spent in silence inside the car, he began to wonder if he would really be up to the task of facing such a complicated situation, or if it would have been better to just let it go and return to his anonymous simplicity.
The Major's request was accurate: a new message, this time recorded on a tape, had been delivered to the newspaper El Pais and he was asked to listen to it, to check at least if it was the same person he had thought of, as an initial electronic analysis interpreted it as different from the previous one.
He put on the large headphones and listened to the crude and arrogant words of the serial killer, who claimed the killing of those two men in about two minutes and challenged the police to find him.
The voice was distinctly different. He politely asked for a blank sheet of paper and, this time, he began nervously to draw a face. He appeared very decisive and his features became hard, as a great rage was building up in Alberto while, with unprecedented precision, he created the face of that person with his pencil. He too was amazed by the speed with which he finished the design of that oval face.
It was very clear; the features were shown with three-dimensional precision, and all the features of that face were highlighted, in a completely different fashion from the previous drawing.
It was a drawing of a younger man with very short black hair and thin arched lashes, a gaunt face, and eyes rimmed by deep circles with a look between madness and despair.
He turned to the Major asking him to confirm the reliability of the registration. The Major verified that the message stated precise details relating to the murders, details that could have been known only to the person who had committed them.
But then why, Alberto thought, is there a second voice and a second face?
No one, with the exception of the Police Investigation Department, was aware of the experiment of his ongoing drawings, so no one could have had an interest in confusing the investigations to protect the serial killer, with the exception of a possible accomplice. However, this hypothesis had already been discarded, as serial killers never act in association with other people.
Murderous madness always came from long-lasting isolation, which led these diverted subjects to hate the surrounding world, Even the hypothesis that there were two murderers was not supported by the psychological profiles of this kind of criminals.
Although Alberto was confused, he was still sure of his feelings and his drawings and therefore, at that moment, his attention was focused only on providing credibility to his talent as interpreter of that arrogant voice that still echoed in his brain.
All the recording tapes held by the investigators were again sent to the Forensic Police for re-evaluation, and all were dismissed.
CHAPTER V
Carmen accompanied him to the main exit of the building and he finally had the courage to kiss her, following his instinct and a desire that he had felt stirring for days.
The kiss was followed by a strong, but brief hug, then she slipped away from the prying eyes of her colleagues.
Before returning home that evening, Alberto walked down a narrow side street, which led him to Professor Pricca's old villa. His old friend was happy to chat with him.
Alberto asked him about the two voices and the two faces, in the hope of receiving a little help to free himself from what was becoming a truly complex matter.
Pricca confirmed that it was unlikely that there could be two killers, since a serial killer always acts alone and always claims his murders alone; so, either the first or the second voice had to have been forged or had been the result of the crazy mind of a mythomaniac.
However, Alberto could not explain the rich details regarding the two murders, present both in the first and in the second telephone message. The Professor could not answer his question.
Perhaps a mythomaniac thirsty for news had gotten ideas from the statements of the police and television commentators and had built a version so plausible as to mislead everyone. Alberto has a sip of cold milk and dropped on his still unmade bed with a thud. He then fell deeply asleep and slept for a really long time.
When something is not clear in the mind of a man, especially a highly intelligent man as Alberto, it is unlikely that it could be filed away simply as a fact. He was absolutely certain, the two voices belonged to two totally different people.
But who could have had an interest in tampering with the investigations and why? While his mind was absorbed in these thoughts, his phone rang, and Carmen’s name and number appeared on the display. She wanted to meet him that very same evening to be able to continue unfinished matters. Her voice was sweet and her laughter sketchy, with very long pauses.
His heart began to pound frantically, and a small number of frozen beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. Would he have lived up to beautiful Carmen’s expectations, for whom he had longed for so much during those stressful days?
The evening was very entertaining, and Alberto was unable to look away from the beautiful face of the young woman, who rhythmically moistened her lips, making poor Alberto consciously go crazy. Strangely enough, that evening there was also talk of the two recordings, and Carmen repeatedly asked Alberto what he thought of the matter, as if to seek confirmation of her thoughts or suppositions.
They barely finished dinner, and soon afterwards, they found themselves gently embracing on Alberto’s made bed. Alberto, sure of himself, had straightened up the bed in the afternoon.
It is incredible how sometimes the strangest events lead one to perform imponderable acts that trigger potentially creative or destructive encounters in a man's life.
If Alberto hadn't thought of using his skill both as a psychic and an artist to help the police, now he wouldn't be in the arms of that beautiful and very sweet woman.
This time, the victim was a well-known person in the city. Antonio Morales had been the mayor of the city for over ten years and now, having retired from politics, he devoted himself only to welfare and social works. He had been murdered with the same modus operandi, while he was getting home from the movies. He was the eleventh victim.
The crime scene, as usual, always tidied up by the murderer, did not provide any useful clues to the investigation. The killer certainly did not intend to leave traces for the investigators, who, for weeks now, had been feeling the mistrust of their fellow citizens.
The central government intervened by sending a small counter-terrorism Army team, already used several times in cases of difficult-to-solve investigations in a non-military context.
It was led by a fifty-year-old officer, known for his not-so-orthodox manners in conducting investigations, and by eight long-standing non-commissioned officers.
It was certainly not easy to agree with the local police, but Major Messi had to give in to higher orders and hand over the murder files to Colonel Ramon Tajo, who eagerly began to study them.
Eleven people had been killed, one exactly ten days after the other, in a frightfully precise sequence.
They had all been killed at night and all had been stabbed in the back.
Eleven men age between 40 and 55, with no apparent link between them. The back of their neck had been shaved and the tip of their tongue had been cut. No evidence of these acts had been found at the scene of the crime.
