The list of sinners

...Donovan...

Soon we will enter March. Just one week separated us, even though the snow had no intention of stopping. Spring would come like a melody for people's spirits. It would be the perfect lullaby to shake the winter season bed. It had been two full weeks since my injury. I had started moving around the house to try to recover, even though with much effort. The pains continued to be there but were a bit more merciful with me. I had started eating normally, setting aside the soup, but always being careful with the quantity.

But these two weeks had not been easy. Diana Cardiff. Who could have imagined that she would be Celia's mother? After all, there were plenty of Cardiffs, but did it have to be her mother specifically? I had been thinking about Celia all this time. I had called her but she hadn't answered.

After I had breakfast, without coffee, which was torturing me, I turned on the TV. It seemed strange to me that after so much time I would turn on the TV and check for news. I was no different from other citizens, having breakfast in the usual mornings with a bowl of cereals in front of me, getting a dose of news. I switched channels until my finger stopped at channel six, which was broadcasting a breaking news.

"What has happened this time?" I asked, sitting on the couch.
"Abduction, injury, murder, rape, what?"

I always hoped that these news would be handled in a way that would be bearable for people's psychology. After all, I was used to them and they didn't affect me that much, but always depending on the subject of the news.

"We interrupt the morning program to inform you about a serious incident that occurred last night. The lifeless body of the owner of the Moon'scape café has been found..."

I remained staring at the screen. I rested my hand on the armrest of the couch, absorbed. The hands of the murderer were spreading without discrimination of gender, age, or profession. First Celia's mother, then her close friend, and now the owner of the cafeteria where she worked. My mind told me that Celia was being watched by the killer, and so far his goal was to drive her crazy with fear.

I grabbed my head with my hands. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I wanted all of this to end once and for all. But how would such a matter be resolved when there are so many missing pieces and so many unanswered questions? No matter how many questions we have closed the doors to, what would we do with those that still remained open?

Knocks on the door brought me back to reality. Deep breaths. I got up amidst pains and stiffness in my face and approached the door. It was Cameron.

"Wow, Donzo, you're up!"

"You've returned, come in."

"Was there another option?" he asked.

"No."

He entered, taking off his jacket and leaving it hanging on the hook near the door. The anchorwoman continued to repeat the latest news from the beginning, something I hated.

"Is it related to our case?" I asked, trying to drown out the noise coming from the TV.

"If you're asking about the cafeteria owner, then yes."

"And about that, tell me."

With my eyes, I signaled him to look away from the TV, as I headed to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Anything to drink?"

"No, no."

Cameroon crossed his arms and focused entirely on what the anchorwoman was detailing.

"Col Martinez," he muttered.

I gave him a glance. He continued to keep his arms crossed as at the beginning, with a gaze that didn't leave the TV. I noticed the right corner of his lips slightly pulled into a smile.

"And I was wondering what could have happened," he added, turning away from the screen.

"Did you go to the crime scene?"

"Yes, we were there last night," he explained.

I nodded lightly.

"What can you tell me about the investigations regarding Diana Cardiff?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," he began. "I returned from Western Virginia on Thursday."

"Wait, you returned on Thursday?"

"Yes," he said. "I wanted to come talk to you right away that day, but..."

"But?"

"It was late," he said.

"And what about Friday? Today is Saturday, Cameron."

"On Friday, I went to the department after I had to leave a message for something that could help us with the case, and then the murder happened."

I felt my eyes narrowing. I watched Cameron with suspicion.

"Go on."

"I met with Diana's husband and close family members but they don't suspect anyone in particular. They themselves are surprised that the case has been reopened when the department there didn't find anything. Anyway, Diana seems very likely to be the victim of the killer's sins. I have asked the television station where she worked to start the footage of the day she died if they manage to find a copy."

"I will return to work immediately," I said, finishing the tea I was drinking.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, are you physically fit?"

"I'm as good as I can be," I said somewhat nervously. "I want to know what has been done in my absence. We have a lot of work to do and no time to waste."

"Of course."

I placed the cup on the table.

"Donovan, do you know that Celia..."

I shook my head with full conviction that I knew what he was going to say next.

"She is Diana's daughter, I know."

"Yes," he added.

"Did Mr. Cardiff tell you why he didn't tell her the truth about his daughter?"

"Well, he told me it has to do with her heart," Cameron said. "She suffers from a heart condition that is often accompanied by panic attacks, which could worsen her health..."

"That's enough."

Everything fell into silence as the TV channel started to malfunction. I now had a clear understanding of Selia's condition when she heard such news.

"Has she found out or not?" he asked.

"Yes, that's why she's not here..."

Celia's life had seemed very simple and honest to me. But all these secrets surrounding her stemmed from not telling the truth, from the lack of courage to express herself as she truly was.

"I wanted to tell you that I saw her on Thursday... if that calms you a bit."

I was surprised.

"Where did you see her?"

"She was returning from work... she was accompanied by..."

I shuddered as the door opened abruptly. The cold, sharp air tied us to the ground, creeping and slowly invading our bodies. We turned our heads abruptly towards the person standing in the doorway.

"What is the meaning of all this?" I asked.

"The killer... the killer is a man..."