Larry knew his friend was perfect at kidnapping without getting caught—he had been doing it for a long time. So if he didn't wrap up this case in time, he would ask Dexter to kidnap the next victim and let him witness the trial.
He was undecided; FBI cases were undoubtedly far more complex than those handled by the Miami department. If it hadn't been for having to escape Sergeant Doakes' watch, he never would have left Miami.
Half an hour later, the search warrant arrived.
First, the group went to the home of Alan, the sports enthusiast and professional gambler.
His apartment was near the city center and seemed to have been purchased from a relocated family. They headed to the 22nd floor of Unit 3.
According to reports, Alan lived with a man who was not on the suspects list.
The officers in front activated their body cameras and presented the search warrant while reading the relevant regulations to Terry, Alan's roommate.
Terry remained outside before they opened the door for the search.
The two-bedroom, two-living-room apartment was spacious and tidy, without a trace of bachelor sloppiness. The furniture was simple, and the kitchen and dining area looked like a small workshop.
A small room contained a large freezer and a double-door refrigerator. The kitchen was packed with bags of onions and peppers, along with two bundles of scallions and cilantro. On the adjacent balcony, a large iron pot was still boiling, and the aroma of stewed meat filled the air.
Much calmer, Max removed his mask and inhaled. "If every scene smelled like this, I'd be happy all the time."
A room so plainly visible made it seem like there were no secrets. Larry stood in the living room, watching closely as the heavyset man began to look around.
After glancing at the large freezer, Larry stepped forward.
Opening the boxes, they found bags of meat with supermarket labels on the outside. There were six bags in total, neatly stacked inside the freezer. The bags were tied with duct tape, and the date was written on the outside with a black marker.
On the edge, about ten pork leg bones—probably for making stew—were placed in a large iron basket. There was no thick frost on the freezer's surface. It seemed that Alan and Terry were people who valued cleanliness.
After closing the freezer and moving on to the fresh-food storage cabinet, it became even clearer at first glance. There were five large bowls filled with chopped onion, chopped scallion, chopped chilies, and chopped cilantro, along with one bowl of seasonings wrapped in gauze.
At the bottom were two wide-mouthed white plastic barrels, each ten kilograms, filled with solidified lard. The fat, white as milk, was very clean, and the date was also written on the outside.
Larry wondered how much they could possibly sell—so why prepare so many ingredients?
After leaving the room, Max had already checked the kitchen and dining area. He came over carrying two heavy kitchen knives.
"Larry, do we need to take these for analysis?"
"Did you spray them with reagent?"
Max nodded. "Yeah, nothing was found."
Larry gestured with his hand, signaling that it wasn't necessary to bring them back. Then the two moved on to the master bedroom. On the nightstand was a framed photo. Inside, a very young girl hugged Alan's neck from behind.
Their faces were lit with radiant smiles. The resemblance in their expressions made it clear they were father and daughter without needing to be told.
"Max, take a photo!"
Max came closer and snapped a picture of the only photo in the room. Larry then asked sideways, "How old is Alan?"
Jane, standing at the bedroom door, thought for a moment. "I have his ID info. He's 48 this year. Looks a little older, doesn't he?"
Larry gave a slight nod, glanced at the single bedding on the bed, then asked: "I haven't seen his wife. Has she come home?"
"Nadir asked, but William only said his cousin has a daughter and didn't mention a wife. I'll go ask."
Larry waved his hand. "I'll ask later."
After checking the wardrobe, the nightstand, the boxes—everything—they found nothing. Max shook his head and looked at Larry before saying: "Nothing of value. Should we go to the next house now?"