Chapter Thirty-Two: The Shadow of Suicide

"Chief, I didn't kill Makarov!" Hailar sat nervously in the interrogation room, glancing anxiously at the police chief seated across from him.

"Relax, Hailar. Of course I believe you. I just want to know—how did you and Makarov end up at that abandoned church?" The chief spoke gently; after all, Hailar was the protégé he had been grooming as his successor and he understood him well.

Hailar breathed a bit easier and recounted his experience with Makarov to the chief. But when the chief finished listening, his brows furrowed.

"So you're saying Makarov got out of the car to relieve himself because he had a stomachache, but didn't return for a long time. Then you got out to look for him, got caught in a downpour, lost your way, and eventually found the church?" The chief was confirming the details with Hailar.

"That's right, Chief," Hailar nodded, doing his best to give a detailed account of everything that had happened.

But the chief's frown deepened. "But your car was found in the completely opposite direction. How could that be? Even in heavy rain, you shouldn't have ended up so far off course."

Hailar paused, realizing he truly had no idea where the car was, though he hadn't thought much of it at the time. "Maybe we missed a turn while doubling back, which led us even farther away."

The chief nodded slightly, accepting the explanation—albeit reluctantly. "Alright, then tell me how you discovered Makarov's body."

Hailar nodded again and carefully described his experiences in the church, though he instinctively withheld the part about seeing a twisted, distorted Makarov at first. Instead, he said he found Makarov lying on the ground. The truth was, that initial ghastly sight had unnerved him so badly he wasn't sure if it had been a hallucination.

As he thought about it, Hailar suddenly remembered the strange statue. Though he couldn't recall how he had managed to take it, it was now sitting on his desk.

(The statue had dulled Hailar's awareness of all these inconsistencies.)

After hearing Hailar's account, the chief nodded inwardly; Hailar's story matched the other reports almost perfectly. The time of Makarov's death was well before Hailar's clothes had gotten wet, and the polygraph had been running the entire time—there was no sign of deceit.

"Alright, we'll get to the bottom of this. Whoever dares murder one of my officers will pay the price!" The chief patted Hailar's shoulder, signaling him to relax. After all, Hailar had no motive, and once the medical examiner's report came in, Hailar would likely be released.

Soon, the coroner's report arrived, concluding that Makarov had committed suicide. Though no weapon was found, the forensic analysis indicated that Makarov had used some sharp object to slit his own throat.

With this conclusion, the chief personally released Hailar from the interrogation room and even generously granted him a two-day leave.

But when Hailar learned of Makarov's suicide, he seemed dazed, on the verge of recalling something—until the statue in his hand emanated a wave of energy no one could sense. At once, Hailar forgot whatever he had been about to remember, gathered his things, and returned home.

Back at home, he absentmindedly placed the strange statue on his bedside table. Silver moonlight streamed into his room as the exhausted Hailar fell into a deep sleep, while the statue began to emit a faint red glow.

When Hailar awoke the next day, he had completely forgotten the statue's existence and set about enjoying his leave. Though serious incidents were rare for a county police officer, patrol duty was still a thankless task.

Unbeknownst to Hailar, while he rested at home, chaos was erupting at the precinct. Two more officers had committed suicide the previous night. At first, the chief thought Makarov's death had traumatized the staff and planned to give everyone a day off.

But the shadow of suicide quickly spread across the county. When Hailar returned to the station on the third day, he found his coworkers shrouded in gloom.

"What happened, Chief? Is something wrong?" Hailar asked, puzzled, as he approached the chief, who was smoking.

"I can't make sense of it. Many officers have killed themselves, and now civilians are starting to do the same. In just two days, four officers and eight residents have committed suicide. Their deaths are eerily similar to Makarov's—no murder weapon can be found," the chief replied, deeply troubled by the sudden surge in suicides, especially among the police.

"Could it be copycat killings? If all the weapons are missing, maybe it's homicide," Hailar suggested, but the chief shook his head.

"I thought so at first, but there's not a trace of evidence at any of the scenes. The coroner insists it's suicide—just that the weapon is missing." The chief exhaled a plume of smoke, then glanced at Hailar. "Honestly, I hesitate to even tell you all this. I worry that one day you might take your own life, too."

Hailar scratched his head and laughed. "Chief, you know me better than that—I'd never kill myself. If it's really suicide, maybe it's just the stress, and Makarov's death set them off. I believe this will pass soon."

"I hope so. Still, we need to step up patrols and try to save anyone before they act. But be careful—if they get violent, shoot to kill." The chief stubbed out his cigarette and strode to his office. After all, killing suicidal civilians was an old tradition—no one could guarantee that someone intent on suicide wouldn't attack the police.

Hailar grimaced at the chief's last order, disagreeing in his heart, but he didn't argue. Such matters were too complicated; he would simply make sure not to shoot any civilians himself.

Meanwhile, in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One sensed a disturbance along the timeline. When she tried to trace the source, she found a force blocking her.

Recognizing that dark power, the Ancient One immediately informed Ael. Ael was not particularly concerned; he was still in Midgard, and whatever schemes the dark god might have, he could deal with them as they came. He merely instructed Artanis to increase the monitoring of unknown energies on Midgard, since many human governments still existed and the Protoss Empire had no intention of interfering in their internal affairs—especially while they remained divided.