Blood Analysis Office
Dexter was silent, lost in thought about the events of the past few days.
"This is very bad..."
Larry always seemed like a meticulous guy to me, but now I see him differently—he's a predator in his own game. A profiler who doesn't just analyze but dissects the minds of criminals with terrifying precision. And the worst part is, he's too close to me. His intuition is dangerous, his ability to connect patterns almost feels like a cursed gift.
Before, I could maneuver in the darkness, slip through the cracks of justice. But now, with Larry actively involved in the most complex cases, I have no room for error. I can't hide information without raising suspicion. I can't divert attention without his inquisitive eyes piercing through me with that intensity that seems to see through masks.
His last deduction about Valeria was an invisible yet brutal warning of his skill. He had no direct evidence at first, yet he saw what all of us overlooked. And if he can do that with just a simple photo, what will happen when he decides to focus on me? When he notices the small details that have always been there, waiting to be uncovered?
For now, I must be what everyone believes I am. The blood analyst, the good coworker, the reliable Dexter. I can't make mistakes. I can't act behind Larry's back until I find a crack in his perception. I can't give him reasons to suspect because I know that once he does, he won't stop until he uncovers the truth.
The problem with Larry isn't just his intelligence. It's his tenacity. His instinct. His need to hunt. And if I'm not careful, I could become his next prey.
But what truly eats away at me is the powerlessness of watching those monsters he catches get locked up in cells where bureaucratic justice will handle them… or let them go on technicalities. I should be the one to eliminate them, to deliver true justice. And now, with Larry taking over every major case, my prey disappears before I can even mark them. It's an unbearable frustration. Not hunting feels like suppressing a basic need, a thirst I can't quench. And as long as Larry continues on his flawless path, my Dark Passenger will have nowhere to feed.
"Hey, Dexter, is everything okay?" Larry asked as he packed up his things to head home.
"Why do you ask?" Dexter recomposed himself and looked at Larry with interest. He definitely wouldn't fall into any psychological game he might be setting up.
"If you have any problems you want to talk about, I can give you private therapy sessions at home. Just friends, nothing commercial." Larry was serious. He felt that Dexter was something he couldn't quite identify.
This man hid behind many layers, like an onion. It would be interesting to discover who the real Dexter Morgan was. However, there were limits Larry would never cross.
There were killers out there—those were the ones who occupied all his thoughts and attention. Someone like Dexter wasn't significant enough to dedicate too much time to.
But then again, it would be interesting to study the mind of a forensic expert who seemed to be a magnet for advising detectives with such detail, as if he were a criminal profiler himself.
Maybe he is, isn't he?
"I'll think about it." Dexter said with a smile.
"See you later." Larry noticed that smile—it was fake, forced. The rigidity in this man was perceptible, and there was something about him that made Larry uneasy.
But for now, Larry didn't know what exactly about him could unsettle a forensic expert with so many years of experience. What was really going on?
"Tomorrow is bowling night, don't forget to buy a good ball." Masuka had invited Larry. After all, his relationship with the rest of the team had become closer.
Larry nodded, put on his coat—it was still winter—and left the police department.
Outside, Ángel watched as LaGuerta reviewed some documents while discussing an issue with the narcotics division.
"Anything new?" Larry approached, somewhat interested in what those detectives were talking about.
"Forensic doctor Luk, seems like you still have energy to keep working." Lieutenant LaGuerta said without hiding what she had in her hands.
Larry's slightly tired eyes examined a dismembered corpse and said, "Was this done by some criminal gang?"
"They murdered a prostitute. The method is quite peculiar, but nothing that a Latino from a crime group wouldn't do. This is their modus operandi. Lucky she was found."
"Do you want me to investigate?" Larry asked, not too interested since it didn't seem to be the work of a peculiar killer. Besides, if criminal gangs were involved, it wasn't a case that caught his attention.
"Get some rest, forensic. Remember, you also have a psychology session directly administered by your former boss." LaGuerta reminded Larry of his priorities.
"Ah, that promise…" Larry nodded, said goodbye, and headed straight to his car.
"Is that the forensic expert who solved two cases in less than forty hours? I heard they were very complex cases. For the homicide division, he's quite impressive."
María LaGuerta watched Larry walk away and said, "Don't be surprised, detective, but this past month he's only been giving me some headaches. He's only interested in murders that have no answers, the ones no one else can solve."
"He likes the heavy work."
"Yes, it seems that way."