CHIBOK (COMPLETED)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Despite the recent uncertainties that plagued Cynthia's life, she was certain of one thing: She was being watched and closely—that was the only explanation for how Bello got wind of her movement. She was quite convinced that Bello was not in Abuja and the only group on her suspect list was no other that the mysterious couple: Mr. and Mrs. Blake. This idea slammed on her like a freight car after the days following her visit to Maiduguri and the surprise apparition of Bello, that was when she woke up and the sight that welcomed her view from the open window was Mr. Blake's house that stood like a watch tower, one could see the window of the ground floor above the fence because of the steeply elevation of the other end of the street.

That evening after the necessary routine of bringing Caleb from school and making dinner, she resolved to pay the couple a surprise visit. Something was fishy and she might just get a chance to fish it out.

As she stood before the imposing ornately designed gate of the fenced bungalow, she reconsidered her paranoia, was it not ridiculous to think that the couple could be associated with such things? Maybe it wasn't. Didn't the detective spoke of how they were known to have been in contact with Bello for several or at least few occasion? If they are the one spying on her then she needed to know how and why?

The smaller gate opened and there was Mrs. Blake, her hair tied in a high bun, a smile lighted her usually heavily painted face which today was devoid of makeup. Mrs. Blake looked almost better without makeup, Cynthia thought, but had to respond with a high lisp of excitement at the smiling woman's greeting as she entered into the compound while internally, she wondered why such an opulent couple would not employ the service of a gate man—fishy number one.

Cynthia admired the well trimmed hedges, though; they stood as miniature leafy walls with dotting yellow flowers blooming in late June. The tiles of the portico were so clean and new she could almost see her reflections on them. Mrs. Blake led her through an ebony door into the lounge. Vast and almost empty, two new sofas and a glass centre table; an upturned photo near a new book shelf with only a ragged edge book; a flat screen television; something near the window that looked like a camera on a stand, totally covered with what looked like a white satin fabric from the distance; and few flower vases (with no flowers, synthetic or natural). "We're still in the process of settling in," Mrs Blake said looking a little embarrassed by her unannounced visit, but still trying her best to keep a smile whenever their eyes met.

Cynthia was sure of a hint of reluctance in the woman's welcome, and that Mrs. Blake just couldn't deny her visit, which to her was in a way advantageous to her quest, subtly, she was in charge. "But Blake even thinks that this is more than necessary, you know the way some men are." The woman said, gesturing at the few furniture.

Cynthia smiled and nodded, though she hardly comprehended what was to make sense of in everything Mrs. Blake had said. This was also because she was hardly listening, her eyes were scrutinizing every part of the living room and making a mental note of all that did seem amiss: Flower vases with no flowers, when the hedges in the compound are well trimmed; newly tilled portico when the interiors looked like a high school dormitory common room—more like a fancy show of at the exterior with little to show for it on the inside. But Cynthia also considered the fact that the previous occupants may have been responsible for the well manicured hedges, and the newly laid tiles? Well, she couldn't answer that.

"I've arranged with an interior deco expert, she came earlier to take the estimates and promised to return with the necessary materials tomorrow. Please be seated," Mrs. Blake hastily added before asking, "You didn't tell us that you are coming?" Cynthia could see the look of disapproval that the woman was no longer trying to hide.

"Umm..." she stammered, "I felt bored and decide to just come over and say hi."

"Oh," Mrs Blake said, with a raised brow that seem to convey the fact that she wasn't convinced, "that's so thoughtful of you," she added coldly, "You should have come with Caleb then, I like that boy," Mrs Blake, latter said on a livelier note. Cynthia recalled that Caleb and the woman never met in close range as she made it sound, Caleb was not even around the day she visited, but the woman interrupted her thoughts by saying, "I'm making dinner, what can I get you. Tea, Cappuccino, wine?"