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🕑 Added 2025-03-18 08:51:04 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 09 - More About Larry Luk
Late at night, Miami Metropolitan Police Department.
Lieutenant María LaGuerta’s Office.
Sergeant Doakes entered her office and asked, "Are you really going to tell me who Larry Luk is and why we have him in our department?"
"Originally, he was just a forensic specialist assigned directly to the pathology department, but his skills as a criminal profiler shouldn’t be wasted. He has already proven what he’s capable of by solving your case in less than forty-eight hours."
"He's a complete robot. He has no consideration for others."
"He's a criminal profiler, James. He needs to be given the necessary attention and listened to so that the workload in the field is less burdensome." María knew what Larry was capable of because she had received recommendations from the FBI about him.
Everyone wanted Larry on their team—there were even other departments in Miami that would welcome a criminal profiler like him with open arms.
Not everyone knew Larry's history. Few were aware of the cases he had worked on, and even fewer knew who had trained him.
"Larry is the closest we'll ever get to working with a killer, but he's our colleague. Stop making those veiled comments," María scolded, fully aware of James and his tendency to harass anyone he considered a potential threat.
"Does he receive psychological evaluations?"
"Yes, he has to be under constant review. We don’t oversee the results, but we do ensure they are carried out." María glanced at Larry’s file and added, "Besides, it’s not my place to tell you this, but forensic doctor Luk’s family was murdered by a serial killer."
"Then…" Sergeant Doakes felt a chill run down his spine.
"The FBI believes Larry found a series of clues and that the killer is now somewhere in Miami. Our colleague needs support, and we are going to provide it."
"Understood."
When James left the room, María looked at the papers in her hands and murmured, "This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to us… or a problem that will only get worse."
Somewhere in Miami, late at night.
Dexter was following his usual routine, tracking one of his new victims.
But his thoughts kept drifting to a much bigger problem that had been bothering him—Larry, who, until now, hadn’t shown much.
To Dexter, Larry was a problem. Not the kind you could ignore, like a jammed printer or a vending machine that eats your money. No, Larry was the kind of problem that breathes, watches, and analyzes. The kind of problem that doesn’t stop until it finds the exact missing piece of the puzzle.
And now, he worked in his department.
Not just as a simple pathologist—which would already be annoying enough—but also as a criminal profiler.
He had proven that he could catch minds like mine with an alarmingly low margin of error. His success rate was nearly perfect—a symphony of deduction, insight, and obsession.
But something brought him here, to this department, to a place where secrets usually remain silent and unnoticed. Something made him change course, abandon active hunting with the FBI, and seek refuge in the cold comfort of corpses with little history and their eloquent silence.
Or at least, that’s what he wants everyone to believe.
I’ve been watching Larry since the first day he set foot in the department. He’s meticulous, methodical, and, above all, disturbingly perceptive. He moves through the department with a calmness that feels too calculated. He doesn’t just dissect bodies or examine remains—no, Larry studies them, interrogates them in his mind, and extracts truths that no one else would even think to look for.
And he’s looked at me. Several times. With that glint in his eyes that feels vaguely familiar. As if he were dissecting me instead of a corpse on the table.
The question is: what does he see when he looks at me? Does he see the meticulous blood spatter analyst that everyone else thinks they know? Or is there something more in his gaze, something that suggests my facade isn’t as perfect as I thought?
I’ve tested his perception with small details. Tiny changes in my routine, slight variations in my reports. Loose threads that, if he was really paying attention, he’d notice don’t quite fit. And he has. His questions are subtle, disguised as simple curiosity, but they don’t fool someone like me. He’s searching for something. He doesn’t know exactly what, but doubt has taken root in his mind. And if there’s one thing I know about profilers, it’s that once a question nests in their brain, they don’t let go until they find the answer.
And that makes me vulnerable.
It’s not that I’ve made mistakes—not the kind that would get me caught immediately. But Larry doesn’t need irrefutable proof. His skill isn’t in finding fingerprints or DNA traces. His expertise lies in behavior. Patterns. Instinct. And that’s a playing field where the rules aren’t in my favor.
So now, I have to make decisions. Watch him as he watches me. Become his shadow, find his weaknesses before he finds mine. There can’t be two predators in the same jungle without one eventually ending up on top.
The problem is, Larry doesn’t know he’s in danger. He thinks he’s playing a game of intellect, one where truth and logic are his weapons.
But I don’t play by the same rules.
And if Larry isn’t careful, he could end up being more than just a problem.
He could end up being a memory.
"Hey, buddy, are you planning to stay parked here forever?"
Dexter, snapped out of his thoughts, turned to see a man shining a flashlight at him and said, "I’ll move now."
"Then do it before I call the cops."
"Yeah, good night."
On his way home, Dexter thought, Maybe I should become his friend.
Larry’s house
After returning from a party that had lasted longer than expected, Larry sat in his living room, staring at a painting.
It was his own creation—an abstract human figure merging with darkness, dressed in a black suit.
His emotions were sometimes expressed through paintings; no one but him knew that. But this was his most dangerous desire—the wish to become a sort of judge of death.
He wanted to make the living suffer moments before they were killed in dangerous trials that challenged their will to survive.
This kind of punishment had to be witnessed by the whole world. Larry wanted his targets to be known for the murderers they were.
Those who had made others suffer should watch as those scumbags suffered and got what they deserved.
Larry wanted to do the same to the man who had murdered his family. In fact, he had spent years developing complex trials that he could carry out at any moment.
But with the current level of technology, his murders wouldn’t go unnoticed.
That’s why it wasn’t time yet.
Larry didn’t feel ready to bring justice to those who had dedicated their lives to harming others.
“Not yet…”
