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The noise in the classroom buzzed like a distant hum in Kira's ears. Around her, students laughed and chatted without a care, completely oblivious to the dark storm brewing inside her. She sat stiffly, staring at her phone, unable to look away from the gruesome headlines. Then she heard it, the shrill voices. Her fingers shook as she scrolled, her stomach twisting in knots.
"Kira?"
Koa's voice snapped her out of her trance. She hadn't noticed him crossing the room, but there he was, crouched beside her desk, eyes filled with concern. The protective warmth in his voice was enough to pull her slightly out of the panic spiralling in her chest.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, though his eyes had already shifted to the phone in her hand.
Kira's lips trembled as she turned toward him. "It's happening again- the voices." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the fear was unmistakable.
Koa's jaw clenched as he looked at her. He shut off her phone, slipped it into his pocket, and without another word, stood up, pulling her gently to her feet.
"Let's go. We're leaving."
His tone was firm, and protective, but not harsh. He grabbed their bags and slung them over his shoulder, glancing around the classroom, aware of the curious eyes of their classmates. Kira felt a wave of relief wash over her just from the weight of his arm draped over her shoulders.
They were halfway to the door when Miss Oluchi, their Religious Studies teacher, swept into the room. Spotting them heading out, she hurried over, a warm smile plastered on her face—though her eyes lingered a little too long on Koa.
"Koa," she purred, her tone laced with flirtation. "Is everything alright? Is your sister not feeling well?"
Koa flashed that signature smile of his—the one that could disarm anyone. It lit up his face in a way that made people feel seen, and appreciated, and it worked every time. Kira watched with mild amusement as Miss Oluchi's face softened, her concern shifting into something less professional.
"Yes, Miss Oluchi," Koa said smoothly. "Kira's not feeling too great. I'm going to take her home if that's alright with you." His voice was polite but firm, already steering the conversation to his desired outcome.
Miss Oluchi blinked, clearly flustered. "Oh! Of course, of course!" she stammered, her usual composed demeanour cracking under the weight of Koa's charm. She fumbled with her desk drawer. "Let me... let me write you a note."
As she scribbled a hurried note, Kira couldn't help but roll her eyes at the scene unfolding in front of her. It wasn't the first time she had seen a teacher—or anyone for that matter—fall under the spell of her brother's charisma. The girls in the classroom were no better, watching the whole thing play out with dreamy expressions, while the boys glared in envy.
Miss Oluchi returned with the note, her hand slightly shaking as she handed it to Koa. "Take as much time as you need," she said, her voice barely concealing the warmth bubbling beneath the surface. "Please, make sure she gets better."
Koa's smile deepened as he accepted the note, his eyes locking onto hers for just a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you, Miss Oluchi. I appreciate your understanding."
Miss Oluchi's cheeks flushed, and Koa and Kira wasted no time slipping out of the classroom. As the door closed behind them, Kira shot her brother a look.
"You know you just made her day, right?" she teased, nudging him with her elbow.
Koa smirked, though his usual playfulness was dimmed by the article she had shown him. "It's a gift and a curse," he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't ask for this power."
Kira laughed softly, but her anxiety still gnawed at her. As they walked down the hallway, Koa's arm stayed firmly around her, his presence grounding her in a way that no one else could.
"Do you think they'll catch the person behind this?" Kira asked quietly, her voice wavering as they stepped out into the empty courtyard. The late afternoon sun was already casting long shadows across the ground, the air feeling heavy.
Koa didn't answer right away. He tightened his grip around her shoulder, his expression serious. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we need to be careful."
The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Kira glanced up at her brother, grateful that she didn't have to face this fear alone. With Koa by her side, she felt safer, even if that safety felt fragile in the face of the darkness creeping over their town.
"Let's just get home," Koa murmured, his voice soft but protective. "We'll figure this out together."
And together, they walked into the unsettling quiet of the town, unsure of what the next day—or the next murder—would bring.
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Detectives Nonso and Ibe pulled up to the towering gates of the estate, a sprawling compound that seemed out of place in the modest town. Ibe glanced at the address on the note Nora had given them, still surprised by the opulence of the property.
"This place is huge," Nonso muttered, eyeing the grand entrance.
Ibe pressed the intercom, and a crackling voice, raspy and worn, echoed through the speaker. "Yes? How may I help you?"
Ibe leaned in, flashing their badges in front of the camera. "Good afternoon, this is Detective Ibe, and my partner, Detective Nonso. We're here to speak with Mrs. Kechi."
A tense pause followed, only the sound of faint rustling on the other end filling the silence. The voice returned, sharp and suspicious. "What's this about?"
Nonso and Ibe exchanged a glance. The tension was noticeable. Nonso stepped forward. "It's about Somi Kechi, ma'am. We need to speak with Mrs Kechi regarding her."
Another long silence. Then, with a sudden beep, the gates groaned open, revealing a winding driveway leading up to the grand house. As they approached the large wooden door, it slid open on its own.
"Shoes off, detectives," a stern voice called from somewhere inside.
The detectives complied, exchanging amused looks as they stepped out of their shoes and were led into a plush living room by an older woman. The space was impeccably decorated, with expensive artwork hanging from the walls and the faint smell of incense in the air. The woman who seemed like the housekeeper set down a tray of cold zobo and fish pie in front of them, then retreated without a word.
"Bit over the top, don't you think?" Nonso murmured, sipping the zobo.
"Focus," Ibe whispered back just as the sound of a walking stick tapping against the marble floors grew louder. An elderly woman entered the room, her small frame hunched but exuding a commanding presence. She limped toward them, every step deliberate, and seated herself across from the detectives with a grim expression.
"What can I do for you, detectives?" she asked, her voice clipped, devoid of warmth.
Nonso cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "Mrs. Kechi, we're here regarding your granddaughter, Somi."
The old woman's face remained unmoved, but her eyes seemed to harden. "What about her? What's she done now?" There was a clear edge of irritation in her voice, as if the very mention of Somi was an inconvenience.
Nonso braced himself. "I'm sorry to inform you, but Somi has passed away."
The room grew impossibly still. The detectives waited for a reaction—grief, shock, something—but Mrs. Kechi's expression didn't change. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into something resembling a sneer.
"Good," she said coldly.
Nonso and Ibe exchanged stunned glances. "Good?" Nonso echoed, unable to hide his disbelief.
Mrs. Kechi leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "That girl was nothing but trouble. It's better this way. Somi was a disappointment from the day she was born. She lived a life of sin, so I'm not surprised she met such an end."
The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. Ibe, visibly taken aback, cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. "Mrs. Kechi, we understand you had differences with Somi, but surely—"
"Differences?" The old woman scoffed. "That girl was not my granddaughter. She was a disgrace, a stain on this family. I warned her, told her what would happen if she continued down her path, but did she listen? No. She brought this on herself."
Ibe blinked, struggling to process the venom in her words. "Mrs. Kechi, could you tell us more about why you and Somi were on such bad terms?"
Her eyes flicked to him, sharp and dismissive. "There's nothing to tell. She chose her lifestyle—one that I could never condone. You say she's dead? Then good riddance. That's all I have to say."
"Surely you must feel something?" Nonso pressed, incredulous. "She was still your blood."
The old woman's lips twisted into a cold smile. "Not all blood is worth keeping, Detective. Now, if you're finished, you can enjoy your pie and be on your way."
She rose abruptly, turning her back on them and limping out of the room without another word. Nonso and Ibe sat in stunned silence, the air heavy with disbelief.
"I've heard cold reactions before, but that..." Nonso trailed off, shaking his head.
Ibe exhaled slowly, standing up. "I wasn't expecting her to grieve, but what was that?"
The two detectives made their way back to the car, their thoughts swirling with the chilling encounter. Nonso turned to Ibe as they reached the vehicle. "What do you make of all that?"
"I don't know", Ibe replied, starting the engine. "But there's more to this than just family drama. she's definitely not telling us what we want to hear."
Nonso nodded, deep in thought. "Yeah, and it feels like Somi wasn't just some rebellious granddaughter. Whatever she did, it made Mrs. Kechi despise her enough to speak about her like that. But why?"
As they drove away from the estate, the town of Mmiri stretched out before them, bathed in the fading light of the late afternoon. The case was far from over, and their encounter with Mrs. Kechi had only deepened the mystery surrounding Somi's death.
"I sent Somi's phone to forensics," Nonso said quietly. "Let's hope we find something on there."
Ibe nodded, his thoughts still on Mrs. Kechi's cold, emotionless face. "Hopefully, we'll be getting more than just answers from her phone."
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The quiet hum of a white sedan breaking the stillness of Charles Street was the first sign that something unusual was about to happen. The sleek vehicle glided to a stop outside the bustling police station, a place that rarely saw anything more exciting than the occasional traffic violation. The door swung open, and out stepped a man in his early twenties, exuding an air of unspoken authority. He wore dark sunshades, hiding his eyes, and his flowing white Afro hair was tied into a neat bun. His long legs, encased in tailored trousers, and his toned muscles, straining against a well-fitted shirt, spoke of someone accustomed to physical prowess. In his hand, he carried a walking stick, which seemed incongruous with his confident stride.
Before the dust had even settled from the sedan's arrival, the driver's seat door opened, revealing another young man. He was pale, his skin not appearing tanned under the midday sun. His own sunglasses shaded his eyes, an expression of distinct boredom. He glanced around the quiet street and sighed loudly, clearly unimpressed.
"You know, Frost," the pale man grumbled, "I knew you'd drag me into trouble, but this... this backwater town? What are we even supposed to do here?"
The white-haired man, Frost - a name Matching the whiteness of his curly hair had not yet made it inside the station when his companion, Kamdi, voiced his discontent. Frost smirked, his lips barely curling as he continued forward, his blind eyes hidden behind those dark glasses. His walking stick tapped lightly against the pavement, but his stride never faltered.
Kamdi, still grumbling, caught up to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his fitted jacket. "You know I hate quiet places, right? It's like waiting for something terrible to happen."
Frost chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "Maybe that's exactly why we're here, Kamdi."
As they neared the entrance of the police station, Kamdi muttered under his breath, "I swear, one of these days, you're going to get us killed."
The moment they entered, the usual bustling precinct froze. Officers who had been shuffling papers or arguing about jurisdiction suddenly found their conversations cut short. Heads turned, eyes widening at the sight of the two young men. Frost's walking stick tapped confidently across the floor, guiding him through the room with unnerving precision for someone supposedly blind.
"Is that guy—?"
"I think he's... blind?"
"How's he walking so easily?"
Whispers erupted, but none dared to approach. The sheer aura surrounding Frost was enough to make them keep their distance. Frost and Kamdi exchanged no words as they approached a desk where Detective Ibe sat. Ibe, already on edge, stood quickly, a flash of recognition in his eyes.
"You're here!" Ibe's voice held both excitement and relief, breaking the thick silence in the room. "You actually came."
"Someone invited me," Frost said with a quiet authority that cut through the room like a blade. He folded his walking stick and took a seat, his movements slow.
Kamdi leaned against the desk, smirking as he watched the officers gawking. "So, this is the great Mmiri precinct. Impressive."
Before Ibe could respond, Detective Nonso approached, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He glanced at Ibe, then back at Frost, his curiosity piqued.
"So... care to explain what's going on here, Ibe?" Nonso asked in a low voice, crossing his arms.
Ibe cleared his throat, lowering his voice as well. "Frost is the specialist we need. The chief's on our case because of all the pressure from upstairs. Oke and Team Two are catching up fast, but if we want any chance of solving this case before they do, we need Frost's help."
Nonso raised an eyebrow. "Specialist? In what, exactly?"
Frost tilted his head slightly, his blind eyes facing Nonso even though he couldn't see him. "In matters that are beyond your regular jurisdiction, detective," he said with a calm, almost amused tone.
Nonso hesitated, but there was something about Frost that made him trust his words, even if he didn't fully understand them yet. He turned back to Ibe, who nodded in confirmation.
"Alright," Nonso said, his voice now more determined. "Let's not waste any time."
They led Frost and Kamdi into a conference room, the air thick with tension and anticipation. The table was strewn with case files, photos, and a giant map of the town.
Ibe wasted no time diving into the grim details. "We've been dealing with a series of brutal murders. Seven victims so far, each found with a specific body part missing. But we can't crack the pattern."
Nonso pulled up the profiles on a nearby screen. "The first victim was a child, just three years old, head found in City S, then second was a local schoolteacher, female, mid-thirties. Her tongue was removed. The third victim, a male in his late twenties, worked at a nearby bank. His heart was taken, next was the 16-year-old high schooler whose uterus was removed, then there was the male model twenty-six whose skin was ripped off his body, also, the 60-year-old man whose hair was literally pulled from his head leaving his brains out and most recently, there's Somi—a female, in her early twenties, an aspiring model. Her eyes were removed."
Kamdi leaned over the table, grimacing at the crime scene photos. "Well, that's sufficiently horrifying. So what, you guys think this is some kind of psycho serial killer?"
Frost remained silent for a moment, his blind eyes fixed on the files. The room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for him to speak.
Finally, he leaned forward, his fingers brushing the table's edge. "The missing body parts... they're not just trophies. They hold significance."
Nonso frowned, leaning in closer. "We thought so too, but what kind of significance?"
"In some belief systems, specific body parts represent different aspects of the soul," Frost explained, his voice measured and calm. "The tongue for truth, the heart for life, the eyes for perception. This person is collecting these parts for a reason—possibly for some kind of ritual or personal vendetta."
Kamdi whistled low under his breath. "Well, that just got creepy real fast."
Nonso sat back, rubbing his temples, While Ibe nodded slowly, his face grim. "Seems like we arrived at the same conclusion."
Frost stood, his expression unreadable behind the glasses. "I'll need to visit the crime scenes. I need to see the bodies, talk to your coroner, and go through all the evidence. There are always clues left behind—if you know how to look for them."
Nonso exchanged a look with Ibe, then nodded. "Alright. We'll make the arrangements."
As Frost and Kamdi prepared to leave the room, Kamdi turned to the detectives with a smirk. "I had a feeling this would get interesting."
Later that evening, as the detectives investigated, the walls of the operations room were covered in photos, maps, and hastily scribbled notes.
"What are we missing?" Nonso muttered, his fingers drumming on the table.
Ibe flipped through the profiles again. "There's got to be a connection, but we're not seeing it. Different ages, different professions... What ties them together?"
As Nonso stared at the crime scene photos again, Hed couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. The Shadow was still out there.
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The next few days were a frenzy of activity. Nonso and Ibe worked tirelessly, sifting through the lives of the victims, their families, and even their most distant acquaintances, looking for anything that could link them to the elusive killer. Yet, the deeper they dug, the more the case seemed to slip through their fingers. Every lead ended in a dead end, and every promising clue fizzled out under scrutiny.
Frost was relentless. He visited every crime scene, his walking stick tapping lightly as he moved with uncanny precision. His keen sense of detail missed nothing. The police pathologist watched in awe as Frost spent hours in the mortuary, examining the victims' bodies with the care of a surgeon. His brow furrowed as he pieced together patterns only he seemed to notice. Deep in his thoughts, the grisly scenes triggered memories he had long buried.
Kamdi found Frost standing over the latest victim in the cold mortuary, his hands resting on the metal slab.
"You think it's him, don't you?" Kamdi asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
Frost didn't answer immediately, his eyes hidden behind his shades as he let the tension hang in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. "It's too close to be a coincidence. If it's not him, it's someone following in his footsteps."
Kamdi let out a frustrated sigh, pacing around the room. "So, what now? We just wait for him to strike again? Hope we get lucky?"
"No," Frost said quietly, "we don't wait. We make him come to us."
Meanwhile, in the town of Mmiri, fear had taken root. The rumors swirled through the town like wildfire. People were afraid. The uncertainty only fed the fear, turning every shadow into a potential threat.
Then, just when it seemed like the investigation had stalled, something happened that shook the case wide open.
It was a late afternoon at the precinct, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the room. Nonso was buried under a mountain of paperwork, his energy waning, when Ibe burst into the room, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Nonso! You've got to see this!" Ibe's voice was breathless, his urgency very clear as he tugged Nonso from his desk.
Nonso groaned, more out of habit than exhaustion. "Please tell me you've got something good this time."
Ibe shot him a look over his shoulder as they hurried down the hall. "Just come see for yourself."
They entered the operations room, where several officers were crowded around a monitor. The dim room hummed with anticipation as Ibe hit play on a grainy video feed.
"What am I looking at?" Nonso asked, squinting at the screen.
Ibe pointed at the flickering footage, captured by a security camera in a narrow alleyway not far from the last crime scene. "Just watch."
On the screen, a figure—dressed head to toe in dark clothing—moved cautiously down the alley, the same alley where Somi was found murdered. The figure paused under the weak light of a streetlamp, scanning the area before vanishing into the darkness.
Nonso's heart raced. "Is that…?"
Ibe nodded grimly. "That's The Shadow."
A hush fell over the room. For the first time, they had a tangible glimpse of the killer who had haunted their nightmares. Nonso felt a rush of adrenaline as he watched the figure move through the alley, a shadow within shadows. It wasn't much, but it was something—a crack in the case that had seemed unbreakable.
Before anyone could speak, Frost and Kamdi appeared in the doorway. Frost's unshakable calm filled the room as he and Kamdi moved toward the screen.
Kamdi glanced at the footage and then back at Frost. "Looks like we've finally got eyes on our guy."
Frost was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to face Nonso and Ibe. "It's time we set a trap."
Nonso blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "A trap? How? We don't even know where he's going to strike next."
Frost leaned on his walking stick, his voice quiet but firm. "We know enough. The pattern of the murders, the body parts taken —. He's working to a rhythm, a plan. And if we study his movements closely enough, we can anticipate his next step."
Ibe frowned, sceptical but intrigued. "What are you suggesting?"
Frost turned to the officers gathered in the room, his words carrying weight. "We create a scenario that will force his hand. He'll come to us—if we give him the right bait."
Nonso raised an eyebrow. "Bait? What are you thinking, exactly?"
Kamdi chimed in, his voice low. "Someone's got to be the target. Someone he can't resist."
The room fell into stunned silence, the gravity of the suggestion hanging heavy in the air. Nonso exchanged a look with Ibe. This was risky—dangerous even. But it also felt like their best shot at catching the killer.
Before Nonso could voice his concerns, a young officer interrupted, clearing his throat nervously. "But… who would be crazy enough to volunteer for that, and how can we be sure he wouldn't be able to resist?"
Kamdi grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You'll find out soon enough."
Nonso stared at Kamdi, incredulous. "You? You're not volunteering to be the bait, right? You do realize what that means? This guy's dangerous."
Kamdi shrugged, his bravado unwavering. "I've faced worse. Besides, it's not set in stone yet, but if worse comes to worst, you guys will have my back?"
Frost's expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses.
Ibe crossed his arms, clearly weighing the risks. "We're talking about luring a serial killer. If we're going to do this, we need to be smart. The second he takes the bait, we close in."
Nonso couldn't help but admire Kamdi's courage, even as he felt a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. "Alright," he said slowly, his voice steady despite the tension. "Let's set this trap."
Frost gave a nod of approval, his calm unwavering. "Good. But remember, The Shadow knows what he wants. He won't take the bait unless he's certain it's worth the risk. We need to be prepared for anything."
As the team gathered to plan the operation, the mood in the precinct shifted. The officers moved with purpose, their focus sharper than ever. They needed to take back control from the fear that had gripped the town.
Later that evening, Nonso caught Frost standing alone by the window, his face turned toward the setting sun.
"You think this will work?" Nonso asked, joining him.
Frost's expression remained distant, contemplative. "It has to," he replied simply. "The Shadow has stayed in the dark for too long. It's time to bring him into the light."