"Where the hell is the cold water?"
Larry was speechless at the scene in front of his children. Those friends he considered his best pals were practically digging through his fridge, which only had packaged food left.
These guys he called friends, who had spent the night at his apartment, had devoured half the food in his fridge. Only Masuka and Ángel remained in the living room, both watching the news while chatting about what had happened the night before.
"How did I get this bruise?" Masuka looked at the bruise on his right eye as he watched Larry walk over to the fridge to fix himself something.
"You fought with the sergeant, it was awesome." Ángel had no intention of hiding what had happened the previous night.
"Did the sergeant end up worse?" Masuka was quite proud of his fighting skills.
Larry walked over to the table with a bowl of cereal and said, "Well, I wouldn't call it a fight."
"Right, it was more like a wrestling match," Ángel agreed with Larry and added, "But both came out looking the same."
"Well, I'm out. I need to get changed for work." Masuka stood up and quickly left the apartment.
"Wrestling match?"
"Ha ha ha, well, I couldn't exactly tell him he launched himself at James like they were about to make love," Ángel said as he finished his food.
"Alright, let's head to work," said Larry, who finished his breakfast in record time.
Both went down the stairs since the elevator was busy.
In no time, they reached the parking lot, where Larry got behind the wheel and drove toward the highway.
Just after passing two traffic lights, Ángel's phone rang.
The caller ID showed it was Sergeant Doakes. After pressing the answer button, a somewhat anxious voice came through the line. "Are you with Forensic Luk?"
Ángel looked at Larry, who was focused on the road ahead. A bad feeling made him sit up straighter, and he replied, "Well, we're on the highway. Did something happen?"
"That's perfect. I'm on I-75, I need both of you here. I found a body. Well, it's not exactly a body—it's a skeleton now. Since Forensic Luk is with you, why don't you both come take a look?"
Ángel glanced at Larry thoughtfully and said, "We'll be there as soon as possible."
"Great, I've always wanted to use this," Larry said as he pulled a portable siren from the trunk, placed it on top of the car, and turned it on.
Thanks to that wonderful device, Larry sped ahead. His emotions surged—he felt like he was in an action movie scene.
In just fifteen minutes, Larry arrived at the highway intersection. Several police cars on the west side of the road were flashing their lights, so Larry pulled over.
Ángel, who had a love-hate relationship with Larry's car, felt like he was about to puke.
"You damn lunatic, you're really crazy! Look at the speedometer—you've been flooring it the entire way like we're in some criminal chase. Sure, you had the siren on, but you obviously abused the speed limit."
"We got here before the other forensics. That's a win." Larry was doing surprisingly well, considering how much he drank the night before.
"Did you even hear me?" Ángel barely got the words out before covering his mouth, running to the side of the road, crouching down, and throwing up again.
When the sergeant saw the two men pull up, he hurried over to speak with Larry, ignoring Ángel, who was still suffering from last night's drinking.
"Forensic Luk, I think it's the right time for your return." Sergeant Doakes was one of the few who had not supported the decision to pull Larry from the last case.
Larry, more composed, nodded slightly and said, "I was thinking about coming back today anyway… Has Masuka arrived?"
"Your student's here—he's collecting the last samples right now."
"Then give me the details!"
Sergeant Doakes led the way to the crime scene. "At six o'clock this morning, the Command Center got an alert. A sanitation worker discovered a pile of human remains while collecting trash in a green area of the city. The call was clear and urgent, so we came here immediately."
"After examining the scene, Max concluded it's impossible to determine if this was the original crime scene," explained Sergeant Doakes as they walked through the damp underbrush. "All that's left of the body is a pile of bones—no trace of clothing or belongings. We thought you should take a look."
As he spoke, Ángel returned, staggering, pale-skinned, and clearly nauseated. He shot Larry a hateful glare, as if blaming him for everything.
"Ángel, go to a store, hydrate yourself. Get an electrolyte drink and something that won't make you puke." Sergeant Doakes ordered firmly but calmly.
If Sergeant Doakes hadn't been at that party with them last night, none of this would've gone unnoticed. But in their line of work, bad days come with the badge.
"On that, we can agree…" Ángel muttered, walking away, visibly shaken by both the crime scene and the hangover.
Larry walked behind Doakes and looked up just as the sergeant came to a stop. Among the bushes, a few meters away, Max and two forensic specialists were crouched down examining the remains.
"Don't worry, Sergeant. We'll take care of the case. I'm sure you have other urgent matters now that Lieutenant LaGuerta isn't around…" Larry said, keeping his eyes on the scene. He knew Doakes had to prepare the preliminary report for the captain as soon as possible.
"Of course. I'll make the call now," the sergeant replied before stepping aside.
Larry didn't feel bad—in fact, quite the opposite. He was in top condition to work. Maybe his threshold for "bad days" had become too high; the grotesque no longer affected him the way it once had.
Shortly after, Larry approached the cordoned-off area wearing a forensic jumpsuit. As soon as Max saw him, he stood up with a gleam in his eyes.
"Mentor, I'm so glad you came!" Max exclaimed, visibly relieved.
Larry nodded and crouched in front of the pile of bones. Before him lay human remains covered in mud and decomposed tissue. A dark brown fluid had soaked into the soil and gave off a dense, almost tangible stench. As Larry moved, a cloud of flies rose from the bones, buzzing loudly.
The dark liquid that had seeped from the body stained the nearby plants a deep brown, forming a viscous, foul-smelling puddle where the skeleton was partially submerged.
Beneath the skull, a tangle of black fibers suggested what was once hair. Between the finger bones, several corroded metal nails could be seen, worn down by decomposition. Two of them, miraculously intact, had slid out of the puddle and were resting on the grass. Larry quickly picked them up and carefully placed them into an evidence bag.
Around the neck and skull area, small black objects resembling grains of rice had accumulated. They were the exoskeletons of insect larvae, direct evidence of the life cycle of the maggots that had fed on the corpse.
To most people, maggots are revolting. But for forensic scientists, they're an invaluable tool: through them, it's possible to estimate the post-mortem interval and locate injuries. This is the essence of forensic entomology.
Flies are drawn to the scent of a corpse within the first fifteen minutes after death. They lay their eggs in open wounds, allowing larvae direct access to soft tissue. That's why the concentration of exoskeletons reveals more than just decomposition—it pinpoints the exact location of trauma.
Larry leaned in closer when he noticed a pattern in the arrangement of the remains. Though the bones were scattered, something about their order felt familiar. Within seconds, he realized they hadn't been disturbed after death. The body had remained in situ.
The position said it all: the deceased had died lying on their back, with legs spread and the right leg bent to the side, as if they had collapsed abruptly.
The femur, tibia, and fibula of that leg were still connected by a translucent material. With surgical precision, Larry used tweezers to manipulate it. As he carefully separated the debris, a piece of flesh-colored stocking emerged, so contaminated it seemed like part of the environment. Still, its original tone was distinguishable at the edges near the seam.
Max, his assistant and right-hand man, was no longer a rookie. With professional precision, he placed a ruler next to the remains, took photographs from various angles, and collected more than a dozen exoskeletons and beetle fragments near the body. He proceeded step by step, just as Larry had taught him.
"Good job," Larry said without raising his voice, but in a tone that carried more weight than any loud praise.
Max smiled briefly. He knew how hard it was to get a compliment like that from his mentor. Those words were his own medal.
"I examined the exuviae. They're from the first generation of larvae, but with the recent temperature and humidity variations... it's going to be tough to establish a precise time-of-death window."
Larry nodded, thoughtful. He knew time was against them. The body had spoken... but it hadn't yet said everything they needed to hear.
After a few minutes, Larry frowned slightly. He hadn't conducted any formal investigation yet, but he was already convinced the body had been dumped there.
So why had they been called?
"Have you reached any conclusions?" Larry asked, without taking his eyes off the scene.
Max's smile froze instantly.
"Huh?"
"Don't take it the wrong way…" Larry said in a neutral tone. "I'm just thinking this place is isolated, surrounded by dense vegetation, no foot traffic… It's the perfect spot to dispose of a body."
He didn't wait for an answer—of course not. Part of him was already itching to return to the hunt for the Ice Truck Killer. Larry stood up and began giving instructions in a firm voice.
"Detective Debra, and all agents without assigned tasks: assist the forensic team. I want a triangular sweep of the area. Check every leaf, every corner, up to two meters high. Nothing must be overlooked."
Then he crouched down again and examined the skull of the deceased. Sure enough, it had several perforations: some in the temporal region, others at the top of the skull. The holes were rectangular, approximately 0.85 cm long and 0.12 cm wide.
Most of the wounds had pierced the bone. In addition, he observed between seven and eight additional puncture marks on the right side of the atlas and cervical vertebrae C2 and C3. The dimensions matched those of the skull perforations.
Larry knew it would take considerable force to leave that kind of mark on the anterior cervical area. This wasn't an accident.
Inspecting the corpse's teeth, he noticed it had few teeth left, several worn down, and was wearing metal braces. His eyes lit up for a moment—that detail could be helpful for identification. He quickly took a photo and analyzed the dental wear pattern.
The rest of the skeleton was heavily contaminated, making immediate analysis difficult. Carefully, Larry placed all the bones into a large plastic container, ensuring that any attached evidence was preserved.
As he stood up, he raised his voice.
"Angel, get over here."