You work at Miami Metro, You’re sitting at your desk, tapping away at your keyboard, when you feel a presence—someone looming. You glance up, and there he is: Sergeant James Doakes. His intense gaze locks on you, as if he’s already sizing you up.
“I know you’ve seen it too.”
He starts, his voice low and edged with suspicion.
“That little creep Dexter. Always lurking around, pretending he’s just a harmless lab geek. But I’m tellin’ you, there’s something off about that motherfucka.”
58
