As if the lab knew Larry's quick way of working, as soon as he asked about the lab results, a call interrupted Max, who was about to respond.
Max answered the call directly, pressing the speakerphone. "Yes, thank you, no, right now Forensic Luk requested the test results. Yes, it seems he doesn't understand there are more murders in the queue being investigated. I'll let him know."
"We're overwhelmed, but your results will be ready as soon as possible. Just keep in mind that they will be reviewed based on medical and forensic priority."
Max nodded somewhat embarrassed. He knew they had just sent the samples, and although they were working on homicides, they weren't the only ones requesting urgent tests. There were other delicate cases: rapes, attempted murders, thefts, even drug trafficking.
But this time, since Max had been sent, the lab knew very well that Larry was back at work.
"Ah, actually, we already have the first results."
Larry looked at Max, who seemed to be wasting time, and asked, "And what are you doing standing there?"
"Is there something we should know?" Max asked, a little nervous.
Everyone gathered around to hear better.
"I did a toxicology test on the sample," explained the technician on the other side of the call. "And since the victim was a woman, I decided to add a quick HIV test... I didn't expect it to come back weakly positive."
Max reacted immediately.
"One moment, I'll look for the report."
And he shot off like a bat out of hell.
Larry's eyes lit up.
"Interesting…"
Larry's eyes sparkled.
What good news!
Maybe the killer found out during the attack that the victim had a sexually transmitted infection. If it was an impulsive crime, that could have triggered his rage and led to the murder.
Meanwhile, the technicians returned to the office, took off their gloves, and began scanning the reports. Within minutes, Sergeant Doakes received the entire package via the intranet. Masuka made sure to carefully organize Larry's report.
Without wasting time, Larry called Lieutenant LaGuerta to discuss the case face-to-face.
"Do you know the case I'm working on?"
"Yes, I just read the report, but how do we verify the deceased's HIV status?"
Larry shook his head. "I'm not asking you to use this to investigate, just to identify the killer."
After all, if they've had sex with an HIV carrier, the probability of infection is pretty high.
"Have you made any progress with the reconnaissance visits to the factories and stores around the area?" Larry asked, shifting his focus.
Lieutenant LaGuerta sighed.
"There's an industrial park to the east of the road, but there are too many companies around, and we can't risk alerting them about the case. We can only use the union's statistical data to ask everyone to fill out forms and take pictures."
"There are two large forklift factories, and many people meet our requirements."
"What about the auto repair shops?" Larry considered all possible clues that could lead them to the killer.
"There are only two small shops, no heavy machinery. They use large trucks for repairs. I went to see them. One of the owners is an elderly man in his sixties. The other is a disabled man in his thirties. None of them meet the requirements you mentioned."
After saying this, Lieutenant LaGuerta added, "Also, we're reviewing the surrounding security cameras to see if we can link them to the people we're investigating."
"I sent the photo of the braces. You could check a small dental clinic in the suburbs so they can review it and we can get the victim's data." Larry knew identifying the victim was crucial to finding the killer.
It would be easier from that point on.
"This kind of dental work isn't from a conventional manufacturer. It must have been done by a dentist with recycled materials, so there must be at least a record."
"Sergeant Doakes isn't here, so you'll take charge," said Lieutenant LaGuerta before leaving. She still had a lot of work to do, especially with the team investigating the ice truck killer case.
Angel nodded, looked at the officers around him, and said, "Let's split up."
...
...
West Florida Suburbs.
The authority of the Miami department wasn't as vast, but there were exceptions when investigating homicides discovered by its agents.
Any department or sheriff's deputy wasn't eager to get involved in a homicide case, especially one as complex as those investigated by the new forensic division led by Larry.
In the new Florida CSI division, Larry had greater authority to investigate any case.
The truth is, at first, he hadn't thought much about the benefits, something that would have made it much easier to find the killer who ended his family.
"Let's start now and check any dental clinics!"
Larry, of course, didn't actively participate in the investigation. He just traveled back and forth while focusing on his own ideas.
Instead, driving his vehicle, he went straight to a café to think more about the ice truck killer case.
While Larry ordered something for lunch as usual, he pulled a file from his briefcase. This was the one he had recently discovered from his secret investigation.
"Thanks..." Larry thanked the waitress, then immersed himself in his thoughts.
Half an hour later, a man passed by him and left a black folder.
"Is everything here?"
"Yes, but one of the people you asked me to investigate disappeared off the radar after leaving the orphanage where he lived."
Larry nodded, pulled a hundred-dollar bill envelope from his jacket, and said, "I want the tools sent to the address I gave you, discreetly."
"Whatever..." The man left the café without making eye contact with Larry after handing over the document.
Finally, alone, Larry looked at the envelope containing unofficial information he had asked to be investigated.
As he looked through the pages of information on a brutal case, Larry thought, "I've seen many things in my life. Monsters with angel faces, crimes that blur the line between instinct and calculation. But the Moser brothers... They're a special case. Two products of the same hell, shaped by blood, abandonment, and decisions that weren't theirs."
During his investigation, Larry found the only case that was related to the ice truck killer. And of them, two boys who should be his age.
One of them was Brian Moser. As described in the information, he was tall, thin, with an elongated face framed by dark curls that fell carelessly in a professional way. The kind of guy who could pass for an on-call doctor or a forensic technician. Always well-dressed. Shirt, tie, dress pants, lab coat, if the day called for it. A man who walked the line between right and monstrous… But always on the wrong side."
He was reasonably attractive, just like his younger brother, Dexter Morgan. But where Dexter had that emotional stillness, that domesticated emptiness, Brian had fire. A cold, twisted fire. Brian's green eyes were like blades. They didn't look at you, they analyzed you. Years in mental institutions didn't extinguish him. They just sharpened him...
They both shared the same origin: a metal box, a chainsaw, and a mother who was torn apart in front of their eyes. They sat in her blood for two days. Two days. A red puddle that became the cradle of two killers.
What happened there can't be understood in words. You understand it when you see how one studies blood like a disturbed artist… and the other, like a lover.
Dexter was lucky. Harry Morgan, that old stubborn officer, saw him and thought he could shape him. He raised him pretty well, well, that's how it seemed.
But Brian... Brian was discarded.
"Too broken..." That's what Harry probably thought.
He left him at the mercy of the system, where cruelty wears a white coat. Group homes, psychiatric hospitals. None of them cured him. They just taught him how to pretend.
"We're alike in this." Larry murmured as he continued reading.
Biney. That's what Dexter called him when they were kids. He couldn't say his name properly. "Biney" became an echo of a past Dexter buried, while Brian turned it into his reason for existence.
His fascination with limbs... Well, that came later. After the trauma, after the chainsaw became a symbol. For Brian, dismembering was returning to that moment, reliving the origin. It was sexual, symbolic, personal. A ritual.
And that's how the Ice Truck Killer was born. Precise. Clean. No drop out of place. Each victim dismembered like a macabre work of art. Gloves, apron, facial protection. The curious thing is that even when killing, Brian imitated his brother. As if killing his way, he could be part of him, as if with each body, he was getting closer to recovering what fate and Harry took from him.
He didn't kill out of necessity. He killed out of love. Out of jealousy. Out of a childish desire to go back to being two in that box, together, misunderstood, inseparable.
The tragedy of the Mosers isn't in what they became. It's in what they could have been if someone, anyone, had saved both. One became a forensic expert, a blood expert.
The other, one without them. But both… are still children covered in blood.
"And us... we only arrive when it's too late." Larry finally understood who the killer had been sending those messages to, and it was Dexter.
It was Dexter all along...
Larry knew Dexter, not as well as he'd like, but now that there was a reason to get to know him better, of course, he would investigate him.
"Are you also a killer, Dexter?" Larry smiled slightly, he could pursue the ice truck killer right now, but he had no proof.
Besides, he needed a more personal investigation. That's why Larry wouldn't imprison him this time; what he would do with that killer was kill him with his own hands.
In the corner of the café, without Larry noticing, a man wearing a cap was watching him while also holding the menu to order food.
If Larry could see him, he would realize that the man was none other than Brian Moser, the guy he wanted to use as his first murder target.