Deborah got to the scene just as Angel-no-relation was putting his kit back in the van, which was three minutes before Captain Matthews. I don’t mean to seem critical of the captain. To be perfectly fair, Debs didn’t have to put on a fresh spray of Aramis, and he did, and redoing the knot in his tie must have taken some time, too. Just moments behind Matthews came a car I had come to know as well as my own; a maroon Ford Taurus, piloted by Sergeant Doakes. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here, I said cheerfully. Officer Snyder looked at me like I had suggested we dance naked, but Coulter just pushed his index finger into the mouth of his soda bottle and let it dangle as he walked away to meet the captain.

Deborah had been looking the scene over from the outside and directing Snyder’s partner to move the perimeter tape back a little. By the time she finally walked over to talk to me, I had reached a startling conclusion. It had started as an exercise in ironic whimsy, but it grew into something that I couldn’t argue with, as much as I tried. I stepped over to Coulter’s expensive window and stared out, leaning on the wall and looking hard at the idea. For some reason, the Dark Passenger found the notion hugely amusing and began whispering frightful counterpoint. And finally, feeling like I was selling nuclear secrets to the Taliban, I realized it was all we could do. Deborah, I said as she stalked over to where I stood by the window, the cavalry isn’t coming this time.

No shit, Sherlock, she said.

We are all there is, and we are not enough.

She pushed a lock of hair away from her face and blew out a deep breath. What have I been saying?

But you didn’t take the next step, Sis. Since we are not enough, we need help, somebody who knows something about this—

For Christ’s sake, Dexter! We’ve been feeding people like that to this guy!

Which means the only remaining candidate at the moment is Sergeant Doakes, I said.

It might not be fair to say that her jaw dropped. But she did stare at me with her mouth open before turning to look at Doakes, where he stood beside Burdett’s body, talking to Captain Matthews.

Sergeant Doakes, I repeated. Formerly Sergeant Doakes. Of the Special Forces. On detached service in El Salvador.

She looked back at me, and then at Doakes again.

Deborah, I said, if we want to find Kyle, we need to know more about this. We need to know the names on Kyle’s list and we need to know what kind of team it was and why all this is happening. And Doakes is the only one I can think of who knows any of it.

Doakes wants you dead, she said.