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“Rockie Gave. Mackenzie Anderson. Lola Thompson. Fatau Mustapha. Armando Ibrahim. Leonard Andoh. David Doumegnon. Kiki Yonn. Lanre and Lela Balogun. ”
Detective Ola nodded as his friend read out the names of the murder victims one by one, eyes trained directly on the screen.
“Are the last two related?”
“Siblings. Murdered just two nights ago.”
“Okay, established. Why exactly are you involving me in this? Isn’t it your job to find the killer?”
“Listen, guy. This is someone we’ve been tracing for the past two months. You’re a pretty good tracker. Just figured I could use your help, because currently we need all we can get to nab the killer as soon as possible. People are afraid.”
Armani sat, legs crossed and in deep thought. A serial killer on the loose really wasn’t his business, he had his own problems to solve. Strange things had been happening in and around his house and he had to piece the puzzle together. First off, someone had to have been entering his house, because what else could explain the nightmares, missing dream catchers, waking up on the floor and his bedroom door ajar every morning?
He sighed, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind. “Noticed any similarities with the victims?”
“Not really. He or she wasn’t specific on gender or anything.”
“Clues. There must be some, we need to find that. Even if they are being random about their killings, they mark their victims.”
“So, what are you suggesting? Any line of thought?”
“Times of murder, or reports on murder. Age pattern of victims. Pictures. Locations. There has to be a connection.”
“We’ve tried.”
“Try harder. There are several ways to catch a mouse. Please, get all the files on the personal information of these people and mail it to me. I have to get to work.”
“Work? What do you do?”
“You ask too many questions, Olamide, but I’d like to associate your abnormal level of curiosity to the fact that you are a detective.”
The slim boy made to leave.
“Armani?”
“Yeah?”
“Come to church with me sometime?”
Armani scoffed, leaving without an answer.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The compound was empty, everyone was at church. Eerie silence and chilled, dry air hung outside, but Hanzila couldn’t afford to miss her midnight prayers. The pressure to find a husband, obviously from her deranged father, was taking it out of her. The man wasn’t going to come on a silver platter, so when she’d sneaked out to town to consult the mallam she saw on Facebook, he had strongly prescribed she perform Tahajjud prayers- that was aside the favor soap he gave her to bathe with, of course.
Foggy air bit into her skin, and the cool air made her sneeze loudly as she walked towards the tank that stood somewhere close to the gate. She was just about filling her kettle, when footsteps had distracted her. All her neighbors had gone to church, and her father was somewhere in town, probably dead drunk.
She left the kettle beside the tank making for the gates, but what she wasn’t expecting was a hand closing over her mouth, and another sliding right behind her waist.
The frightened Muslim girl let out a scream, but her sounds came out muffled. Hanzila made to turn, but she came falling face down immediately. Her assailant’s feet were right before her, and slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet her attacker.
His left hand held what she instantly recognized as a dagger, and he held it like it was his own hand. Her costly prank of three years ago resurfaced back to memory in waves, and she crawled backwards slowly, lips quivering in an insane amount of fear, but the lullaby man stood in all his glory, taking slow, quiet steps towards her, each following every movement she made backwards with his own. The girl moved her bum in the dirt, trying to get away from her assailant, but she couldn’t scream. She dared not.
Because he warned her.
She had finally backed the hard wood of her front door, and he had stopped moving just when she had, muttering a creepy song under his breath, but the words of a creepy tune that sounded like something akin to a lullaby was the least of her problems, because she didn’t expect sharp steel to come sliding across her throat so murderously. He’d disappeared just as he came, leaving the helpless girl writhing in her own pool of blood.
