Chapter 8: The Photograph

Adaeze stared at the faded photograph.

Her hands trembled as she turned it over.

There was a handwritten date on the back.

June 14, 2008.

She frowned.

"Michael... wasn't Grace reported missing in April?"

He quickly remembered the newspaper clipping they had found.

"She was."

Adaeze looked at him.

"Then how could this picture have been taken two months later?"

Silence.

Someone had lied.

Michael examined the photograph closely.

Grace looked tired, but she was smiling as she held the baby in her arms.

Beside her stood an elderly woman whose face was partially hidden by a scarf.

There was no sign of Daniel.

"No names," Michael murmured.

"No location."

"Nothing."

Adaeze folded the photograph carefully.

"Whoever sent us this wanted us to ask more questions."

That evening, Michael returned home.

His grandfather's house was still empty.

The police had visited earlier but found no useful evidence.

As Michael entered the study, something caught his eye.

One of the books on the shelf wasn't aligned with the others.

He pulled it out.

A small white envelope slipped onto the floor.

It was addressed simply to:

Michael.

His heartbeat quickened.

"I've never seen this before."

Inside was a single key and a short note in Professor Adebayo's handwriting.

If you're reading this, they have already taken me. Do not lose hope. The key opens Locker 27 at the old railway station. Everything you need is there.

Michael immediately called Adaeze.

"We have another clue."

The next morning, they traveled to the abandoned railway station on the edge of the city.

The place was almost deserted.

Rust covered the old tracks.

A station attendant sat quietly, listening to a small radio.

Michael and Adaeze found a row of rusty storage lockers.

Locker 27 stood in the corner.

Michael inserted the key.

Click.

The locker opened.

Inside was a small cardboard box.

Adaeze lifted the lid.

There were several documents, an old cassette recorder, and a sealed envelope marked:

FOR DANIEL ONLY.

Before either of them touched it...

A voice came from behind.

"I wouldn't open that if I were you."

They turned sharply.

Standing a few metres away was the elderly librarian from the university.

He looked exhausted.

His clothes were dusty, and there was a bandage wrapped around his arm.

"You've been following us?" Michael asked.

The old man shook his head.

"No."

"I've been trying to protect you."

Adaeze frowned.

"Then tell us the truth."

The librarian sighed.

"I promised Grace that I would keep her secret."

He looked at the sealed envelope.

"But after all these years..."

"...I think it's finally time."

Just as he stepped forward—

Bang!

A loud gunshot echoed through the station.

The librarian clutched his shoulder and fell to the ground.

People screamed and ran for cover.

Michael grabbed Adaeze's hand.

"Get down!"

From the far end of the station, a hooded figure lowered what appeared to be a suppressed pistol, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

Adaeze crawled toward the injured librarian.

He struggled to breathe.

With the last of his strength, he grabbed her wrist.

His lips moved slowly.

"Find..."

He coughed.

"...Mercy."

"Who is Mercy?" Adaeze asked desperately.

The old man looked into her eyes.

"She..."

"...knows where Grace went."

His hand fell limp.

The ambulance sirens could already be heard in the distance.

Michael looked at Adaeze.

One name now stood between them...

...and the truth.

Mercy.