Vestavia Hills

Reading that article, which in reality did not report anything other than the usual general journalistic information, Nick felt troubled and almost morbidly intrigued. That's why he hadn't thrown the newspaper away yet.

In the last few weeks, other tragedies like that happened, like a kind of god of violence had taken over the people of Vestavia Hills and the county. People seemed to have gotten wicked.

Perhaps, however, it was only his impression: in the months and years before, there had always been misfortunes, either related or not to violence.

However, Nick continued to feel stirred inside.

He picked up the newspaper again, and while drinking his cold milk and eating Anna's cake, he meticulously observed it again, as hypnotized by the page that reported the events of the tragedy.

In the afternoon, Nick greeted his wife with a kiss and began to leave the house; he had decided to go by the police headquarters, despite not being on duty.

"Be careful," she said, as she did every time, even if he had to go buy milk.

The dusty road reflected all the yellow of the sunlight: it didn't look like a day made for the bad news.

Once he arrived, Nick found the familiar smell of tobacco and the usual intense activity to welcome him.

"Abbot! What are you doing here?" said Philip Torrent, one of his roughest colleagues.

"I couldn't stand a day without seeing you, Phil!"

In response, Torrent let out a husky laugh and exposed his partially broken teeth.

His friend Jack said to him, "Since you've come by, Nick, I'll send you to the captain right away. He has been harassing me all morning by saying that he wants to talk to you. Even if you're not on duty. "

"Okay, Jack, thanks. I'll go straight away," said Nicholas.

Instead, he first went to check some files, which was why he had gone there.

He searched through the mess that was around and found what he was looking for: some information about the latest deaths reported by the county newspaper.

Was there something that tied everything? Nicholas thought so he could feel it.

He wanted to make sure he had read all the details that the command recovery officer had gathered and shown him not long ago.

Once he did that, he went to the boss's office.

Mr. Flitter was the worst you could wish for: quick-tempered and moody, and he also had heavy breath. However, he was a good cop.

"Abbot! Just looking for you. "

"Captain."

"Now, I want you to explain to me why you didn't tell me anything about the interrogations you did last week. I thought I was clear. "

Nicholas could have justified himself in some way, but he knew it would only make the situation worse. Therefore, he kept quiet and let the reprimand pass.

"All the information needs to go by me," Flitter yelled, "especially the ones about an investigation that I wanted."

Flitter stopped without speaking any more: with that tone, he had made things clearer than he would have done by spending more time talking.

Nick said, "Of course, sir. My mistake. I'll report back tomorrow when I'm back on duty. "Then he added hurriedly," I want to ask you to deal with a case. "

Flitter blinked as if he had been annoyed by a bug: "What?!"

"I want to investigate the boy found dead."

"Wolf is already working on that."

"And the latest alleged cases of violence in the county," Nick continued as if he had not heard Flitter's statement.

"I said Wolf is already working on that case."

Nick insisted: "I want to investigate, even privately. I promise you that I will not take time away from my other duties; you should reduce them a little. "He concluded like that with a smartass look on his face.

The two looked at each other for a few long seconds.

Then the captain said, "To hell with it. I know that even if I didn't permit you, you would do it anyway. Also, Wolf just let us know that he is not well and won't be for a few days, that bastard."

Getting some of the other idiots out there to do his job means wasting time." Finally, he added authoritatively: "But you will have to report everything to Wolf and me when he returns. Understand?"

"Understood," Nick said and then slipped out of the office. After all, Flitter was a good cop.

He decided to keep the half-day he had off and spend some time with Anna: before facing death and violence again, he needed something beautiful that would show him what else life can reserve.

The next morning he woke up early, even before his wife. He went out to scout the city.

He would begin to visit all the public businesses once again: the shopkeepers were good informants, even involuntary; thanks to all the people they met each day, and those they could notice walking up and down the street. Never underestimate the disconnected look of a butchery owner who observes what people, who walk past him, do and how they behave.

As soon as Nick found himself on the main road of Vestavia Hills, he felt it wasn't going to be a day like any other at all.

There was incredible fibrillation in the air, a palpable heaviness as if someone had spread a wet blanket over the shoulders of the whole town.

It did not take him long to understand why people exchanged inquisitive looks and had a sort of interest that one noticed as soon as one set foot on the street.

Once around the corner of Hickory Road, Nicholas saw in the distance, towards Church Yard, a column of black smoke that had nothing reassuring.

He quickened his pace. Then he decided to let go of all restraint and started running.

Once there, he found several people still staring astonished at the burning rubble. Several small groups had formed throughout the Church Yard: people talked to each other to give themselves the courage and try to understand what had happened, but without raising their voices, as you do at a man's deathbed.

The burning building was the church. The fire must have developed very early in the morning, and the fact that the construction was slightly away from all the houses had perhaps contributed to delaying the alarm.

Then action was taken, probably with a human chain, to try to put out the flames using buckets of water.

Flames had burnt more than half of the church, and the embers were still hot and kept under control by a group of citizens. The vicarage wasn't too damaged, although the part closest to the church had the signs of the flames, similar to enormous dark fingers that stretched to grasp it.

Nicholas was surprised that he didn't realize something was going on, but probably the wind blew in the opposite direction to his house, so neither the smoke nor the screams of fear had reached it. Also, his home was on the other side of Vestavia in respect to the church, and that agitation around it left no traces in his neighbourhood.