La sala de interrogatorios estaba llena de un silencio tenso, que habría podido cortarse. Las lámparas leds daban un toque de irrealidad, bañando al acusado de un extraño brillo blanco.

Necesitaba salir a respirar, —le dije a mi jefe que había estado observando tras el espejo —, mientras yo interrogaba al asesino confeso, para sacarle el nombre de sus cómplices.

Encendí el ultimo cigarrillo del paquete, aspire su sabor profundamente, buscando claridad para este caso que se me iba de las manos.

— Jefe, —tiene que haber al menos dos asesinos más, ese anciano no pudo haber matados a esas seis mujeres, el solo.

El jefe me miraba sin decir palabras, con los años había aprendido a esperar sin interrumpirme mientras aclaraba mis pensamientos, cuando estaba embotado.

— No creo poder esta vez, —insistí. Es el chamán del pueblo, nadie osara abrir la boca para traicionarlo. Me gire para verlo tras el espejo, —no se mueve, no habla, no ha querido agua. Solo pude sacarle esa mentira de que los otros, no eran de este mundo.

— No creo que sea un loco, Héctor. — Respondió mi Jefe. —Míralo en su extraña quietud, más blanco que una hoja de papel, todo lleno de pánico. — Le teme a algo mucho mayor que él. Eso dificulta tu tarea; ten cuidado amigo.

Regresé a la sala de interrogatorios, con la mente en blanco, pero tranquilo. Me paré tras él, inclinándome hasta casi chocar con su cabeza.

— ¿Sabías que tu hija estaba embarazada?, asesinaste a su hijo, ¿eso no te remuerde la conciencia? Arrebataste la vida de tu nieto, curandero de mierda.

— ¿Quién va a creerte esa historia de que te obligaron? ¿De ser así, sálvate y dime quienes te obligaron a hacerlo? El anciano chamán seguía inmutable, aunque un ligero temblor apareció en su parpado derecho, luego su córnea se humedeció.

Me callé un rato, pero seguía respirándole en su oreja. —¿Fue tu señor? —le dije casi en un susurro. Seis mujeres de tu familia, dos eran tus hijas y además tu nieto.... ¿Qué Dios puede pedir tal sacrificio?

— Tú Lo que eres es un maldito asesino, un cobarde que protege a los que mataron a su nieto... —¿Qué dice eso de ti?

Por primera vez tras largas horas de interrogatorio, el aciano se movió. Giró lentamente la cabeza buscando mi mirada. Me enderecé y fui a sentármele al frente.

Le costaba abrir los labios, que se quedaron pegados tras tantas horas sin beber agua. Vi un ligero temblor en su boca al intentar emitir palabra.

— Señor. —comenzó —. Ese que usted llama mi nieto, no era tal, pues. — Hijo del demonio era, pues. — Hizo una pausa larga —. Mis hijas eran las amantes del demonio. Las otras mujeres, las cuidaban. —Vi gruesas lagrimas comenzar a derramarse de ambos ojos.

— Tenía que hacerlo Señor. — Era mi deber —. La ayuda que recibí, no es humana, Señor. Dios envió a dos de sus ángeles a ayudarme a cumplir con lo que me había pedido, Señor.

El anciano, volvió a enmudecer. Mientras, un resplandor distinto al de las luces leds, comenzaba a emanar de su rostro, de su piel, de su alma.

Luego, algo que no pude explicar me sucedió. Tras el espejo, mi jefe vio cómo iba arrodillándome frente al anciano, y comenzaba a cantar alabando a Dios.

The interrogation room was filled with a tense silence that could have been cut. The LED lights gave a touch of unreality, bathing the accused in a strange white glow.

I needed to get out and breathe, —I told my boss who had been watching from behind the mirror—, while I interrogated the confessed murderer, to get the name of his accomplices.

I lit the last cigarette in the pack, inhaled its flavor deeply, seeking clarity for this case that was getting out of hand.

— Boss, —there must be at least two more murderers, that old man could not have killed those six women, alone.

The boss looked at me without saying words, over the years he had learned to wait without interrupting me while I cleared my thoughts, when I was dull.

— I don't think I can do it this time, —I insisted. He's the village shaman, no one will dare open their mouth to betray him. I turned to see him behind the mirror, —he doesn't move, he doesn't speak, he didn't want water. I could only get him to lie that the others weren't from this world.

— I don't think he's crazy, Hector. —My boss answered. —Look at him in his strange stillness, whiter than a sheet of paper, all full of panic. —He fears something much bigger than himself. That makes your task difficult; be careful, friend.

I returned to the interrogation room, my mind blank, but calm. I stood behind him, leaning down until I almost collided with his head.

— Did you know your daughter was pregnant? You killed her son, doesn't that bother you? You took the life of your grandson, you shitty healer.

— Who's going to believe that story that you were forced? If so, save yourself and tell me who forced you to do it? The old shaman remained unmoved, although a slight tremor appeared on his right eyelid, then his cornea became moist.

I was silent for a while, but I continued breathing in his ear. —Was it your lord? —I said almost in a whisper. Six women from your family, two of them your daughters and also your grandson... What God could ask for such a sacrifice?

— You are a damned murderer, a coward who protects those who killed his grandson... —What does that say about you?

For the first time after long hours of interrogation, the old man moved. He slowly turned his head looking for my gaze. I straightened up and went to sit in front of him.

He had trouble opening his lips, which had stuck together after so many hours without drinking water. I saw a slight tremor in his mouth as he tried to utter a word.

— Sir. —he began. —That one you call my grandson, was not such, then. —He was the son of the devil, then. —He paused for a long time. My daughters were the devil's lovers. The other women took care of them. —I saw thick tears begin to pour from both eyes.

— I had to do it, Lord. —It was my duty—. The help I received is not human, Lord. God sent two of his angels to help me fulfill what he had asked of me, Lord.

The old man fell silent again. Meanwhile, a different glow from that of the LED lights, began to emanate from his face, from his skin, from his soul.

Then something happened to me that I couldn't explain. Behind the mirror, my boss watched as I knelt down in front of the old man and began to sing in praise of God.