At the beginning of March, Miami was still in high tourist season.
But who says that early spring isn't scorching hot? That would be complete nonsense to anyone unfamiliar with this climate.
Larry dried his wet hair and turned on the TV in the apartment where he was staying. The television was showing today's temperature. The entire map of the state of Miami was painted in reddish-orange from one end to the other.
According to the news, this was the hottest year in Miami in the past ten years. Good thing they said so—otherwise, Larry would seriously consider taking a vacation after that unfortunate case closure.
The Ice Truck Killer was still at large. He hadn't committed another murder, but the investigation was ongoing. For safety reasons, Larry had been removed from the case.
What he had told Ángel ended up reaching Lieutenant LaGuerta directly, and upon recommendation, she reassigned Larry to other cases to keep him away from the Ice Truck Killer investigation.
Larry wasn't upset—in fact, the time off helped him pursue his own investigations, which were taking more time than expected. He was still looking for similar cases linked to the Ice Truck Killer's style, but aside from some Latin hitmen committing gang crimes, he hadn't found anything else.
Of course, Larry knew there had to be a traumatic trigger for the Ice Truck Killer to commit such crimes.
Alone in his apartment, Larry had plenty to think about. Not only had he mocked the killer for not coming after him, but he had also deliberately exposed himself—yet the killer never showed up at his door.
As the days passed, Larry got bored.
"I've been here for three days, processed a petition case, and I'm planning to go back to the department tomorrow." Larry didn't want to be cooped up any longer—he got bored when he wasn't out in the field.
Crack!
Just then, the apartment door opened, and a man in a Hawaiian shirt and a peculiar hat rushed in, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Seeing Larry had finished doing the dishes and was standing under the air conditioner, he quickly shut the door to keep the cool air in.
"What terrible weather! It's so hot this early in the morning!" Ángel didn't ask why the door was open—he just walked to the living room and sat down to watch TV.
"Did you bring beer?" Larry holstered his gun after realizing it was just his friend.
Ángel grinned and said, "Of course! Did you forget we're meeting here to watch the Miami Dolphins game?"
"Oh, I forgot." Larry came over with a tray of ice cubes and some bottles of tequila.
Truth be told, he didn't know much about American football, although he greatly appreciated Ángel's effort to spend time with him. Maybe he still felt bad that Larry had been temporarily removed from the Ice Truck Killer case—even though Larry had told him he wasn't upset about it.
Larry would be an idiot to be mad at his friend over something like that.
"We're gonna crush those New England Patriots idiots!" Masuka said as he entered the apartment, followed closely by Dexter.
"Hey, guys," Dexter said with genuine interest.
"Welcome!"
"Max couldn't make it—he said he had a family lunch. He invited us, by the way," Masuka said as he flopped comfortably onto the couch and changed the channel.
"Good for him. At least he has a family to visit," Dexter said without thinking much about the others. After all, he knew very little about their personal lives.
Ángel glanced at Larry and sighed. He'd been thinking a lot lately about his friend.
Maybe that vote of confidence he gave Larry had brought their friendship even closer.
"So, what do you guys want to eat?" Larry asked, already armed with several takeout menus and phone numbers.
"Wings, fried chicken, and maybe a salad."
Masuka looked at Ángel and asked, "A salad? In this heat?"
"What? I'm on a diet, man."
Dexter smiled and said, "Well, a salad won't make a difference tonight."
"You know what? That's true—let's just have fun tonight." Ángel, not entirely convinced about dieting, decided to skip it for the evening.
Larry smiled, walked into the kitchen to prepare a cheese platter, and just then, Dexter approached and said, "Can I help with anything? I know we're your guests, but the host shouldn't spend the whole time in the kitchen."
"Are you good with knives?" Larry tossed the question casually, but it hit Dexter hard.
"Not really, but I can cook," Dexter replied, picking up a knife and starting to slice the cheese on a wooden board.
"Well, you hold it well..."
Dexter smiled but didn't follow up on the knife comment—it made him too nervous. That's why, once alone with Larry, he asked, "Do you have any new leads on the Ice Truck Killer?"
"Interested in the case?"
"It's fascinating how that killer does things. It's not every day someone like that ends up as the department's main focus. I just wanted to know more since I'm not following the case closely." Dexter, without realizing it, ended up saying too much to someone like Larry—who, in just a few seconds, sensed Dexter's strange fascination with the killer.
"Well..." Larry thought for a moment, then said, "Since Lieutenant LaGuerta temporarily pulled me off the case, I've been going through old homicide files to find any that might be related to the Ice Truck Killer."
That was currently his way of conducting the investigation from home—and definitely the right path forward.
"You think the killer murdered in the past?" That was the first thing that came to Dexter's mind after hearing Larry's comments.
"Not exactly. I believe a traumatic event involving a child, maybe around our age at the time, led to the birth of the Ice Truck Killer." Larry finished preparing the food for the game.
"Any leads?"
"We wouldn't be here if I had one. But that doesn't matter. Once I find the killer's pattern and figure out who he's sending messages to with those murders—I'll find him."
After saying that, Larry walked into the living room and said, "Alright, guys, I'm heading out to pick up the food. It should be ready in about ten minutes."
"Don't they do delivery?" Ángel raised an eyebrow.
"The place is packed, but I'll be quick."
"No, I'll go."
"I'm the only one who hasn't had a drink. It'd be a joke if the best homicide detective got arrested for drunk driving," Larry said jokingly.
Ángel, feeling flattered, replied, "That's true. I'll stay here."
"I'll go with you," Dexter offered, carrying two cheese boards.
"Alright." Larry said nothing more and left the apartment. In the parking garage, he looked at Dexter and asked, "Do you like speed?"
"Not really…"
"We'll see if we get the chance to push my toy a little," Larry said as he caressed the steering wheel, then started the engine.
Within seconds, he sped out of the underground parking lot, heading toward the wings he had ordered.