75
Assassin's POV
I remained hidden, alert, watching their every move.
My heart was beating at a steady pace, but my mind was racing, thinking of every possibility.
The street was quiet today, but I knew... something was going to happen... it was driving me crazy.
The door to the store creaked open.
And who did I see?
That lady from years ago.
The shop owner.
I knew her well.
Oh, how I knew her.
She was a coward.
She knew that if she said a single word... anything off script... it would be the end of her.
I didn't need to repeat myself.
Once was enough.
I threatened her that night.
She was in shock. Crying, trembling, begging for mercy.
And yet... I let her live.
But on one condition: she had to remain silent.
Forever.
I've always watched her since then, and she's kept her word.
I just didn't know... if she would keep her promise today... that's why I was there.
The lady looked at the police officers and the detective with a pale face, her wrinkled skin covered in sweat.
But... she tried to smile.
A weak, yellow, forced smile.
She was trying hard.
She knew that every word she said there could be her death sentence.
She invited them in.
Her voice sounded firm on the outside... but I could see the tremors in her hands.
Everyone went in.
And when she turned to close the door, she hesitated for a second.
She looked around...
And her eyes met mine.
I was there.
Motionless.
In the shadows.
Watchful.
I stared at her.
Without saying a word.
"Don't mess this up," my eyes said.
She understood.
She swallowed hard.
She nodded.
And then... she closed the door.
I walked away slowly.
I crossed the street calmly and got into my car.
I sat behind the wheel, but didn't start the engine.
I was still watching the place out of the rearview mirror.
Anxiety rose like hot poison up my spine.
What were they asking her?
What was she saying?
She wasn't going to screw everything up... was she?
What the hell...
I complained, grinding my teeth.
I closed my eyes.
I need to calm down.
Relax.
Think.
Be rational.
Like you always have been.
Don't freak out now.
I grabbed my cell phone.
I typed quickly, my fingers trembling:
They're moving, man. They're talking to the lady... the owner of the establishment. They're getting close... And they can't know anything. About me. If they find out... your life will also be in danger. So do your part.
I sent it.
I waited.
And then it vibrated.
He replied.
Calm down. I'm doing my best. They won't find out. Trust me. I have everything under control.
Ahhh, does he?
I let out a long sigh.
But I didn't trust him.
I never completely trusted him.
He thought he was smart, but he was only good at obeying orders.
He was a colleague of mine... a long-time colleague. But he wasn't 100% reliable.
I...
I was the brains.
I was the shadow.
I was always one step ahead.
And if he made a mistake...
If he faltered...
I would end it myself.
Without mercy.
Because if they get too close...
If they threaten my freedom...
I'll kill again.
Without thinking.
Without blinking.
They have no idea what's coming.
When the time comes...
I'll act.
And whoever gets in my way...
Will fall.
One by one.
POV Edgar Torn
The police officers, the detective, and I entered.
The establishment was simple, but there was something welcoming about it.
A home-style restaurant with flowered tablecloths, old paintings on the walls, and the smell of fresh spices in the air.
The place was familiar, almost too cozy for the kind of conversation we were about to have.
The lady led us to a table near the window.
We sat down.
Everyone was silent for a few seconds.
I tried not to show how anxious I was...
But inside, my chest felt like a drum.
Calm down, Edgar...
My eyes scanned the room, as if they could find some forgotten clue, something that had escaped the police back then.
But nothing there gave me any answers.
I turned my gaze back to her.
The restaurant owner.
Mrs. Amy.
She must have been around 60 or older...
Gray hair tied back in a simple bun, round face, rosy cheeks.
She wore old-fashioned glasses and a green jacket over a floral dress.
There was something about her expression that made me uncomfortable.
She was smiling. But... it was too cautious a smile.
That was strange.
Or was it?
Detective Rolland took the lead, his voice firm but polite:
"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Amy. But... we need to talk about a case from a few years ago."
He placed the folder on the table and took out a photo.
It was a picture of Amanda.
There she was, lying in front of that same restaurant.
Her name, the cause of death... everything was there, in black and white.
Ms. Amy stared at the image for a few seconds.
She took a deep breath.
"Ahhh... yes. I vaguely remember giving my statement at the time."
She said, looking back and forth between the photo and us.
My heart was beating faster.
I needed her to tell us. Everything.
Even if it was a small detail.
Anything she had noticed, felt, heard.
Anything could make a difference now.
I remained silent but attentive.
My eyes fixed on her.
Her eyes, her hand movements, her tone of voice.
The detective spoke again:
"In your statement, you mentioned that you went upstairs... and that you didn't hear anything. I'd like to confirm that. If that's what happened." He paused and then continued.
"And... could you tell us again, clearly, what happened that night."
We all looked at her.
Mrs. Amy seemed to hesitate.
She sighed deeply.
She rested her elbows on the table, interlacing her hands.
Her eyes avoided ours for a moment.
I held my breath, attentive to her every gesture.
Something in the way she breathed...
The way her eyes wavered...
Told me there was more.
Much more.
And then she slowly opened her mouth to speak:
"That night... it was quiet. It was a little late; I was about to close up... I went upstairs; I live here." A pause. And then she continued. "I got a call and went there. I was on the phone and didn't hear anything. Only when I hung up did I hear sirens. When I went downstairs, I saw the ambulance and the police. I was confused," she said, with a sad look.
Was that really true?
Could we... trust her?