The sign "Farm fresh produce" could hardly be read. The house look abandoned although the fields were ploughed. He hadn't told Fidelo about his plans, needed to be sure first.
Hella had fired one question after the next at the old lady who clearly fell for it and loved the attention. Eagerly she had told about the years she lived in the street. She mentioned how many arrived and left again, how the neighborhood had gathered together as a result of the fire just like years ago. She talked and talked and attracted the attention of the other journalists who happily wrote down her stories while cameras took one photo after the next.
"You know the owner", Hella interrupted her flood of words, " have you seen him outside?"
"I haven't but I am sure he is safe and I bet he's hiding."
"Hiding?" the other journalist responded, "why would he hide?"
The woman hesitated as if she expected a reprimand from someone she feared.
"Well?" The journalist felt there was more.
"He did it, just like back then, he did this to himself".
Her voice didn't sound as loud as earlier but Ben could clearly hear her.
For sure she knew more and there was one soul she feared, who watched her.
For a second their eyes met and he knew this was the person who would show him the way.