The next day, the city was rising cautiously with the first rays of dawn. The sun had not yet fully appeared, but it was beginning to appear behind the gray clouds, carrying with it the smell of humidity and the fog that still covered the streets. Milan, despite everything, was still a city of life. But it was not like that for Franco.
Franco Batu sat at his desk in the police station, surrounded by investigation papers and files scattered around him. He had to look like the honest detective, loyal to his profession, as he always was during the day. However, his mind was occupied with something else. The operation he had carried out the night before, the cold revenge he had carried out himself, was troubling him. He did not know what he was feeling now: was it relief after revenge? Or was something inside him beginning to change?
Marco Renzi, his colleague at work, entered his office carrying another file. The days were getting darker, and more cases related to the Zacrota mafia were appearing, one after the other. Marco didn't know that for Franco, these cases weren't just part of his job, but were central to an internal conflict he was living.
"Franco, we have new information." Marco said as he placed the file on the table.
Franco raised his head, his eyes meeting Marco's for a long moment. Then he took the file with a steady hand, examining its contents as his mind floated away, recalling his dark night.
"What do we have this time?" Franco asked, but his voice lacked the usual interest. There was something about Marco's actions today that made Franco feel something strange, as if Marco suspected something. Or maybe it was just an inner feeling due to the constant pressure on his heart.
"The new victim in the case is Toto Luigi, a businessman linked to the Zacrota mafia. He was found murdered in a remote location. But what's strange is the method of killing, very similar to the killers we meet every time." "Marco," said Marco, watching Franco closely.
Franco felt a sudden shock in his heart. The method of killing he used on Emilio "The Executioner" was also similar. He knew that the evidence was enough to discredit the killer, but he hoped that he could hide anything that might link him to the crime. "Have you found any other evidence?" Franco asked, trying to hide the tension in his voice.
"I think this time, the killer left clear traces. We all know that the "Zacroutas" like to keep things clean, and not leave any evidence. But this time, it seems that the killer made a mistake." Marco said, his eyes glinting with some curiosity.
Franco knew that this mistake might expose him. However, he had to remain calm. He had to balance his work as a police officer with his personal quest for revenge.
"I'll go inspect the crime scene." Franco said, suddenly standing up from his seat. He knew that this opportunity could be pivotal in revealing more about the killer. But deep down he knew he was on a dangerous path, and that Marco might have started to notice the changes that had come over him.
---
At the crime scene, the streets were narrow and quiet, as if the city itself was breathing cautiously. Franco walked with steady steps towards the place where Toto Luigi had been killed, closely observing details that other investigators might have overlooked.
The body lay in a dark alley, with traces of blood beginning to splatter on the ground. Franco glanced at the body, then at its surroundings. This was no ordinary murder; there were clear signs that the killer was sending a message.
Franco paused in front of the body for a few seconds, then leaned over to take a closer look. The wounds were perfect, each blow calculated, and Franco even felt a sense of appreciation for the way it was done. It was his style, and he knew it well.
But one thing was worrying: although the killer was very careful, there was one thing that raised his suspicions. On the victim's hand was a thin strand of strange hair, which did not seem to belong to the killer.
"Is this the beginning of the end?" Franco whispered to himself, watching the strand carefully.