Larry Luk was a dedicated, obsessive man with a mind trained to see patterns where others only saw chaos. For years, he had worked as a forensic profiler, collaborating with various agencies, but he had never been so close to something that truly consumed him—aside from the killer who had destroyed his family... until now.
The investigation into the "Ice Truck Killer" had led him to Brian Moser. His emotional fingerprints, the rituals, the symbolism—everything fit. Larry knew it. But there was something else... a shadow parallel to the crime scene. A hidden message aimed at someone.
After reviewing hours of footage, forensic reports, and phone records, Larry began to notice a strange pattern: near many crime scenes where the culprit had vanished without a trace, one name consistently appeared in one way or another—Dexter Morgan.
At first, he was just a witness, then a blood spatter analyst, and finally, he began to appear with unsettling frequency in unsolved cases. Larry did what he did best: build profiles.
Dexter didn't just know killers. He studied them. He hunted them.
And when Larry compared the dates and locations, a dark truth emerged: more than 40 criminals, all of whom had vanished without a trace, had actually been executed under similar circumstances, and Dexter was somehow linked to them all.
That was why he needed to be investigated. As a forensic expert, Dexter had all the tools to find criminals and kill them without getting caught. After all, he knew the system inside and out.
But there was something deeper, more deeply rooted. Larry was still investigating the Ice Truck Killer case on his own, and little by little, everything led back to Dexter's family—not the Morgans, his current family, but the one before. His biological blood. His forgotten past.
There were sealed files, tampered childhood records, and one recurring name: Laura Moser. The mother. Brutally murdered in front of her children. Two sons. One was adopted by Harry Morgan. The other... vanished into the darkness of the system.
Larry began to reconstruct that story, and something disturbing emerged. The Ice Truck Killer was trying to get his brother's attention—but in his own way. A cruel, symbolic, twisted way.
And yet something didn't add up. If he wanted to connect with Dexter so badly, why didn't he leave blood at the scenes? Why drain the bodies completely, preventing Dexter from analyzing them?
Larry wrote in his notebook:
"If he wants his brother to find him... why take away the one thing he needs to do it? Is this a game? A revenge? Or just a sick form of communication?"
The contradiction obsessed him. It was clear the killer knew Dexter. Understood him. Maybe even admired him. But he also kept him away from the case, as if he didn't want to be discovered... yet.
All these investigations took time, but Larry had built a profile on everyone around Dexter, and aside from Sergeant Doakes—who was clearly a killer in his soldier days—Dexter was another predator.
Only now did Larry understand why Dexter had a bad relationship with him.
Larry felt euphoric. It was as if he had discovered an urban myth: the hidden vigilante. A killer of killers. Something he himself had dreamed of becoming for years, but never had the courage to pursue.
Even so, he knew his duty was to catch Brian Moser first. He couldn't act rashly. He needed to understand how both brothers fit into this game of masks and blood. Was Dexter aware of his brother's identity? Was he protecting him?
Larry began to discreetly watch Dexter's house. He took notes. Observed his routines. Dexter was cautious, but even the best killer leaves traces when watched by someone who knows what to look for.
And suddenly, he saw it. Larry witnessed with his own eyes how Dexter drugged one of his victims and loaded them into his vehicle.
As far as Larry knew, all his victims were criminals.
The code Dexter followed was extremely precise. Perhaps someone had instilled it in him. If that was the case, Larry needed to think about what to do with him.
…
On the night of the dinner, Larry showed up at the house long before Debra arrived. He looked at Rita's girlfriend and greeted her kindly.
"Good evening, I hope I'm not intruding tonight."
"Not at all. Dexter has told me a lot about you. Please, come in," said Rita with a sweet smile. She looked at Larry's face and, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, assumed he worked too much.
"Is Dexter here?"
"In the kitchen, he's taking the meat out of the oven." Rita closed the door after Larry walked in and called out, "Dexter, your friend is here!"
"Yes, over here." Dexter emerged from the kitchen holding a hot tray of meat. The most striking thing about him was the pair of pink gloves he was wearing.
"I like those gloves. They're better than the ones from work," Larry joked as he walked into the kitchen to set down the expensive bottle of wine he was carrying.
Dexter gave a stiff smile, then looked at the wine in Larry's hands and said, "You didn't have to go to the trouble."
"No, it's no trouble at all." Larry's calm smile gave Dexter an inexplicable discomfort. He couldn't understand why Larry had suddenly become interested in socializing with others—especially with him.