My Dad Left My Mum Because She Gave Birth To Seven Girls Part 12

As I watched Doctor Dickson and Justice walking towards me, I adjusted my cap slightly and folded my arms across my chest.

Steeze and composure.

No matter what they came to say, I would hear it first before reacting.

“Good morning, Officer Chinelo,” Doctor Dickson greeted politely.

Justice said nothing. He only wore that grin the type that carried provocation inside it.

I ignored him deliberately.

“Good morning, Doctor Dickson. I believe you’ve heard the good news?” I asked calmly.

“Yes, Officer. Goodness called me. I had to drive down myself to confirm.”

I nodded once.

“Yes. Sharon has been arrested. There are multiple charges against her already, and they’re heavy enough to keep her behind bars for a long time. But…” I paused slightly, locking my gaze on Dickson, “the footage from the day she claimed she was violated is still missing. And until that

Justice cut in sharply.

“What other footage are you looking for, Officer Chinelo?”

His voice sliced through the air.

“With all due respect, everything points to Sharon being unstable. Obsessed. Dangerous. You rescued two hostages from her. What more are you trying to prove?”

I turned slowly to face him.

Slowly.

“I don’t remember addressing you, Doctor Justice.”

His jaw tightened.

“Well, I’m addressing you. Because at this point it feels like you’re deliberately stretching this case. You have your culprit. You have your evidence. Or is there something else you’re not saying?”

There it was.

Accusation.

I stepped closer.

“You’re suggesting misconduct?”

“I’m suggesting,” he fired back, taking a step forward too, “that you might be too emotionally invested to see what is obvious.”

My finger rose before I could stop it.

“Do not and I repeat do not question my professionalism in my station.”

“And don’t let your badge blind you to logic!” he shot back instantly. “Sharon is manipulative. She created chaos. She lied. She trapped people. And now you’re chasing ghosts.”

“Pending investigations are not ghosts,” I said coldly. “They are procedures.”

“Procedure?” He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Or pride?”

It was the audacity for me.

“Justice,” I said evenly, my voice dropping instead of rising, “have you ever led an investigation?”

He held my gaze.

“No.”

“Then don’t attempt to instruct me on one.” I retorted.

Doctor Dickson quickly held his arm, whispering his name, but Justice shrugged him off.

“This is not about ego,” Justice pressed. “It’s about facts.”

“And facts,” I replied sharply, “are incomplete.”

Silence stretched between us like a loaded wire.

I turned to Doctor Dickson.

“Control your colleague. If he interferes with this investigation again, I will formally report obstruction to the DPO. I don’t bluff.”

Justice’s nostrils flared, but Dickson immediately apologized.

I didn’t wait for more.

I walked away.

Later that evening, I closed early. I bought food for Officer Chiude and ensured he was settled before leaving the station.

When I got home, my mum was unusually cheerful.

Too cheerful.

The table was already set.

Abacha with Ugba. Fried fish. Garden eggs. Even Nsala soup.

She welcomed me warmly, almost nervously. 

She didn’t give me any cold stare unlike before, she welcomed me and said,

“Nelo nwa m, welcome. I know you must have had a stressful day? Please go up and refresh, and come have your dinner. I prepared Abacha, and even Nsala soup. Chioma’s husband to be is visiting today, so please when he comes around, please be kind and biko nwa m, smile oh!

…Don’t go and frown your face with your police iron mapol face, do well to smile and greet him. Whatever case he might have in the police station, keep it outside today and welcome him, even as we pray for him to be vindicated and let the truth be known.” My mum kept explaining as she kept joining her two hands together.

I stared at her.

The way she pleaded sometimes like I was the difficult one. Like I was the black sheep of the family.

I forced a small smile.

“I’ll behave, Mama.”

I noticed she still stood still, almost motionless as I went upstairs to freshen up.

I was unbuttoning my shirt when I heard a car drive into the compound.

Normally, I wouldn’t bother looking. It would be Chioma.

But today, I walked to the window.

I parted the curtain slightly.

Doctor Dickson stepped out of his sleek black Prado and went around to open the passenger door for my sister.

A soft, reluctant smile touched my lips.

Love.

Even I couldn’t deny it when I saw it.

He held her hand gently as she stepped down. Careful. Intentional.

A small part of me warmed.

Another part whispered sarcasm.

“I hope he will continue opening this car door forever! Let it not be that when they marry now, love will sour.”

I couldn’t believe I could still think about that even after everything I witnessed today.

Even after officer Chiude followed me to assist me catch Sharon despite me declining initially.

Come on, that was love in action.

Even though he hasn’t said anything, but I know true love when I see one.

I realised a part of my heart was still very much dark about love, and if I truly want to be delivered from the shackles of whatever my father’s ill-treatment put in me, I have to intentionally decide to be positive.

I was still watching the two love birds when

A faint mechanical hum cut through the air.

My smile vanished.

I knew that sound.

A drone.

It moved past my window.

My fingers froze on the curtain fabric.

The cloth pressed against my skin as if it could hide me.

My pulse rose not fast but heavy. Loud. Each beat knocking against my ribs.

I slowly closed the curtain fully.

Waited.

Then opened it again just a fraction.

Across the estate, beyond the line of identical buildings, I spotted it.

A grey car parked not far from our compound.

A man in black.

Mask on.

The drone descended smoothly in front of him.

He caught it.

Removed the mask.

And smiled.

Not a casual smile.

A knowing one.

Cold slid down my spine.

Sharon’s words echoed in my mind.

“The battle is not over.”

I scanned the car properly this time.

Three of them.

Watching.

Not random.

Not a coincidence.

I let the curtain fall gently back into place.

No panic.

Just clarity.

I walked to my wardrobe calmly.

Changed into jeans and a plain polo.

Pulled a face cap low over my forehead.

From the drawer beneath my clothes, I brought out my small machine gun.

Checked it.

Loaded.

I snapped a quick picture of the vehicle from the small opening in the curtain.

Evidence first.

Emotion later.

I slipped the weapon into place discreetly.

I took one look at myself in the mirror.

My breathing had steadied.

My face was expressionless.

Downstairs, laughter echoed faintly.

Up here, something else had begun.

Without a word to anyone, I opened my door quietly.

And stepped out.