Chapter three

Kyrian

The officer's eyes were bloodshot and tired as if he hadn't slept in days. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not meeting my eyes. His jaw was clenched, and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, as he struggled to remain calm. I was desperate for answers, but his silence was deafening.

"I think we need to refuel," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. Without another word, he turned the car around and headed back the way we came. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, as we pulled into the gas station, the officer remained silent. I watched him as he filled the tank, his movements robotic and methodical. I wondered what was going through his mind, but he gave no clues. He finished filling the tank and got back into the car, without a word. I felt a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach, as we pulled out of the station and back onto the highway. The silence was suffocating, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"What's going on?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

“Your wife?”. I whispered while looking at the beautiful pedal that was hanging in front of his car, with a picture of a lovely young lady. The officer didn't respond, then shortly, he whispered.

"That's Maria," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "She's my twin sister. We were inseparable as kids, and she's been my best friend ever since." He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. "She was murdered"

I could tell that there was more to the story, but I didn't want to push him. I just waited, hoping he would open up and tell me what was on his mind.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop in front of a large, elegant apartment complex. The building was made of white stone, with a gleaming metal door. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to see inside. I had never seen such a fancy apartment before, and I wondered what it was like inside. The officer turned off the engine and got out of the car. He walked around to my side and opened the door.

"Come on," he said, extending his hand to help me out of the car. "Let's get you inside." I took his hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Ken! You are back?!”. Screamed a young aunty, with her hair packed up and tied with a fancy ribbon. Her clothes weren't so moderate it exposed most of her body, especially her breasts, I instantly despised her, guess she didn't like me as well because she looked at me with disgust

“Come on Kyrian”. Mr. Ken muttered as he lifted me to his arm.

“Who is...”

“My son”. Ken had interrupted the young lady sharply, leaving her speechless as she stood gazing at me.

“Wow! Never knew you had a son, I made some fried rice, how about you come over with your son while we eat today?” she said excitedly as she came closer while playing with my cheek “Awwn you are such a sweet soul, see how smooth your skin is”. She whispered while still staring at Mr. Ken.

“What do you have to say? Are you coming over?”. She muttered while trying to grab his hands

“Nope, we already ate on our way home”. Mr. Ken muttered as gently slacked his hands.

“Oww! That's so bad, maybe next time, goodbye cutie”. She muttered with a slight disappointment and a little wave at me.

“Yeah”. Mr. Ken whispered as we went inside the house.

The apartment was beautiful, with sleek glass walls and a dazzling chandelier. I was still in a state of shock, unsure of what to make of the situation. Mr. Ken's mysterious behaviour had me on edge, and I didn't know what to expect next.

“Can you stay alone or do you want to go with me? I need to get you some malaria drugs as well as buy food for us to eat?!”. He mumbled 'Never mind, let's go'.

As we stepped into the car, I studied the man's face, trying to read his expression. He seemed deep in thought, and his face was clouded with worry. I was still trying to process everything that had happened when the car came to a stop.

As I stepped out of the car, my stomach felt like it was turning inside out. I tried to take deep breaths, but the scent of the chemicals was making me feel worse. I looked at Mr Ken, who was standing next to the car, and I felt a wave of panic rising inside me. I couldn't explain it, but I knew I needed to get out of there.

"I'll be right back," I said, my voice shaking. I turned and started walking away from the car, heading in the opposite direction of the store. I could hear Mr. Ken calling after me.

After some minutes, Mr. Ken came back with the medicine, we drove for a few minutes before stopping in front of a small restaurant, a typical "mama put" as we called them in Nigeria. The space was small and intimate, with just a few tables and chairs. An older woman, likely in her sixties, stood behind a counter, stirring a giant pot of stew. She looked up and greeted us with a warm smile.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with kindness. My stomach growled loudly, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I had not realized how hungry I was.

As Mr. Ken reentered the car, he set a small plastic bag on the floor in front of me. "Sorry, I had to buy your food from her," he said, gesturing towards the woman who had prepared the meal. "Her food is the best."

I remained silent, looking out the window at the hustle and bustle of the night street. Vendors were still hawking their wares, and little children ran about, their cries and laughter filling the air. The atmosphere was so different from my life back home, and I felt a wave of homesickness wash over me.

"What's going on?" Mr Ken asked a nearby driver who was stuck in traffic. The driver replied that the road had been blocked off due to a crime scene. "God, what's happening in Lagos?" Mr. Ken muttered under his breath. "We just drove on this road earlier today and everything was fine. Now it's all blocked off."

Mr Ken kept muttering to himself as he checked his GPS for an alternate route. Just then, his phone started buzzing. It was a news alert, and the headline made him go pale. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, reading the article aloud. "A local director has been found murdered, just a few blocks from where we are now. They've shut down the area to investigate."

My heart started racing. I'd just heard about the director's new film, and now he was dead. "What if...," I began, but I couldn't finish the thought. Mr. Ken looked at me and let out a hiss.

"This is a horrible tragedy," Mr. Ken said, tears streaming down his face. He turned off the radio, unable to listen to any more news about the director's death. "I can't imagine what his family must be going through right now," he said. "It's just so... tragic."

We sat in silence for a moment, the mood in the car sombre and heavy. I felt a deep sadness for the director and his family, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of fear. "I hope they catch whoever did this," I said quietly. "It's just not right."

Mr. Ken took a deep breath and put the car in gear. "We need to keep moving," he said, his voice shaking. "The longer we sit here, the more we're risking getting caught up in the investigation. Let's go home."

I nodded and gripped my seat belt as he pulled away from the curb. The streets were deserted, and the air was thick with tension. I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as we drove on.

We made it to his house without incident, but the atmosphere there was just as tense as the outside.