Previously on Dexter...

Two treasure hunters made a ghastly discovery today, when they found what appears to be an underwater graveyard in a crevice off the coast of Miami.

It means there might be a new mass murderer way worse than the Ice Truck Killer.

The "Bay Harbor Butcher"?

That's what the press is calling him.

Last thing Miami needs is another serial killer.

13 and counting.

They're so swamped up there they had to bring an outside talent.

Frank Lundy's a rock star.

The green river killer, the D.C. sniper? Tough case, but he broke it.

This is the man who stands between me and death row.

With your help, we'll find whoever did this awful thing.

So let's get a jump start on the Bay Harbor Butcher.

With Doakes tailing me, my life's been all Jekyll and no Hyde.

Paul kept insisting to me that you knocked him over the head, dragged him to his motel and shut him up with drugs.

I hit Paul to protect you and the kids.

If there's anything left between us, you'll answer me this one question and you will tell me the truth.

Are you an addict?

Yes, I have an addiction.

My name is Caroline.

I'm an addict.

Hi, Caroline.

I started taking pain pills after my back surgery.

I don't need them for the pain any more.

Now...

Now, I just need them.

And I need duct tape, 3 or 4 rolls, running low on heavy duty trash bags...

Until last time, I sharpened my knives...

And then, I lost my license,

Tears, now? It's very hard to concentrate in here.

How am I supposed to get any work done?

My husband says he's gonna leave me

"No self control, lost everything," "trying to stop". Same whiney story over and over for... ten minutes... It feels like 10 hours.

Lortabs, Darvocet...

Percocet, and anything I could get my hands on.

Even now...

I'd kill for a Vicodin.

Lightweight?

First hit at narcotics anonymous.

But I don't belong here.

You guys are real addicts.

So, how was the meeting? Tell me everything.

It was... interesting, hearing the same story over and over again.

Knowing you're not alone.

Exactly.

Did you get fortune cookies?

Only the ones with the good fortunes.

So did you share or just listen?

I just wanted to take it all in my 1st time out.

Think they forgot...

Here they are! Spring rolls.

What about a sponsor? Did you find one?

I didn't want to rush into anything. It's an important relationship.

Absolutely.

OK, so, let's see your newcomer's chip.

My newcomer's chip? Yeah...

You did stay until the end, right?

Of course I did, right... till the end.

You're a terrible liar.

I know too much about 12 steps programs to be easily conned, Dexter.

I didn't stay till the end-end, if that's what you mean.

I had some important errands to run.

Important? But... am I important?

Are the kids?

Yes, of course.

You just gonna have to figure out how important, 'cause if you don't work the program, and I mean really work it, I just... I can't go through this again.

All right, kids. Dinner.

How important are they?

I'm sure someone with a heart could answer that question.

Tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow.

I'll stay.

Hold the elevator!

Thanks.

Nice dodge last night, flooring it through that yellow light.

Were you behind me?

See you tonight.

... detective will be with you.

How long will we have to...

We will get to all of you.

Take their names, and keep them out of the bullpen, till we figure this out.

Sue McMillan!

She disappeared 4 years ago.

Who are they?

Family members of every missing person for the last decade.

Including some sad, lonely and presumably single woman courtesy of Lieutenant Pascal.

It's not her fault. That reporter's an asshole.

Sergeant? Hold the rest of them downstairs. We're out of room, here.

Have you seen Pascal?

Pascal is just caught in a cycle of reaction.

She's not co-creating her own reality.

You know those words don't mean anything, right?

Look around you. She's manifesting negativity.

It's on again.

- Lieutenant?

No comment.

Dozens of bodies found in that underwater grave site.

Not dozens.

The boss' sweater melons look bigger on TV.

The operative word is boss. Show some respect.

I thought I was.

- One dozen, two dozens?

18 or so.

Excuse me.

Have the families been notified?

We're still trying to identify them.

Our viewers with information can contact you?

Yes. Fine.

So police are seeking any leads that can help them identify the 18 faceless victims of the Bay Harbor Butcher.

If you have any information...

Pascal is definitely off her game.

Word is, her fiancé is catching some strange in the sly.

That'd do it.

The shit stops here. Give it to me.

Most of these people won't find answers here.

Chances are good their loved ones weren't among my chosen few.

May I have your attention, please?

First of all, I wanna tell you what a great job you've all been doing on this horrific case.

And with the help of the best man hunter in the FBI, we should have answers soon.

In the meantime, the daily work of this precinct must continue to serve the public. So, we'll be dividing up our resources.

Agent Lundy has requested the following officers for his joint task force.

Officer Cook!

Landy made me L.F.I.

L.F.I?

Lead Forensics Investigator.

Sorry you got boned but, hey, no blood spatter.

It sucks to be me.

Actually, it keeps me off Lundy's radar.

Sergeant Lee.

Detective Ramos...

Officer Panko.

Detective Batista.

Yes!

I saw this happening.

And officer Debra Morgan.

Those called'll report directly to Special Agent Lundy.

But let's not forget this is on all of us, folks.

Let's keep our eyes and ears open.

The Ice Truck Killer was an amateur compared to this guy.

I'd also appreciate it if your lieutenant would consult with me before speaking to the press.

I'll rip her a new one, if I can find her.

Prints, fibers, trace evidence.

No, they won't find anything.

I followed all of Harry's painstaking preventative measures.

He knew that nothing stays buried forever.

His code will protect me.

Still, I wish my own sister weren't hunting me, makes for an awkward family dynamic.

So... I'm a fed. My suit proves it.

The other suits here are feds.

But, suit or... ugly Hawaiian shirt, no offense, we're a team.

And our first play is IDing those bodies.

Once we know who they are, we'll fill in every detail of their lives.

From their huevos rancheros

to their crème brûlée.

And... get used to food references because...

I like food.

Mr. Masuka and his team're gathering DNA, prints and dental records.

The rest of us are going call through cold cases and missing persons' files.

Also, I want that crowd out there interviewed.

Though most of them'll be a waste of time.

He has negative thinking.

You four, move them out as quickly as you can.

But be thorough. If we get even one hit, it'll be worth it.

Everyone else work the files.

Remember, IDs will lead to a pattern, which will lead to our man.

When the manhunt is on, the hunted go shopping.

Not for a new car. For my next project.

I won't act on it... yet.

I'm still laying low, Harry would insist on that.

Just getting the research out of the way.

Someone talked his way into the homes of two women and didn't leave till they were dead.

Ann Cohen, and a month before her, Lynn Hall.

A certain car dealership ran credit checks on both women.

Both bought cars elsewhere, so nobody thought about it twice.

But who requested those credit checks?

Roger Hicks.

All I need is some DNA proof.

A cup of coffee should do the trick.

How many kids you got?

Enough...

I hear you.

When my two came along, it was bye bye convertible.

Of course, they're worth it.

Must have taken after their mom.

That they do. Thank God!

Yeah, I tell you I miss my convertible but... the truth, my minivan's got a much nicer ride.

So, you own one?

The same one you're looking at.

I know, whipped, right? But my kids love the twin DVDs. They're crazy about Sponge Bob. You see?

Actually, I do.

My wife loves the NAV system and all the safety features, and when they're happy...

You're happy.

That's right.

Except the kids and the wife don't exist.

And he owns a Beemer, not to minivan.

Still, he's seemless.

Impressive.

It's not flashy, but...

What did flash ever get me? Get me pulled over, that's what.

I'm definitely not in the flash.

You gotta sit in the captain chair, though.

It's like a 747, man. Manuel, hold up!

Thank you, sir.

So... We should take it out.

Check out the ride.

No, I'm just doing research.

OK, you don't want a big sales pitch, I get that.

Let me at least pull the specs for you.

Because, truthfully, we have a hard time keeping these on the lot, you might wanna grab the test drive while it's still here.

I think I have all the information I need to make a decision.

Then, you've seen the Stow&Go seating system, right?

I have had everything in here from a soccer team, to a freaking deer carcass. It was an accident, of course.

But I sure was glad for the ample cargo space.

Not to mention the tainted windows.

I can see how that might come in handy.

I'll just grab the keys.

I go to stalk a killer and I end up with a new car...

How did that happen?

New car?

You're getting married?

Not that I know of.

So what's with the mommy-mobile?

I'm... not sure.

Synthetic...

Even Roger's hair is a lie.

I could learn a thing or two from this guy.

Who's your daddy?

Harry Morgan.

Dude, the lead forensics investigator of the joint task force.

That's who.

So, you want in on this bitch or not?

What bitch?

The only bitch in town, baby. The Bay Harbor Butcher.

I got you temporarily assigned.

You didn't have to.

Nothing sexy, of course, just some bone marrow collection for DNA IDs.

But it'll get you in the tent. And you gotta see the tent. Amazing!

Say it.

You're my daddy.

It sounds weird when you say it.

I haven't been much use, since he disappeared.

I know I'm supposed to move on...

But...

Here's a picture of him.

He looks... nice.

Not according to my mother.

Or the police. He was in and out of jail.

But... my heart raced whenever I saw him.

I brought his toothbrush. They say you can get DNA off it.

You can find him with this, right?

Look, thanks for choosing me for the task force and all, but...

I'd appreciate you finding someone else.

You want off?

Just as soon as you can replace me, sir.

This is a chance to solve a pretty important case.

Most people get into this line of work to do just that.

I've got cases of my own backing up, and the precinct's shorthanded with all this shit, so, if you don't mind...

I'll see what I can do.

In the meantime, if you could continue the interviews...

Yeah, of course.

Thank you.

Most of them have been underwater for years, but some...

It's awesome, you can't even tell.

The temperature in the ocean floor and the airtight bags kept them intact.

I mean a little gelatinous residue sure, but...

I'd rather remember my old playmates as they were. Neat, clean little packages.

I appreciate the favor, Vince, but...

Actually, you're doing me the favor.

I need your help, buddy. The pressure's fucking ridonkulous.

Glad to be of service.

Field morgue, for the overflow, but it's state of the art.

Fucking FBI, hey?

A good percentage is just bones, Must have fed the fish when the bags tore.

Humpty fucking Dumpty, right?

Exactly.

They weren't meant to be put together again.

They were meant to remain in the silent shadows, keeping their secrets.

Now, they're exposed to the glare, reflecting my darkness like some grotesque carnival mirror.

Harry was right. Nothing stays buried.

Perhaps, not even me.

Looking for my Taurus, Sergeant?

Keep looking.

You don't need to know where I'm going tonight.

... and, genius me, not only do I leave my works in my girlfriend's car, but also all the dead fish from the fishing trip, right?

Then I collapse in her parents' house, scare her kids, and get myself fired, 'cause guess what...

We work together.

So now, I'm 20 day sober, again, hoping to make it to 21.

Thanks, Gordon.

This meeting recognizes lengths of sobriety with chips.

So...

If there's anyone who'd like a newcomer's chip...

You've got 3 minutes to share if you want it.

Really?

Go ahead. You among friends.

Well, I...

What's your name?

Hi, Bob.

And I'm a... an addict.

I use... heroine.

Shoot it.

It's affecting my job. My boss found my works. He fired my ass.

But I showed him. I spent every penny on my final paycheck on junk.

And doctor said I...

I almost died.

Coffee sucks.

As bad as the doughnuts.

It's better next door. Come on.

It is good coffee. Thank you.

So tell me... exactly... how full of shit are you?

I'm not full of anything.

It was a nice performance in there.

Where did you download it? From Addict.com?

Look, I have no reason to lie.

Sure you do.

We all do.

You thought I was lying?

I don't know...

Well, it is anonymous.

Everyone in that room, has heard or lived far worse than anything you've ever done.

I doubt it.

So, you're super-junky.

I don't mean to imply that what you've been through hasn't been difficult.

But there is no way that I could know what you've experienced, right?

I couldn't possibly feel that need.

Like a thousand hiding voices whispering... "This is who you are..."

And you fight the pressure.

The growing need rising like a wave.

Prickling and teasing and prodding... to be fed.

But the whispering gets louder, until it's screaming "Now!".

And it's the only voice you hear.

The only voice you want to hear.

And you belong to her.

To this... shadow self.

To this...

Dark passenger.

The dark passenger.

I'm sorry, but...

I need to go.

Thanks for the coffee.

She knows.

She recognizes demons, dark passengers...

Maybe the others can too. This program is too risky.

Especially now.

Rita will have to understand.

You just missed story time.

I was at a meeting.

Thank you.

It made me realize something important.

Really? What's that?

Those meetings are not a good place for me.

I know how this sounds, but I can do this on my own.

You need a program.

I've read studies, people are ten times as likely to change on their own as they are with the help of doctors or programs.

So, you're quoting studies?

I lived this.

I watched Paul try and fail with white-knuckle sobriety.

I'm not Paul. I'm not any of those people.

Going to those meetings, will do more harm than good. I swear to you.

I'm better off, alone.

I pray you change your mind.

What just happened?

I though you were staying at Rita's.

I'm taking the night off.

I though you'd be on the treadmill.

Taking the night off.

With no money down, guaranteed, or we'll make your first two payments...

A night off is good to remember what's important.

Two women are dead. The killer is selling minivans and I have an opportunity to prove it. Even if I am laying low.

Having a victim prepped and ready will take the edge off the wait...

I hope.

Hang on a second, OK?

What's going on, Dex?

Any problems, the service center can take care of you, but they're around the corner.

Actually, the minivan's fine.

Yes, I'd never sell a lemon.

I'm rethinking the extended warranty.

I'll ask the warranty writer.

I'm thinking roof rack and premium sound system.

Going all out.

That's great. But I'm with a customer and so...

One of my associates will take care of you.

I'll just wait for you in your office.

DNA, DNA, come out and play.

Roger's got you in a box. Once you're in a box you don't leave without a deal.

Don't worry, you're safe with Roger, he's the best.

I'm just dropping off this thank you note.

I was just leaving.

He sent you across the street, didn't he?

Across the street? he told me not to tell anyone too.

I don't know how he makes a living sending all of his commissions to other dealers.

Maybe he has ulterior motives.

Or maybe he knows I can't afford this price.

After he ran a credit check?

TRW doesn't lie.

So, you're single?

Makes it tougher to afford those big ticket items like cars... houses. You rent an apartment?

A house. I hate sharing walls, you hear everything.

Tell me about it. No pets though, right?

Is this a come-on? 'Cause it's a little weird.

Must be why I'm still single.

Another brunette.

Single, neighbors out of distance.

No guard dog.

The credit check gives Roger all the details he needs.

She's next.

And I can't do anything about it. Not until this manhunt ends.

Harry would insist on it.

What?

I'll take care of it.

I know the card is in his name. I just wanna check the charges.

Well this supervisor I spoke with this morning allowed it.

Yeah, I'll hold. Yes?

Just to remind you that the Biscayne drive-by warrant needs your approval.

I'll look at it.

And the homicide that came in last night still need to be assigned. Right. Thanks.

I know things are awful with your fiancé

right know, and I'm sorry.

But we need to keep clearing that board out there.

You're right, I'm sorry.

I seem to have had my head up my ass, lately.

It's called being human.

OK, who's up?

Samuels and Kent are up.

Put them on the liquor store shooting.

And where is the Biscayne warrant?

Right here.

Simps and Hoagy want SWAT for entry?

I think it's a good cautionary measure given the weapon charge.

Excuse me, I'm gonna need a minute.

Just gonna need a minute.

I'll handle it.

You're not taking my calls and now you're checking my credit card charges?

Roger's DNA matches the semen found at both crime scenes.

Irrefutable.

If I do nothing, another woman dies.

Is that my long-dormant conscience talking?

Or the dark passenger whispering?

Hi, it's me.

Hi, Dexter.

Kids home from school yet?

Colleen's bringing them home now.

I'm a... little confused.

I'm sorry you're confused.

It is pizza night, shall I pick up the usual?

Did you go back?

To a meeting? Thinking about it.

The kids and I will order in, then.

So...

This is it?

It's up to you, Dexter.

I want to know where is she.

Mí Teresita, she's so young.

Seven-year old.

You heard me.

I know you find her.

We'll do what we can.

Don't cry.

Only English. Angel!

Just tell her we'll call her.

She thinks you can find her daughter.

But there are no kids down there.

Tell her I can't help her.

I can't help you.

It's been 24 hours since I asked to be replaced.

Has it?

What's taking so long?

Every cop on the damn force wants in on this case, just take your pick.

I've been wondering about that, actually.

Everyone wants on but you want off.

I told you I've cases.

I don't think so.

Jesus, I just don't wanna be on your task force, alright?

Why?

Because I'm the last person in the world that should be on it.

You want me to find a serial killer? I was engaged to one, for Christ's sake!

What kind of cop...

What kind...

That's why I chose you, you know.

Because of what you went through.

You survived.

I don't know how.

I can't begin to imagine the strength it took, continues to take.

More than that, you got a first-hand look into the mind and heart of a killer.

And you're still here.

If you can accept that, really accept it, you could use it.

Mix that with some of your strength and... you could catch someone even worse than the Ice-Truck Killer.

But you have to stop running.

Finish today's interviews.

Then if you still want out, you got it.

Lead fucking investigator.

Translation: everyone's bitch.

I do have a life, you know.

You do?

Just give me a bone marrow DNA results.

No matches.

Big surprise.

Do me a favor on your way out, OK?

Drop these dental X-rays at the morgue for me. Tech should still be there.

Fucking Bay Harbor butcher's butchering my online social life.

Sorry.

I figured you'd still be here.

You were a pain in the ass, but always a damn hard worker.

And of course, you knew how to handle the press.

Come here a minute.

The public needs to believe that we can protect them when all hell breaks loose, so I need all my people operating at their highest levels.

I agree.

Should I be worried about Pascal?

Why?

You can cut the crap, Maria.

I know she's been AWOL on personal matters.

The press fuck up is huge.

And I'm beginning to hear rumors about erratic behavior.

You're asking me because?

Because you've done the job.

So she is out, that means you're back in.

That makes you her harshest critic and I want it straight.

Take your shot.

You know what "erratic" means?

It's code, for non male.

This is the same bullshit sexism I put up with when I was in charge.

I won't dignify rumors, captain. Pascal's fine.

Minivan's that way.

Field morgue's this way.

I'll wait.

You should take the night off, sergeant.

On pizza night? No way.

What's that girlfriend of yours seeing in a freakshow like you anyway?

You have to ask her.

Maybe I will.

What exactly is it you think I've done?

I know you're connected to the Ice-Truck Killer.

Could you be more vague?

I know you're too careful.

Your assets are all in cash, you don't belong to any organizations or alumni groups.

You were top of your class in med school but you changed for blood spatter.

I know you studied martial arts in college.

But I don't know what a lab geek needs with advanced Jiu-Jitsu.

Do you know what an easy credit is?

I know you're a good liar too.

Not good enough.

Sergeant Doakes thinks he knows my secrets.

But he only needs to look at this, my body of work, to know the real me.

Suit up if you gonna touch them.

I'm just dropping off some X-rays.

I'm Dexter Morgan.

I know who you are.

Right.

Looks like the lab tech's gone home for the night, so I'll just...

You hoping they'll talk to you?

The ones with heads, anyway.

They always speak, eventually.

Just gotta ask the right question.

Which is?

Why were they chosen?

Looking for a pattern?

One doesn't kill this many people in this... careful, methodical way without a reason.

Some... twisted set of principles.

They would have to be twisted, wouldn't they?

The worst killers are usually the ones who think their murders were somehow... just.

Even deserved.

Leaders have slaughtered whole populations for the same wacky reason.

But there's never any justification for killing.

Well, one, of course.

To save an innocent life.

To save an innocent life.

How many more bodies would there be, had I not stopped those killers?

I didn't do it to save lives.

But save lives, I did.

Motivation aside, I think Harry and Lundy would agree on this one.

Roger the artful dodger.

You scared me, bro.

We have some unfinished business.

Right, the warranty and stuff.

Listen, I can't write you up now, the wife's waiting for me.

Not married.

Ex, I gotta take the kids.

You don't have any.

They're hers.

Nope.

OK, what about this one?

I don't give a shit!

Neither do I.

You were right about the ample cargo space.

Where am I?

Looks different under plastic but you've spent an evening here.

With Ann Cohen.

You took her last breath from her right over there, you remember?

You're wrong, I wouldn't!

No, you would, and you did and you're about to do it again, that's why we're here.

No, this is crazy.

You've got the wrong guy, I...

I sell cars, for God's sake.

I've never hurt anyone in my life, definitely not a woman.

Why can't I do that?

Do what?

Lie like that.

When I thought I was good, but you, it's...

I don't lie!

OK, that one was weak.

Hey, look.

Any car in the lot, it's yours.

T-bird, town car, you name it. Yours. Free. I'll call it in right now.

Lot's closed.

I'll have it opened. I'm the manager.

The manager is Rick Boxton.

But I've been there longer than him.

You've been there 3 months.

At the other lot.

It's like watching someone ski moguls.

You just hop from one lie to the next, no shame, no embarrassment, you just don't give a shit.

That's the key, right? Not to care about anyone or anything.

I care.

I care a lot.

It was a compliment.

I don't care either.

Yes, you do.

Like about your wife.

Not married.

Girlfriend, then.

I saw it the minute you walked on the lot.

What did you see? Tell me.

Most guys of your age, they beeline...

Right through the horse power. You know, something flashy, sexy.

But you, you there all alone, no one there to nag you, and you don't even glance at the coupes.

The only thing you look at is the minivan.

Like you can see her in the passenger seat, and the kids in the back.

Leave the kids out.

You're lying to yourself if you think you don't care.

She's just a companion really.

It started that way, anyway.

Someone who... looked good, normal.

They worm their way in.

Yeah, they do.

And they shut you out.

That's what this is about? That she shut you out?

OK, I get it.

I've been there.

But you can't let her get to you like this. 'cause they're all the same.

Fucking bitches.

You do everything for them, and then they fuck you. She's not worth it!

You're better off without that cunt!

Don't talk that way about my girlfriend.

I'm Dexter. and...

I'm not sure of what I am.

Hi, Dexter.

I just know there is something dark in me.

And I hide it.

I certainly don't talk about it.

It's there, always.

This dark passenger.

And when he's driving, I feel...

Alive.

Half sick with the thrill, the complete wrongness...

I don't fight him. I don't want to.

He's all I've got.

Nothing else could love me.

Not even... especially not me.

Or is that just a lie the dark passenger tells me?

Because lately, there are these moments when I feel connected, to something else.

Someone.

It's like the mask is slipping.

Things, people, who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter.

It scares the hell out of me.

Hello.

That's all the time we have for sharing.

Would someone lead us in the serenity prayer?

I knew there was something wrong with you.

The secrets, the sneaking around...

Now it all makes sense.

A lot of cops been where you are.

The booze, the drugs.

It makes the job go down easier.

Stay clean and stay out of my way. And we won't have a problem.

And you owe me a new Michelin, you motherfucker.

I have all your forms so we'll do what we can to bring your dad home.

I'm sorry, you don't understand.

I don't want him home.

Just tell me he's dead. We need to know he's gone.

Alright. You want closure.

I want peace. He made our lives a living hell.

When he'd go to prison, it was a blessing, but... you kept letting him out.

I need to tell my mother, my sister that they're safe.

That he's rotting in hell. Call me when you can tell me that.

Lundy, wait!

I think... it could be a coincidence but, there are 2 of them.

Two?

Missing people with records, prison records.

Interesting.

And who typically has a prison record?

I don't know.

Bad guys?

Bad guys.

Do you think it could be...

A pattern? Maybe.

We'll run all the victims' DNA against the criminal database.

DC lab is still open.

Come on. Let's get to work.

Dexter, what?

You were right. I'm sorry... to wake you up, but I had to let you know that you were right.

About what?

The program...

It's...

It's good, it's really good.

I... am always so in my head.

But this, it was... good.

In fact it's already helped me a lot.

Thank you.

I do love this car.

I thought you might.

So, I will pick you up in an hour.

We'll go some place nice for lunch.

Here's my sponsor.

Really? Where?

The guy in the blue shirt?

No, next to him. Laila.

I'm back.