Max opened the door and stepped out. At the same time, Masuka, who looked quite aggravated, was pushed forward by Ángel.
As the head of the pathology division, Masuka had made it clear that he wouldn't work on the cases Larry studied to avoid conflicts of opinion.
It was well known that Larry despised forensic experts who overlooked small details, which had caused some dissatisfaction in the pathology division.
"Ángel, you've seen Larry's skills in performing autopsies. He only wants me as an extra pair of hands to cut a few bones! Anyone else could do what he's asking me to do, and besides, I have a backlog of work."
"But you're my friend, and besides, Dexter is analyzing the blood now."
Larry greeted Masuka, who, after entering the room, regained his composure.
"That changes things quite a bit," Masuka said, now slightly more convinced.
"Masuka, this victim is too special, and you know it because you looked into it before she even arrived."
"Yeah, but LaGuerta told me you'd handle it. Looks like your skills have everyone in the homicide division captivated," Masuka said, slightly annoyed as he recalled the situation.
"That doesn't matter. I'd like your help. My student can't assist me, and I need an extra pair of hands."
Masuka stepped closer, leaned forward, and observed the deceased lying on the stainless steel dissection table. Instantly, he gagged and coughed twice.
"Ahem! I don't think I remembered her being in this state. Looks like things changed after moving the body."
"Well, the smell is strong..."
"Yeah, but nothing I haven't seen before."
Masuka quickly put on his gear and stepped forward.
"Alright, Max, get out."
Only Ángel, Masuka, and Larry remained in the room to perform the autopsy.
The three of them silently offered a brief prayer for the victim. Though it was a ritual, it was also the final tribute to the deceased. If they wanted to uncover the truth, they had to let the body speak.
Every forensic expert and their team must act as the voice of the dead, revealing the truth on their behalf.
That was why Larry was so frustrated with the details that careless forensic experts overlooked and why he had chosen this career instead of becoming a detective.
The clock in the autopsy room read 08:20.
Larry, as the lead forensic examiner in this session, lifted his scalpel.
"I'll follow your lead."
As soon as Masuka started working, he left behind his friendly personality and focused entirely on the task.
As the chief forensic examiner in the homicide division, he had to show Larry his skills.
But Larry was in control. As soon as he immersed himself in the procedure, he disregarded emotions or actions that could disturb his concentration.
With a precise cut, he opened the victim's throat and carefully examined the hyoid bone, thyroid cartilage, esophagus, and trachea. Then, he turned his attention to the lungs.
There were no signs of drowning or lethal injuries in that area. A relevant detail, but not a conclusive one.
He proceeded to open the stomach and found only traces of chyme. It was almost as if the victim hadn't eaten in hours.
The remaining small intestine was practically empty. As the scalpel in his hand paused for a moment, Larry felt a chill run down his spine.
Could I have miscalculated the time of death?
Why is there no food in the stomach or intestines?
The absence of digestive contents was an anomaly. If the victim had died recently, there should have been remnants of her last meal. But if too much time had passed since her last intake, that indicated another scenario: forced starvation, prior intoxication, or even that the body had been moved after death.
Larry frowned. Each answer only led to more questions.
Larry's actions caught Masuka's attention, who wasn't entirely familiar with his methods.
"Why aren't you moving?"
"The deceased's gastrointestinal tract is completely empty. This completely contradicts the livor mortis and rigor mortis!"
Larry pressed his lips together, analyzing the discrepancy. If the body showed clear signs of stiffness and post-mortem blood pooling, the digestive system shouldn't be so clean. Something didn't add up.
Masuka, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly concerned. He rolled his eyes dramatically and, staring at Larry, asked, "Doctor Larry, do you not have a girlfriend?"
Larry frowned, puzzled. The question had come out of nowhere, completely unrelated to the autopsy. How had Masuka jumped to that?
Masuka cleared his throat and smirked with an air of superiority. "No matter how old women are, there's always one topic that's in fashion: weight loss."
Larry blinked. Was he suggesting that the victim had been fasting intentionally?
Suddenly, the theory started taking shape in his mind.
"The foundation of beauty, for many, is fairness and thinness," Masuka said, crossing his arms thoughtfully.
Ángel, who was standing behind them, added, "My wife is two years older than me, but she's strict with her routine—yoga every morning, no food after noon, only meal replacement shakes. Some women take beauty discipline very seriously!"
"There's your answer." Masuka gestured slightly toward the body. "This girl… she had the same level of obsession, don't you think?"
Larry nodded slowly, but his expression remained tense. "I understand, but something still doesn't add up. The deceased was between sixteen and seventeen years old."
After saying that, Larry leaned over the body, examining the slender circumference of her legs. "She must have weighed around 40 to 50 kilos and wasn't very tall. Why would someone her age subject themselves to such extreme weight loss?"
A heavy silence fell over the autopsy room. The question had no simple answer.
"There are many possibilities. Women take care of themselves to feel good. But I think this girl was in love!"
"You think so?"
"Yes, of course. My first time was at sixteen."
"No, you probably didn't even know about sex until you were twenty-one."
"I was a beast back then, my golden years," Ángel said, not wanting to brag but feeling compelled to mention a bit of his past life.
"If you're going to keep talking about trivialities in this place, you'd better leave," said Larry, slightly annoyed. Ángel lowered his head to avoid drawing attention to himself.
"Then let's continue…"
Larry didn't bother addressing the nickname and raised his hand to resume the dissection.
They proceeded to examine the remaining vital organs but found no fatal injuries. Everything seemed intact, only deepening the mystery surrounding the cause of death.
A craniotomy was performed to inspect the brain tissue. However, the analysis did not reveal any significant abnormalities. The brain was in good condition, with no signs of hemorrhage, trauma, or visible disease.
When Larry turned his attention to the victim's hips, he paused briefly. He decided not to take the pubic symphysis.
The third molar had already confirmed the approximate age of the deceased, so an additional analysis of the pelvic bones was unnecessary. Furthermore, by preserving the skin on the chest and abdomen intact, the body would remain in a more dignified condition for later identification.
With extreme precision, he carefully clipped the victim's nails for analysis and extracted a blood sample directly from the heart. Every small detail could hold the key to solving this enigma.
Once they finished, they returned to examine the wounds on the deceased's face. Masuka, still fascinated, couldn't help but marvel at the peculiarity of the lacerations.
"The killer is right-handed and has precise control over each wound." Larry scanned the meticulous cuts on the victim's face. These were not impulsive or clumsy attacks; each incision showed a clear and calculated direction.
"The force used was minimal… Or perhaps the attacker deliberately prolonged the suffering."
Masuka pointed out a disturbing detail: "Look at how many wounds overlap. These aren't random cuts; they form a pattern. More than 90% show signs of vitality."
Larry took a moment to process this, feeling the weight of the cruelty reflected in the corpse. "That means the victim was still alive when they were inflicted. This was pure torture."
A heavy silence filled the morgue. They were not dealing with an ordinary murder.
"The crime scene was chosen intelligently," Larry said, mentally going over every detail. It wasn't a random choice but a carefully selected location to conceal the crime.
"This area is frequented by packs of wild dogs. The killer committed the crime at night, after the rain, ensuring that any trace would vanish with the mud and moisture."
Masuka nodded silently, understanding the implication. "If the dogs hadn't discovered the body this morning…"
Larry completed the sentence in a grave tone: "By the next dawn, only a skeleton would have remained."
After saying that, Larry added, "Perhaps that was part of the plan as well. A crime without a body is a crime without evidence."
Ángel, trying to avoid looking at what his colleagues were doing, nodded and said, "When I went to look for traces around the area, I found at least a dozen wild dogs not far away, staring toward the forest's edge with a fierce look. The killer must have known for some time that wild dogs roamed this area."
"Calm, meticulous, resentful… and cruel. This killer is not ordinary." Larry narrowed his eyes, mentally reviewing every detail. "Either they studied criminology or forensic medicine, or they were simply born with a criminal mind. Nothing about this murder was improvised."
The silence in the morgue was almost suffocating. Masuka sighed and removed his gloves. "Well, let's send the body to the freezer."
The case had only just begun, but Larry already knew it wouldn't be easy to catch someone like this.
"It's past one o'clock. I'm starving," said Masuka, acting normally as he stepped away from the area where he had been working.
Ángel, speechless, looked at Larry, who had just received a call.
Larry quickly removed his latex gloves and isolation gown. "Hello, this is Larry!"
"Forensic Doctor Luk, my name is Debra Morgan, and I just found information about the origin of the body."
"We checked all the high schools near the crime scene, and after searching through the records of every female student who didn't attend class today, we found that one of them, Greta Meyer, couldn't be contacted. When we informed her parents about the incident, they said they thought she was at a friend's house."
Larry didn't react with excitement. Instead, he asked, "I assume you made sure the physical characteristics match, correct?"
"Of course, her physical features matched the criteria provided by the homicide division."
Debra Morgan paused before continuing, "According to my investigation, Greta's teacher, noticing her absence, contacted her parents. But now that we're involved, they are heading to the station."
"DNA tests are currently being processed to confirm whether she is the victim."
"Good work. Thanks for contacting me personally." Larry then hung up the call, and looking at his colleagues, he said, "We may have found the origin of the body."
"That's good news."
"Her parents just arrived. Let's go meet them!"
"That's not my job," Masuka said, uninterested in talking to the victims' families while working in the homicide department.
"Lucky you…"
"Ángel, I want you to record the entire conversation. I'll assess the parents myself." Larry knew this would reduce the chance of disputes.
"Understood, I'll assist you."
As they exited the morgue, the desperate cries of two parents echoed through the hallway. They just wanted to see their daughter.
To be precise, it was a howl.
When humans are unable to express their pain, they often lose the ability to form words, and only the most primal cries and wails can escape.
Larry had experienced this feeling before.
He could understand what it was like to lose everything in a single day, so he quickly approached them.
"Good afternoon, I'm Larry Luk, forensic doctor and criminal profiler for the homicide division. Are you the parents of Greta Meyer?"
The father, who seemed to have the strongest willpower, nodded while crying.
"I ask you not to grieve just yet. Your blood has just been drawn to compare with the victim's, as per procedure. For now, we cannot confirm that the deceased is your daughter."
Ángel, familiar with Larry's personality, felt a chill as he watched the man display a false empathy toward the victim's family.
"Please, have a seat."
The woman, devastated, pleaded, "Officer! Please, let me see my daughter. I can recognize her myself, I really can."