Soul Bond.

CHAPTER TWO: THE VOICES OF SHADOWS

Detective Amanda Omoluabi stood quietly at the edge of the scene, her eyes scanning the pale body in front of her. It was the same pattern yet again, no wounds, no struggle, no sign of trauma or violence. The body, a young lady probably in her twenties Lay in the same lifeless pose as all the others that had come before her. Her skin was drained of color, and her eyes stared blankly ahead as though there had never been any life in them, to begin with. But her lips were stretched, almost as if she were grinning.

This was the eighth case this month, and the cases stretched back almost a year now, each more baffling than the last. Each body presented with the same eerie peacefulness, as though the victim had simply allowed death to claim them, without a fight, without fear.

The Coroner’s officer had been unable to determine a cause of death in any of the cases. The medical reports were always inconclusive and frustratingly vague. It was as if these people had stopped living for no apparent reason.

“This one even went out grinning,” she said, wrinkling her nose slightly, her forehead creased with lines of tension and worry.

She squatted down beside the body. “Sergeant Kelly and officer black,” Amanda called out to both her colleagues who came working towards her. They were both seasoned in the field, and they shared her frustration.

“Same as the others?” Sergeant Kelly asked, his voice low, though he already knew the answer.

Amanda nodded, her jaw clenched. “no visible signs of injury, no struggle, just…..gone.”

She stared down at the lady's eyes, shuddering involuntarily. There was something about the look in those eyes that haunted her, the sheer emptiness of it all. These weren't ordinary deaths, and she was convinced there was something bigger at play here, something beyond the mundane.

“Guys, we have to run the usual checks,” she ordered, “we have to get the forensic investigator down here. I want every inch of this scene examined, and this time let us make sure they comb through everything. We need something, anything that can or might have a clue.”

Officer Black gave her a sympathetic glance, “Are you sure about this Detective Amanda? It has been almost a year, we have followed every lead but nothing has come up, maybe……..”

“Maybe nothing!” Amanda snapped, cutting him off. “There has to be an answer, people don't just die for no reason. There's a pattern here, I know it, we are just not seeing it yet.”

She stood up, weariness settling deep in her bones. For months, she had pushed every angle and called in every specialist she could think of……, but still nothing.

In Nigeria, particularly here in Lagos State, calling in specialists like a forensic psychologist, a coroner’s officer, or a forensic investigator to investigate a fake corpse typically follows specific legal and procedural guidelines, often initiated through court orders, which could be both lengthy and stressful.

Besides, after all the examinations that had been made for almost a year, Amanda was sure she'd be lucky if any of the specialists paid her any mind. But she knew she had to try.

Amanda glanced back at the scene one last time before heading to her car. She was going to follow a new lead today, one she wasn't proud of. Mr Arunne Nkwu, the man everyone on this street avoided like a plague. People called him crazy, whispered that he was cursed, that his mind had been shattered years ago by “Mmanu oji” or “Ewe.”

But Mr Arunne had been there, near the scenes of at least eight of the strange deaths in the past eight months. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Her steps quickened as she thought about the stories she had heard, rumors that swirled around Arunne…….about a knife only he could see, a blade that whispered to him, urging him to kill. About how he spoke of spirits, apparitions only he could witness, and of voices that drove him to the brink of madness. Amanda wasn't one to indulge in fantasy or superstitions, but there was something about Arunne's ramblings that gave her cause to pause. What if there was some connection between him and these deaths? Even if it was something she couldn't fully comprehend.

Later that day, Amanda found herself sitting across from Arunne in a dingy, dimly lit interrogation room. Arunne slouched in his chair, his hair quite unkept, his clothes wrinkled and stained. He looked haggard, exhausted, like a man who had spent far too many nights without sleep. His eyes flickered towards her nervously, darting from side to side, as if he expected something to leap out at him from the shadows.

“So,” Amanda began, her voice calm but firm. “you know why you are here, Mr Arunne?”

Arunne fidgeted, his fingers twitching restlessly. “what do you want?” he muttered under his breath. “It wasn't me, they told me………they told me it wasn't my fault…..”

“Who told you?” Amanda asked, leaning forward slightly. She could feel the tension in the room thickening.

Arunne's eyes shifted again, his fingers pulling at the edge of a sleeve. “They, the souls who scream. You think I'm a madman?”

Amanda didn't answer, she needed to hear more before she drew any conclusions.

“They are everywhere,” Arunne continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “They come when no one's watching. The knife is not mine, but it's there. And they make me see things, terrible things.”

Amanda's stomach twisted, Mr Arunne, what exactly do you see?”

Arunne let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You won't believe me, no one does. But it's real the knife…….it cuts, but not like you think. I tried to stop it, but it was always there, whispering, making me watch. And the people, they just let it happen, they give in, they let the life drain out of them, and I can't stop it.”

Amanda's breath caught in her throat, the eerie descriptions matched the scenes she had witnessed over the past year. Or is it because he had seen those bodies? Was it what turned him to this?

“And spirits?” Amanda pressed, “You said you see spirits.”

Arunne's eyes darkened, and for the first time, he looked directly at her. “They are everywhere, watching, waiting. They follow me, detective, every time.”

Amanda stared at him, her mind racing. She didn't want to believe any of this, it was absurd. But as she looked into Arunne’s haunted eyes, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was telling the truth, or at least some version of it.

She had never been one to indulge in wild theories, but the evidence……or the lack of it was forcing her to reconsider. Something unnatural was happening in town, and Mr Arunne, whether he was a madman or a victim himself, might be the key to understanding it.

“Why haven't you been committed Mr Arunne?” she asked quietly. “With all the things you say, why are you still out here?”

Arunne laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “Because they know I'm telling the truth, they don't want to admit it, but they know. All these people……everyone leave me alone because they are scared. They think if they ignore me, they'll be fine.”

Amanda's hand tightened around the edge of the table, she knew she was running out of options, and this case was spiraling deeper into a mystery that defined logic.

“Mr Arunne, you need to help me so I can help you. You need to help this town,” she said finally. “I need to understand whatever this is; I need to stop it.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a strange mix of fear and resignation. “You can't stop it” he whispered, “no one can.”

Amanda's heart sank, but she wasn't ready to give up, not yet. Not until she had the answers she so desperately sought.