"That would be a terrible idea." The woman standing in front of Larry showed the gun in her hands and asked, "What is the guy who told me to go to hell over the phone doing here after I gave him the information I worked so hard to gather for his latest case?"
"I don't remember anything like that, Miss Morgan," Larry said as he looked at Debra, Dexter's sister, who was visiting their father.
"Yeah, whatever, go to hell."
Larry wasn't bothered by the insult. Instead, he walked closer to Debra and asked, "Was your father a great man?"
"The best detective you could ever imagine. He taught my brother and me everything we know," Debra said proudly, sharing the achievements her father had accomplished in the department.
But she knew once again that Larry didn't care. She figured that a guy who walked alone in the most gruesome places imaginable couldn't be right in the head.
What kind of criminal profiler would be?
That job takes a toll on the mind, so it was likely that Larry was having problems. Setting aside her dislike for him, Debra asked, "Where are your parents?"
Larry looked at her, then glanced at the spot where she was looking. In the photo, a smiling man appeared before him. "I wish they were here. At least I could talk to them and ask if I'm on the right path."
"They died too?"
"Not naturally. But if there's one thing that brings me some relief right now, it's that they won't be aware of the kind of person their son has become."
Larry was talking more than usual. But now that he had such a special case in his hands, part of him was considering pausing the investigation into his family's killer and focusing on this one instead.
In this regard, what kind of person had he become? He had undoubtedly forgotten much of his conviction. The obsession he had with killers was certainly terrifying.
"I'm sorry to hear that. But if it means anything, I think being a criminal profiler that even the FBI wants in their agency says a lot about you," Debra said. Of course, she didn't really know who Larry was; she just gave him the best compliment she could to make him feel better.
"Do you want to join the homicide division?"
"Is it that obvious?" Debra asked with a bitter smile. That had been her biggest dream since joining the narcotics division.
"It is. I can see it in your eyes. But think carefully before making that decision," Larry said. He knew that a detective's life stopped being innocent the moment they started joking around corpses.
Masuka, Ángel, Dexter—each of them was similar to Larry in certain ways when it came to sensitivity.
"Do you think I'll listen to your words?"
"I was just trying to be polite. It would be a shame if you lost the sparkle in your eyes, which is still intact."
Larry was referring to people's innocence. Of course, for a single woman, hearing these words from an attractive man meant something entirely different.
"I'm not going to sleep with you."
"Wait a minute, what?"
Debra looked at Larry and said, "If you're looking for a one-night stand, find a prostitute."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Though that wasn't my intention, and I think I'm decent enough to win over a lady somewhere better than a cemetery," Larry said with a laugh. It was the first time in a long while that he laughed naturally.
Dexter's sister was definitely entertaining.
"Hey! Want to grab lunch?" Larry asked, looking at her with a slight smile.
Debra shook her head, uninterested.
Seeing Debra's cold attitude, considering they were colleagues, Larry asked again with a bit more confidence. "You really don't want to eat? My treat."
"Fine!"
Debra walked over to Larry's motorcycle and got on. She was wearing long pants, a black blouse, and had a jacket draped over her shoulder.
"By the way, my name is Larry. What's yours?" Larry asked casually as he handed Debra a helmet, even though he obviously knew her. He just wanted to make the interaction feel more formal.
"I know who you are. I'm Debra..."
"How do you know me?"
"I just saw you in a photo my brother took with his camera. He tends to leave that stuff lying around..."
Larry nodded as he started the motorcycle and revved the engine. It would have been strange if this girl had decided to go eat with him without knowing who he was. Then again, few men would be interested in bothering someone like Debra.
...
Later, Larry was at a well-known restaurant in the area, having lunch with Debra.
"Have you been here before?" Larry asked, trying to start a casual conversation and get to know her a little better.
"No, it's my first time. What I heard from my friends is that it's pretty expensive. Is your wallet going to be okay?"
Larry looked at Debra for a moment and answered with a smile. "Don't worry. I said it was my treat, so order whatever you want."
"Thanks..."
Larry knew Debra didn't have friends. At least, he could tell she had lied about that.
The truth was that Debra had wanted to visit this restaurant for a while. But since it was expensive and she felt awkward going alone, she had postponed it until Dexter had some free time.
Now that Larry had shown up, Debra took advantage of the opportunity as compensation for her contribution to the case of the murdered high school girls.
Once seated at a secluded table, Debra looked at the file in Larry's hands and asked, "Do you really need to bring that?"
"I'm not leaving it behind." Larry wouldn't be foolish enough to leave something this important on his motorcycle, not when the risk of theft was high.
If a file like this disappeared, Jack could be in serious trouble, and that wasn't something Larry would allow.
"A new case?"
"Not from Miami. But let's stop talking about work," Larry said. He didn't want to involve Debra in this investigation.
Debra, who had been thinking about it, asked, "Do you want to hear about a case I'm working on? The prostitutes—"
"Let's not talk about work," Larry interrupted, uninterested in what Debra was about to say. If he learned about another serial killer now, he'd have no time left for his personal investigation outside the police department.
Later, after dinner, Larry took Debra home.
Nothing happened that night. The truth was, the feeling was mutual.
For now, Larry just wanted to rest, think about the case Jack had presented to him, and decide what he should do next.