lauderdale.
Right. Fort Lauderdale.
When she gets back, let's set something up.
It'd be good to see her.
Yeah, it would.
I mean, I'll tell her.
It's Deb. Leave a message.
The user's mailbox is full.
Hey, Vince.
Can you cover for me this morning?
I always do.
Deb's working through this in her own way.
I just wish she'd talk to me once in a while.
Ooh...
Supposed to be for both of us.
Mm...
I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away.
Mm...
You're gonna have to share.
Mm.
Gotta take this.
- It's business. - Okay.
Yeah.
No, I'm not splitting it up. All or nothing.
That is my best price.
You've never worked with me before,
but you know it's a fair deal.
It's 11:47 A.M.
You have till tomorrow at this exact time.
Fuckin' amateurs.
What happened to your normal guys?
I don't know. They disappeared on me.
Funny thing, being a fence
doesn't seem to be a long-term occupation.
What about this guy? Can you trust him?
Can you trust anybody?
Mm-mm.
Well, maybe if you want, I can back you up.
I don't want you getting involved.
- Yeah, but I'm really— - Debbie.
- I appreciate it...
but I got it covered.
What do you want to do today?
Preferably something that involves you in a bikini.
Why don't we rent a boat?
Like a pontoon, little thing,
we could go out, relax on the water.
No, let's get something fast. Let's get a speedboat.
We can buzz the cruise ships.
You like causing trouble, don't you?
I can't help it.
It's funny how these things work, isn't it?
What do you mean?
When I met you,
I'd been sitting in that bar for almost an hour.
I was about to leave.
- Then you walked in. - Yeah, I did.
It's funny how something so simple
as you walking in the door at the exact right moment
can suddenly change everything.
Yeah.
Mm...
What are you doing here, Dexter?
She could be inside.
You know what she's been going through.
She could've...
done something.
Deb.
Deb, you in here?
She's not here, Dexter.
She asked you to leave her alone.
For how long?
I haven't talked to her in over a month.
I haven't seen her in two months.
She's disappeared.
She's disappeared from you, Dexter.
And that's her choice.
What is this?
Xanax.
Paxil.
Adderall.
More Xanax.
All from different doctors.
And pot.
Great, she's mixing all this shit.
I have to find her.
Dexter, you're the problem, not the solution.
The best thing you can do for Debra is to stay away from her.
I'm the only one who knows what happened.
I'm the only one who can help her.
She needs me.
It's Deb. Leave a message.
The user's mailbox is full.
I have to find her.
- Hi. - Hi.
Can I help you?
- Yeah, I'm— - Dexter Morgan.
- Elway. Nice place. - Thank you.
Yeah, yeah, it's a big step up
from my Robbery desk at Miami Metro, huh?
And it's a good change for Deb as well.
Very smart of her, making a move
to the private sector, I'll tell you.
She here?
She is not.
You know when she'll be back?
Not a clue.
She's got a big problem of disappearing on me.
What does that mean?
Means she doesn't like to check in when she's supposed to.
When's the last you heard from her?
Been a couple of weeks, at least.
And that's normal for her?
Of course not normal. Debra Morgan.
There's no "normal" for her.
But that was the deal when I hired her.
She's her own agent,
she chooses the cases she wants to work on,
and she calls in when she feels like it.
But—
But what?
She's never waited two weeks to call me back.
What case is she working on?
Some smash and grab. Guy skipped out on bail.
Uh...
name is...
Briggs.
Andrew Briggs.
Skip tracing and bounty hunting?
Isn't that a little beneath her?
Tell me about it.
I try to give her bigger clients,
higher profile cases,
but she seems to like the down and dirty stuff.
Your sister's a bit of a thrill seeker.
- Really? - It's easy money for her.
She gets a percentage of everybody she brings in, so...
Well, what else can you tell me about the case?
There's not much more to it.
You find the guy, you bring him back.
If she brings the jewelry back as well,
she gets a cut of it.
And that's all you know?
Like I said, she's not big on checking in, so...
I gotta go.
If you hear from her, call me, all right?
Is this how I'm going to find Deb?
Dead and alone?
- Are you looking at my ass? - No.
I mean, yes. What size do you wear?
None of your damn business.
It's just that I have all of Maria's clothes,
and I just thought maybe...
- Oh. - Yeah, no, it's—
it's not your style. I get it.
She was a very colorful woman.
Hey, what do we have?
Robert Bailey, 42 years old, Miami resident.
Killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest,
right above the heart.
Judging from the stippling on the wound,
it looks like the muzzle of the gun
was in contact with the victim's chest when fired.
Suicide?
No, the victim was killed elsewhere and dumped here.
- Whoa. - Whoa.
Parietal and occipital bone sliced through.
Back of the cranium removed.
Okay, that's weird.
And...
looks like a piece of it has been scooped out,
like with a melon baller.
- Just got weirder. - We have a gun.
So someone shoots this guy, cuts his head open,
and messes with his brain.
He takes the body and the weapon
and brings them all the way out here.
Why?
People are crazy.
I think we're done here.
Okay, process the gun for DNA and prints.
Uh, with the rain—
Yeah, do it anyway.
Dexter, follow up on the body. Will do.
- It's Deb. Leave a message. - The user's mailbox is full.
Where the hell are you, Deb?
Andrew Briggs.
The man Deb was looking for.
Clubbed a security guard over the head,
then robbed a high-end jewelry store.
Got away with over 1/2 million in un-recovered merchandise.
Skipped on his bail, been on the run ever since.
Arrested three times for assault.
Sent one guy to the hospital with a broken jaw.
This guy is dangerous.
Did Debra get in over her head?
"Password"?
Nope.
"Fucking password."
Here we go.
All of her charges for three weeks
have been in Fort Lauderdale.
And mostly at El Mercado on East 4th Street.
She was there yesterday afternoon.
I can be there in half an hour.
That's the guy she's supposed to bring in.
What kind of tequila you like?
Uh, the kind that makes you fall down.
I'll see what I can do.
What the fuck?
Deb, what's going on?
I'm working a case. You should get the fuck out.
You found your guy. Why haven't you brought him in?
How the fuck do you know what I'm doing?
I talked to Elway.
You talked to Elway?
When he said you hadn't checked in,
I was scared something happened.
I'm fine. Get the fuck out.
Deb, you haven't talked to me in weeks.
You haven't returned any of my calls.
You completely missed LaGuerta's memorial.
Jesus Christ, I wonder why.
And would you please erase the messages on your phone?
No one has heard from you.
Yeah, I'm fucking getting close to Briggs
so that I can get the jewelry before he fences it, all right?
I'm a professional working a case.
Why don't you get the fuck outta here before you ruin it?
Are you having sex with that guy?
What the fuck?
My life is none of your business.
Go.
No, I'm not leaving.
Fuck you.
Do you wanna know why I'm not returning your phone calls?
'Cause I don't wanna talk to you.
And I really don't wanna fuckin' see you.
- Why? - Why?
Um...
because you made me compromise
everything about myself that I care about.
And I hate you for it.
No, you don't.
I shot the wrong person in that trailer.
Who's this guy?
Just some loser.
Is there a problem?
Let's go.
She doesn't hate me. She's messed up.
She doesn't know what she's doing.
It's none of your business, Dex.
She's using this job as a way to escape.
She can't deal with everything that's happened,
she's lost, dad.
You've done this to her. Don't make it worse.
Leave her alone.
Motherfucker cut me off.
Dexter, what're you doing?
Hey, what's going on?
You cut me off.
I'm sorry. I didn't—
You lost control out there, Dexter.
He knows what he did.
Go home, son.
Right there... Ah...
Stop.
Don't stop, don't stop.
- Don't stop. - Jamie, I'm home.
Oh, God—you stopped.
- Someone just came in. - It's just Angel.
- Yeah, what? - What?
I'm sorry, I can't have sex with my lieutenant 20 feet away.
I'm not having a problem.
Yeah, that's because you're, like, fucking superhuman.
Oh, come on.
Joey,
the chance that someone might find out our little secret...
Yeah, I know, babe, it's not gonna happen.
- Makes it even more fun. - Not gonna happen.
Look, if you come to my place tomorrow morning,
we can finish where we left off, right?
I can't, I have to be at Dexter's by 7:00.
What?
- Fuck. - Mm.
Do me a favor.
Uh, distract him so I can go out the side door, okay?
How am I supposed to do that?
Throw some fucking pork rinds on the floor.
You owe me.
Hey.
You're all sweaty.
Uh, yeah.
It's good that you're working out.
Yeah, just doing a little cardio.
What're you gonna do with Maria's stuff?
Don't worry, it'll all be gone by tomorrow.
Where?
Charity workers are coming in first thing in the morning.
Mm.
Feels sad, though.
An entire life just packed up in a bunch of boxes.
You know, maybe...
you should pick out some things to keep.
Ah...
Come on. I think it'll be good.
You're right. You're right.
Warrants...
to trace Dexter's and Deb's phone.
Right to the end, she couldn't let it go.
Tracking down Estrada by herself—
that's what got her killed.
Yeah, well, that's just who she was, Angel.
- Yeah. - A cop.
That's who she was.
Deb should be up there leading this briefing.
I have to find a way to get through to her.
This doesn't look good.
Who do you think she is?
Methinks a riddle
wrapped in Dolce & Gabbana inside a—
Can't you ever talk like a normal person?
Everyone, your attention, please.
As you can see, we have a guest.
This is Dr. Evelyn Vogel.
She and I first met when she consulted on a case—
When most of you were still in high school.
Dr. Vogel has been away from Miami for a number of years,
but now she's back, and has graciously offered
her expertise with our recent body dump.
But we're only a day into our investigation.
I'm not here to step on anyone's toes, lieutenant.
It's off the books.
Evelyn is a neuropsychiatrist.
She's served as a consultant on a number
of high-profile cases over the years.
And she has written the definitive textbook
on the brains of psychopaths.
That's how I know you.
Your work on profiling is classic.
Thank you.
I wouldn't normally insert myself into an investigation.
She said "Insert herself."
But when I read about the body in the paper,
there was one aspect of this murder
that I found particularly intriguing.
Vince, bring up that X-ray the M.E. sent over.
Thank you.
You see this part here?
That's the anterior insular cortex,
the portion of the brain that processes empathy.
And the hallmark of a psychopath is...
They have no empathy.
Now, it's possible this is mere coincidence,
but if someone goes to the trouble
of carefully extracting a core from the brain,
then I think that person will give a little thought
to what part of the brain he's taking.
So how do you think he did this?
It's too early to say,
but maybe he was wanting to perform some kind of experiment,
or maybe this was simply a message.
He wouldn't be the first killer
to attempt to communicate through a victim.
Who was the victim?
Robert Bailey. Mechanic.
According to his wife, he'd been missing for nearly a week.
Was the brain drilled into
while the victim was still alive?
Dexter?
The M.E. indicated it was done post-mortem.
The preliminary autopsy
also showed bruising on the knuckles and knees,
which could indicate the victim was held captive
in an enclosed space.
There were no contents in the victim's stomach.
Signs of dehydration.
The victim was missing for five days.
That suggests a pretty elaborate pre-kill ritual
for a serial killer.
Well, this was just one body.
How do you know it's a serial killer?
Oh, I doubt that this is his first kill.
Those are usually more spontaneous.
This was planned ahead of time. A lot of thought went into it.
I'm thinking we're looking for someone
at least in their 30s.
Intelligent, organized.
Takes great pride in his work.
I think he'd enjoy the fact
that we're talking about him right now.
You think there will be more?
I'd be surprised if there are not.
Any suspects?
Uh, no prints on the gun. It sat in the rain all night.
Same story with the body. We're still combing for DNA.
Okay, let's widen our interviews
with friends and coworkers of the victim.
We need to find where he intersected with the killer.
Masuka, when ballistics comes in— - On your desk
Dexter, stay on the DNA.
Thank you.
- Thank you. - Thank you.
I hear the FBI calls her the "Psychopath Whisperer."
How lucky are we she's on this case?
Yeah. How lucky.
Dr. Evelyn Vogel, neuropsychiatrist,
lecturer, just published her third book.
And the last person I need
looking in my direction right now.
Uh...
What do you think?
- It's nice, right?
Uh, I guess so.
Maria always had it in her office.
I want you to have it to remember her by.
Oh, thanks. That's nice.
You still haven't forgiven her, have you?
It's complicated.
It's all right. I understand.
But if you can't accept it from Maria,
accept it from me.
It'll make me feel better.
Now, I know things were awkward between the two of you
before Maria so tragically died.
So tragically died—
she died because she wouldn't leave things alone.
I don't know why I said that. Sorry.
I hope you find it in your heart to forgive her.
Yo, Dex-bot.
Vogel wants your presence in the morgue.
Great.
El Sapo.
Hello, Mr. Toad.
You stay in here.
I'm gonna go meet him outside.
Are you selling the stuff?
Well, I don't have it on me,
but I'm gonna give him a little show.
Deb, hey.
Been a while. How are you?
I'm working on a case. Um, an Andrew Briggs.
All business, huh?
I only have a fucking second, okay?
So can you look into someone named "El Sapo" for me?
Hold on.
- Who is he? - He's a fucking fence.
I'll run it by the guys in Robbery as soon as I get—
You're welcome.
How'd it go?
I'm gonna be rich.
Dr. Vogel?
I got a message you wanted to see me?
Yes. Thank you for coming.
I was wondering if you'd had any luck
with finding DNA on the body.
No. We found a few hairs,
but they all belong to the victim.
Ah, so the killer will have
to be found the old-fashioned way—
boots to the ground.
Yeah, I suppose.
Quinn and Batista having any luck?
Not as far as I know.
The victim led a quiet life. No enemies.
Serial killers don't have enemies.
Everyone's a potential victim.
Well, if you need anything else,
just pick up the phone.
Anybody at the lab can help you.
I was interested to have your take on this case.
Me?
Why? I'm the blood guy.
The blood guy. How did you end up here?
My dad was a cop.
He kinda steered me away from that.
This seemed like a better fit.
I was drawn to forensics too.
But I chose to focus on neuroscience.
Psychopaths.
We both chose murder.
Maybe we're both a little crazy.
Maybe.
Mad scientists trained to look at this as a biological mass.
A body part.
Yet somehow, from all those firings of neurons,
something intangible emerges.
Emotions.
Trust, morality, love.
Unless you're a psychopath.
But even then,
belief systems emerge.
As with the Bay Harbor Butcher.
What was he like?
Who?
The Bay Harbor Butcher.
James Doakes.
If I'm not mistaken, he worked with you
here in Miami Metro.
He was angry. Had a short fuse.
Well, that doesn't sound right to me.
As a psychopath, he would be disassociated from his feelings,
not quick to anger.
Maybe he wasn't a psychopath.
Oh, yes, the Bay Harbor Butcher
was definitely a psychopath.
He'd have to be to masquerade the way he did.
But he was an odd one, that's for sure.
You're the expert.
Just the way he picked his victims.
Persons who, on the whole,
had some sort of criminal background—
speaks to a strong belief system.
Almost as if he operated
with some sort of moral guidelines.
Guidelines.
Yeah, clearly it wasn't a moral choice,
as psychopaths have no conscience.
So why else would he kill that way?
So he could—
get away with it as long as he did?
People are less likely to miss criminals
when they disappear.
Doakes was Special Ops. Maybe he picked that up there.
Maybe he did.
Makes an interesting case study.
I wish I could have interviewed him.
Sorry.
I look forward to working with you, Dexter Morgan.
Yeah? Oh, Dexter.
- Hi. - Come on in, come on in.
Thanks.
- This, uh, Evelyn Vogel— - Quite a looker, that one.
You know her?
Yeah, I know her.
She consulted for us on a couple cases when I was a captain.
Last I heard, she'd moved back to England.
I hadn't talked to her in years.
And she's here now...
why? Because a killer took a part of a victim's brain?
She called me up out of the blue,
said she'd moved back here about a year ago.
She asked was I free for lunch, I filled her in on the case,
and she offered to help.
Why, is she being a pain in the ass?
No.
I'm just trying to figure out if she's an asset or not.
Oh, well, she's smart.
So use her to your advantage.
Will do.
Why do you think she called now?
Like you said, out of the blue?
Maybe the stars aligned.
Maybe Mercury is in retrograde, I don't really care
the reason why she called.
All I know is this is law enforcement.
You take whatever free help you can get.
So keep her in the loop, Dexter.
Will do.
What if I'm the reason she's here?
Hey, uh, when you talk to your sister,
can you tell her she needs to check her messages?
She asked me for some help, and now I can't reach her.
Will do.
Is this about, uh, Briggs?
No, she asked me to look into this fence named El Sapo.
Nobody in Robbery's heard of the guy.
All I know is Briggs robbed the wrong store.
It belonged to some mob guy.
Now nobody's willing to buy what he's selling
except this El Sapo guy.
All right.
El Sapo.
Daddy.
Harrison, hey.
What a nice surprise.
No, not a surprise. We discussed this.
We did?
Dex, you know I love working for you,
but I need an occasional night off.
Right. We discussed it.
Okay, I've got his dinner in here.
Spaghetti and meatballs,
green beans, chocolate pudding.
Yeah, about tonight, maybe we could—
Harrison, those are daddy's things.
- What's this? - Bye.
It's a very expensive centrifuge.
Come on, let's get your dinner set up.
- Pudding! - After dinner.
Pudding!
Hello?
I thought I made it clear.
You meet me here with the money, and I take you to the stuff.
Yeah, I'll be alone.
Fuckin' El Sapo is "El Idiot."
When he comes here,
you keep yourself hidden, okay, baby?
Why?
'Cause I don't know the guy. He might be freaky.
- I wanna go with you. - We talked about this.
I'm not doing anything that might get you hurt.
I'll meet him outside.
You stay in here.
I love this guy.
I love that guy.
El Sapo.
Real name: Javier Guzman.
Harrison, please.
Robbery didn't know the name El Sapo
because he's not a fence.
He's a hit man.
Jesus, Harrison!
Look at what you did!
Uh, I'm sorry.
It's okay.
I'm sorry I yelled.
It's okay.
Just give me a second.
- It's Deb. Leave a message. - The user's mailbox is full.
Come on. We're going.
If Deb is with Briggs when El Sapo shows up,
he might take her out as well.
It's Joey Quinn. Thrill me.
Quinn, it's Dexter. Call me.
The fuck!
Yeah! I'm coming!
The fuck?
Hey. You brought the kid.
What's going on?
You didn't answer your phone.
Yeah, I'm kind of in the middle of something.
Well, I need to get ahold of Deb.
And you need me for that why?
I don't know where she is.
What do you mean you don't know where she is?
I just don't. Look—
I know she's in Fort Lauderdale.
I need to know where she's staying.
You said she talks to you. Do you know where she is?
Yeah, the last she mentioned
she was at this place, the Pink Motel.
Some dump.
Thanks. Come on.
Was that Dexter?
Yeah. He was looking for Deb. Fucking strange.
Hmm.
I don't want to talk about that.
Come here.
Oh, my God.
Why is the whole world against us?
Ignore it.
This is Jamie Batista. Please leave a message.
Jesus.
Doesn't anybody answer their fucking phone?
- We're going for a drive. - Okay, daddy.
- It's Deb. Leave a message. - The user's mailbox is full.
What the fuck?
I told you to stay away from here.
I know, but you're in danger.
Someone is gonna kill Briggs. You need to come with me now.
The fuck I do.
Briggs is about to meet his fence.
I'm gonna make a fuckload of money.
That's who's gonna shoot him.
I'm trying to keep you from getting shot along with him.
- That's bullshit. - No, it's not.
El Sapo isn't a fence. He's a hit man.
He's gonna get the jewels, and he's gonna kill Briggs.
I know you don't want to see me, but I needed to tell you that.
All right, you told me that.
- Deb, it's very dangerous. - I get that.
So you need to come with me. You could die here.
I don't fucking care!
Deb—
What?
What, aren't you the one that's
always saying that bad people deserve to die?
- You're not a bad person. - I killed LaGuerta.
- It doesn't matter right now. - It doesn't matter?
Jesus fucking Christ, Dexter, it doesn't matter!
That's not what I meant! Come on!
Deb, it's been months of this.
You can't keep me away forever.
You don't understand anything, do you?
I wake up every day thinking of every bad decision
that I ever made because of you.
And it kills me
that I can't take any of it back.
I'm sorry.
Don't fucking make that face and say "I'm sorry" to me.
Even if it were fucking true, it wouldn't make any difference.
'Cause we can't undo any of it.
So why don't you go back to your little life
and pretend like everything's fine,
but I can't do that because I am not fucking like you!
Deb, we can talk about this later.
No, we fucking can't.
But you need to come with me right—
You again?
Let's go.
Asshole, get your fuckin' hands off her.
What the fuck?
What did you do?
I felt okay around him.
You didn't belong with him.
- Fuck. - Deb—
Fuck! Fuck!
Will you fucking go? Will you go?
Please go.
I came here to save you.
No...
Deb, look at yourself. You're lost.
I am not lost.
I know exactly where I am.
I am in some shitty fucking hell,
which is exactly what I deserve.
But you...
you are lost.
All my life, I thought I needed you.
That I couldn't survive without you.
Fuck. Fuck.
It was the other fucking way around.
It was the other way around.
Deb—
Fucking go.
Don't— I'll get rid of the body.
No, don't you fucking do anything, all right?
I'm gonna handle this.
But if El Sapo comes, he's a hit man and—
Well, he has no fucking clue who I am.
But if he comes here and sees you with—
Would you fucking go?
I'm gonna call this in.
- The police? - Yes.
You should go.
I'd like to report a suspected homicide.
Go.
The Pink Motel in Broward.
Oh, fuck.
Harrison?
Harrison! Harrison!
Daddy?
Come here, buddy.
Oh...
I couldn't find you.
I'm here, buddy, I'm right here.
Where are we, daddy?
Lost.
So you work for Elway Investigations?
Did a skip trace on Briggs, you went out for a sandwich,
and you found him dead when you got back.
That's it.
Any idea who might want to kill him?
No.
We'll call you if we have any more questions.
Elway, I've got a good news, bad news situation here.
Briggs is dead,
but I think I have a lead on where the jewelry might be,
so we might have a shot at coming out ahead on this,
but I'm gonna talk to you about it
when I get back to the office, okay?
Bye.
Debra was right. I was wrong.
It's me who's lost.
A better person would let her go.
But I don't know how.
Without her, I don't know who I am anymore.
Dexter?
This isn't a good time.
I was hoping to share something with you.
I told you I'm not in the mood for this.
Well, then maybe I can just leave this with you.
- Dexter, please. - What is it you want?
Please, let go.
You can't kill me.
Why?
Because I don't fit Harry's code.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com