Teresa was staring at it as she sat slumped in an uncomfortable chair, cradling a pint of beer she had barely sipped, and half-heartedly nibbling at peanuts from a small bowl. De Carli and Parisi were busy playing pool; Marini watched them from his perch on a bar stool. The whole unit had come down from the city as back-up, and the rest of them—the only ones who’d managed to eat something—were spread over a couple of tables at the back of the room. They’d left it up to Hugo Knauss and his men to patrol the streets that night.

The pub was half-empty. Teresa knew it was partly her fault, and the owner must have been thinking the same, judging by the glares he sent her way every now and again. Teresa responded in kind, and he always emerged defeated from the ensuing staring contest. Yet he persisted; Teresa couldn’t understand why.

The sound of animated chatter announced the arrival of new customers, a group of four who made their way toward Teresa. One of them in particular carried himself with a bellicose air that instantly irritated her. She knew who he was, having met him a couple of times before, and she also knew why he looked so upset.

“Good evening, Mayor,” she greeted him when he stopped by her table.

“Serial killer?” he barked without even acknowledging her greeting. “Do you know what that means for this village? It’s a disaster!”

He was shaking with fury. Teresa didn’t let it intimidate her. She could understand his worry, but the press release the regional police chief had issued at her suggestion was a necessary precaution in the interests of public safety.

“We never said anything like that,” she told him. “But we can’t deny how dangerous the situation is, either.”

The man planted his hands on the table and leaned menacingly toward her.

“I’ll tell you what’s really dangerous,” he said, his face reddening. “A stranger coming here and telling us what we should be scared of!”

Her eyes darted from her beer to the man’s face.

“Am I the stranger you’re referring to?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. To the people of the valley the rest of the world was a foreign land full of perils and populated by incompetents and unscrupulous swindlers. Their small world embodied a perfection that ought to be preserved even at the cost of a few lives. But Teresa had seen the cracks beginning to form in that picture, showing a glimpse of a reality that was far from idyllic.

“Travenì has no need for you or your lectures,” the man hissed. “We’ve survived for hundreds of years without any help from city folk. And we will continue to do so.”