Soul Bond.

CHAPTER FIVE. SHADOWS OF DOUBT

CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOWS OF DOUBT

Detective Amanda stepped out of her Corolla, her polished boots crunching against the gravel-strewn path. The early morning sunlight did little or nothing lighting up the alley way. The crime scene was cordoned off with bright yellow tape that flapped weakly in the breeze, as though reluctant to contain the grimness inside.

Amanda steeled herself, Two victims. One a man she knew, a suspect. The other—a little girl.

The scene was haunting.

The man, Mr. Arunne was sprawled on the floor, His body bore no obvious signs of struggle, but dried blood painted his face in macabre streaks. It leaked from his nostrils, his mouth, even the corners of his eyes. The stark contrast of the dark, clotted blood against his pale skin was grotesque.

Then there was the girl.

Amanda’s breath caught in her throat as she approached the small figure lying lifeless on the floor. The girl looked no older than seven, her face serene, as though she’d simply drifted off to sleep. But the color was wrong—her skin was a ghostly white, almost translucent, as if every ounce of vitality had been drained from her. There were no bruises, no cuts, no visible injuries. She was just… gone.

For a long moment, Amanda stood frozen, the weight of the scene pressing against her chest, just like it had been for awhile now. She should have gotten used to these crime scenes by now, but the little girl? She crouched next to the child, brushing a strand of blonde hair from the girl’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” Amanda whispered, her voice barely audible.

The forensic team moved methodically around her, snapping photos, bagging evidence, and taking notes. When the mortuary attendants came to move the body to the Lagos state University teaching hospital (LASUTH) for an autopsy, Amanda rose to her feet and stepped back, her gaze lingering on the girl until the last possible moment.

While the bodies were being prepared for transport, Amanda turned her attention to other homeless people in the alley, they looked scared, she looked at the little children, who tried to hide in the dark corners of the alley, she could feel their confusion. They all testified to not hearing a sound.

Her eyes swept the floor, searching for anything out of place. That was when she saw it—a knife, resting in its sheath, half-hidden, but also almost in full sight, almost like it was trying to hide and show itself at the same time.

Amanda crouched down and pulled on a pair of gloves before picking it up. The knife was ornate, and despite its sharp appearance, the blade was clean, unsullied by blood or any other evidence of use.

“Strange,” she muttered to herself, turning the weapon over in her hands. Why would a knife be here if it hadn’t been used?

She looked back at the bodies being wheeled out. Mr. Arunne had bled profusely, but there were no cuts or puncture wounds to explain the bleeding. And the girl—Amanda couldn’t find a single mark on her. The knife didn’t add up.

Amanda placed the weapon into an evidence bag and zipped it shut.

The crisp air didn’t exactly help clear her head, as the questions continued to pile up. She leaned against her car, replaying the details in her mind.

“Detective,” called an officer, approaching her with a notebook in hand.

“What is it, officer Black?” Amanda asked.

“The preliminary autopsy notes came in. They think Mr. Arunne might have suffered some kind of internal hemorrhaging. No external injuries. As for the girl…” officer Black hesitated, glancing down at his notes.

“Go on,” Amanda urged.

“They… can’t determine a cause of death. No trauma, no toxins found at the scene so far. It’s like she just… stopped.”

Amanda frowned. “Not again, I’m getting really tired of this crap,” she sighed “are they still doing further tests?”

“Yes, ma. They’re doing further tests.”

Amanda nodded, dismissing Black as she stared back at the alley. She thought about the knife again. If it wasn’t the murder weapon, why was it here? And if neither victim had visible injuries, what had killed them?

Her thoughts swirled as she climbed into her car. She set the evidence bag containing the knife on the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. The image of the little girl’s lifeless body refused to leave her mind.

As Amanda drove to LASUTH, the knife seemed to weigh heavier in its bag, as though it carried secrets too dark to reveal. She found herself glancing at it every so often, her mind running through every possible theory.

Mr. Arunne’s hemorrhaging could have been caused by a toxin or disease, but what about the girl? Could she have been suffocated or poisoned? No, there was no evidence of that either. And the knife—its presence felt almost deliberate, like it was meant to mislead her.

She pulled into the teaching hospital’s parking lot and grabbed the evidence bag. Inside, the knife seemed to glint under the harsh fluorescent lights, as if mocking her confusion.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” Amanda muttered, heading to the mortuary lab.

The lab was quiet, the air humming with the sound of machinery. Amanda handed the knife over to a technician, who raised an eyebrow at Its ornate design.

“Looks ceremonial,” the tech said, inspecting the handle.

“Maybe,” Amanda replied. “Run a full analysis. Prints, DNA, the works. I want to know everything about this, and who touched it, I’ll wait till it’s done, I need to take it back with me, it’s evidence.”

Amanda thought about the knife, it seemed to mock her.

She stared at the photos from the crime scene, her mind piecing together fragments of the puzzle. The girl’s lifeless form haunted her thoughts. Pale, but untouched.

The knife remained an anomaly. It wasn’t the weapon, but its presence at the scene felt deliberate. Almost staged.

“Detective,” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

She turned to see the examiner standing in the doorway, holding a folder.

“I have preliminary findings on the bodies,” he said.

Amanda straightened. “What did you find?”

The examiner sighed, his expression troubled. “Mr. Arunne’s cause of death appears to be massive internal hemorrhaging. There’s evidence of ruptured blood vessels in his eyes and significant bleeding in his lungs and stomach. But we couldn’t find any external wounds or indications of how it happened. No blunt force trauma, no toxins so far. It’s as if he just… bled out from the inside.”

“And the girl?” Amanda pressed, her voice softening.

The medical examiner hesitated, then opened the folder, revealing an image of the young girl’s face. “We found no injuries, no signs of physical harm. Her organs are intact, no indications of suffocation, poisoning, or trauma. She appears to have simply… stopped. Her heart stopped, her breathing ceased, and there’s no medical explanation—just like the others.”

Amanda stared at the photo, her stomach tightening. “Could it be a medical condition? Something undiagnosed?”

“We’ve been running more tests, and it has been almost a year, and so far there has been no signs of any strange medical condition in any of the victims. The child wasn’t entirely a healthy child, but after all the examinations, I can assure you she didn’t die from any known illness. It’s almost like she just… switched off.”

Amanda leaned against the table, her mind working furiously. “And Mr. Arunne? Could the hemorrhaging have been triggered by something environmental? A toxin perhaps?”

The examiner shook his head. “No traces of harmful substances. And as I said, there were no toxins in his system. It’s like his body just turned against him.”

Amanda’s jaw tightened. The facts didn’t align. Two deaths in the same street—one horrifyingly violent, the other inexplicably peaceful. A clean knife left at the scene like a cruel joke. And no motive, no suspects.

“Thanks, Doc,” she murmured. “Let me know as soon as you find anything else.”

As the medical examiner continued working, Amanda returned to the crime scene photos, scrutinizing every detail again. Something about the positioning of the bodies nagged at her, something she hadn’t fully processed yet. They were too far apart to suggest a shared moment of violence, but their proximity felt intentional. Like they were placed deliberately.

She thought of the knife again, its untouched blade glinting under the dim light of the lab. It was too conspicuous, too out of place. It was almost like whoever left it wanted it to be noticed. But why?

Amanda’s phone buzzed on the table, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen: Private Number.

With a flicker of hesitation, she answered. “Detective Amanda Omoluabi.”

A low, distorted voice crackled on the other end. “Did you see it yet, Detective?”

Amanda froze. “Who is this?”

The voice chuckled, the sound chillingly hollow. “The shadows. Did you see the shadows?”

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

The line went dead.

Amanda lowered the phone, her heart pounding. The shadows. Her mind flashed back to the scene—the dim lighting of the alley, homeless people standing around confused, She hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but those words sent a chill down her spine.

Determined, she grabbed her keys and headed back to the scene. If there was something she had missed, She had to go find it.