Red Velvet

Chapter 7

Trevor was shot by Kevin Barker.

Trevor was shot by a wanted man.

This story published in the Inquirer is incredibly hard to believe and yet I have to remind myself that this is not a story. These are facts, laid out bare and clean.

But what was a criminal like Barker doing in River Crest. He murdered Blaise Charbonneau, for heaven's sake. I shudder, even thinking about it.

Charbonneau was a famous businessman worldwide. A multi- millionaire. Ships, oil stocks, a private airline, a little island- you name it, he owned it. His controversial murder created an unsettling atmosphere all over the globe. The thing which struck out the most is that it was done publicly. Charbonneau was attending a charity event to support women empowerment in Barcelona when he was, yes you guessed it, shot.

A bullet straight through the skull.

It had been broadcast live, when no one was expecting it. No one could've expected it. You don't expect powerful men like Charbonneau to die like that.

But he did.

You also don't expect the shooter to be able to escape after a kill like that.

But he did.

No one saw his face, it was masked. None of the cameras could penetrate the black cloth wrapped around his forehead, nose and mouth. Only his eyes were visible, but even they could have been deceiving. All he needed was a pair of colored lenses.

He killed and left.

No one knew who he was.

Until, he released a video on the World Wide Web, a day later, claiming responsibility for the attack. This time, he didn't bother hiding his face. He didn't look remorseful, he looked proud.

The video was taken down but the bullet had been fired. It had been fired worldwide, right in the hearts of a billion people. It's still there, the fear.

Fear of cold- blooded murder of humanity by a man who refuses to care.

I stare at the picture of Kevin Barker that is accompanying the article. I stare hard and long with all of my focus directed at his still face. I try to find one detail that would tell me that this man is a killer but I can't. His face could be any of the faces that I see every day.

He just looks like a man with bushy brows, thin lips and hollow cheeks. His eyes look like a normal pair of browns sparkling under the flash of the camera. The darkness under them tells me that he hasn't slept in days and I can almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

But this man isn't just a man with bushy brows, thin lips and hollow cheeks. He is a killer and he doesn't regret it.

It frightens me and this fear is so different from anything I've ever felt. It frightens me because I can't distinguish this man as a criminal. It frightens me because if I didn't know who he was, I would even smile at him in the street like I often smile at stranger's hoping it would make their day a little brighter.

It frightens me because killers don't look like killers, they look like normal people.

Frustrated, I throw the paper aside.

On our walk to Life360, I saw a couple of news vans around. I also didn't miss the police car that whizzed by us. It all seemed peculiar but when I asked Parker about it, he barely shrugged his shoulders.

It bothered me slightly, but I assumed nothing of it.

I greeted Lorenzo as cheerfully as I usually would. The store was empty save for a slender woman struggling with a stroller in which slept her little one and a trolley filled with grocery items. Parker rushed to her aid and she gave him a grateful smile.