Alec Hardy was no madman, but to anyone else, it sure would have seemed that way.
He was so cold, so stoic. Like a statue, but less emotive. Rigid but shaken, with eyes centuries old. It was no doubt he had seen dreadful things. He was beautiful, sure, but no one would say.
After all, who would willingly speak with a snake?
It was near dawn, and Alec walked the lonely streets. Dew coated the doorknobs and dying grass. It was serene, but still his nerves were on edge. He hadn't slept in days, but that wasn't out of the ordinary.
Never—not once in his career—had he faced such a puzzle. It was such a small town, and though everyone neede to be told to piss off now and again, the folks weren't terribly bad. There were far worse in the world.
But Alec Hardy couldn't get attached. No, he'd seen attachment, compassion and affection, destroy investigations. Sympathy couldn't be given. He never knew when the murderer would be around, and it could be anyone.
Anyone.
After unscrewing the cap with grubby fingers, Alec took a swig from his water bottle.
The whole process seemed to be failing. Not only was a child dead, strangled even, but a man had killed himself.
That's what the media does, he thought bitterly. They make monsters. They bring fear and doubt, and they drive men mad. We could all do without.
He licked his lips, pausing at the town square. With a sigh, he leaned against the nearest wall and reclined his head, pressing his scalp to the cool bricks.
At the moment, everyone could be a suspect. Lies were tossed left and right, betrayals and silence were carelessly distributed by nearly everyone.
It was as if they didn't care at all.
That, though he would never admit it, truly frightened Alec. How could the death—a bloody murder—of an innocent child be taken so lightly? Was the town insane?
Alec's eyelids flickered, vision growing hazy, and he sat, trembling, upon the bench to his left. He knew he couldn't inflict so much stress on himself, not with his condition. But it seemed nearly impossible not to.
He closed his eyes, thankfully drinking in the temporary peace.
"Oi," rang an all-too familiar voice. It jolted him from his serenity. He had expected that. "You look awful. Sleep out here last night?"
"Not at all."
"Right, well..." Ellie checked her watch. "We've got another press conference in an hour, and I've just received a call from the guys at the beach. They've found something else." Another thing he'd never admit: Ellie was the only one he deemed sane anymore, regardless of how much she hated—and annoyed—him.
Groaning, Alec rose, rolling his shoulders back. "Of course. Let's be off, then."