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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rain fell all through the night, adding to Shakira’s fear and frustration. Florence Odu’s words rang in her brain, and the menace on the woman’s face got her heart thumping time and again. She was so petrified during the night, coupled with heavy thunder strikes, that she couldn’t find the courage to use the bathroom, though she was told new security details had been fixed in the house, including a CCTV camera. She hated the intrusion on her privacy but knew it was necessary.

Runo knocked on her door close to seven, and when she didn’t respond, opened the door. She was cuddled under the duvet, afraid, though the policewoman announced her entry.

“It’s time to leave for work.”

Shakira moaned. “I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

Runo walked to the curtain and peeped out. “Me neither.”

“There was a thunderstorm.” Shakira drew herself up against the headboard. “I kept hearing the door slamming. Like she was back.”

Runo closed the curtain. “Perfectly normal.” She strode to the bed and stared at Shakira with her arms akimbo. “You opted to do this. You gotta get out of bed.” At the door, she murmured, “Ten minutes tops, madam.”

Shakira rolled her eyes after the woman was gone. She was a remarkable undercover officer considering how well she fit the subservient housekeeper role in public. At home, she was a vixen, a hard cop who did her job with blunt detachment.

It took less than ten minutes for her to be ready and in the parlor. Dele was pacing the room, his jaw clamped, when she came in.

“I told her you shouldn’t go to the school today.”

She sighed. “I guess they know better.

“I didn’t sleep. Did they tell you the woman came here while you were at work?”

His open distress caught her interest. It seemed the police officers didn’t update him on the drama back in the school, and she couldn’t either.

“They did.” She bit her lower lip. “But I have to go to work.”

“She will trail you from here and find you there. To be frank with you, I think it’s time to leave this country. Since she’s come out of hiding, she will make mistakes and be caught in no time.”

Runo cleared her throat. Neither had known when she walked in. She marched to the door. “Let’s go.”

Shakira nodded. “See you later, Dele. And thank you for being here.”

If he hadn’t been home, no one would have known the woman had come earlier. The new security devices in the house would not have been fixed, and her life may have been in more danger. Dele was making his presence useful.

“I’m coming with you.”

Until then, she didn’t notice he was dressed to go out. She expected Runo to object but the latter shrugged.

“Shouldn’t someone be in the house?”

“I don’t want to be home when she returns. She picked the locks and entered the house. Can you imagine how I felt?” He went to stand beside Runo. “I don’t mind sitting outside the school. Or in the church till you’re done.”

Shakira wanted to laugh at how scared he was, but she knew it would be inappropriate. If the police were okay with it, she was too.

School went on without incident, and afterwards, the rest of the evening too. Runo and Eddy sat in the parlor and scanned through the CCTV recordings of the day and saw nothing unusual. For hours later, they analyzed the case in coded terms and out of boredom, Shakira went to bed.

She could not sleep even after a drink of the local chocolate beverage. Instead she read her Bible and began to pray for her family and the school. She’d been told the town was on the border of two countries with one of the most porous boundaries. Children from neighboring Bakassi schooled here, and this meant it was quite easy to move in and out of Nigeria.

“I commit the country into your hands too,” she murmured. “Help them to build better institutions so evil will not continue to thrive here.”

Dele knocked. “Shakira. Shakira, are you awake?”

She paused. “Yes.”

“One of the students has had an accident. You are wanted. The pastor is here.”

She snatched her robe and opened the door. “Where’s Runo?”

“They are checking the surroundings. She asked me to call you.”

“Does she agree I follow the pastor?”

Dele lowered his voice. “They think we are missionaries, Shakira. It’s good for the ploy.”

“Give me a minute.” She closed the door. “Tell Pastor Goodwill I’ll be out in a second.”

She wore the pretty black and white polka-dot dress she’d removed to get into bed and flat slippers rather than her low-heeled pumps.

She smoothed her hair with her hand and opened the door. “I’m ready.”

“You look beautiful.” He reached for her hand, but she ducked. “We’re married,” he whispered.

“Not in an emergency.” She stomped off, and he followed her.

Pastor Goodwill’s defeated slouch against the wall spoke volumes, and Shakira shuddered at the mere thought of the magnitude of the accident. What was she to do? How did one pray for the sick?

It was close to midnight, and Runo insisted they ride in their car as against Pastor Goodwill’s suggestion to ride together.

The parents of the child sat on the bare floor at the altar in the church, praying. The child had been laid out under the huge cross on the wall. Some members paced the length and breadth, shouting and singing.

Shakira didn’t think the child was alive from the strange angle her neck lay. On the ride to the church, Runo had told her the girl slipped and fell from the top of a tree, and probably broke her neck. They rushed her to the church instead of the clinic. She’d suggested the hospital.

Runo had muttered. “My thoughts too, but let’s get there first.”

“Please, pray. Woman of God, pastor. Please.” The child’s father went on his knees when they approached the altar. “She’s not talking.”

His broken voice rang a bell in her mind, and Shakira thought she would pass out. She remembered another time and place. Two little girls, their lives cut off by a senseless act she was yet to understand. The lost look on the mother’s face mirrored the fear and hopelessness she now lived with.

Dele took charge, and she was grateful because she couldn’t find words. “She will talk. Let’s form a circle, and everyone begin to call her forth in the name of the mighty God we serve.” He motioned to the father as they formed a semicircle around the mother and child. “What’s her name?”

The hoarse voice responded as from a distance. “Kemini. But we call her Kem.”