The list of sinners

...Donovan...

She told those words confidently . In the raised hand, I managed to distinguish a green block.

"What are you saying, Celia?" Cameron asked.

"The killer is a man, he killed my mother and the others," she said very confidently. "It's all here."

"Alright, but first close the door and come sit here."

She did as I told her and sat on the couch near the door. Celia was the opposite of what she had been a few days ago. It seemed like she had lost the composure that characterized her. Like all the storms in the world, which once seemed like a gentle breeze to her, had stopped as such.

"Let's start again calmly," I said, rubbing the area between my eyebrows. "Tell us everything from the beginning."

"My mother had hidden this diary in a memory box," she began. "I found it when we were on winter vacation. I read the diary within two days. This diary started being written when my mother was in high school. She talks about the key events of her life, but for the most part, she writes about someone she only addresses as 'he'."

"And this makes you think that the killer is a man?" Cameron asked, surprised. "Please, to me, it sounds like one of those high school foolishness."

"At first, my mother appears very close to this person, but towards the end, she seems worried and somewhat afraid of him."

"Did Mr. Cardiff mention the diary, Cameron?" I asked.

"He didn't mention anything to me."

"Where did you find the memory box, Celia?" I asked.

"In my father's studio."

"And he has never seen the diary?" Cameron asked ironically. "It seems strange to me."

"Mr. Cardiff must have checked the box and, after making sure there was no trace that could make Celia understand the truth, he didn't see it as a threat to leave it anywhere."

Cameron's expression changed.

"But there is something..."

We stopped each other and turned to Celia.

"Here it says that the killer has seen me... he knows me," she said. "I think he must have seen me very young, something like that."

"Maybe," Cameron said.

"So your mother continued to write even after finishing high school... even after starting her own family," I said.

Celia nodded. Maybe I was right. Celia had been under the killer's observation from the beginning.

"Celia, I would like you to give me your mother's diary," I said. "Maybe we can find something."

She nodded. I took the diary in my hands. All that information left us breathless but, on the other hand, gave us hope to find the killer quickly. But my mind was somewhere else. Looking at the dead was simple to understand, but looking at the living was more difficult. A whole story could be told in a single glance.

Celia's true condition truly touched my heart. Her fragile shoulders were pulled forward by the gravity of pain, painting a picture of her heart. As if neither her spirit nor her fragile heart were ready to accept another beat due to fear. Her face was even paler, as if all the blood had drained. Her angelic eyes were no longer as bright as before. Some dark circles were marked around them. It seemed as if her brain had built new walls of isolation. Now I was thinking of nothing else but finding a solution to break those walls quickly.

"Everything will be fine, Celia," Cameron said, taking her hands in his. "Finally, he got what he deserved."

He approached her, toward her ear fortified by red hair, but from where I was, I couldn't hear clearly except for the disturbing sound of the language that clashed, up and down, from the speakers.