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🕑 Added 2025-03-27 08:14:37 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 27 - The Meeting
After that meeting with Dexter, night slowly fell, and the time came to meet with Jack.
Rgh!
The sound of the Suzuki GSX-R1000 motorcycle engine roared pleasantly as Larry sped down the road. About half an hour later, he parked outside a building. At the entrance, two soldiers were waiting to guide him.
Larry turned off the engine and removed his helmet.
“Larry Luk?” Two men in black suits approached him and questioned him while eyeing the weapon at his waist.
“Is Jack inside?” Larry asked as he got off the motorcycle.
“Yes, but if it’s not too much trouble, you need to show your identification. If you’re Larry Luk, then we’ll let you in,” one of the men responded in a rough voice.
Larry’s calm eyes examined the two detectives, who seemed nervous. Jack was, after all, a special agent with the FBI, head of the Behavioral Science Unit.
“Detectives…”
“We’re not detectives, we’re special agents with the FBI…”
“That’s true, but you also investigate crimes like a detective. While the term may not be entirely correct, you do almost the same thing—except you’re more arrogant.” Larry said, uninterested in debating the matter.
“Well then…”
Larry showed his identification, looked at the special agent, and asked, “Do you also want my gun?”
“How does a forensic specialist carry a firearm?”
“I’m also a criminal profiler,” Larry replied as he was led to the room where Jack was waiting for him.
“Captain, he’s here.”
“Let him in…”
As Larry entered the room, he saw a man sitting on a couch, drinking coffee. He appeared calm, but his face silently told a different story.
“Save the pleasantries for when we’re in public and when someone bored enough actually cares about that stuff. You know very well I don’t like being compared to those old men.” Jack looked at Larry with interest and said, “I hope I didn’t surprise you.”
“Of course, I’m surprised. It’s not common for the head of the Behavioral Division to be guarded by well-trained special agents,” Larry said while pouring himself a cup of coffee. This place was clearly cleared of people, which meant Jack had done his job.
“I’m working on a very important case. Do you want to see it?” Jack asked as he placed a folder on the table, stamped with a ‘Confidential’ seal.
Larry looked at the folder and closed his eyes. It was more than obvious that Jack was trying to tempt him. This man knew that chasing special killers was his addiction.
Jack, who in turn needed Larry’s skills, knew that if he turned to another criminal profiler, he wouldn’t get anything nearly as good as Larry. His work was clean; he didn’t need evidence to trust this man.
If Larry pointed at a suspect, Jack would investigate until he found them guilty. That level of trust was what Jack had in Larry, and it was also the reason he wanted him on this investigation.
“Is it urgent?”
“The sooner it’s resolved, the better,” Jack said, not pressuring Larry for a final decision.
“I can’t.” Larry was in Miami for a very personal reason that Jack surely suspected, but at this point, he didn’t care to reveal it.
“Larry, I need you back at the FBI. This case is exactly your specialty. If you solve it, you’ll gain more than just recognition.”
“I thought we agreed my time with the FBI was over? I’m far from all that. For now, I won’t be coming back.”
“I know, but this case… is different. We have a serial killer in Chesapeake replicating illustrations of the Wound Man.” Jack said as he slid the folder toward him.
“The Wound Man? Are you telling me someone is murdering people and posing them like in the 15th-century medical engravings?”
“Exactly. His latest victim was a mechanic, Peter Calloway. His body was found in his workshop, cut open, with multiple wounds distributed almost surgically. Clean cuts, precise punctures… Everything arranged just like in the drawings from the Fasciculus Medicinae.”
Larry still didn’t take the folder. He thought for a moment and murmured, “Interesting… The Wound Man schematically displayed various wounds a person could suffer in battle or accidents. Every cut, every puncture had a purpose—to show doctors how to treat those injuries. It wasn’t a symbol of terror but a manual for healing.”
“That’s correct, but this killer is using it for a different purpose. He’s turning it into a map of torture,” Jack said, setting his coffee cup aside.
“That suggests a meticulous, methodical type of killer. Probably someone with medical or anatomical knowledge. If he’s truly replicating those illustrations, it means this isn’t just about killing—it’s about sending a message… Maybe about his own perception of life and death.”
“You know we need you, Larry. No one can get into this guy’s head like you.”
Larry sighed, looked at the file, and said, “Send me everything by email—every detail. I’ll coordinate with a specific agent you assign to the case. But I’m not leaving Miami, not for now.”
