Chapter 19: The Miguel Prado Entanglement
The memorial service for Oscar Prado took place on a humid Miami morning, the kind of weather that made everything stick—fabric to skin, grief to conscience, secrets to the surface. Dexter stood near the back of the gathering, hands clasped behind him, expression appropriately somber as prosecutor Miguel Prado spoke about his brother's tragic death.
Oscar had been a drug dealer who'd made the mistake of witnessing one of Dexter's kills. The subsequent confrontation had been... unfortunate. Necessary, but unfortunate. Now his brother stood at a podium, eulogizing a criminal while the man responsible for his death listened from twenty feet away.
"David Chen," Dexter murmured as his consultant approached through the crowd. "Thank you for coming."
Miguel's eulogy concluded, and the crowd began to disperse. Dexter watched as Miami's assistant district attorney made his way toward them, purpose evident in his stride.
"Miguel," Dexter said as the man approached. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, Dexter." Miguel's handshake lingered a moment too long. "And you must be the famous David Chen. Dexter speaks highly of your analytical abilities."
Elijah studied Miguel's face—sharp features, intelligent eyes that missed nothing, the carefully controlled grief of someone who'd learned to weaponize emotion. Everything about him screamed danger.
"I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances," Elijah replied carefully.
Miguel's smile was warm but predatory. "Perhaps we can speak more under better ones. Dexter tells me you help solve... difficult problems."
Twenty minutes later, Miguel pulled Dexter aside in the parking lot, voice dropped to a conspirative whisper.
"I know what you did."
Dexter's blood turned to ice. Every muscle in his body coiled for violence or flight. "I'm sorry?"
"You hunt monsters," Miguel continued, eyes burning with something that looked disturbingly like admiration. "You find the people the system can't touch, and you make sure they can't hurt anyone else."
The words hit Dexter like a revelation wrapped in a threat. Not discovered—recruited. Miguel wasn't accusing him; he was propositioning him.
"I want to help," Miguel said quietly. "Let me be your partner in this. Together, we can clean up Miami properly."
Dexter forced his expression to remain neutral while his mind raced through possibilities. Miguel's offer was both opportunity and catastrophe—an ally who could provide legal cover, or a loose cannon who could destroy everything.
"That's... an interesting perspective," Dexter said carefully.
"I've been watching you, Dexter. The cases you consult on, the evidence you find, the way certain problems seem to solve themselves around you." Miguel's voice carried the intensity of someone sharing a religious revelation. "You're exactly what this city needs."
Later, as they walked back toward David Chen, Dexter felt the weight of a decision he didn't want to make.
"Miguel's dangerous," he told David quietly. "He's not following any code—he's using justice as an excuse for something else."
David pulled out his phone and typed: Then why haven't you handled it?
Dexter paused, considering the question with uncomfortable honesty. "Because he's useful. And he trusts me."
David's expression was unreadable—knowing, disappointed, like someone watching a friend make a predictable mistake.
The Miami-Dade courthouse buzzed with afternoon activity. Elijah timed his encounter with Miguel in the hallway between hearings, a seemingly accidental collision that provided the physical contact his powers required.
"Mr. Chen," Miguel said with practiced charm. "Good to see you again. How's the consulting business?"
"Busy. Always new problems to solve."
Leverage Finder scanning Miguel Prado...
The secrets that emerged made Elijah's stomach clench:
Subject planning to murder defense attorney Ellen Wolf within two weeks. Has killed before—unreported domestic violence incident involving ex-girlfriend. Seeks power through violence, uses justice system as hunting ground. Currently manipulating relationship with Dexter Morgan to gain access to victims.
Tier 3 secret. Cost: $11,000.
Elijah managed to keep his expression neutral despite the devastating revelation. Miguel wasn't just a vigilante—he was a predator using the legal system to identify targets and Dexter as an unwitting mentor.
Probability Assessment: If Miguel continues his current trajectory, what is the likelihood of Dexter being exposed within six months?
67% probability of exposure.
Cost: $3,400.
The numbers were brutal. Miguel would eventually turn on Dexter, either through carelessness or calculation. The man was a ticking bomb with a sixty-seven percent chance of destroying everything.
That evening, Elijah found Dexter at their usual coffee shop and slid a written note across the table: Miguel will turn on you. I can remove him quietly—make it look natural.
Dexter read the message twice before responding. "I handle my own problems."
"Then handle it soon," Elijah replied aloud. "Before he handles you."
The parking garage beneath Miami Metro felt like a concrete tomb. Detective Debra Morgan emerged from the stairwell with the purposeful stride of someone who'd been digging through databases for hours.
"David Chen," she called out, her voice echoing off concrete walls. "Perfect timing."
Elijah turned, already calculating escape routes. Debra's expression carried the satisfaction of someone who'd finally assembled the pieces of a puzzle.
"I ran your background," she continued, stopping three feet away. "Your companies are shells. Your references don't check out. What are you REALLY doing in Miami?"
Elijah activated his Probability Assessment silently, spending money he couldn't afford on survival calculations:
If I admit anything: 92% probability of arrest. If I lie convincingly: 56% probability she backs off temporarily. If I redirect suspicion: 71% probability she investigates Dexter instead.
Cost: $2,800.
"I'm a private consultant for sensitive clients," Elijah said carefully. "I can't disclose names without violating NDAs. Check with your brother—he'll vouch for me."
Debra's eyes narrowed. "Dexter's judgment has been compromised lately. That doesn't reassure me."
The admission hung between them like a challenge. Debra suspected something was wrong with her brother, and she was starting to connect David Chen to whatever had changed.
"I understand your concern," Elijah said. "But I'm exactly what I appear to be—someone who helps solve problems that can't be solved through normal channels."
"Right." Debra's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Just remember, David—I'm very good at solving problems too. And my methods don't require NDAs."
She walked away, leaving Elijah alone in the concrete tomb with the sick realization that his multiple identities were collapsing under scrutiny. Marcus Reid in Albuquerque, David Chen in Miami—both increasingly suspicious to law enforcement.
His fading symptoms spiked as stress accelerated the Entity's curse. Vision blurred, chest tightened, the familiar warning that distance from main characters was lethal.
"I'm one suspicion away from exposure, one mistake away from arrest, one misstep away from fading into nonexistence. The Entity's game is forcing me to balance on knives while juggling live grenades."
The all-night diner on Collins Avenue served coffee that tasted like burnt desperation and dreams that had curdled in the Florida heat. Elijah sat across from Dexter in a corner booth, the only customers brave enough to venture out at 3 AM.
He wrote on a napkin: Debra is one suspicion away from unraveling both of us. Miguel is one kill away from exposing you. And I'm one misstep from disappearing entirely.
Dexter read the message, crumpled the napkin with mechanical precision. "Then don't misstep."
The advice was practical and useless, like telling someone drowning not to sink. Elijah nodded anyway, understanding that Dexter's world operated on the principle that survival was a personal responsibility, not a shared burden.
"Your sister is smart," Elijah said. "Too smart."
"Debra's always been persistent. It's what makes her a good detective and a dangerous sister."
"She'll figure it out eventually."
Dexter's smile was cold and predatory. "Then I'll handle it when she does."
The casual tone masked something that made Elijah's blood run cold. Dexter would kill his own sister if necessary. The realization shouldn't have been shocking—he'd watched Dexter murder his brother in season one—but hearing it stated so matter-of-factly was different.
"I'm allied with a man who would kill family to protect his secrets. What does that make me? And how far am I willing to go to protect mine?"
At dawn, Elijah caught the first flight back to Albuquerque, exhausted by the constant juggling of identities and the weight of knowledge he couldn't share. His phone buzzed as the plane taxied for takeoff—a text from Walt that made his stomach drop:
Gale is asking questions about you. Control your curiosity.
The message was a warning wrapped in a threat. Walt suspected Gale's interest in Marcus Reid was becoming problematic, and problematic people in Walter White's world had a tendency to become corpses.
Elijah closed his eyes and prepared for whatever fresh hell awaited in the superlab, knowing that each crisis he navigated only led to larger ones, each secret he protected only spawned more dangerous ones.
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